#and like it's gonna be easier to pick it up fresh instead of after God knows how many freeze and thaw cycles we're getting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you.

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you.

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop.

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes.

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy.

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him.

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before.

Happy.

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle.

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement.

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you.

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.”

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you.

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes.

Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground.

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath.

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but…

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin.

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.”

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free.

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit.

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth.

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen.

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come.

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion.

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–”

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you.

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips…

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it…

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him.

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #tw: noncon #tw:dubcon #tw: drugged reader #tw: infidelity #angst #pain #manipulation #fun times ahead

1K notes · View notes

bubblywriter0 · 3 years

Text

I’m your biggest fan! Bakugou x reader x Todoroki

Word count: 2.6k of filth

Warnings: non-con, smut, degradation, double-penetration

tagging: @twynity @tommy-braccoli

You were his secretary. Katsuki Bakugou, the hot-headed, incredibly stubborn, and undeniably handsome Ground Zero. Being the number three Hero's secretary had its perks, as well as its (rather exasperating) responsibilities. Which consisted of late nights, piles of paperwork, and plenty of arguments with the short-tempered Hero.

But you loved it.

You couldn't deny that it had you completely stressed most of the time, or that you were up till ungodly hours of the night more than once a week cleaning up his messes. But there was something charming about the snooty blonde, however hard it was to admit, and you could proudly say no one could match his outrageous temper the way you could.

Your manager could confirm this first hand, as she had been caught in the midst of one-two many yelling matches between the two of you and always silently thanked you afterward for being able to keep him in his place.

You held your own with the number three Hero, and though he would never admit it out loud, you were one of the very few people that could get him to see reason when his temper took over. You were a strong, independent woman. Which is why you never imagined yourself in this position, at least not in this way.

—

Katsuki Bakugou was undeniably attractive. And an insatiable tease. He could (to your annoyance) read you easier than you anyone, and he had made your knees go weak too many times with his low-tone remarks or "accidental" intimate touches. But, you never gave in.

You never took action on the desires that bubbled right underneath the surface. Not when you were fuming, inches away from each other from some dumb, long forgotten argument, the tension so thick anyone who walked in would slam against it. You even humored the thought of going out on a date. Just two colleagues going out for a drink after work, if not only to scratch the itch of something more.

But the blunt hero never took the bait, couldn't seem to ask you out like a regular person. Instead, he had to drive you insane with teasing touches and suggestive remarks, that damn smirk and low voice carrying into your bedroom late at night when you were by yourself. Yet, being the responsible little secretary you were, you never gave in.

And then today, he finally seemed to snap.

It started in the middle of your meeting. Some bastard was going on and on about some dumb policies and Bakugou couldn't be less interested. He internally groaned as he checked his watch just to find that he would have to sit through twenty more agonizing minutes of this. Tch. If this shithead pulls out one more Venn diagram I'm gonna fucking lose it. He fought the urge to prop his feet up on the desk, instead letting his gaze lazily wander to you.

Aw. Look at you, such a good little secretary. His good little secretary, his brain added possessively. He chuckled quietly to himself, noting the way your pencil was tucked behind your ear, your brow scrunched in concentration as you scribbled down notes like a diligent student. He smirked as his eyes wandered down to see your pretty little skirt hiked up those cute thighs of yours. He licked his lips as he watched you bounce your foot gently, your thigh slightly jiggling from the movement. God, he just wanted to sink his teeth into you.

You barely caught the movement in the corner of your vision, too busy watching the presentation to pay attention to Bakugou -besides, you were more than used to him getting antsy during these long meetings. So it was safe to say you didn’t take note of the large hand making its way towards you.

You almost squealed when you felt the warm palm slide into your lap, your mouth dropping open in surprise. You practically burned up on the spot, immediately panicking and trying inconspicuously to pry it off. This only encouraged Bakugou, prompting him to squeeze the plump flesh, his thumb dragging slow, precise, and agonizing circles into your inner thigh as you squirmed, his teeth flashing as he grinned manically. He was going to enjoy this.

You couldn't focus on a word said after that, which was rather inconvenient considering you were supposed to be taking notes. The warm blush on your face hadn't left but your heart finally had slowed to a normal pace as the meeting came to an end.

You stood quickly and smiled at the men and women leaving, unsettlingly aware of the metal chair scraping away from the table and the flooding warmth as Bakugou shuffled across the room to stand next to you.

He grunted out less friendly goodbyes, echoing you lazily, and your eyes flew wide as you felt a hand sliding up the back of your thighs to your ass. You tried to swat his hand away but he caught your hand easily, pinning it against your back, clicking his tongue disapprovingly in your ear as he stepped up behind you. You let out a small whimper of protest and his grip on your wrist tightened painfully, pulling you with it so your back smacked against his chest, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

He didn't even seem to care that the last man who was about to shake your hand flushed almost as bright as you, and you squirmed helplessly as Bakugou glowered over your shoulder at the hand that was still held out. The dumbstruck man didn’t move, Bakugou’s patience wearing thin as he bared his teeth and let out a low growl,

“Are you just gonna stand there shitty extra? You waiting for a damn show, wanna watch me fuck her real good or something?” Bakugou taunted cruelly, a hand wrapping around your neck as he leaned down to you. ‘Wadya’ say princess? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Bet your fuckin soaked right now, thinking about this shitty loser watching me bounce you on my cock, bet you’d like that, Hah” But all you could do was whine pathetically, trying to hide your red face, looking anywhere but at the flustered man.

“Oh?” His crimson eyes narrowed at the man who was still standing there. “So you do want a show? That’s fine with me, but let’s make sure that princess here is okay with it,” he grinned again as you were suddenly thrown forward, bent over, the blood rushing to your head as you felt rough hands traveling up the back of your thighs curiously. “Let’s take a little peek and see if I’m right, hm?”

But the poor man was already backing away, practically tripping over his feet and muttering apologies over his shoulder as he burst out of the conference room, his face bright with embarrassment and arousal judging from the obvious tent he was shielding in his pants as he made a bee-line for the bathroom.

As the clear door swung shut you were suddenly picked up from the waist, and it took a moment for your spinning head to adjust before you started kicking your legs out in an attempt to escape. “Tsk, such a fucking brat,” Bakugou growled as he swatted at your ass, a painful sting following as you let out a yelp.

“Stay fucking still slut.” You felt a tear drip down your cheek as you gave up your attempt to evade his grasp, your small body not standing a chance to the pounds of muscle you were up against.

Bakugou flopped your body onto the glass table, pulling your ass towards him and flipping up your skirt onto your back so he had access to your plump behind. His heated fingers traced the exposed skin and you bit back a groan as he ran a finger down your slit. Your body automatically shivered when he yanked your panties down, hiding your head in your hands as you felt cool air tickle your dripping folds. He was right. You were sopping.

“Aw, look at this,” you wined with embarrassment at his coos, his husky voice going straight to your exposed heat. “All wet and needy for me, huh baby?” You practically sobbed, your head nodding with shame. “Don’t worry pretty baby, I’ll take care of this mess” He pulled your legs apart and cooed again at the way your messy cunt dripped down all over the table, running a finger up your leg to collect some of your juices, popping the finger in his mouth and groaning at your taste.

“I’ll make it all better, yeah?,” he hummed, chuckling at your incoherent mumbles and sobs. He leaned forward so his hot breath fanned against your ear, smirking as he growled in a low voice, “I asked you a fucking question slut.” You gulped at his harsh tone. “You know how to use your words, right bitch?” You nodded violently, terror making your voice tremble stupidly as you tried to answer in between hiccups, “m’s-sorry, I c-can-” He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. “I-I I’m s-sorry,” he mimicked you, sneering at the way you trembled.

“Sluts who can’t follow simple orders don’t need to talk, do they?” You shook your head no shamefully, your cute little sobs and whimpers going straight to Katsuki’s already tight pants. “Good girl,” he cooed at your obedience, smirking as he undid his navy tie, pulling you towards him roughly. He reached around to your face and grabbed your jaw, his thumb prodding at your bottom lip. “Open,” he demanded, and you complied.

He smirked with satisfaction at how good you were being, how easily you were letting him handle you. Such a good little slut for him, he repeated the thought again as he coaxed the handmade gag all the way into your open mouth, drool seeping down onto your chin. “There.” He grinned at the image of you looking all fucked out, cunt all messy and oh so needy, throat stuffed full, with mascara running down those pretty cheeks. “Isn’t that better baby?” He rasped as he kneaded your hips, grinding his clothed cock slowly against your dripping sex. You whined around your gag as you squirmed, fresh tears running down your stained cheeks as your body begged for more, begged to be filled by something, anything.

Luckily for you Bakugou seemed to understand, fingers attacking your swollen clit as he humped against you lazily. “Need something pretty baby?” He laughed at your silence, but made quick work of unzipping his slacks as he pulled himself out of his pants, jerking himself once before spreading your cheeks. He groaned at the sight of his fat cock slipping between them as your needy cunt sucked him in, your body finally relaxing a bit as he slid inside you fully.

He gave you no time to adjust, pulling out halfway just to slam back in, making you squeal around your gag. You rocked yourself back and forth on the table, chasing your much needed release as Bakugou used you, pulling your hips back to try and fit more of him inside you, your eyes rolling back at how good he felt. He almost didn’t notice how close you were, focusing on the way your weeping cunt kept sucking him in, squeezing around him whenever he growled filthy obscenities into your ear.

But when you started babbling mindlessly around your gag, pushing back against him, he caught onto what you were doing, smirking at how quickly he’d reduced you to this. “Gonna come for me pretty baby? You gonna come around this fat cock?” You nodded, sobbing at how close you were. “Go ahead, make a mess slut,” he growled against your ear, teeth grazing your skin as his warm tongue slipped out and prodded at it. You shivered uncontrollably as your body convulsed, giving into the intense pleasure as you focused on the heat between your slick thighs combined with the way Katsuki’s mouth was working down your neck, your orgasm racking through your body in euphoric waves, your cunt squeezing around Bakugou's dick as you came.

You trembled as you slowly came down from your high, your sticky fluids sliding down your cheeks as Bakugou continued to pound into you. Everything felt so sensitive and suddenly the immense pleasure you were feeling mixed with something else and it was, “too m-much Katsuki, please s’too much,” but your cries were muffled and there was no way in hell he was letting you go now, grabbing your hips tighter as he thrust in and out of you, the lewd squelches from your dripping pussy making him feral.

“Aw, you can take it princess,” he grunted with a sick grin as you tried to crawl away from him, squirming hopelessly on the glass table. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re gonna stay here and take it all like a good girl, you hear me?” He slapped your ass hard, emphasizing his point while his hips drove forward to meet your messy hole, groaning at the way your cheeks tinted pink from the impact, spanking you again to hear to feel you squeeze around him even tighter. “You like that slut?” He sneered, “Of course you do.”

But you were too distracted by the flash of red and white that caught the corner of your vision.

You raised your head slowly, only to be met with the inquisitive gaze of- You gasped. Shouto Todoroki. The Shouto Todoroki, the number Two Pro Hero you’d watched on TV for years, fawned over, and now...

Bakugou could only assume your small gasp was from how good he was making you feel, and he smirked at this, driving his hips into you wilder with a new sense of inspiration and pride feeding to his unbelievably large ego. But how wrong he was.

Your breath caught in your throat as curious blue and grey orbs traveled along your form, his gaze cutting through the glass and heating your whole body up till you were almost positive it was on fire. You felt so exposed, so humiliated, and so utterly turned on.

His eyes slowly raised back to meet yours and you swallowed nervously. His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips and his mismatched orbs held yours with such intensity and curiosity, it was so..dominant.

And it was making your legs feel weak. It made you feel all hot and bothered as he watched the Ground Zero fucking into you without hesitation, shamelessly watching every move. And it didn’t take long for Bakugou to notice.

Bakugou was observant, and the sudden reactions your body was having to him was a pleasant surprise, but a little random, and it didn’t take long for him to realize your attention was focused outside the room, which annoyed him. “Oi, shit head whadya..” he trailed off as he caught sight of the red and white boy standing outside of the room, and he suddenly remembered he had a meeting with him scheduled for this afternoon, in this room.

He had half the mind too cover you up and go tell the icy-hot bastard off but, what was this? You certainly seemed to be enjoying the way the dual-colored Hero was watching you get fucked. Did this.. Get you off? A shit eating grin spread across Bakugou’s face at the realization, the wheels already turning in his head.

So his pretty little secretary wanted to act like a whore, huh? Then he’d treat her like one.

You hear Bakugou chuckle darkly, yanking your hips back to gain more leverage, sneering at the heat rising to your face. Lips brush against your ear and a raspy voice whispers, "Oh look, it's your favorite little hero, Shoto Todoroki. Wave to him, princess"

—

Hope you enjoyed! Part 2 coming soon:)

#bakugou smut #bakugou x reader x todoroki #todoroki smut #shoto todoroki #shoto smut #bakugou headcanons #bakugou katuski x reader #mha smut #mha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha smut #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #todoroki shouto #mha imagines

493 notes · View notes

cherryatiny · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐑)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

„Please welcome the world-wide known cellist Ian Park, who will lead today's concert, please applause for him.“ loud sounds of hands clapping resonated in the spacious orchestra hall, when the man in question stood up with a cello in his hands.

Over the time you two were together, it became a tradition for you and your sugar daddy Hongjoong to go to a classical music concert at least once a month. Always get dressed up in new robes he bought for you and walk down the corridors of the historical theatre as the people around you were amazed by how beautiful and a powerful couple you two were.

As the first tones of the symphony came out, your ears felt like melting from the lovely music played by the greatest musicians of the present time. Hongjoong's hand was resting on the part of your thigh exposed by the high slit in your dress. Fingertips drawing figures on your skin and going higher under the velvety material of your dress and reaching the seamless thong you wore underneath. „Don't you dare go any higher.“

„Was that meant to the soprano lady, or me?“ chuckled Hongjoong lowly as his hand went higher, his fingers rubbing up and down the wet patch on your underwear. Instead of an answer, a quiet whimper left your mouth unwillingly. Thank god, you were in one of the balcony booths and covered by dark, too far from the prying eyes.

His hand skillfully pushed your panties to the side, exposing your slit to the fresh air, the sudden chilly feeling and Hongjoong's fervent touches, made goosebumps rise up on your upper thighs.

As soon as his thumb came in a contact with your reddened clit that was desperately in need of his touch, your body started squirming in the seat, his second hand keeping you down from moving too much by gripping your thighs.

Having decided that you seemed to be aroused more than enough by the delicate stimulation of your clitoris he gave you, Hongjoong slipped two of his fingers covered by rings, into your heat, coating them in your slick right away, which made it only easier for him to thrust them into you in an intense speed and hardness, never failing to brush directly against your sweet spot, making the knot tighten in your stomach as you were getting so close to staining the luxurious seats of the national theatre building.

„Fuck, you gonna let it out, princess? You look so classy, yet you're getting off on my fingers like some bitch in heat in the middle of an opera concert, how pathetic. Your cunt couldn't wait any longer? What were you thinking of, that made you wet so easily, even though we are in public, hm? Tell me, my dirty girl.“

❁ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Seong- I mean, Mr. Park, I've organized the papers for you, here.“ you announced as you stepped into his spacious office, the glass-wall behind him allowing you to look at the panorama of the city, but even better sight than that was your sugar daddy Seonghwa focused on the papers in front of him.

The white shirt he had on, which covered the body you knew well, was slightly unbuttoned as Seonghwa ran his hands into his hair out of frustration. The level of stress in his body much more higher than it should be, as he tried to finish the paperwork for launching a sub-corporation of the company he ran.

When you first started working as his secretary, you two were mean to each other, always nitpicking on each other's words and arguing, but it all started when he got you the keys to your new apartment in the building he owned, or when you two fucked after the ball that was part of the business conference in Milan, and over the months you two got closer and closer to each other until he eventually became your sugar daddy.

„Mhm, Y/N, come here baby.“ going over to where he was, you stood in front of him, his arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you down to sit on his lap. „I'm so stressed baby, but I can't leave work until I finish the paperwork, why don't you get on your pretty knees and support me while I'm working?“

„Yes, sir.“ Nodding your head with a sly smirk, you obeyed his request, knowing exactly what he meant, and slipped down from his lap, going under the high desk he worked at, you reached for his pants, your fingers swiftly unbuttoning and tugging them down. Reaching for his briefs, you could hear Seonghwa chuckle at how impatient you were.

Wrapping your hand around his girth, your other hand resting on his thigh, your wet lips neared his tip leaking of pre-cum. Giving the tip kitten licks and teasingly kissing along his shaft, you tried to rile him up as much as possible, but he didn't seem to be having much of it, his hand gripping on your ponytail rather harshly, tugging on it to make you look up.

„Princess, get to work and don't tease, or else I'll have to knock on your apartment door tonight with a collar and a leash. Actually... a whore like you would like that, right? Being a fuck toy for me to use. Look at you right now, on your knees in my office knowing that anyone could walk in right now. Now suck on it like it's a lollipop, my kitten.“

❁ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

When Yunho said, „Baby baby, your favourite brand launched their new collection today, why don't we go and see some of it“ you did not expect to spend the next few hours shopping for clothes with him. At first, he wanted to see the brand, then he decided he needs some clothes for the press conference of the drama he was starred as the main character in, and then it ended up with you supposedly needing new dresses, „Yunho I don't need any dress.“

Shutting you with 'quiet baby', his hand tugged you to the shop he had in mind. It was a shop that specialized in gowns and formal clothing for different balls and this type of stuff. „Yuyu, I don't need any dress, I'm not going to any ball, so why would I need them.“

But Yunho wasn't having it, already too engaged with picking dresses for you. Going through the different rich materials and colours, his eyes landed on a beautiful black gown, with exposed shoulders and a high slit on the left leg. „Go try them on baby.“

Rolling your eyes at his request, too tired to do anything, but still agreeing to try them on to make your sugar daddy happy, you took the dress from his hand. Closing the door of the changing booth, you got too bothered with undressing, that you didn't notice Yunho slip in. That was until his soft fingertips started brushing against your collar bones, slipping the bra straps off your body. „Yunho what are you doing he-“

The words got caught in your throat as Yunho pressed his fingers against your wet slit, pressing onto your covered clit hardly, earning a moan from you. „What am I doing here? I think that's pretty obvious, I've noticed how desperately my girl looked, so I deducted I should help her... but she has to be quiet.“

Tugging your panties to the side, he got hold of his already hard shaft, pumping it a few times and lubricating it with his pre-cum. Positioning himself at your entrance, he looked at your reflection in the mirror, smirking at the desperate look on your face.

Slipping his length into your heat, he started off with a steady and fast pace, hitting the sweet spot hardly. One of his hands holding you by your waist and the other one shutting you as it was pushed against your mouth. „I don't have that many hands baby, so please rub your clit for me.“

Knowing well as to not anger him by not obeying his instructions, your hand slipped in between your legs, fingers coming to direct contact with the reddened bundle of nerves, desperate for any external stimulation, as the tip of Yunho's cock stimulated it from inside. The work of your fingers on your wet pussy was bringing you closer and closer to your sweet high, which you knew was for sure going to be exquisite.

Letting out incoherent moans as Yunho's pace got faster, his cock twitching signalising that you weren't the only one nearing your high, as your walls clenched around him tightly. „Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ Your mouth wide agape from the unexpected pleasure delivered to you, resulting in your fluids squirting not only on Yunho's well-endowed dick, but also the mirror you were pressed against. „Alright, you got tissues? Cuz I don't think the shop assistants will like to clean it..“

❁ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

It was Friday, which meant your regular dinner with your sugar daddy Yeosang at the luxurious restaurant you always went to. Dressed up in a comfortable, but pretty and seductive dress, you hopped into the back seat of the black car. Yeosang signalled to the chauffeur that he can get going to the restaurant.

Arriving at the hotel where the restaurant was situated, you went up by an elevator to the highest floor, which secured the impressive panorama. Being greeted by the usual waitress with a bottle of red wine in her hands, you excused yourself to use the restroom, while the cooks prepare food for you two.

Placing your purse down on the limestone sink, you took a look at your reflection in the mirror. Taking out the red lipstick you had with you, you reapplied it, since the previous layer got smudged.

Smudged thanks to Yeosang's hungry lips, because as soon as you sat down on the leather seat of his car, his hand immediately wrapped around your neck to bring you closer, his mouth fervently devouring yours.

Sighing you leaned against the counter, trying to get over the bemusing feeling in your lower parts, because how could he arouse you just with some kisses? Closing your eyes, you breathed out heavily, trying to calm yourself down so you can get back to him, without beseeching him to rail you right there, not noticing that the said man was present in the restroom, standing right behind you... That was until his hands laid themselves on your hips, catching you out of guard as you looked up in the mirror to see his boasting grin.

„What's wrong princess? Did my little actions in the car arouse you that much that you can't get back to me? Did you plan on getting yourself off to get rid of the heat in your panties? Did you think your little fingers could help you? I thought you were smarter than that, you should thank the deity that you have me. I'll free you of the arousal and wetness, all you have to do is beg.“

Weighing your options, you knew he was right..„Sir, please, rub my needy cunt, sir I'm all yours, so please help me release the knot in my stomach.“ Chuckling at the way you begged, knowing well how to do it after Yeosang taught you for months, his hands rolled your dress up to your waist, revealing your cotton panties.

Tugging them down to your knees, Yeosang leaned closer to you, looking at your reflection in the mirror, while whispering into your ear, „Relax, mister will rub your little cunt so well, so lean into his touch and be a good girl for him.“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

As you remember falling asleep in San's car, waking up in your sugar daddy's private jet was quite astounding. Lying on the soft cushions of the seat you were in, you let out a few whimpers as you stretched your sore body.

„Well, good morning baby. Did you get good sleep? I tried to move you to the jet as carefully as possible to not wake you up.“ Smiling at him, you murmured a few words of your thankfulness and how your sleep was.

Unclassping the seat belt, you stood up from your seat and approached San who was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine. He placed the bundle of papers on the coffee table in front of him, straightening his arms up, to wrap around your waist and tug you down to his lap.

Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, your wrapped your arms around it tiredly. His hand wrapped around your waist and the second one laid on your thigh, keeping you close to him. You let out a few whimpers, wriggling in his lap, to satisfy the growing heat and rub your core against his muscular thighs. „Is there something wrong baby?“

„Can you help me out?“ you said with a quiet almost unhearable voice, a little pout forming on your lips. „Help you out with what, princess?“ you averted your gaze to the hem of your skirt, fingers playing with it. „I've had a naughty dream about you...“

San chuckled at the way your ears turned red at how embarrassed you were because of the request you had. His hand forgot its place on your knee as it moved up, way under your skirt. Tugging your panties to the side, he could feel just how much the wet dream aroused you. His fingers moved up and down your wet slit, purposely coating them with slick and moving them up to your clit.

Rubbing your clit, pressing on it and occasionally changing the intensity of his actions, you couldn't stop the gasps from spilling out from your mouth, you were so engaged by this, that you did not notice San unbuttoning his shorts in the meanwhile, freeing his hardened dick from the tight garments.

You noticed it only when the movement on your swollen bundle of nerves stopped, right before you neared the sweet release, an unsatisfied cry that was cut in your throat leaving your lips. „Shh, baby. Daddy got hard hearing those blissful moans leave your mouth, so it's only right we help each other out. But you can't forget that we aren't alone, so all you gotta do I hope that the pilot can't hear us...“

❁ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

High mountains covered in a white blanket of snow were illuminated by the fierce sun rays as they created a scene straight out of a painting. The sound of champagne glasses clicking was heard, as you and Mingi sat in the hot and bubbling water, located on a balcony of the luxurious mountain resort you were in. Only you, your sugar daddy and maybe a few deers out there, but still possibly visible to others, „Do you like it here, princess?“

Nodding at his questions enthusiastically, you sipped off the champagne as your body melted to the feeling of jacuzzi jets massaging your sore muscles, „Yes, it's amazing here, thank you Mingi, for taking me here, I don't even know how to repay you.“

„You don't have to repay me, anything princess, I'm just happy that you like my present, now come here.“ standing up from your 'seat' on the other side of the jacuzzi, goosebumps immediately rose up on your body as the winter breeze attacked your wet skin. Coming over to his seat, you sat back down rushedly as to not catch a cold, the hot water welcoming you, as you found your comfortable spot in Mingi's lap.

His large hands rested on your back, pulling you closer to his chest as they twiddled with the knot that kept the top part of your bikini together. „Mingi, I know we're alone, but you never know when someone's watching...“ you spoke nervously. „Don't think about it, relax into my touch, let the water massage your body.“ Untying the top of your swimwear, he let it fall to the water, the piece of cloth floating on the water surface.

His hands reached for your soft breasts, squeezing them softly as to your hurt you, twirling your hardening nipples between his fingers. Mingi leaned closer to your chest, his plump lips latching onto one of your breasts, sucking on it passionately. Your head was thrown back as you let out low moans, your hands going straight into his locks.

While his face was dipped into your chest, sucking on your soft mounds, your hands travelled down to where the hem of his swimsuit was. „It's only fair I repay you by taking care of you my prince, so now, you should be the one to relax to my touch.“

❁ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

„What are you reading?“ Averting your eyes from the flavescent pages of the book in your hands, you looked up at the man who stood in front of you. His skin sunbathed into a caramel tinted tone only added to how attractively his muscular body looked like, abs covered in beads of water as he just finished swimming in the sea, „50 shades of grey. A colleague of mine told me to read, it's kinda vanilla I have to say, nothing compared to what you do to me at nights.“

Smirking at your remark, he laid by your side on the soft cushions of the large beach couchette as soon as he finished drying his body. Keeping himself close to you, he threw a towel over your bodies, covering them completely, „Why are you covering us, Woo? Are you still cold from the water?“

„Let's just say I don't want other people to see that I got horny as fuck seeing my beautiful girl in her bikini and I just can't get my dick down, so try to act like nothing is happening as I stuff you full of my cock.“

Widening your eyes at how straightforward he was being to you in public, your cheeks got heated up as you could feel his fingers tugging your bikini bottoms down to your knees.

You looked around the beach, trying to act like nothing is happening just as he said, but when you locked eye contact with an older couple who were enjoying their time on the private beach and were looking at you awkwardly, you got even more embarrassed, so looking down into the mattress seemed like the best option. Wooyoung did the same with his swimsuit as he did with your, tugging it down to his knees, pulling out his leaking cock.

Without any more protraction, he sank his length into your wet hole. You had to bite on your lips to keep the moans from escaping past your lips. „Fuck, your cunt is taking me so well, you seem to like having a cock balls-deep in you, while we're in the public.“ His arms wrapped around your waist from behind as he pulled your back closer to his chest, his fingers playing with your nipples through the material of your swimsuit as he bottomed himself into you.

„Fuck, I don't think railing you once will be enough to satisfy our needs, should we go to the hotel room after this and recreate some of the book's chapters?“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

Sitting bored in the studio, your fingers typing something into your phone, you side-eyed the clock on the wall frequently, as you waited for the end of your partner's song recording. Black headphones on his head as he let out angel-like sounds into the microphone. „Woow, Jongho, good job for today, I think we can finish this up for today.“

Jongho smiled at the producer who sat in his seat in front of the computer screen, coming back from the recording room to where you were. Standing up from your seat on the couch, you went to him, almost jumping at him out of happiness that this boring session was finally over.

„Jongho, can you please keep guard over the studio for about fifteen minutes? I have to go pick up something but I have no idea where I put my keys.“ Looking over to you, to ask whether it was okay, you nodded although you were not very happy about it, and with that Jongho agreed to watch the studio while the producer left.

„How did you like my recording today?“ mischievous smile on his face as he asked you that, knowing very well while he brought you here. „Did you bring me here today on purpose? Who would have thought that the sweet and awkwardly shy Choi Jongho, would record a song with such naughty lyrics? Hmm, tell me, who were you singing about? Who were you imagining fucking, while you were writing those lyrics?“ Taking small steps, you were slowly cornering him, up until he fell on the couch behind him.

Sitting down onto his thick thighs, the material of his jeans coming straight to contact with your core as the skirt you wore covered you two. Leaning closer to him, you attached your lips onto the skin on his neck, nibbling on it softly as to not leave any marks. „We have around ten minutes left, should I give you a preview of what is waiting for you tonight?“

Your cleavage was straight in front of his eyes as you straddled his lap, purposely pressing your breasts against his chest to accentuate it and catch his attention more. Subtly griding against the tent forming in his jeans, your hand caressing his temples innocently. You could feel him shifting underneath you, some incoherent babble stammering out of his lips at your actions. Your hands took hold of his wrists, placing them on your waist,

„Now, do you think you'll be able to cum and get rid of your boner in less than seven minutes, pretty boy?“

❁ tag list : @galaxteez @gyubaby @bobateastay @tinytinyblogs @ateezinmymind @chososchaos @voidednightmares

#ateez #sugar daddy!ateez #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez sugar daddy au

315 notes · View notes

raindownforme · 3 years

Text

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

#ted nivision #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison

154 notes · View notes

byuntrash101 · 3 years

Text

PARAPHILIA - Part 1

Pairing: Dom!Baekhyun x You

Genre: EstablishedRelationship!AU, slice of life, smuttt

Tags: strong dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, rough sex, degradation, name calling (slut is used a lot), deepthroat, body writing, toys and more~~

Raiting: +18 (more like 21+ 🤪)

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: Apparantly, the new intern has a crush on you. And it's making your boyfriend Baekhyun jealous... Very jealous...

A/N: First chapter💃!! I’m excited to show you this project! Never hesitate to give me feedback my asks are always open and seeing your reactions make me SO happy💖! I hope you’ll enjoy!! -Cat😽

Tag list: @lovebuginlove @ohh-baekhyun @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession @geniusloey

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

Paraphilia #1 : SADISM, Inflicting pain to others.

W R O N G F E E L S R I G H T

"Aaaah" you say as you feel the hot tea on your tongue. It's jasmine green tea, your favorite. You sit there in the dining room enjoying the warm sun of the afternoon. It's so relaxing, so nice after a stressful week of work. The new intern is very nice, but god is he a handful. He's just always full of energy but at least he is willing and wants to learn properly. But forming him is quite tiring. So enjoying this quiet time here is nice.

"Babe can you come over here?" you hear the voice of your boyfriend resonate from upstairs. You sigh and frown, annoyed. But you still decide to go see him.

He's in his office, probably playing the piano or practicing his singing skills. He was in there since early morning. You never questioned his wacky sleep schedule. Like he always says: "inspiration doesn't wait". You knew that from the beginning... He's an artist.

You push open the door and he's there on his computer frowning. What's wrong? You ask yourself as you pick up right away that something is off. You walk closer and see he's on your Facebook profile.

"Who's that?" he asks without a glance to you, pointing a finger to the picture of a recently added friend.

"It's Taeyong the new intern, I told you about him" you say in a chuckle. So that's what's wrong with him. He's jealous, you think smiling.

"How do you find him?" he still doesn't look at you.

"Huh? I mean he is pretty smart which makes things easier, but overall, he has a lot to learn it's only normal when you are fresh out of school. I mean when I started, I-" but Baekhyun interrupts you.

"I don't mean it like this! Do you think he’s... attractive?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculous question. Finally, Baekhyun looks at you but it's only to shoot you a death glare. You stop and bite your lips trying not to laugh again.

"I mean... Of course I can't say he's ugly but I-" Before you can continue your boyfriend rips the black bob off his head and throws it on the desk. He immediately brushes back his blond hair, running his fingers through it. You flinch. Shit, he's actually upset about this.

"What about this?" he switches to another tab on the computer. This time it's your Instagram page. He clicks on the most recent post. It's a selfie you posted last week when you went out with Baekhyun, you liked your makeup that day and thought it was instagramable.

"What about it?" You genuinely ask. Your boyfriend sighs, frustrated.

"TYdragon95, is it his username?" Baekhyun asks, his tone has changed from cold to angered, you swiftly look at him, he's clenching his jaw.

"Yes I suppose so, he was born in 1995, so yeah probably..."

"Yeah of course it's him... he liked every single one of your pictures..."

Baekhyun proceeds to scroll to the other photos and it's true. His username is under every single one of them.

"Well, no, he didn't like the pictures where we are together..." he says in a cynical tone. You stand there next to him, silent, what could you possibly reply? Baekhyun chuckles coldly.

"He's probably, right now imagining you under him, his hand in his pants..." he whistles between greeted teeth. You laugh nervously.

"Hyunie, don't be stupid... he's just a guy I work with" you say fidgeting with your fingers. You know this mood. You know how angry your boyfriend can get.

"Really? Huh?" Baekhyun says, finally getting up from his chair. He stands right in front of you, only a couple centimeters (1in) separate the both of you. You are intimidated. He's so much taller than you...

"Baekhyun, please" you say in a pleading tone while taking a step back. Baekhyun steps closer.

"Baby girl do you like him?" he says in a low husky voice, sending shivers down your spine. Once again, you step back and he steps closer. You step back again, and he follows you, making you backup against the cold wall of his office, almost falling on the drums on your left.

"Baekhyun don't be ridiculous... I-"

"FUCKING ANSWER ME!!!" he yells throwing his palm on the wall next to your face. Your breath is hitching your throat.

"No Babe! Of course, not. I only love you" you say your voice trembling.

"Is this true?" his tone is somewhat softer. He leans in, inching his face close to yours.

"Yes..." you say softly, almost whispering.

"Maybe I have to remind you who you belong to"

You feel goosebumps in the nape of your neck. You know exactly what he means...

"Go in the room and wait for me there" with that he removes his hand and you quickly leave the room without daring looking at him. Without any detours you go straight to your room and sit on the king-sized bed.

You feel a familiar tingly feeling rise in your lower stomach. You don't even have time to think that your hand travels on its own to your crotch. As soon as your fingers press on your core the door slams open.

Baekhyun chuckles coldly, looking you up and down.

"You little slut you couldn't even wait for me, could you?" he walks quickly to you and yanks hard on your arm to make you stand. You wince in pain.

"What do you say?"

"I'm sorry daddy." You whimper. Suddenly he flips you over and makes you lay over his lap with your butt up. Without much consideration he roughly pulls up your t-shirt dress. His hand rests delicately over your clothed bottom as you are still wearing your baby blue laced panties. Gently, he strokes your butt cheeks with his thumb.

"Baby girl, you need a little reminder that you belong to daddy and daddy only. So, I have to punish you, you understand that, right?" he says as he slowly pulls down your lace panties. You simply nod quietly.

"So, baby girl I'm going to spank you 15 times and you will say thank you to each one of them. Understood?"

"Yes daddy" you say, already bracing for impact.

You feel his cold hand lift up from your skin. Then you hear the loud noise. Full force spanking your tiny ass. Lastly, you feel the pain, make you scream at the very first strike. It just started but already you feel the tingly feeling in your lower stomach grow.

"I didn't hear you baby"

"Thank you, daddy." You whimper.

"Good girl" Right away he spanks you again. You scream again, already your butt is burning. You can't help but to moan in between each scream. You feel each nerve of your sensitive skin.

"Thank you, daddy"

Baekhyun spanks again until he reaches 15. Your ass is raw, the pain feels so good, you bite your bottom lip trying to refrain from begging him to fuck you right now. Because you know daddy doesn't like being told what to do, especially when he's angry.

He puts you back up and makes you sit up on the bed. He stands in front of you as he unbuckles his belt.

"Now you're gonna suck daddy off, to make up to him" right there he rips out his fat cock in front of your very eyes. You can't help but gasp and the beautiful sight. He was so hard, precum pearling at the tip. It made your mouth water in anticipation.

You look at him with hungry eyes and just nod while opening wide. Baekhyun smirks.

"Good girl" he says, pinching your nose and slowly pushing himself inside your tiny mouth. He doesn't stop at the first resistance, instead he pushes harder, making his way past the back of your throat. You feel the burn with each inch as he grunts loudly. You can't breathe anymore, not through your nose and certainly not through your mouth.

Without a warning Baekhyun starts to rapidly pump himself in and out of your mouth making your eyes water. You feel tears roll down your cheeks as you try to gasp for air. Baekhyun doesn't stop and skull fucks you even deeper, tearing your throat apart. You try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. He just moans louder using your face as his personal fuck toy.

Finally, he pulls out allowing you to breathe. You loudly gasp for air. Coughing, you look up at your boyfriend. He still looks pissed.

"Fuck babe, that little slut mouth of yours is fitted for my cock, isn't it?" he says trying to catch his breath pushing his blond hair back. You cough still trying to pull yourself together.

Without warning, Baekhyun leans in and his hands reach for the collar of your dress with one powerful and swift move he rips it off your body leaving you in your baby blue lace bra only.

"Take that off for me" he says pointing at the bra as he passes his oversized hoodie over his head. You look in awe at the muscles of his back and abs moving to mesmerize you. He looks so good, he's lightly sweating from pleasuring himself with your mouth. He's stark naked in front of you, you gulp loudly, anticipating but also fearing what's to come.

"Lay there" he commands pointing a finger to the bed, you do as you're told and lay with your arms resting to your sides. Baekhyun then gets up and walks to the dresser. He opens the fourth drawer. You know what he stores in this drawer, you squirm in apprehension.

When he turns back to you, he's holding a red marker and two, no, three nipple clamps.

"Baby girl, you know you've been bad, right?" You look at him with scared eyes but nod. He sits next to you.

"This one is for allowing another man to think about you" he says as he clips the clamp on one of your nipples. You bite your lip at the delicious pinching sensation.

"This one is for daring to even say his name in front of me" he places the second clamp on your other nipple. You gasp. It feels so good, your watery eyes fill up with tears again.

"And this one is for reminding you who owns you" he places the last one on your untouched but very anticipating clit. This time you can't help but to scream and grip the sheets as the pain spreads through your core. Baekhyun looks down at you with a satisfied smirk.

"Hmmm baby, you look so pathetic squirming like that." He leans over you. "Does it hurt, baby?" he purrs as a cold smile spreads on his lips. You looked up at him, pouting and eyebrows knitted together and nod.

"Baby girl, it's only fair for you to be treated this way because you were very bad you understand, right?"

You nod, the tears finally streaming down your face. Baekhyun smiles in satisfaction again, he loves to see you in this state, wrapped around his fingers. He controls you, he owns you.

Then, he takes the red sharpie out. He takes off the cap and writes on your body, first right under your collarbones, then on your lower stomach and finally on your face.

"Go ahead and get up to go see how beautiful you look."

You get up and wince in pain again as the gravity pulls on the clamps. You walk up to the full length mirror. Baekhyun wrote "cocksleeve" across your chest, "my cunt" right over your pussy and finally "daddy's slut" on each of your cheeks.

"Aren't you pretty?" You turn back to him.

"Yes, thank you daddy" you meekly answer.

You want to walk back to him, but he puts his hand up and stops you.

"Not so fast, baby girl. The punishment isn't over yet. You are not allowed to walk back to me... Get on all fours and crawl to me like the bitch that you are"

You feel the humiliation rush to your cheeks and spread to your body. But you obey anyway, you do as you're told. Your knees against the cold hard wood you approach your sadistic boyfriend.

"Good girl, now. Crouch and tell daddy how sorry you are" You feel the tears well up again.

"Daddy..." you start with your voice trembling, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry. I will never upset you again."

Silence follows, you lift your head to look up at him and without a warning he slaps you across the face, almost making you fall. You rub your cheek.

"Gotta have to do better than that" he replies with the harshest tone. Now you are just sobbing.

"This little slut is sorry daddy. She doesn't deserve a daddy as perfect as you. I am nothing more than your personal fuck toy and a mere toy should only serve her daddy and no other men should be allowed to lay eyes on it. Daddy I'm sorry for being a dirty whore I will make it up to you I promise."

Baekhyun chuckles, visibly satisfied to see you dragging yourself down like this. You can't help but to let your eyes trail down his perfect body to his cock... He is harder than ever.

"That's right baby you are my pathetic little slut" he says gently stroking your still burning cheek.

"You know what baby? Daddy wants you to hurt as much as you hurt him by allowing this man in your life." He harshly grabs your face.

"So, you're going to stand up and you're going to show daddy how your pretty little face twists in pain" he says with a large, wicked smile.

You stand up.

"Jump, lemme see the clamps bounce."

You do as you're told and bounce yourself up and down. The weight of the clamp on your clit is unbearable and you just frown deeply in pain.

"Good girl now pull on the clamps on your nipples"

You pull on them harshly, the joyous pain makes you roll your eyes back and you can't help but to let a soft moan escape your lips. Baekhyun reaches down and starts to pump his hand around his big cock. He looks satisfied, nothing arouses him more than seeing you cry like this.

"Twist them"

You moan louder, it's difficult to contain your excitement as you feel your arousal coating your inner thighs.

"Good girl" he says with an evil smirk.

After a while, your body is red all over, complementing even better the matching sharpie.

"Now lay there you slut" Baekhyun says as he gets up the bed. You lay on your back and wait for further instructions.

Baekhyun gets on the bed over you and places himself at your entrance. Rubbing his tip against your slick folds.

"What a pitiful slut that you are getting this wet from being humiliated" he says smirking. And with that he violently pushes himself inside you in one go. You scream in absolute bliss, almost cumming to this one single thrust.

"Fuck, baby" Baekhyun moans.

He starts to move rapidly, you feel the familiar knot in your stomach form. He goes full force right away, making your fringe jump with each powerful thrust.

"Baby what are you?" he pants.

"I'm your slut daddy"

"Good girl" he says, grinding his teeth, rewarding you with more powerful thrusts and more overwhelming pleasure.

"You like daddy's thick cock don't you, slut?"

"Yes, I love your big cock daddy, it feels so good in my tiny cunt" You whine, feeling the knot getting tighter. The three nipple clamps jumping all over the place as Baekhyun fucks you deep and hard.

"No one can make you feel good like daddy, do you understand?" he says struggling, moaning in between each word.

"Yes only daddy's big cock" you bite your lip trying not to cum as Baekhyun hasn't granted you permission yet.

"Good girl. You are daddy's little slut. Daddy's toy. Daddy's personal cocksleeve. Nothing more. Your only purpose is to pleasure daddy and make him cum with your tight cunt." Baekhyun grunts, pushing himself deep and fast inside you.

The dirty talk is too much for you, you feel so good and the humiliation of being reduced to a mere object sends you over the edge. You scream and moan as your legs shake into an uncontrollable and divine orgasm, your sensitive little pussy deseperately twitching around Baekhyun's thick cock.

Your high hasn't even worn out yet that you feel Baekhyun's not-so-delicate hand slap your face. The burn in your cheek makes your eyes roll back as the setlling pleasure of your orgasm makes your mind go blank.

"I'm sorry daddy" you say half moaning, half sobbing, gagging on his slender digits.

"You slut, you came without daddy" he shoves his long fingers deep inside your throat. You instinctively suck on them as tears run down your cheeks again.

"You're such a bad girl" Baekhyun says, whipping his fingers out of your mouth to immediately pull harshly on your hair. You scream in both overwhelming pain and unbearable pleasure.

"Daddy I'm sorry" you say again, moaning as Baekhyun keeps on pounding into you, still pumping his fat cock in and out of you at an alarming speed. Stretching your tiny pussy beyond repair.

"Shut the fuck up slut" Baekhyun says as he repeatedly slaps you in the face, smudging the sharpie over with your tears. He picks up the pace again. Going even faster, destroying your pussy in the process. You moan in pleasure, feeling the knot tightening again.

"Daddy please slow down I'm going to cum again" you sob.

"I said shut up" he says clapping his hand over your mouth muffling your moans. Baekhyun has a really hard time containing himself. He feels like he's going to burst any second. As soon as he removes his hand you speak again.

"Daddy please I'm-" but you can't finish.

"Shut the fuck up I said you fucking bitch" he grunts.

Baekhyun circles his hands around your narrow neck. Pressing his fingers on your throat and your artery to keep the blood from reaching your brain. Finally, you are silenced, you can't speak anymore, not even moan. You can only concentrate on the immense pleasure Baekhyun makes you feel. He grunts loudly pumping in and out of your exhausted tiny cunt. You feel like the knot will come undone at any second now.

"That's it baby! You like when daddy chokes you, right baby? " Baekhyun says clenching his jaw.

Slowly your vision clouds up and you start to feel lightheaded. Like you are high on the most enjoyable and addicting drug: rough sex with your boyfriend Byun Baekhyun.

"I'm going to mark this cunt now baby. I'm going to make it all mine. I'm going to cum inside of you".

Seconds later, you feel thick ropes of cum painting your walls and filling you up as Baekhyun releases himself inside you with powerful thrusts. His hair is stuck to his forehead, he breathes heavily as he wears a relieved expression, his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his jaw lossely hanging open.

As you are about to pass out from too little oxygen, the delicious feeling of being pumped full of hot cum sends you over the edge and you reach the most blissful orgasm ever.

"Yeah that's it baby girl, cum for me, cum for daddy" Baekhyun says with a carnivorous smile.

Your legs shake all over as you see stars from being chocked. This sensation is a whole new level. Never in your life you felt something this intense. It's heaven. You ascended to heaven.

As Baekhyun slows down he releases his brusing grip around your neck, and you can finally gasp for air. As you catch your breath your vision comes back to normal and the high fades away.

Baekhyun collapses next to you, visibly exhausted and satisfied. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his glistening chest. He starts stroking your hair.

"Baby?" he asks, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"You... love me more, right? More than him..." he says timidly. You can't help but smile Athos sheepish expression. You look up at him amorously surprised by the the complete change in his attitude. There's no more anger in his eyes as he cutely pouts.

"No babe, I only love you. You are my one and only" you say softly kissing him. He looks back at you smiling before closing his eyes.

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

#baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun #exo smut #baekhyun ff #baekhyun one shot #exo baekhyun #exo fanfic #kpop smut #smut #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x reader #kpop x reader #exo ff #exo imagine #exosnet

280 notes · View notes

kyojurouwu · 3 years

Text

han seojun model headcanons.

listen to never be like you by flume.

˗ˋˏ author’s note ˎˊ˗

here i am again. it’s headcanon + scenario without any set pronouns. imagine han seojun as a worldwide known model who loves making you (aka his assistant) lose your mind by being a handful. maybe just maybe he wants your attention on him 24/7 because that’s where he thrives.

the problem with han seojun does not lie in his work ethics. he is a professional. he goes along with the requests and gives his feedback. he is professional with designers and photographers. he knows how to handle himself in meetings. but anything beyond that…

at this point, you might as well be his glorified nanny. making sure he gets up on time, eats 3 meals a day and doesn’t start mischief with his friends.

after 2 years of working for him, you got the hang of it. sometimes it’s kinda scary how many steps ahead you are. before he even asks for something you shove it in his hand and continue on your way.

also if you need to step up your game, you got the perfect blackmail opportunity - his sweet mom and his sister. both for different reasons. seojun is model son, sweet and kind and protective - he will do anything to keep it that way. with his sister it’s different, he just really doesn’t want her to get her hands on anything embarrassing because she would sell it to tabloids without hesitation if he messed up.

when you started you were fresh out of college, completely unprepared to deal with any of this. seojun didn’t make it any easier, he was kind of feeling you out. testing if you are taking this seriously or just want to further your own agenda. he can’t trust easily.

soon he realizes that you simply enjoy fashion and working as an assistant for a model is as close as you could get. and you are scarily devoted to it. you almost got hit by a car when you ran back with his coffee for which he gave you an impossible time limit. (and you weren’t going to lose goddamnit, you were about to show him!)

he never felt this bad in his life. you could’ve gotten seriously injured! he stopped giving you these tasks and instead opts for going with you. (that gets you tons of stares but seojun just shrugs and smiles “can’t blame them for looking, right?” cue your eye-roll)

he has no sense of personal space and is kind of everywhere? his presence fills the room to the point that it gets suffocating. people literally swoon as he walks by.

you never want to let him into your office because he walks around and checks out everything. he picks things up and never places them back right.

every day when you tell him about his schedule he stares super intently but doesn’t actually listen. he is sort of checking your outfit, is that necklace new? did you get a haircut? he does the same thing when you work and he is free. he sits in the same room as you and stares, basking in your presence like a happy cat. (it does get unnerving and you try to shoo him away but he gives you a lazy smirk, head propped on his fist “I’m having fun here though.”)

sometimes when you need to fly around the world for his photoshoots or other model gigs he gets cold and that mellows him out a bit. it’s easy to spot for you when he gets sick. he doesn’t tease as much but keeps close to you. and god forbid if you reach to touch his cheeks and forehead and hold his face for a bit. he was so jetlagged once that he actually closed his eyes and nuzzled closer. (needless to say, just the memory makes his face flush and he screamed into his pillow afterwards)

because you have to spend so much time together even when he is sick, it’s inevitable for you to not get sick as well and he goes into full-on mother hen mode. “take a day off today, drink this and take these so your fever goes down. call me if it gets worse.” if he has time he drops you home himself because he knows you would just go by bus and suffer. and if he doesn’t have time, he makes the time. he comes to the meeting with some prestigious brand 30 minutes later and just says “sorry it was an emergency.” doesn’t elaborate at all. (you get really confused when you look through his schedule later and see he did NOT have time)

when taking breaks between photo shoots he always sits next to you and dozes off. head on your shoulder even if it’s super uncomfortable for his tall frame. make-up stylists gush over you two constantly, they notice how his eyes follow your movements in the mirror when you are checking if you have enough time and making appointments while he gets make-up done.

i know it’s cliche, but the other model can’t make it, we need a plan. look at that. the assistant could work, you got the chemistry. let’s gooo. you could not be more out of your element even if you tried. seojun tries to take your mind off things, jokes around with you, but nothing works because he’s SO CLOSE. his annoyingly perfect face is right THERE. maybe, just maybe you let it slip. “i think i’m gonna have a heart attack.” and he could not look more smug afterwards. you’re ready to run for it, but he holds your hand and puts it on his chest. “me too.” and flash. the picture is taken and everyone is ecstatic.

seojun emails you the pictures with a “it suited you. wear it again, just for me?” and you are like.. what?? there is a box on your desk with the outfit from the photoshoot and a note asking you out for a date.

it all sounds super smooth and swoon-worthy but seojun is losing his mind over it. checking his phone every three seconds, making a track in his super expensive persian carpet from walking back and forth for an hour.

fistbumps the air when he gets a yes and does a little victory dance. but right after starts agonizing over what to wear. it’s a never-ending cycle with him.

#grown up seojun is a lil more chic but still the softest boy inside #true beauty #true beauty kdrama #true beauty tvn #true beauty webtoon #true beauty han seojun #true beauty seojun #han seojun #hwang inyeop #true beauty writings #moon writes to the stars #true beauty reader insert #han seojun x reader #han seojoon #true beauty headcanon

334 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Dorcas meets up with Marlene at Marlene’s house and Luke is there—we figure out Marlene and Luke are cousins. Luke, as it turns out, has a neglecting mother (as well as a father who has been taken to jail, Marlene’s father doesn’t want her dating Dorcas because she’s from Salazar, and Marlene still hasn’t told Dorcas that she got into college.

Saint goes to wait for Logan at The Carrows in Salazar, where he restocks his Crucio supply.

Lily and James are painting one of the Potter’s old boats together. Lily is confused and frustrated—and in love with James. James, already hurt and trying not to cause himself further harm but also not wanting to lose Lily entirely, lets Lily kiss him but ends it there. They’re both nervous about college.

Instead of Logan, Saint runs into Luke first, who, as a last resort, is going to the Carrows for Crucio. Luke seems to have some surprises up his sleeve—a love for books that Saint shares, perhaps. When Saint does spot Logan, he makes Luke get into his car so as to not alarm him, and steals his dad’s gold watch in the process.

When Saint goes to fetch Logan, they run into Amycus Carrow, who tells Saint that Logan owes them for using their stash of Crucio without paying—but they won’t tell Saint or Logan how much Logan owes.

As a result, Logan gets it into his head that he can pay off his debt if he finds the treasure of The Voldemort, the one that Leo’s dad died looking for. Logan tries to get Saint to help by asking what he wants most, and when that doesn’t work, asking what he hates. Perhaps Saint is one for revenge, rather than need.

Sirius and Dorcas finally get Saint talking about Logan and his time at Saint Clair. Saint reveals that there were harsh punishments for bad behavior in Saint Clair. He also reveals that, for reasons he can only guess at, when kids turn 18, the age at which they could leave the orphanage, they decide to stay. Saint believes Crucio has something to do with it. He has memories of being extremely tired at night, and having vivid dreams—he doesn’t say what these dreams were about. Saint believes that many of the kids, if they arrived young enough, don’t know how to tell the difference between a Crucio-filled mind and a Crucio-free one. The scene ends with them receiving an invitation to a party at James’ house.

Logan finds Leo at his family’s workshop and says he wants to help him find The Voldemort. Leo wants to finish his father’s work, Logan needs the money—Saint shows up, seeming to have found his motivation, too, whatever it may be.

***CW: mentions of taking drugs and being drugged, brief mentions of blood, brief mention of death of a father***

part vi

In his dream, Finn was in a house. There was a woman sitting at the table, a man at the stove, and a boy leaning against the counter. Everything was murky at the edges, even their laughter.

Finn knew what family was. He’d read about it. He’d thought about it. With Logan, he’d felt it.

What he didn’t know, what he could never be sure of, was whether he’d seen it. What it looked like. What his looked like. Every time he thought he did…he’d wake up.

They had begun as pills—vitamins. But pills could be kept on the tongue.

Powder couldn’t be kept from food.

Finn, sweetheart, the woman said in his dream. How was school today? Is Logan still coming over for dinner?

Your boyfriend, the other boy teased, smiling. The man turned from the stove and laughed, reaching over to tussle Finn’s hair.

Yeah, Finn heard himself say. He is.

He looked at the woman—his mother, maybe—and she looked different than she had a moment ago.

We can play pick up, the brother said—but he wasn’t anymore. There was a sister, and now a brother again, now two brothers. And then his mother was at the stove and his father coming in from the yard, and then there was a younger sister sitting on his lap, and then he was the younger brother and his dad was coming home from work, briefcase in hand, closing the front door, giving his mother a kiss—

Finn woke up. His throat was dry and his eyes were, too. He used to wake up crying when he was younger. And Logan had been there, both of them not understanding.

Finn didn’t know if Logan understood now. Finn hadn’t figured it out until after he’d gotten Logan out, not entirely. Not about the Felix. Just about the kids that weren’t leaving. Something was keeping them here, and all he had wanted was to protect Logan and himself from that. Now that he knew that it was Felix that kept them here…Finn couldn’t see why they wanted it so bad. He didn’t want these false glimpses of family. He didn’t want Felix. He wanted Logan. Logan was real. His only comfort was that Logan was free of it. Of this place.

Finn blinked slowly up at the walls of the solitary room. His eyes were heavy. His head, his limbs. He hadn’t eaten anything in almost a week now.

And the dreams still came.

Maybe it wasn’t anything but his own head that was doing the imagining now.

He knew what was real, and this wasn’t it.

Luke looked across the deck at his mother in her lounge chair and pinched the Felix, within a small plastic bag within his pocket, to make it sift back and forth. A sound only he could hear. That, and the ice cubes in his mother’s whiskey. The sun was hot on his bare chest, drying the water droplets left from the pool quickly. He couldn’t stop rubbing the place where his father’s watch had been. Just thinking about it, about Saint and his quick fingers, made him snarl.

His mother’s ice cubes rattled.

“I want to start going through your father’s things,” she said airily from beneath her floppy sun hat. “There’s just so much of it. His papers, and all those fat books he has. God, that stupid treasure obsession.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Luke replied as evenly as he could. “And he’s not dead. He’s coming back.”

His mother laughed. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She had cut her hair very short after Luke’s dad had been taken away. Luke couldn’t get the images out of his mind. Her, walking back through the door the next day, with her long blonde hair cut to her chin, curling just beneath her jaw. She had smiled at him and given her head a shake. Like it, mon lumière?

My light, she called him. When he was little she’d kissed him goodnight with that nickname every day, turning on the small nightlight that he kept—he still kept it. He’d tried not to, but every time, every night, the dark was just too dark. He was almost mad at her for giving it to him in the first place. If he had just gotten used to the dark…maybe he would be more prepared now.

Since his father, she’d been moving about the house like nothing had changed. Or, rather, like something had changed, and she was all the better for it.

His father’s leather chairs were gone from the living room, replaced by two baby blue couches that made Luke sick to look at. The pirate ship wheel was gone from the wall, too.

Luke didn’t know this mother.

Not even the island knew this woman. They knew the bake-sale-bringing, strict-rule-making, no-nonsense-grounding mother that Luke had known his entire life. He’d spent so many nights furious in his room after she’d caught him sneaking out or drinking.

And now, here his mother was, offering him a glass of whiskey at eleven in the morning.

Luke pinched the Felix between his fingers more harshly.

“No, thanks,” he said, and squinted back out towards the ocean.

“If you’re sure,” his mother said. “Well, I just said so because I’m tired of looking at it all.”

“Don’t get rid of it,” Luke said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. “I like his office. Mom, it reminds me of him.”

Luke had spent hours in there, laughing with his father, talking about history and literature, sneaking the rare puff on his cigar.

Then, they had taken him away, and his mother had gotten a hair cut, and suddenly Luke didn’t know anything anymore.

“Excuse me,” Luke mumbled, and left his mother in the sun with her drink and the pills that were no doubt already within. She was getting high more than he ever had now.

Luke could barely see anything inside the house after the bright day outside, but he didn’t need to see. He could have found his father’s study, and everything in it, blind.

He was still damp when he sunk down shakily into his father’s desk chair, the plush leather smelling of cigars, and took the bag of pinkish powder out of his pocket.

Just to see him again.

Just for something else to have happened.

Just not this.

Remus met Sirius in James’ kitchen again. The large glass doors were flung wide, opening out onto the porch and the pool beyond where a projector and screen were set up, along with chairs and blankets. Lily had set out the floating lanterns that the Potters put in the pool during their dinner parties and they floated idly back and forth in the evening breeze, giving out a soft yellow glow to mix with the dusky blue that came in from the ocean. The palm trees leaned over the house’s surrounding gate, swaying.

The counter between Remus and Sirius was covered in food. Pizza and nachos from Thomas’ family’s restaurant, chocolate chip cookies, chips and salsa, sodas and liquor.

“If you’re gonna do it, do it in the house,” Mrs. Potter always said.

Sirius looked the same, but fresh out of the ocean. His dark hair was damp, dripping onto the collar of his faded t-shirt. He looked like the ocean had the same effect on him as it did on Remus. Sirius’ eyes looked brighter. His shoulders looked more relaxed. He looked up from where he was pouring some whiskey into a cup and even managed an easier smile than usual.

“Hey,” Remus said, taking a paper plate from the stack. “How’s it going?”

Sirius’ eyes found his, then he looked down, stoppering the bottle. “Pretty good, you?”

“Pretty good,” Remus said, and then took a breath before testing the waters. “Had a nice sail this morning, clocked a shift at the museum, can’t complain.”

Sirius glanced up quickly, and Remus suppressed a smile as he loaded his plate.

“Oh,” Sirius began. “I mean, yeah, I saw.”

“You like sailing?”

Sirius nodded. “Kris lets me take one of his out sometimes.”

“Kris?” Remus questioned.

“Oh,” Sirius cleared his throat. Remus watched some of those ocean washed walls begin to go back up. “Yeah, he runs the boat rental shop over in Rowena. I guess you wouldn’t know given that you have…you know.”

Remus tried to side-step the awkward shift. Sirius seemed to have ideas about him already. Remus wished he had some clue about Sirius, beside his ocean-eyes and guarded expression.

“Well, that’s cool of him,” Remus said.

Sirius nodding from over the brim of his cup. “Yeah, it is.”

“Hey, well—” Remus shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure you do it on your own all the time but…you know if you ever wanted to…”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Remus hadn’t finished his sentence.

“I mean, if you ever wanted to,” Remus began again, and was suddenly nervous. Sirius didn’t even like him. It looked as though he didn’t like Gods in general. He’d probably think this was charity. He’d probably hate Remus for offering. “Go out.”

Sirius’ eyebrow raised further.

“On my boat,” Remus said, all in a rush. His cheeks were hot. “Go sailing on—my boat.”

Remus didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Sirius to do nothing at all. He stood there, frozen and off guard.

“Only if you want,” Remus said hopelessly. “I get up pretty early.”

“So do I,” Sirius said, and there was the slap of flip flops from behind Remus.

“Look who I found at the kid’s table,” Saint’s voice came, and he leaned on the counter beside Remus in his tank-top and shorts, taking a nacho off of his plate. “Hello, Remus Lupin. You’re looking flushed. Sirius, are you making him blush?”

“Um,” Sirius said.

Remus just shook his head and reached for a soda. He felt idiotic, and now more so, after being interrupted. He could hear the others talking and laughing over the movie and wished he was over there—wished he hadn’t tried to hit on Sirius Black, of all people. He didn’t know if Sirius liked men. He didn't even know Sirius.

“Re, Saint, Black, someone bring me back a drink!” Marlene’s voice came over the chatter. She was tangled with Dorcas on one of the blankets, leaning back into her chest.

“Why do you look like you’ve done something?” Sirius said, drawing Remus’ eyes back to him.

“Well, I haven’t yet,” Saint replied. “But just watch.” He leaned closer to Remus. “Fruit-Loop, I need you to get me into that museum of yours.”

Remus looked at him warily. “How do you know I work at the museum…”

“A friend,” Saint said.

Remus looked at the hand Saint was resting his chin on. He was fairly sure that was Luke’s father’s watch.

“Get you in?” he asked. “Why not just go?”

Saint looked at him like he was entirely put upon, like he couldn’t believe Remus hadn’t caught on yet. “Because I don’t think what I’m looking for is on the floor, as they say.”

“Saint,” Sirius said incredulously. “What…what?”

“Can you help?” Saint looked at Remus. “You know, I could just take it.”

“Let you take something from the museum?” Remus laughed. “No.”

“Fine,” Saint sighed and pushed up from the counter, taking Remus’ plate from him and beginning to walk away. “I was just giving you the option to make this a little easier.”

Remus stared after him, then looked at Sirius, who shook his head before Remus could even ask.

“No idea,” Sirius said.

Saint didn’t actually know that many movies.

The movie theater was fine, but old. Grimmauld didn’t have a TV. It definitely didn’t have a large projector screen and James’ laptop. There was dancing on the screen. The actors were some place warm. He didn’t recognize it.

Books, on the other hand. Books, he knew.

He spied Luke resting on his forearms, long legs stretched in front of him on a blanket near that back of their group, and smiled.

“Deveaux,” Saint said as he sat down, placing the plate between them. “Pleasure to see you again.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus, who invited you.”

“The peace keeper named James Potter,” Saint replied. “Not sure what sort of peace he thinks there is to keep. I, for one, think he’s made it all up in his head.”

Luke grabbed Saint’s wrist, the gold of his watch beneath his rough palm.

“This is mine,” Luke said. “You little thief.”

“Is it?”

“Saint,” Luke’s eyes were dark in the dying light and flickering screen. “Give it back to me.”

“What will you give me?” Saint asked, and leaned in.

Luke snarled and let go. “I’m not bargaining for my watch. You stole it.”

“I steal a lot of things. Your mother has good taste, by the way. So does Mrs. Potter. Unlike some of these God mothers. Do you think they know their husbands buy them the fake stuff, and save the goods for their mistresses?”

“Fuck off.”

Saint broke part of a cookie off. “Those are your two favorite words.”

Luke just shook his head, his jaw tight and angry, eyes remaining on the screen. Saint chewed slowly.

“What’s this?” Saint asked, jerking his chin towards the screen.

He felt Luke look at him. “You don’t know?”

“I just asked, didn’t I?”

“What?” Luke scoffed. “It’s Mamma Mia. You’ve never seen this movie? Where the fuck have you been?”

Saint looked at him steadily.

“Right,” Luke nodded. “Fucked childhood, and all that.”

“That’s one way to look at it, thank you, tweedle.”

“What else haven’t you seen?”

Saint flicked the hand with the watch on it. “How the fuck should I know?”

Luke’s eyes followed the gold for a moment, and then he looked back out towards the others. Saint did, too, laughing softly. He could practically feel Luke trying to decide how to get the watch from his wrist.

“Irish wrist watch,” Saint whispered. “Irish wrist watch, Irish wrist watch…”

James was sitting with Lily. Marlene and Dorcas were to the side, dancing along to the music with Thomas. Sirius and Remus had followed him out of the house and were, to Saint’s surprise, sitting awkwardly beside each other. Sirius seemed to be asking about the movie, too, and Remus explaining it to him.

Fucking Gods, Saint thought as he looked around at the glowing pool, the mountain of food in the kitchen. Fucking Gods and all their careless lives.

He wondered if maybe he should have brought Leo along, if his sob story about his dad might have gotten Remus to help.

Remus works at the museum, Leo had said. Me and Logan heard him say, him and Layla—her family owns it. If there’s any chance of seeing another copy of that map, it’s the History Museum.

“I’ve never seen you be quiet for this long,” Luke’s voice interrupted.

“You’re the one who ruined it.”

Luke reached between them for the plate and plucked up the other half of Saint’s cookie. “I was just saying.”

“I’ve never seen you not glower for this long—oh, there it is.”

“Give me my watch back.”

“For what?”

Luke paused, then said, “Books.”

That made Saint look at him. Luke’s eyes were on Saint’s wrist, but Saint remembered him in the car, reading James’ copy of Shelley. Saint felt stormy again, a familiar building in his chest that always simmered.

“Excuse me?”

“Give me my watch and I’ll give you—”

“So, you are bargaining.”

“You seem to like hand-outs,” Luke bit back. “You take books from James, don’t you? Not to mention this,” Luke shifted towards Saint. “You take a lot of things from people you claim to hate.”

“Ouch,” Saint said, and it really had hurt. Waste of space. He smiled.

“I can do you better,” Luke said. “Tell me what you want.”

“You mean your daddy could?”

Luke’s expression went cold all over. Lightning, over the strike of green in his right eye, nestled among the deep brown. “What’s his is mine now.”

Saint wondered if Luke had Crucio in his system right now. He didn’t have the tired look of it. Come to think of it, Luke never had that look, not like Logan did. He must take it at night, Saint thought. To sleep, maybe. Some people used it like that. Some people thought it let them control their dreams.

Saint didn’t think anyone could control their dreams, their wants and wishes—waking or asleep. Even if they wanted to.

“Was this his, too?” Saint looked at the watch face.

“God, just—” Luke broke off, shoulders tense, and rubbed his eyes. “What the fuck do you want? Money? Just tell me and give it back.”

Saint checked the time, then looked back at Luke.

“One-thirty. My bedtime. And I don’t need shit from you,” Saint said breezily, and patted Luke’s thigh before pushing himself up from the blanket.

“Saint,” he heard Sirius say faintly, but nothing from Luke, and he kept walking through the Potter’s house.

Sirius was almost angry at Saint. Or, maybe, he was angry at himself for wanting to stay at the Potters. He knew why he had been invited, why James had wrapped an arm around him, told him to help himself to the food, why Remus had talked to him, sat beside him, offered…well, he wasn’t sure what Remus had offered.

Pity.

At least, he thought he knew.

Though talking to Remus had felt far from pity. Remus laughed with his eyes squeezed shut, and it had taken Sirius off guard each and every time. He was angry at Remus Lupin. He was angry at him for his words when they were eleven.

Are you okay? Sirius, right?

As if he didn’t know Sirius’ name, and of course Sirius wasn’t okay.

But now Remus Lupin was talking about his boat, and this movie, whatever it was, that Sirius had never seen, and smiling at him as though he’d done nothing wrong.

Or, at least he had been, before Sirius had followed a blank-faced Saint out of the house.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked Saint’s retreating back as they jogged down the steps to the driveway.

Saint had merely held up something that jingled over his shoulder. The car keys glinted as much as the watch on his wrist which Sirius knew wasn’t his own.

“Taking Luke’s car.”

“Saint, come on,” Sirius sighed. “I mean—that looked pretty fucking civil. Non?”

Saint turned on him. “Oh, yes, and you could hear every word? Non.” Saint kicked one of the tires. “Fuck the Gods, and fuck their shiny cars, too.”

Sirius shook his head. “What’s this—museum stuff? What’s going on? Saint, just talk to me—”

“You took Lupin’s side,” Saint breezed as he chirped Luke’s car. “You don’t get to know.”

That stopped Sirius in his tracks. He took a step back. “Since when do we do that?”

Saint slammed the door, sitting in the driver seat.

“Not tell each other things?” Sirius pushed forward. “Since when?”

Sirius watched him through the rolled down window as he ran his hands over the dark leather of the seats, the shiny black of the dash.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Saint said softly. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”

“What do you want from the museum?” Sirius tried again. “Is this about…Saint Clair? Logan? Ever since he showed up—”

“Orphan!” came from the house just moments before the front door blew open. Luke zeroed in on Saint behind the wheel instantly, sandy hair casting shadows over his forehead and eyes. “What the fuck is up with you and taking my shit?”

“See you at home, sweetheart,” Saint said to Sirius, and started the car. Luke brushed past Sirius and tugged fruitlessly on the locked door.

“Hey,” Luke only just managed to bang on the back window as Saint screeched out of the Potter’s drive. “Saint!”

Sirius watched as Luke stood there in the humid night, watching his own taillights disappear. He cursed again, running a hand through his hair, and then turned.

Luke looked at Sirius. They stayed a few feet apart in the driveway.

“Do you know where he’s going?” Luke asked, breathing heavily.

Sirius did not like Luke Deveaux.

“No,” he said, and turned back into the house to find Remus.

Leo looked over at Logan. They were sitting on the curb outside The Lion, waiting for word from Saint, and Logan was quiet. Not that Logan wasn’t usually quiet, but this felt different. He was picking at an old scab on his knee, taking his hat off and putting it back on again.

“Are you okay?” Leo asked, and Logan didn’t look up when he nodded.

“Is it,” Leo hesitated. “Finn?”

That snapped Logan’s head up. “How did you…”

“You said his name to me,” Leo said softly. “The first night we met. You were…” but Leo didn’t really know the word. High? Hallucinating?

“I know what I was,” Logan sighed.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Leo asked. “I mean, you don’t have to I just…I know it helps to talk about my dad sometimes.”

“Finn isn’t dead,” Logan said harshly. He took his hat off, pushing his hair back, and put it back on again.

“I know,” Leo said. “I know, I just meant—never mind.”

Leo, in a way that Logan would probably hate him for, was dying to know more about Saint Clair. Saint had been around long enough that Leo sometimes lost track of the fact that he’d escaped. Others were around the island, doing work and looking normal enough that Leo could forget about them, too.

But he couldn’t forget Logan. Logan, who was tortured and rough and missing someone in a way that Leo could feel, that Leo could recognize.

Beautiful, with his green eyes and rare smiles, that Leo knew he should steer well away from. Because Finn. Finn sounded like—

“He’s my—” Logan began, then shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. Boyfriend sounds—small.” Logan shifted, looking at Leo. “He’s all I have. He’s all I’ve had for a long time. Since I can remember. My entire life.” Logan ran a hand over his face, and when it came away, he looked exhausted. “I’m just repeating myself, but do you get it?”

“Yes,” Leo said. “I get it.”

“And now he’s—and I’m out here, and…”

“And you want to get him out, too,” Leo finished for him. Logan looked stricken.

“He got me out,” he said softly. “When it came down to it, he chose me. But I didn’t have time to choose him. It was all over so fast.”

Leo rubbed the colorful bracelet on his wrist. Boyfriend. “And when you say you’re looking for him…Waiting for him…”

“I know where he is,” Logan said. “And the waiting part was a lie. I’d be stupid to wait. I need to get him. He—“ Logan swallowed. “There’s a courtyard. Where I can usually see him. But he hasn’t been there.”

Leo watched Logan’s throat bob again. He was picking at his nail beds, at the scab. Leo lay his palm over his restless fingers, and Logan looked up, eyes bright.

“He needs my help.”

“Okay,” Leo nodded. “Okay.”

“Lovers on the wharf,” came a voice, accompanied by thumping music. Saint pulled up in a sleek looking car—that definitely wasn’t his own. He leaned out the window, grinning. “Deveaux has terrible taste in music.”

“You stole this car,” Leo said dryly. “Didn’t you.”

“Yes I did, Knut. Yes, I did.”

“Let's go,” Logan said. He sniffed and picked up his backpack.

“Who’s got shot gun?” Saint asked.

Remus stopped in front of the gallery heading that read Madness On Hogwarts.

He hadn’t asked his mother about it yet. He wasn’t even sure how to ask. But, there it was. The name Lupin was there. He didn’t have to look far. It was there, telling about the slow demise of the mind.

Part of Remus had always wondered when his own would begin.

Another part of him felt like it already had.

He was, after all, standing beside Sirius Black on the dark museum floor, looking for a rogue orphan from Saint Clair.

“It seems pretty quiet, to me,” Remus said. “You really think he came here tonight?”

“He stole Luke’s car, didn’t he?”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, but…”

“So, that’s very get-away-ish of him. I mean he blamed it on hating Gods but—“

Sirius cut off, swallowing, realizing what he said.

“It’s okay,” Remus said and smiled a little. “I…it’s okay.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “It’s just that ours doesn’t always start up.”

Remus’ tried to ease the tension. “Get-away-ish?”

Sirius just shrugged and ducked his head, but Remus thought he was maybe smiling, too.

“Why didn’t you tell James where we were going?” Sirius asked instead, shining his flashlight over a model of a great merchant ship, its sails molded to seem like they were filled with wind. Remus could practically feel it.

It was Remus’ turn to duck as they walked around the exhibits, listening. “James Potter and sneaking anywhere? I don’t know about that.”

Sirius did laugh this time, and he looked almost surprised with it. “I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, he and Lily looked cozy.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, that’s been almost happening ever since I can remember.”

“Right,” Remus laughed. For a moment it felt like they did know each other. As though they had been going to school together since they were little. As though Sirius hadn’t left school one day and never returned.

“Can I…ask you something?” Remus said hesitantly.

Sirius made a non-committal sound, and Remus figured that was as good as he was going to get.

“When you left school,” Remus began, then hesitated. “Well, I guess I mean, how? Didn’t your parents…or the police, even…”

“My parents don’t want a son like me,” Sirius replied easily. “As far as the law goes…I’ve never been bothered. I assumed they told the Academy I was being homeschooled. When I say someone like me, I guess I mean they don't want anything to ruin their reputation.” Sirius sighed. “Whatever that may be. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“But you weren’t homeschooled,” Remus said. “You’re in The Hollow?”

Sirius’ smile was a little challenging. “Surfing every morning. Hanging out with my friends every night. I get work where I can, but I don’t need much.”

Remus nodded. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. I guess you’re not going to college, then.”

“That stuff isn’t for everyone,” Sirius replied.

“Oh,” Remus began. “No, I wasn’t, like, judging, I was just—”

That was when they heard a thump and a curse. They jolted, looking at each other.

“The archives,” Remus whispered.

“He did say it wasn’t on the floor.”

Remus took off towards the back rooms, Sirius on his heels. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, then shoved the correct one into the lock and pushed the door open.

“Saint,” Sirius panted.

Remus looked from the pried open window, to the boy peaking his head through the glass—Logan, he remembered—and then, finally, to Saint, crouched on the floor and pulling flat drawers open, one after another.

Saint just looked over his shoulder at them, flashlight between his teeth, then back to the file drawer he was rummaging through.

“If you were hoping to catch me, maybe don’t leave your big flashy car out front, Lupin.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t even thought of the car.

“Look, I can’t let you steal something,” Remus said.

Saint scoffed. “Look, if it means that much to you, I’ll put it right back, we just need to look at it.”

Logan dropped in through the window, then, hissing as he cut his forearm on what looked like a stray nail. He looked up, seemingly mindless of the blood dripping near his fingers.

“We’ll just take a picture,” Logan said. “I promise.”

“Who says I’ll let you?” Remus said.

“Because I’m limber like that,” Saint said. “I can get in and out of here, and I can certainly slip through your sailor hands.”

“Yeah, is that something you worry about?” Sirius said, and Saint’s head snapped towards him. The light fell over Sirius’ face. “Being able to make the escape?”

Remus thought the words sounded menacing, at least he thought Saint thought that, but Sirius’ expression was softer. Worried, even.

“Very funny,” Saint finally replied, and his smile had a bite to it around the light. “Ha, ha.”

Saint Clair, Remus realized. Sirius was talking about Saint Clair. He looked at Logan again. Logan was watching Saint almost eagerly.

“What are you even looking for?” Remus asked.

There was a grunt as a third boy piled in—Leo, from The Lion.

“Leo?” Sirius said, looking between the three of them. “Jesus, Saint, what’s going on?”

“We’re looking for something,” Saint’s words were marred by the metal between his teeth. “Merde, aren’t you listening?”

“I told you no,” Remus said.

Saint pulled open another drawer. “And I told me yes.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Remus shook his head, at a loss, and Sirius sighed.

“At least tell us what it is,” Sirius said, and went to crouch beside Saint.

Remus watched as Sirius put a hand on his back, low and firm. It was a familiar and comfortable gesture, and Remus thought Saint maybe pushed into it a little.

Remus tilted his head, looking at the soft splay of Sirius’ fingers.

“A map,” Leo said, and Saint all but hissed at him. “What? We’re not taking anything. I don’t even know why we broke in, really, we should have just asked—”

Saint took the light from his mouth. “I’m nothing if not a showboat.”

“Anything?” Logan asked, peering closer to what Saint was looking at. Saint had two papers in his hands, but he tossed them down roughly—too roughly for Remus’ liking.

Saint ignored Logan with a long sigh, and turned to Remus, bumping one of the flat drawers closed with a hip. “We are in need of a treasure map, Lupin.”

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me the mad-house you grew up in didn’t have tales of The Voldemort.”

Remus felt his blood spike, heat draping itself around his neck. “Don’t fucking—”

“What Saint means,” Leo stepped forward, eyes apologetic. “I…my dad was looking for it. He was close and…and he’s—Saint and Logan agreed to help me find it. I didn’t know we’d be doing this. They know how much it means to me—”

“If your dad’s close to finding it, why not just use his map?” Remus asked.

Leo glanced up at him, then down at the drawers. “It went down with him and his boat.”

“Oh,” Remus stuttered out. “I…”

Leo just shook his head. “I remember what it looks like. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Saint waved his hand, and Remus noticed Luke’s watch again. “What’s it going to say, Knut, the ancient treasure lies here?”

“It’s not to The Voldemort,” Leo said. “It’s to a trading post, a stop point just off of Hogwarts. In the Cradle. People thought that it might have been a sort of cover operation, that maybe someone found the gold and was using it as a way to smuggle it out unnoticed—”

“So, it’s not even there?” Logan asked.

Leo splayed his hands helplessly. “I don’t know!”

Remus looked at Sirius when he laughed. “You’re kidding.” Sirius knocked Saint’s shoulder. “You’re looking for the fucking Voldemort? Since when?”

“You’re the one who wants to leave this island,” Saint said lowly. “To do that you’ll need money.”

Sirius’ expression changed in the dim light. The moon was high now, and he looked silver and shadowed—and surprised.

“What?” Sirius said faintly. Saint wouldn’t meet his eye. “But you don’t want—”

Logan stepped forward, eyes still on Remus. “Look. We’re not crazy. Leo wants this for his dad, and I—I need to help someone. I told you when we met, didn’t I?”

“You said you were looking for someone,” Remus replied.

Logan nodded quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Saint said and rose, turning to Logan and pointing the light towards his chest like an accusing finger. “Hold every single one of your horses. This is not about Saint Clair, and this is not about Finn. This is about your stupidity and The Carrows.”

“No,” Logan said. “This is about getting Finn out.”

“The Carrows,” Leo repeated, looking at Logan. Logan glanced at him, then rubbed a hand over his face.

“Then help me with Finn,” Logan said, louder this time. “I made a mistake with The Carrows, fine, but are you going to be my next one?”

“No,” Saint all but snarled back.

Logan shoved him, hard, sending Saint crashing back against the files, making them rattle.

“Hey,” Sirius said lowly, and then he had a hand wrapped up in Logan’s shirt, pushing him back.

“Stop,” Remus said, putting his hands out. “Jesus, not here. Maybe you all don’t give a shit, but everything in here is old. It’s precious.” He turned to Leo. “A map, you said a map, just tell me so we can all leave.”

Leo bit his lip, gesturing towards the drawers. “These are labeled?”

Remus nodded and watched them all warily as Leo took the light from Logan and crouched to read the writing on the drawers.

Saint and Logan were still staring at each other. Remus could practically feel some unsaid words between them. Sirius had let Logan go, but Remus didn’t want to keep the three of them in this room together for much longer.

“Here,” Leo said suddenly, and the sound of one of the rattling drawers filled the room. “It’s—oh.”

“What?” Logan asked, shoving around Sirius’ body towards the drawer. Remus followed, glancing back once. Saint and Sirius had their heads close. Sirius had his hand on Saint’s neck, and they were talking softly but quickly to each other.

Remus looked away.

The label read, Cartography. C. 18th. Commerce Port, but in place of anything that the label suggested, was an index card with neat handwriting on it.

On loan: Victor Deveaux

“Deveaux,” Saint said, clucking his tongue. “Deveaux, Deveaux, Deveaux…”

“No,” Remus heard Leo breathe.

“That’s Luke’s dad,” Remus said. He stared at the name. “Oh. That’s…”

“What?” Logan asked. “What do you know?”

Remus shot him a look. He seemed even more on edge than a few moments ago.

“I’d sort of forgotten with everything. Everything that happened to Luke this past year, but,” Remus said. “Luke was always sort of obsessed with the treasure. Only because his dad was, though. When we got older, me and James sort of made fun of him for it, but when we were younger, Mr. Deveaux used to hide little trinkets or candy for us somewhere in the house, and then write out clues for us to work through.” Remus smiled at the memory. It was happy, and it was sad. It seemed like too long ago. “It was fun.”

“So, he has the map,” Logan said. “Can you take us there?”

“Can you relax, speed racer, thanks,” Saint snapped.

“We need the map,” Logan barked back.

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Remus said.

“All the better,” Saint replied and closed the window they had come through before opening the museum door.

“Can’t this wait until morning?”

“Luke won’t just hand it over,” Sirius offered.

Remus turned to him. “What do you care?”

“Saint cares.”

Remus blinked. Sirius was all walled up again, eyes silver.

“Lead the way, Sailor,” Saint said.

Luke’s house was large and pristine, but it looked abandoned somehow. Saint stared up at the white walls, the stone chimney that he couldn’t imagine ever got used. He wondered if it was as grand as the Potters’ house inside. It certainly looked that way, manicured and vast. But it lacked the warmth. It seemed to shift in the night wind.

“We can’t just knock,” Remus broke the silence.

“We should wait,” Leo said somewhat nervously.

“I’ve got this,” Saint replied, chin tilted up towards the large house’s windows. “Which one’s his?”

Remus laughed. “You’re not serious.”

“No, that’d be him,” Saint said, clapping Sirius on the back—who rolled his eyes. “Now, tell me.”

“What are you going to do, climb up the drain pipe?”

Saint shucked his flip flops into the grass. “Yes, sir.”

“You could fall,” Sirius warned.

Saint looked at the windows, set deep into the house’s frame. The rough painted sides and stray vine climbing the surface. He looked at the tilted roof. “I won’t. Now which room is his?”

Remus, behind Saint, was quiet for a long time. Saint kept his eyes forward, squeezing his hands into fists, and then letting them out again. His heart beat hard in his chest, as if remembering a memory his mind wouldn’t.

“He keeps a light on,” Remus finally sighed, and pointed. “That window there.”

The metal and stone were cold beneath Saint’s feet. The pipe was sturdy, but every time it creaked he could hear the others whisper from below. The higher Saint climbed, the more the wind picked up. He closed his eyes letting it push his hair off of his forehead. The summer night was humid, and the moon was high.

“Saint?” he heard Sirius whisper from below.

Saint didn’t respond, just kept climbing. That was how climbing worked. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could rest, but the real part was pushing through the aches and the fear.

What do you hate so much that you’re helping us? Logan had asked him in the car on their way to the museum, and Saint had said something silly, as he always did. He’d smiled. Logan hadn’t laughed, but anyone else would have.

Saint thought of Sirius’ hand, low on his back in the archives rooms.

But you don’t want to go, Sirius had been about to say when Saint told him why they needed the gold. But you don’t want to leave.

If they had been alone, Saint might have actually told him the truth.

But you do, he would have said. If there was anything that wouldn’t be wasteful, it was getting Sirius Black off of this island and away from his own, terrified self. Saint might be a waste, but Sirius wasn’t.

Saint reached the roof and crouched, breathing hard. He could see the light from Luke’s room below him, the slates of the slight, pointed arch above the window frame. It was a short drop. He made it soundlessly, glancing down at the dark shape of the others as he swung himself onto the wooden sill. He could see the source of the light now.

It was a small bulb, plugged in low on the wall by the bed. Simple and cheap, with some sort of picture lit up. A sea shell, Saint thought. It didn’t illuminate much, but Saint could see Luke’s face. He was turned towards the window, on his stomach with an arm beginning to fall over the side of the mattress. He was bare to his waist, where the sheets pooled along his lower back.

Saint pushed at the top of the window until it cracked enough for him to curl his fingers beneath the frame. Luke didn’t stir, not even when Saint let the humid night air meet the AC, and set his bare feet softly on the hardwood floor.

Saint still didn’t know if Luke was a snoop, but he certainly knew that he was.

The floor was stacked with books. They were shoved over to the sides of the walls, near the desk beside a tangle of laptop chords and phone chargers. The bedside table was littered with old water glasses and coffee mugs, clothes occupied more of the floor than the open closet. There were small, empty plastic bags littered throughout the room. Saint picked up one, looking at the few grains of remnants.

He let it flutter back to the floor.

Everyone needed to control something, or at least think they did. Saint, for one too many times since Logan arrived, let himself think about Saint Clair. They’d taken clarity from him. He didn’t know how The Voldemort would get him that back—maybe nothing would. It would certainly take Sirius away, the only constant.

But everyone needed to control something. Or at least think they did. If Saint was going to be alone, he wouldn’t let it sneak up on him. Not again.

Saint was as good at tricking himself as he was at tricking others. And he liked gold. Part of him liked Luke, too. Stubborn. Mean. Beautiful. That would never change.

Saint looked down at Luke’s sleeping form. He looked younger in his sleep. He was dreaming. Saint could tell, there was a flicker beneath his eyelids. The bruise on his cheek was slowly fading, but a faint purple still graced his cheek.

“Tricky bastard,” Saint said aloud, and Luke stirred, cracking an eye open.

There it was. The sleepy look of Crucio, the haze. The lack of will, or maybe the abundance of it.

“You,” Luke mumbled. “You’re…”

His eyes flickered over Saint’s shoulder. Saint wondered who he was seeing. Saint crouched beside him and stroked a hand through his hair. Luke leaned into it. A loved one, then.

Luke blinked at him, and his expression shifted. He scrambled backwards, cursing.

“Saint,” Luke said, blinking. Saint laughed. He sort of liked that Luke couldn’t tell if he was really there or not.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said, and held up Luke’s father’s watch. “I need something from you.”

#relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #saint #Luke deveaux #jily #dorlene #harry potter #wolfstar fic #cw: drugs #cw: mention of death #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove

165 notes · View notes

goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Six)

Chapter Six: Lifted Burdens

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The word reverberated around her brain for days after she heard it. Her brain was mocking her and she knew it.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Over and over again.

A heartbroken Y/N went home that day to an extremely livid Penelope. Y/N was the one calming her down instead of the other way around.

“How could he be so stupid?! I mean, he’s a genius, but he’s still the stupidest person I’ve ever met! Oh my God, I’m gonna kill him! A girlfriend?! He’s out of his mind!”

And although Y/N agreed with every single word Penelope’d said, there was little she could do about it now. She had shown Ashley around just like she had with every other new agent. It would have been a lot easier to hate her if she wasn’t so...nice. You know, even though her father was a serial killer and all.

She was so normal. And Spencer seemed happy around her. That’s all she could ever ask for, right? So why was it still so painful every time the three of them were in a room together? Why was avoiding all the team members’ apologetic stares as they witnessed a moment between the couple turning into a sport? Well, she knew exactly why, but she didn’t really want to give that thought the time of day.

Derek was almost as livid as Penelope when he’d learned of the new relationship. It took everything in his power to not chew Spencer out.

Spencer, on the other hand, was convinced that this was the only way he’d ever get to get over Y/N. Besides, she’s married now, what’s everyone so upset for? Is his happiness too much to ask for? Although, he did find it odd that Y/N wasn’t wearing rings on any of her fingers. He would have thought that a newlywed wife would have been much more excited to show off her ring. It was also quite strange to hear that Anderson transferred to a different unit. But he stopped himself from thinking about her too much anyway. Stopped himself from thinking about how much her eyes stopped twinkling as much as they used to. Or how her smile always seemed a little less bright than he was used to.

Stop, Spencer. You have Ashley now. He reminded himself.

Ashley was a nice girl. They’d met a few times before they began dating. He first met her when Rossi took him to the Academy to speak with some of the recruits who were interested in joining the BAU. Then, after that, he’d ran into her while he was guest-lecturing at her university. She’d been taking extra classes to get her degree faster and ever since then, they’d kept in contact. They’d met again while Spencer was on his medical leave. He had practically begged Rossi to take him to any lectures. Despite being a homebody through and through, Spencer had had enough of sitting at home waiting for his knee to heal. He needed to get out of the house and do something. Ashley had been the one to suggest a date and Spencer was shocked to say the least, but he accepted. Who was he to deny a pretty girl a date when the love of his life was already married?

Coming back to work was exciting to say the least, even if he wasn’t authorized to go into the field yet. The rest of the team still had to go though, which made the bullpen kind of eerily quiet.

He tried to spend most of his time in Garcia’s batcave to be able to be a part of any video calls with the team, despite the fact that Garcia could barely look at him without wanting to crush the rest of his bones (it’s all in the name of love, she swears). Him being in Garcia’s cave made it practically impossible for Y/N to go in there as often as she normally would. She’d normally spend her entire breaktime with her, they’d chat, eat, and watch kitten videos on repeat. But now Dr. Genius was occupying her space there and it left Y/N sulking out in the empty bullpen.

Now, Spencer wasn’t completely oblivious to the way the team was acting around him. He’d noticed a decrease in Penelope’s affectionate terms, he’d noticed Derek’s disapproving stares, even JJ was being short with him. Maybe it had something to do with him dating the new agent.

“Hey, Garcia?” Spencer asked from his seat next to her, he was currently going over a case file as she sorted through VICAP.

“Yes, Reid?” She asked, obviously not paying attention.

“Do you guys um, not like Ashley or something?” He asked tentatively, fiddling with his pen between his fingers. That got her attention because she turned in her chair and looked at him.

“What gave you that idea?” She asked with signature Garcia concern.

Spencer shrugged and pursed his lips together, “I don’t know, you’ve all just been acting super weird since I got back and every time I’m with her around you guys it’s super awkward.”

He saw Garcia take a deep breath and she slumped her shoulders, “No, Reid, we do like her a lot. I guess you can say we just weren’t expecting it. I mean, you’d just gotten shot and then came back with a girlfriend, it was kind of...surprising.”

“Why is it so surprising? Is it so surprising that someone actually finds me interesting?” Spencer almost scoffed, that had come out way meaner than he’d intended.

“No, of course that’s not what I meant, you know that!” She exclaimed, tears already threatening her eyes, “It’s just...we all thought it would...y’know, take you a while to get over Y/N.” She tiptoed around what she really wanted to say. Spencer held back a roll of his eyes.

“Well, I am. So...so you can all stop being so weird. Besides, what does it matter how long it takes me to get over her? She’s married now, remember?” Spencer said, not even trying to hide the bitterness behind his voice.

Garcia’s face drained of all emotion all at once, “What?”

Spencer analyzed her expression before shrugging, “What?” He asked, feeling like he was missing something.

Suddenly, she began laughing in disbelief, “No, no, no. There’s no way.”

Spencer’s impatience and irritability grew, “What are you talking about?”

“Spencer! Y/N has been living with me for the past 3 weeks, you big idiot! I’m not saying anything more to you. You need to be talking to her right now, not me.” He felt as though his brain took ages to process what she’d told him.

“What...why would she be living with you?” He asked, his brain raking through all the possibilities. Garcia shook her head and refrained from speaking to him for the rest of the day. The dread set in as he realized.

He’d only seen Y/N at her desk whenever he had to leave the batcave for something. Most times she’d just send him a polite smile but they rarely engaged in any conversation. Her energy has been cut in half lately.

Near the end of the day, Spencer trudged all the way to the kitchenette on his crutches to make himself a fresh cup of coffee. While reaching up to grab his mug, he tried to balance on his crutches but was still very wobbly. The result of his wobbliness was a shattered mug on the floor of the BAU’s kitchenette. Spencer winced at the sound and sighed a deep sigh.

He heard quick footsteps to where he was, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N stood in front of him, taking in the scene. He hadn’t heard her voice in days, it was the closest thing he’d felt to relief hearing from her again.

“I-I’m okay, I just dropped a mug while trying to make a cup of coffee.” He huffed frustratedly, upset that his mobility was compromised.

“Spence, next time you can just ask me or something--or someone else, it doesn’t have to be me, but I mean, I don’t mind doing it, if you asked.” She stumbled lightly on her words, cheeks reddening. Spencer smiled in response and nodded, touched at her kindness, “Now, step back and let me help you clean this up before someone gets hurt.”

Spencer took a step back, the feeling of guilt overwhelming him as he watched her pick up the pieces and sweep the floor, “I’m sorry...about that. You didn’t have to help me out, thank you.”

Her face cracked a smile and Spencer felt the hunch in his shoulders loosen slightly, “Come on, it’s really nothing. How’s the um, knee?” She pointed slightly as she brought down another mug and began to fill it with coffee for him.

He sighed, “It’s not great. It hurts sometimes, like a lot, but it could have been worse I guess.” He shrugged, unable to keep his eyes off her captivating face. If he thought the science of reading microexpressions was interesting, reading her face was on a whole other level.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I really hope you feel better soon.” She spoke while adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar. He could tell that there was something weighing on her heavily as she seemed to drift further away as she watched the swirls of the cream dance in the mug.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. Um, what about you? Are you okay?” He asked, noting the way she immediately snapped back into shape almost as if she’d been caught slipping. Her facade was back on as if it hadn’t slipped for a nanosecond.

“Yeah! I’m great.” She smiled, not meeting his eyes, Spencer was about to ask about her current living situation when she spoke quickly, not leaving a pause, “How about I walk this back to your desk for you?”

“Um, you don’t have to do that. I can take it.” Spencer frowned, feeling already guilty enough.

She giggled slightly, purposefully glancing at both his hands wrapped around his crutches, “Got a third hand I don’t know about, Spence?”

Spencer grinned in defeat, realizing what she meant, “Right…” He sheepishly began to walk back to his desk, is Garcia needed him she would call. She set the cup down and flashed him a smile before turning around and walking right back to her desk where she stood for a few seconds as if contemplating something then continued on in the direction of Garcia’s office.

“Garcia...I did something bad.” She confessed sheepishly stepping into the office and closing the door behind her, feeling somewhat like a child who hadn’t followed instructions.

Garcia turned around in her chair, “Oh no, sweets, what happened?”

“I talked to him…” She flopped down onto the chair next to Garcia’s and pouted. Garcia couldn’t hide her smile and shook her head.

“And…?” Garcia looked expectantly at her.

“I don’t think I can ever get over him, Pen.” She suddenly frowned, picking at a frayed thread on her skirt.

“Well it’s not gonna happen overnight, sugarplum. Tell you what, why don’t we have a girls night out when the team gets back tonight. Maybe you could get a little lovin’.” Garcia added suggestively but Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed playfully in response.

“Yes to girls night, no to getting any “lovin’”, I don’t think my heart can physically handle anything else.”

“Ughh, alright. But um...there’s something you should know…” Garcia began.

“What is it?” Y/N pushed.

“So...you know how Reid is a certified genius and stuff...yeah...he’s quite possibly the most obtuse man I’ve ever met.” Garcia spoke.

“Yes, we know this, what is it, Pen?” Y/N asked, growing more impatient and anxious.

“I found out today that he had absolutely zero clue that you called off the wedding.” She said.

“What do you mean? How did he not know?” Y/N almost laughed at the absurdity.

“I guess no one told him. I think we all got so caught up with him getting shot that no one told him. Y/N, I’m telling you, up until 1:22 pm today, he thought you were married to Grant Anderson.” Y/N almost grimaced at the mention of her almost-husband.

“Well, what good is it now, he’s got little miss Ashley, who, by the way, IS NOT invited to girls’ night.”

But she was, of course she was. But it wasn’t just her, oh no, the entirety of the BAU had invited themselves out.

Everyone was stuck in their own little conversations around the table and Y/N felt like the odd one out. She looked up from her glass to see Rossi and Hotch deep in conversation, Derek and Penelope were in the middle of a story to which Emily and JJ were listening intently, and finally, the cherry on top, sitting directly across from her, was Spencer and his precious Ashley sitting practically glued at the hip with his arm around her shoulders. This was supposed to be a girls’ night out, and here Y/N was, feeling as miserable and insignificant as ever.

“I’ll be right back.” She said to no one in particular as she got up from the table, not that anyone noticed or heard. Spencer caught her leaving out of the side of his field of vision but Ashley quickly began telling him another story. Y/N had almost made it out of the bar when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Y/N, hey!” She turned to see none other than Anderson himself, looking quite put together and smiling very largely at her.

“Hey! Um, you out here too?” She smiled awkwardly and looked around for his friends.

“Yeah, came out for drinks with the guys from the White Collar Crimes division. Hey, you should come say hi.” He nodded his head towards a table full of men. Y/N glanced back at her table and saw that no one was looking for her so she shrugged and agreed.

She sat at the table and they all immediately brought her into the conversation, which made her mood lift significantly.

Had Grant always been this funny? She thought. As the guys settled down after their stories, Grant turned to Y/N.

“Can I get you a drink?” He offered nicely and she thought about it. She spent 11 years with this man, what could one drink possibly do?

As they sat at the bar and chatted, Y/N noticed that Grant was being extra gentlemanly and just...nice.

“So, yeah, this is my life now.” He tilted his beer at the table they were at previously.

“They’re really nice guys, I’m glad you’re happy at work.” She smiled and nodded. Grant smiled back and studied her for a moment.

“Um, so...I was wondering...I mean, do you...are you still sure about all this?” He gestured between them, “It’s just that we get on so well and I um, really wouldn’t mind doing it all over again for you.” He ended his sentence with a genuine smile.

Y/N’s smile faltered from a grin to a sad smile, her eyes flitting across the bar to look for Spencer, who had been keeping a close eye on her since she left in case she was in trouble. Their eyes met for a moment but nothing longer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She nodded with finality. Grant followed her eye-line and felt some jealousy stirring up inside.

“Wait--is this all about Reid?” Grant stared at her incredulously.

“What?! No! Of course it isn’t. We weren’t working out, I already told you.” She defended quickly, but Grant was unconvinced. He gave her a look and she avoided his eyes, “Me and Spencer are just friends, I promise. We kissed like, once, it didn’t even mean anything.”

“You kissed? When?!” Grant’s eyes immediately filled with rage, looking across the bar.

“It doesn’t matter, look, can we just step outside for a second, get some fresh air?” She tried to reason with him but before she knew it, Grant was out of the bar stool and marching his way over to the BAU’s table. Y/N followed him quickly, trying to minimize any damages.

“REID!” Grant yelled in the small bar, quickly alerting all the agents. Spencer’s worried eyes flitted to Y/N’s.

In one swift motion, Grant lunged forward to attack a still-seated Spencer, eliciting a frightened yelp from Ashley next to him.

But thankfully, Derek was much quicker than Grant and effectively took him down yelling, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

Hotch and Rossi visibly relaxed upon watching Derek drag a livid Grant outside the bar. Mortified, Y/N grabbed her things and ran out, unable to meet any of their eyes. She flagged a cab and tried to stop the sobs from tumbling out of her.

Needless to say, the next month was the most awkward month she’d ever been through. Anderson was lucky he’d only been suspended without pay and not actually arrested for attempted assault of an FBI agent. She was downright mortified after what had happened at the bar and had fully retreated into herself, having finally moved out into her own apartment. Her pickiness ended when she realized she couldn’t stay with Garcia anymore.

Even JJ had tried multiple times to set her up with one of Will’s friends, but Y/N always refused. Invites to bar nights were turned down and ignored. Her days consisted of waking up, going to work, coming back home, pretending to unpack but in reality avoiding it and ending up sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream. The entire team felt for her, but Spencer especially felt for her as well as felt like an absolute moron. Not about what had happened at the bar, he didn’t really care if Anderson had beat him up, maybe he deserved it for making her feel this way.

He watched curiously from his desk as Derek and Penelope walked through the glass doors of the BAU and stood at her desk. Penelope placed a heavy cookie tin on the raised part of the receptionist’s desk, the sound making Y/N look up from her computer.

“Morning, lil’ mama.” Derek grinned at her.

“Morning, D. Hey, Pen. What are you two up to?” Y/N’s gaze shifted between them suspiciously, “And what’s this?” She referred to the cookie tin.

“Oh, you know, just your favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies.” Garcia said with a smile. She watched as Y/N’s face lit up and immediately reached for the tin but Penelope held it securely.

“Uh-uh-uhh,” Derek taunted with a smirk.

“What? Why can’t I have the cookies?” Y/N huffed.

“These, my love, are a bribe and I’m not afraid to admit it.” Penelope said with a dramatic upturn of her chin.

“Oh no.” Y/N said.

“Oh yes.” Derek and Penelope both said. When Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to refuse, Penelope opened the top of the tin and Y/N took a peek and was hit by a whiff of heavenly chocolate chips.

“Fine, I will listen to your offer, but no promises.” She tried to stay strong even though the scent of the cookies was already driving her mad.

“We thought you might say that, which is why the entire tin is the bribe.” Derek said smoothly and Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“That is low, chocolate thunder!” She exclaimed and Spencer unwillingly smiled at her reaction.

“Anyway, you get this entire tin of cookies IF you agree to come to Rossi’s tonight.” Penelope offered and Y/N paused to think about it.

“I don’t know, Pen…” Y/N began.

“Come on, pretty girl, we miss you. You haven’t been out in ages.” Derek tried. Y/N’s heart pulled in her chest, maybe she did miss them too.

“Alright, fine, fine! I’ll come.” Y/N crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as Derek and Penelope celebrated with a hug and a cheer, “Now, give me these!” She stood and grabbed a cookie, quickly taking a bite and visibly melting back into her chair from the taste.

“See? I told you that would work. No one can say no to my cookies.” Penelope whispered to Derek as they separated to begin their days.

She finally got some motivation to empty her bags and boxes when she returned to her apartment. It was mainly because she had to look for an appropriate outfit to wear. Ever since she’d moved, she’d been picking out her work clothes and pajamas from her suitcases, rewearing all the blouses and skirts that don’t need ironing, but it’s time to start taking care of herself again. Perhaps she felt like the clothes she was wearing didn’t belong to her anymore, she decided that she’d take herself shopping soon. After a relaxing shower, she picked out a black satin blouse and tucked it into a pair of fitting blue jeans.

Arriving at Rossi’s, she took a deep breath before ringing the bell.

“Ciao, bella!” Rossi graciously greeted, hugging her tightly, “We’re all so glad you could make it. Come on in, dinner is almost ready.” Rossi’s warm greeting eased the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. She was also greeted warmly by everyone in the room when she walked in. Penelope pulled her to sit next to her immediately.

“You look stunning!” Penelope complemented, making Y/N blush.

“I agree, you are looking hot as hell, mama.” Derek chipped in, making her laugh.

“Oh, hush, you two.” Y/N rolled her eyes and accepted the glass of wine that Emily offered her. She sipped on the wine, glancing at Spencer over the rim of the glass. He caught her eye and sent her a small smile. Y/N sent him a small one back before feeling herself shut down as everyone around her started conversations. She hadn’t noticed just how much she depended on Spencer for conversation in outings with the BAU until his attention was taken away. He would always stick to her side but now he had someone else’s side to stick to. With no Anderson and no Spencer, she really had to fend for herself. All night, she felt this indescribable weight on her shoulders. She did everything to try to get rid of it.

Soon, one glass of wine with dinner turned into two, then somehow turned into two rounds of whiskey. Before she knew it, she was up dancing with Derek and Penelope in the middle of the garden. They all had migrated into the backyard after dinner, where most people were chatting and eating dessert.

“Spencer, are you listening to me?” Ashley’s voice cut through Spencer’s daze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Spencer turned to her, he’d been caught up watching them dance, secretly wishing it was him she was grabbing onto for support instead of Derek. If it wasn’t for his damn knee, he would have joined them in dancing.

“I asked you if you wanted another slice of cake.” Ashley said, with a small smile on her face. She was nice, but she wasn’t her.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.” He shook his head and reverted his attention to the dancing trio. She was finally smiling, he hadn’t seen her smile that wide in so long. Her laugh was heard across the garden and somehow it seeped right into Spencer’s bloodstream. The familiar feeling of jealousy creeped up on Spencer as he watched her twirl herself in and out of Derek’s arms.

“See? Aren’t you glad you came out tonight?” Derek smiled as she twirled back against his chest.

She nodded and smiled, a tad bit too tipsy, “Yeah, I guess.”

Penelope grinned and pulled her away from Derek, “Alright! Quit hogging her, I wanna dance with her too!” Y/N laughed and wrapped her arms around Penelope, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Thank you for everything, Pen.” They swayed and Penelope squeezed her harder.

“Anytime, sugarplum.”

“Alright, I’m just about beat. I need some dessert.” Y/N said, pulling back and dragging them both to where everyone was.

While eating dessert, she watched as Spencer continued to converse with Ashley and felt her blood boiling beneath her skin. Or maybe that was the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. It was like a cloak of clarity cascaded upon her. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of everyone and speaking loudly, loud enough to halt the ongoing conversations. With her eyes on Spencer, she only ever had her eyes on Spencer.

“Spencer, I called off my wedding because of you. And now we’re not even friends. You were my best friend, the closest person to me. I don’t know what happened, but I miss you. I don’t want things to ever be this weird between us again. And--and I shouldn’t have been with Grant, I know that. There were so many reasons not to marry him, but the truth is I was ready to ignore every single one until I met you. I asked myself why I waited so long to get married and I thought I just wasn’t ready but I knew I didn’t want him,” she paused to swallow, her tears blurring her vision, “I want you. And now you’re with someone else, and that’s fine. She’s wonderful and she makes you happy and that’s fine,” A few tears escaped and she realized what she was doing, “and I think I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be driving home so if someone could drop me off that would be great.” She dropped her plate on the table and quickly made it inside, leaving a group of agents completely stunned.

And just like that, the weight she’d grown so accustomed to seemed to dissipate from its place on her shoulders.

previous chapter/next chapter

feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @hopefulfangirl24 @spoiledtunaprincess @ellvswriting @drreidshands @pumpkin-reads @ssa-pretty-boy @thebadassbitchqueen @youareperrrfectls @literaila @greeny-kitten @reidcm @holytrashvoidpersona @hopebaker @word-scribbless @fellintotartarus @criminalmindzjunkie @jpegjade @randomfandomshitposts @differentkettleoffishalltogether @imjusthereformggcontent @confused-and-really-hungry @theseuscmander @purifycrowley @l0ve-0f-my-life @mrs-dr-reid @reidseidetic @onceuponathreetwoone @mosleylanes @eevee0722 @fear-less-write-more @andiebeaword @shameleswhorehourstm @missyredbean @moonshinerbynight @mggpleasedontlookhere @midnight-snac @justpeachykeeeen @meowiemari @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @unded-bride @nazdaniels @hercleverboy @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

COMMENT ON THE CHAPTERS/SEND ASKS TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST (so sorry if you asked to be tagged and i missed you)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #dr spencer reid #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #CM #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid masterlist #the receptionist and the profiler #spencer reid series #spencer reid x ashley seaver

347 notes · View notes

prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Vampires Suck

Pairing: Spike x reader (gender not mentioned)

Request: not requested. I couldn’t sleep and this was the result. In my fictional land anyone can give blood (mlm and anaemic people included). This fic includes a magical loophole where (chipped) Spike can bite so long as the human agrees.

Warning: Biting. Blood. Swearing. Very heated kissing. Sex references. Reader smokes a cigarette.

A/n: Moral of the story is, give blood. You never know who might need it ;)

You had always given blood regularly. Since you were old enough you went and gave a pint of the red stuff. Not just for your free snack after. It was just a part of your life now. However, you never realised that the blood you had donated might have gone to someone looking for their own kind of snack.

It was dark out, you had only been able to come for your appointment in the evening. You had been outside waiting, you had come too early again. You didn’t want to go in yet or face the miserable receptionist who made it her mission to make you feel unwelcome in the cheeriest way possible every time you came here.

You were stood in the parking lot of the medical centre as you started to hear a rustling sound. You turned and the parked donation van was moving and someone was cursing loudly from inside. You frowned, deciding to investigate.

You walked over to the van and opened on of the doors to find a man trashing the area. It was the type of van that could allow for someone to give blood in there should it be full in the centre.

The man had slicked back, bleach blonde hair, he was painfully attractive and he was holding an empty blood bag and staring straight at you.

“Uh, are you okay?” You inquired.

“Does it sodding look like it? All out of the good stuff in here only got the fancy gourmet kind”

“What?”

“Talking blood. Y’know, kind that gives you life... makes you hard” He said as if it was obvious.

“Right. Yeah. I’m going to go now” you shook your head in disbelief. He was certifiable and you had just made it your problem.

You walked back to your waiting spot and hoped he wouldn’t follow you. The noises coming from the van stopped, he was thinking. And now he was coming your way. Perfect.

He stood for a moment, looking you up and down before shrugging to himself and taking something out of the inside pocket of his leather duster.

“Cigarette, love?”

“Probably shouldn’t. I have an appointment soon”

“Don’t make it taste much different. Kind of... smoked I suppose”

You just stared for a moment and took the cigarette he was still waving in front of your face. If anything it was to shut him up.

He smirked as he handed you his lighter and you lit the smoke and inhaled. That receptionist was going to have a field day when she smelled it on you. She wouldn’t know which disapproving expression to use first.

“Do you have an appointment too or are you just on day release?” You asked and he actually snorted at the question, almost choking on the smoke. He was enjoying this interaction.

“Just looking for blood as I said” He explained before inhaling again. It was often easier to just loot a blood bank, charming someone into agreeing to give him their blood could take effort that often wasn’t worth it.

“Why?”

“Guess” He said and you sighed, but bit.

“You’re a vampire” you said without missing a beat. It was the lamest thing that you could think of.

“That was quick” he said actually surprised, “Bloody Drac” he then muttered realising it was probably his fault you had guessed so quick.

“Funny” you mumbled through the filter as you inhaled the thick smoke into your lungs. You weren’t convinced in the slightest.

“No, really”

“If you were a vampire you wouldn’t tell me unless you were gonna-“

“Go on” His eyes glinted dangerously as he gestured with his head.

“I think it’s time for my appointment, thanks for the smoke” You rushed the words out, crushing the cigarette under your feet. The hairs on the back of your neck had started to stand on end, you stared at the entrance to the centre but didn’t move fast enough. As if you were willing him to stop you.

And he did as you took a step away. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back. He was strong. Crap.

“Hear me out, love”

“Get off my arm, idiot” he did let go very slowly. He was starting to really like you. You were kind of rude but in a fun way. And you were extremely attractive to him. Which is how he came to his proposition.

“Won’t take nearly as much as those leeches in there would and I’d treat you to better than a cookie” he raised an eyebrow to try and entice you further.

“There’s no way that you could be a-” You started but you watched as his face shifted briefly. Fangs protruded from his mouth, his forehead bunched and ridged at the centre, “-holy fucking shit!”

“Yeah, right. Come here” he was interested to note you weren’t scared, just trying to process a lot at once. He was also hungry so he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back up into the back of the van and slammed the doors closed behind you, “I need you to agree” He said as he sat you down on a swivel chair.

“You want me to sign a fucking consent form before you drain me of my life?! What is this some new-age vampire shit?”

“I’m hungry, your blood is at least half-decent and you’re all I’ve got”

“What’s in it for me?” You squinted.

“The eternal gratitude of a man that will actually live for ever”

“Doesn’t mean anything if I won’t be alive to feel the gratitude”

“Bloody-“ You were irritating him, you had an answer for everything, “look, I can’t bite unless someone agrees to it. I’ll take a pint, maybe less. You’ll get something from it too, I promise”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, but pain and pleasure kind of go hand in hand, right love?”

You smiled slightly at that and he smirked even more. He had definitely picked the right one. To think he was gonna try and charm that cow of a receptionist again in his desperation.

You made up your mind. What did you have to lose?

“So you-?” He pressed.

“Agree. Consent. Go for it” you offered with a shrug so he could take his pick. You really weren’t sure why he needed it. His face instantly shifted. His demeanour darkening. It was only as frightening as it was hot. Or, that’s what you told yourself. You weren’t convinced he was going to make it as good for you. You came here expecting a small pinch and a bravery sticker, maybe a biscuit. So, anything more than that would just be a bonus. You tended not to get your hopes up to avoid disappointment.

You didn’t realise you were about to be pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly surprised.

He sat on the seat beside you, he leaned into you, pulling your chair from underneath and dragging it towards him. He jerked your head to the side. His fangs protruding from his mouth and you closed your eyes.

He didn’t hesitate, his teeth sunk into the soft skin on the left side of your neck. He pierced your skin, making sure it was deep. His jaw locked around your neck. He retracted his teeth only slightly and allowed your blood to start to run before he began to suck on your neck.

You hissed as he had penetrated your skin. It stung at first before it started to melt away. The dull ache in your neck still there but it gave way to a much richer feeling. Euphoria.

The sensation of him sucking the blood from your wound felt insanely good. Your head started to roll back, you didn’t notice the way he firmly grasped the back of your skull. Your head moving further to the side. For deeper purchase on your neck and for your comfort. You were lost in this feeling. It was nothing you had ever felt. Pure ecstasy. It felt so good you didn’t know whether to touch yourself or him.

He drank deep, taking you in completely. Your hands started to move, your fingers crawling up his back in desperation. Willing him to drink deeper. Harder.

Your nails started to drag down his back, he enjoyed this sensation you could tell. You wanted him closer, everything about him enticed you no matter how much danger you felt you were in. Your brain was screaming and you couldn’t figure out how much of it was fear and how much was pure desire.

Your breathing was heavy and you didn’t care about anything anymore. Only him. His touch. The way his mouth felt. His smell was so delicious you weren’t sure if you weren’t going to snap and start biting him in return.

He really didn’t want to stop, your blood was the sweetest he had ever tasted. Nectar of the Gods. Your heightened arousal was affecting him too, he could taste it it was so strong. He just about managed to unlatch his fangs from your neck before he rounded into headache territory.

But he couldn’t let go of you. Usually this was transactional for him, even amusing to watch the human in their desire.

But he wanted more of you. To soak up every drop. He didn’t question it. Why this stranger made his head almost as dizzy with want as theirs. He no longer knew where your arousal ended and his began. But he didn’t think about it. He just enjoyed it.

His mouth met yours roughly, his hands were everywhere at once and you desperately missed the way his mouth felt against your neck. You kissed him with such passion, writhing against him. You wanted him inside you just like he now had you in him. Coursing around his veins.

His kiss was hot, urgent. And you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You started to fumble to unbuckle his belt for him but he took your wrists and restrained you, pushing you against the side of the van. Your back pressed hard against the wall. He assaulted your mouth instead, the metallic taste of your own blood mixed with saliva.

He had you there, in your mind he could do anything to you and you would have taken it gladly.

Your face was covered in your own blood, he enjoyed the sight. That he had done this. Even that you had wanted him to.

He moved, kissing down to your neck where the bite mark was still fresh. There was still some residual liquid that he caught on his tongue. He lapped at the wound lightly and you moaned into his ear making him smirk. He wanted to play that sound over and over in his mind. He kissed back up to your mouth He was almost struggling keeping your wrists at bay. Almost found it cute you were trying to struggle against him. He caught your mouth several times, your lips the best he had ever felt against his. He was enjoying this too much for something that he expected to last a mere moment. He was hungry for you in such an innate way.

You started to slow your movements, becoming exhausted.

He slowly felt the come down of your arousal approaching. He cursed it, wishing it wouldn’t. He was having too much fun. But you might want to leave it there and he was going to give you that choice. I mean, he wasn’t a complete animal.

He stepped away and you whined. You slid down the wall as he let you go, he had been the only thing keeping you up. He just stared as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes boring into you. You felt so exposed.

You managed to slide to sit in the seat you had started in. You fought to slow your breathing down, wiping your own blood from your face as he watched you come down from the euphoria.

You now felt a little embarrassed as his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. He didn’t even seem to blink. He had stepped back from you, as if he couldn’t trust continuing to be in such proximity. You definitely hadn’t planned on doing what you had just done and he knew it. Which is why against his better judgement he had held you still.

“I-“

“Hope it was as good for you as it was for me” he smirked, starting to turn to the doors and leave the van with you still trying to form words. The wound on your neck was throbbing, but you knew you would have done it over again.

“I-“

“Yeah?”

“Don’t know your name”

“Spike” he said, offering his hand to you to help you out of the truck too. You were a bit wobbly getting onto your feet, which he was expecting. You were surprised he hadn’t left you there. To be fair, in the past he usually would.

You started walking away from the medical centre, with him by your side. You were still in a daze and he wasn’t that much far gone from being a gentleman he wouldn’t walk you partly where you needed to be (so long as it wasn’t out of his way).

“Maybe we could make it a regular thing” he posed the question innocently but there was a devilish look in his eye. You acted as if you were thinking about it. Truthfully, your mind was screaming out yes. He waited, he for some reason actually cared for the answer.

“You’d have to buy me dinner first this time” you warned but smiled as his own lips tugged into a small half-smirk.

“It’s a date”

#Spike #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #gender neutral #gender not mentioned #tw blood #tw biting

184 notes · View notes

dynyamight · 3 years

Note

“you look a little lonely” + twirls into a dance 🧡💚

send me an interaction ask bonus + action

“You look a little lonely.” + twirls into a dance

“Those dress shoes are meant for dancing with someone, you know.” Sero snickers, “Not just to look fresh.”

Bakugou huffs, “Fuck off.”

Standing in front of him, Kaminari continues to pull at his arms, beckoning him to stand. “C’mon! The teachers are ending the dance in an hour, and you haven’t danced! Not even to one song!”

Seated right beside Bakugou, Kirishima chuckles. “Guys, he’s not budging.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Sero laughs, shaking his head, “Man, if you were gonna show up, then why sit around all night, Bakugou?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Bakugou sneers.

“It is, if you’re going to be such a wet blanket!” Kaminari grits through his teeth, still straining to pull Bakugou up to his feet.

After a few more attempts, all of which Bakugou simply doesn’t budge, Kirishima finally swats at Kaminari, shoo’ing the two boys away. When both friends refuse, he shakes his head.

“Go back to the dance floor, you two! The girls are missing you!” He laughs at them.

As they walk away from the round table, Bakugou finally looks over to Kirishima. “I don’t remember asking you to stay.” He mutters.

Immediately, Kirishima sweats, rubbing an awkward hand on the back of his neck. “Y-Yeah, dances aren’t really my thing, either. Hate them, actually.”

Bakugou raises a brow, wordlessly.

Kirishima sighs in defeat, looking away from him. “Right, well, I do like to dance. But,” He blushes furiously, as red as his tie, “I-I mean, you heard Sero. We’re supposed to be dancing with others. And, I’m not exactly the best.”

“Who the fuck cares?”

“Me.” Kirishima groans, “That’s who cares.”

Staring back at the dancefloor, improvised in Gym Gamma, Bakugou eyes at the several first years bundled in the crowd. From all departments and classes, he barely could recognize anyone, other than his classmates.

Yet, even then, some of his classmates looked completely different; dressed in formal wear and makeup.

But, there’s one thing he can most certainly recognize.

In the middle of the huge crowd, jumping and spinning into impressive moves, was Ashido. She had the dancefloor shouting and yelling in cheers.

Glancing back at Kirishima, Bakugou wants to laugh at how crestfallen his friend looks.

He doesn’t. Instead, he simply slumps into his seat, crossing his arms. “She wouldn’t mind.”

“Dude, I’m not asking her to dance.”

“I never said that shit.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, “But sure, go ahead.”

Fervently, Kirishima shakes his head, his cheeks blooming red. “Not in front of all those people! Maybe, if it were just the two of us, I wouldn’t mind. But, god, with everyone there, that’s-”

“Red Riot would.”

“...He would?”

“Yeah, he fucking would.” Bakugou snorts, keeping a steady, firm gaze at Kirishima. “Ain’t that manliest shit any guy could do? Pick up the girl he wants, and claim her in front of the world. The Red Riot Unbreakable would do that shit in a heartbeat.”

In his thoughts, Bakugou’s mind calls himself a hypocrite. He squishes the thought away.

Regardless, he feels prideful, as he watches his once timid stricken friend visibly grow confident, like a sunflower standing against the sunrays. Getting up from his seat, Kirishima throws a fist in the air.

“That’s right!” Kirishima exclaims above the music, “Red Riot would get the girl! He always gets the girl.”

Bakugou smirks. “Exactly. So, go fucking knock Pinky off her feet, Shitty Hair.”

When Kirishima leaves, Bakugou slumps back in his seat, crossing his arms. There was still another hour of sitting around, so might as well get comfortable.

Internally, he begins to berate himself; Why the fuck did he show up? This was the biggest mistake in all Bakugou history, and he never makes mistakes. He should have stayed back in the dorms, up in his room, alone, and at peace. Why was he here?

Sero’s right. If he was going to show up, then why sit around all night? Bored out of his mind.

And, just like that, his brain reminds him. A memory of the classroom, with Yaoyorozu asking Midoriya if he is going to attend the school dance. And, from where he was seated, Bakugou had heard Midoriya saying he would.

Midoriya was going to the dance. And, suddenly, Bakugou wanted to go.

“You look a little lonely.”

Bakugou blinks, at first thinking his own thoughts had reverbated louder in his head. But, when he looks up to check his surroundings, he’s instantly met with Midoriya, standing in front of him.

Quickly, right when their eyes meet, Midoriya visibly stiffens. “S-Sorry!” He starts, “I mean, if you have been wanting to be alone, I’ll just, um, leave you be.”

Bakugou looks down at Midoriya’s suit; brown striped coat, yellow under dress shirt, black bow tie, and those red, obnoxious sneakers. An ugly sight to see, quite honestly.

But, when he glances back up to see Midoriya’s wild curls, against his soft face, sprinkled freckles, and shining with those green irises, Bakugou feels his breath get caught in his throat.

He coughs, “Nah. you’re good.” He mumbles.

“Th-That’s reassuring.” Midoriya offers a short laugh, despite everything about his body looking nervous. “So, you are alone, right Kacchan?”

“Yeah, and I guess you can stay, if that’s what you’re planning.”

“Um, I-I wasn’t going to stay here, actually.” Midoriya stutters, his hands gripping at his sides.

Bakugou tilts his head. “The fuck? Then, why make your way over here?”

Instantly, Midoriya’s face floods pink. “Uh, funny that you ask that. I-I, uh, I was just, you know, thinking. Yeah, it was just a thought. That, um, you most likely don’t like to dance. But, possibly, you could. It was possible that, uh, you would like to dance. But, maybe not just with anyone. But, I-I’m not anyone. Well, maybe I am. And, I’m just hoping I’m not just anyone to you. So-”

“Izuku, what the fuck are you even saying?!” Bakugou yells.

“Do you want to dance with me?!” Midoriya shouts back.

“What?!” Bakugou blurts.

It gets worse. “I said, ‘Do you want to dance?!!” Midoriya shouts louder, eyes closed shut tight. “With me?!”

“I heard you the first time, idiot!” Bakugou screams.

“Then, why did you ask?!”

“It was a fucking expression!”

Slapping his hands over his flushed face, Midoriya bends over. “Oh my god, this is humiliating. Forget I ever asked, Kacchan. I promise, I will do anything. Just, forget this happened.” He pleads, muffled by his palms.

Quickly, Bakugou stands up, and grabs Midoriya's arm. Pulling him from behind, he shouts from behind, “Follow me, and don’t you fucking dare double take!”

Frantically searching throughout the gym, Bakugou’s terribly realizing that the whole place has groups spread out all over, without an open area in sight. He tries to pull them in between tables, chairs, and other U.A students. But, alas, he couldn’t find a single-

Midoriya taps on his shoulder. When Bakugou turns around, he sees Midoriya pointing over to the far left.

“Why don’t we move to the corner, in that empty space?” Midoriya offers weakly.

By the closed entrance doors, there was graciously a spot, open enough for just them, and away from the entire crowd at the end of the gym. The relief that spread through Bakugou’s chest was long, and well needed.

Slowly, they make their way over to the area, completely quiet as finally Bakugou turns to face Midoriya. Letting go of Midoriya’s arm, Bakugou is left to awkwardly keep his arms at his sides.

“What do you want me to do now, Deku?”

Unable to look directly at him, Midoriya takes a step closer, staring down at their shoes. “We’re supposed to start dancing.” He whispers.

“No shit, I know that.” Bakugou hisses, “So, hurry up and tell me what the fuck you want to do!”

Midoriya’s face blushes a deeper pink; a color that Bakugou can’t seem to stop staring at.

“I want, um, this hand here.” Midoriya nervously grabs onto Bakugou’s left hand, guiding it up to his shoulder. “And, this hand,” He grabs his right hand, “will go over here.”

It takes Bakugou way too long for his pride to notice that his right hand was never going to be placed anywhere. Instead, it was meant to be clasped in Midoriya’s calloused, warm hand.

Midoriya was waiting for his reaction, and all Bakugou had done in the long seconds that passed was stare at their hands. How fucking embarrasing.

“When are you going to move, Deku?” Bakugou grits out, hoping to play off his slow reaction.

Immediately, he feels a jolt in Midoriya, as he quickly places his other hand on Bakugou’s waist. “R-Right, um, sorry! I just got nervous!”

Bakugou internally hopes Midoriya can’t feel how drenched his hands feel.

The first few steps, Midoriya’s face cringes at each stomp on his toes Bakugou ends up making. He hates how fucking dumb dancing is, making him second guess every move, unlike any battle he has ever faced. The confidence that Bakugou once dripped in was dried out, completely nowhere to be found.

Yet, each time he makes a dreadful, painful error, Midoriya always meets his gaze with a soft smile. “D-Don’t mind.” He reassures each time.

And, dammit, that only makes Bakugou’s heart race faster, banging in his chest.

He doesn’t know when it started to get easier, but he finally notices he isn’t stepping on Midoriya as much as he did before. Instead, they were easily swaying, side by side, rocking in their small little space. The music wasn’t that much of a slow song, but they nevertheless took their time together, just the two of them.

“There’s only a few more songs left.” Midoriya says.

Bakugou huffs, looking back up at Midoriya, instead of the floor. “That fucking sucks.” He admits.

Midoriya softly smiles back, “Yeah.. It really does. I wish I had danced with you from the start.”

“..Me too.”

“Let’s try to make the world spin slower, Kacchan.” Midoriya whispers to him, still smiling. “So, the night can last longer.”

And, with ease, Midoriya lifts his arm over Bakugou’s head, and twirls him in dance.

#star responds #SCHOOL DANCE !!! because who doesn't like two blushing idiots #also bAKUGOU CAN'T DANCE HAHA #makes the entire thing just so fluffy #i seriously wrote so much IM SORRY #but i hope you like it anon <3 #bakudeku #anon

35 notes · View notes

superbadassnatural · 4 years

Text

The One With The Morning After

Summary: Y/N has to deal with the aftermath of a night filled with booze, sex, and questionable choices. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 3,143 Warnings: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, a bit of smut, hangover A/N: this was written for @smol-and-grumpy’s awesome challenge “SuperFriends Tittle Challenge”. The prompt is the title of this story of course. Hope you all enjoy it!

(x)

Few rays of sunshine struggled to get past the blinds and illuminate the room. As the warm light ghosted over your face, your eyes fluttered open. You blinked a few times before taking in your surroundings. A thin white sheet covered your body. You lifted it only to notice you were naked. You felt disgusting as if you had sweated the whole night.

Turning on your back, you noticed the guy you spent the night with was still there. He was on his side, his back to you. The sheet only covered his lower half. Fresh scratches covered his back. You didn’t have to put your tired mind through much thinking to know you were the one who caused them. As much as you wanted to see his face to at least have an idea if you had picked it right, you didn’t want to wake him and deal with the whole morning after thing. One night stands are good. You have fun and most of the time you get off. The problem was the morning after itself. Unlike most people, you thank god when you wake up and the guy has already left or when you wake up first and leave without explanation. The whole ‘it was good, I had fun’ was annoying. Every time you had to put an extra effort to not roll your eyes.

It was frustrating, to say the least when you didn’t even remember the guy’s appearance. You could only hope a glimpse of his face would come back to you. You took one last glance at him before getting up. You nearly choked when your eyes landed on the small scar on the side of his hip. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t recognize that scar. You were the one who stitched him up back then. Clothes formed a trail on the floor, you scooped them up and dressed as fast and as quiet as you could. Your heart was almost leaping out of your chest by the time you walked out of the room.

Outside of the motel, you allowed your breath to even and your heart to calm down in your chest. His car was parked only a few feet away. You ignored the shining impala and made your way back to the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you came to this particular motel so you knew the way.

It was early. Dean never wakes up before noon after a night at a bar. You had enough time to get home, shower, and take a nap before he came back. You could only hope he’d remember as much as you did. Nothing. The thought of ruining your friendship with Dean had your palms sweating. It was undeniable that you felt something for him. Those feelings were buried way too deep and throughout the years you learned how to live with them. He didn’t make it any easier on you though. Dean was constantly flirting with you. In the beginning, it was tough to be around him. Dean’s a flirt. Every now and then he’d give you his signature smirk and wink followed by a flirty comment. Although it caused a weak in your knees, you figured it was best to keep your feelings to yourself rather than risk losing him.

Arriving at the bunker, you made your way to the war room, hoping to find one of your best friends. There was no sign of Sam. You figured he’d either be on his morning run or making breakfast. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he must be home.

“Hey you,” you smiled, leaning on the fridge.

“Hey,” he greeted as he finished making his sandwich. “I didn’t expect you to be back already.”

“Yeah, I know. Just missed my bed I guess.”

“Dean’s not home yet. Did you hear from him?”

“Nope,” you were grateful he had his back to you and wouldn’t catch you lying.

“Do you want me to make you something?” He turned to you, hazel eyes widening as they roamed over your entire body. “You okay? You've been crying?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Your mascara or eyeliner, I don’t know, is a little smudged.”

“Oh,” your fingertips touched the skin under your eyes softly. You left in such a hurry that you didn’t even look in the mirror. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep with makeup on,” you shrugged. “Alright, I’m gonna take a shower then take a nap. Trust me, I need it.”

“Okay, you do you.”

You headed straight to the shower. The need to wash off the guilt and fear of ruining your thirteen-year friendship grew stronger by the second. You could only hope those feelings would be dispelled down the drain along with the stink of alcohol and sex. The water felt good on your tired body. You didn’t take long in there though. Every cell in your body claimed to be in bed again. You needed at least two more hours of sleep to survive the rest of the day. That and being away from Dean for twenty-four hours both physically and psychologically. Mission impossible.

Your eyes fell closed the second your body hit the soft mattress. Memory foam hugged your limbs, lulling you to sleep.

The headboard banged against the wall. Your mind was in a haze of alcohol and pleasure. Dean’s groans sounded distant. His hands were all over your body. His thrusts were erratic as he searched for the final push. You arched against him, breasts pressed to his firm chest. He whispered soft praises against your skin as a wave of pleasure consumed you.

Your eyes shot open as you sat in bed abruptly. Beads of sweat covered your forehead. Pulling the covers off, you got up, making a beeline to the bathroom. You washed your face in an attempt to get rid of the images of last night. It was in vain. The mirror only reflected how screwed you were. As if the images and the sounds running wild in your mind weren’t enough, your cleavage was covered in hickeys. You closed your eyes and suddenly you were back in that cheap motel room.

Dean’s lips kissed and sucked every patch of skin they could. Your hand shot to his head, fingers tugging at his hair. He groaned against the curve of your neck. His lips descended to your collarbone. Dean marked your skin as his hand squeezed your breast softly. He drunkenly mumbled “mine” against you.

Shaking the memory away, you turned off the tap and headed to your room. It was early which meant you had high chances of not seeing Dean. You just needed to eat and take a pill for the pounding headache. Then you could come back and hide in your room for the rest of the day. Pulling on a hoodie, you made your way to the kitchen.

“You’re awake,” Sam greeted. “Thought you were gonna sleep for the rest of the morning.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, turning on the coffee maker before grabbing some bacon in the fridge for you to cook. “I wanted to, but I had a bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

“I found us a case,” he announced as you sat in front of him with a plate and a mug in your hands. “Omaha, Nebraska. I think it’s a spirit. A quick salt and burn will do it.”

“Good. When do we leave?” you asked, munching the crispy bacon.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“And, uh, do you mind if it’s just you and Dean on this one? Eileen and I have a date tomorrow and uh-“

“Yeah, s-sure. I don’t mind going alone with Dean. I mean… Why would I mind? It’s not like we haven’t been on hunts just the two of us.”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” you tried to keep your voice as normal as you could, but failed miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one acting weird.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I need to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Last night I didn’t come home because I was with Dean. After you left the bar, we had a few more drinks. A lot more. And we slept together.”

“Finally,” he breathed out and you gasped at his reaction. “I just don’t understand why you guys went to a motel instead of coming home.”

“The motel was closer and we were kinda in a hurry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said as you finished your breakfast.

“Why didn’t he come home with you?”

“I panicked when I saw him sleeping next to me. I practically ran out of the room. I think he won’t remember a thing. At least I hope he doesn’t.”

“Why? You’ve known each other for thirteen years. You have feelings for each other for at least ten. I’m surprised it took this long for something to happen.”

“You don’t understand, Sam,” you shook your head. “I can’t ruin my friendship with him. I can’t risk that.”

“Of course you can. You’re just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Dean asked as he walked into the room. You nearly gasped. He shouldn’t be back already.

Dean was sporting a hickey on the right side of his neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of it.

“I’m afraid of spiders and I can’t kill them,” you said fast before Sam could say anything.

Dean only hummed, opening the fridge and grabbing a pot with overdue food. He put some in his mouth but spat most of it, grimacing. A chuckle left your lips at the scene.

“What you got?” he mumbled, turning on the coffee machine.

“Salt and burn. Omaha, Nebraska. Should be easy for you and Y/N.”

“You not tagging along?”

“Nah, got a date with Eileen,” Sam smiled.

“You’re finally getting some,” the older Winchester teased. “Y/N and I can cover it. We are a great team, right sweetheart?”

He gave you a wink. You wondered if he remembered anything of your activities the previous night.

“Right,” you clicked your tongue.

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat beside you. He stank of alcohol and sex. He should’ve gone straight to the shower but he didn’t. He was still in the same clothes as last night for crying out loud.

“Dude, you smell terrible,” Sam grimaced.

“That, Sammy, is the smell of a man who had a crazy night of hot sex. You should try it sometime.”

Fuck, he remembers, you cursed.

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a shame I had what was probably the best night of my life and I don’t remember shit. Not even her face. She left without a note. She could at least have left her phone number somewhere. But she did leave this bad boy here,” he pointed to the purple mark in his neck.

You could only hope neither of them would notice your flaming cheeks. He was so close. You were afraid he’d take one look at your face and all the memories would come back to him. You were afraid he’d still be able to smell his scent ingrained in your skin.

“I do remember some things though. Hmmm, some really good things,” Dean nearly moaned as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Sam quickly glanced at you, hazel eyes wide before staring back at his brother. “Whoever she was she surely knew what she was doing to me. Her body was trapped under mine as if she belonged there. Her hands all over my body, exploring it. Oh, and her skin felt so good under my touch. That I remember damn well.”

You fought hard to repress a moan. The words rolled out his tongue in a sensual song. Your thighs clenched unwittingly. Though you were as much aroused as you were embarrassed. He was saying all that in front of his brother after all. Sam didn’t want to know anything about Dean’s activities, but the look in his eyes told you he was having fun seeing you suffer.

“And she smelled good too. So fucking good. I swear that if I close my eyes, I can feel her touch. I can even hear her soft moans. What wouldn’t I give just to know her name.”

“Maybe you should try asking the bartender if he remembers her face or even her name,” Sam suggested and you kicked his foot under the table. “I’m sure he might remember something.”

“She felt absolutely perfect,” Dean completely ignored his brother. “The way her fingers tugged at my hair, making it hurt just a little. Then her legs wrapped around me and… fuck,” he growled. “That was mind-blowing. She clenched around me so tight-”

“Dude, too much information. You should keep that to yourself,” Sam interrupted his brother while you prayed neither of them had listened to the small groan that left your lips.

“All I’m saying is she was too fucking hot. I wished she could’ve had the decency of leaving me her number,” he sighed. “If you guys think this hickey is the only thing she left for me, you’re wrong. She might not have left a note, but she did leave some real sexy marks all over me. Hmm, I love it when they mark me up. So damn hot.”

“Dude-“

“And if I concentrate hard enough I can still taste her in my tongue,” Dean smirked.

“That’s enough, man. I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and took one last gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

“Excuse me, but I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap. I’m tired,” you hurriedly stood from your seat. “I’ll catch with you guys later.”

As you disappeared in the hall, Dean’s grin got even wider as he shook his head. Sam scoffed, realization dawned on him.

“You remember, don’t you?” Sam asked his brother, a smile on his lips.

“Every single detail,” Dean nodded with a smirk.

“Dude, you aren’t worth a penny.”

“What can I say? I love seeing her squirm.”

“You should go after her.”

“I am,” Dean said. “I’m just gonna give her some time to pull herself together.”

Sam nodded. Silence fell between the brothers. Each of them lost in their own world. Dean tried to come up with a way to approach you without making it weird. Sam tried to erase the images his brother put in his mind. The younger Winchester was sure he threw up in his mouth a little. Dean had given him a share of traumas concerning sex when they were teenagers and now this?

Dean got up from his seat and before he headed to your bedroom, he placed his mug on the dishwasher. He was about to leave the kitchen but stopped and glanced at his brother.

“You were the only one who didn’t score last night, Samuel,” he teased and Sam rolled his eyes.

Three soft knocks on the door startled you, dragging you out of your trance. Mumbling a “c’mon in”, you straightened yourself at the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, peeking his head through the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, a thumping beat of your heart in your chest.

Dean made his way to your bed and sat just a few inches from you. His thigh brushing against yours.

“How’re you feeling?” He glanced at you but your eyes were fixated on the closed door.

“Really tired. You?”

“Exhausted. Don’t know if I should take a shower or a nap.”

“I think you need both,” you smiled as a chuckle reverberated in his throat.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue, green eyes falling in his hands as he rubbed them together. “You know, I must confess that you did rock my world last night.”

“You remember?” You stared at him wide eyed only to meet a crooked grin on his lips. “Of course you do,” groaning, you buried your face in your hands.

“How could I ever forget?”

“We had a lot of drinks. A whole lot.”

“Yeah, guess I just needed to get my ass drunk to finally go after something I wanted.”

“Don’t do this, Dean,” you pleaded, staring into his forest green eyes.

“I thought last night meant something, you know? I thought it would change things between us for the best. I couldn’t believe I was the only one feeling something. Not with the way we look at each other and the constant flirting and the way we hold each other. Now imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Dean, I-“

“I thought you were gonna be there. I thought we were gonna talk and figure things out between us, but you didn’t even give me a chance. It felt as if you regretted it, as if what happened between us was a mistake,” his voice was low, barely upon a whisper.

“No, Dean, I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t a mistake but we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why? Why shouldn't we have done it? Give me one good reason why.”

“Because we are friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“We were never friends, Y/N. I feel something for you from day one. And I know you feel something for me too. Now you either-“

You captured his plump lips in yours. His eyes widened and it took him a second before kissing you back. His hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek. The gentle press of his lips almost made your heart leap out of your chest. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking. Dean placed a small peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Now I either what?” You giggled, opening your eyes and finding his still closed.

“I don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess this changes things, right?”

“Mmhmm,” your hands were on each side of his neck as you pecked his lips.

“Good.”

“I hate to tell you but you need a shower.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said sheepishly, his hands were on your waist as he moved you to straddle his lips. “But I think you should come with me. You know, that whole save water, shower together thing.”

“Hmmm, I’ve kinda already showered.”

“Do it again. I promise you won’t regret it,” he smirked.

“I thought you said you hated shower sex. You said it was too complicated.”

“I don’t hate it. It is complicated though, but I’m sure we can work things out,” he grinned, standing up with you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “‘Sides, you ought to see all the damage you caused last night.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”

I’d love to know what you think of this one!! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Note that if your name is crossed, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

Forevers: @hobby27 @thewinchesterandreidwhore

Dean Sweethearts: @maya-craziness @akshi8278 @herfalsegod @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @deanmonandnegansbitch

#superfriendstitlechallenge #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #deanreader #dean winchester imagine

262 notes · View notes

supersickies · 3 years

Link

Summary: “Surgery was something that Peter Parker was used to. With his job, he really had to be used to going under the knife, and truthfully the more he experienced it the easier it got.

What Peter was not used to, however, were post-surgery infections. Of course, he knew that it was always a risk when going into procedures, but with the overly careful and competent medical staff in the med bay of Stark Tower, it was rarely something he had to worry about.

But nobody was perfect, accidents can happen, and that’s how Peter found himself in his current situation. Feverish, achy in more ways than one, and utterly miserable.”

Peter can't sleep after a surgery gone bad. He needs his Lukey...if Tony can figure out what that is.

A/N: Here we go @sicktember day five! I was pretty excited for this prompt but for some reason had a tough time putting something together for it that I really loved. But hope this fic suffices and if you read it you enjoy it! This was pretty much that last prompt fill I have completely completed for Sicktember but I’m hoping to get some more finished so I may be back with those, we’ll just have to see! Either way, hope you enjoy this fic! You can read it below the cut or on Ao3!

Surgery was something that Peter Parker was used to. With his job, he really had to be used to going under the knife, and truthfully the more he experienced it the easier it got.

But nobody was perfect, accidents can happen, and that’s how Peter found himself in his current situation. Feverish, achy in more ways than one, and utterly miserable.

His left leg, the cause of all his anguish thanks to an unwelcome bullet wound, was currently being elevated and his body was being pumped with an IV cocktail of anti-nausea, anti-fever, anti-pain, and antibiotic medications. Suffice to say, Peter was not just exhausted but he was loopy as all hell.

And he just couldn’t fucking sleep.

For some reason, despite his delirious and debilitated state, sleep would not come to him. So instead, he laid in his med bay bed with tears streaming down his face, as he begged whatever god there was above to just give him at least a minute of rest. The med bay staff, alongside Bruce and Dr. Cho, had been doing their best to synthesize a sedative for the spider-kid but they had yet to be successful, much to Tony and Peter’s disappointment.

Tony, of course, was by his side the whole time, and seeing his kid in this state was similar to experiencing his own personal hell. But he’d be dammed if he left Peter even for a second.

“Shh, Petey. I know bud. Just take some deep breaths kid.” He soothes the teen, just as he had been doing all night. It was nearing two in the morning and he had no idea just how much more either of them could take. He had tried everything from reading to the kid to making fucking ocean sounds with his mouth. Yet still, no sleep.

Peter doesn’t respond, just continues to moan and wail as Tony sighs. “Gimme something kiddie, please. How can I help you, bambino?”

Peter looks to Tony, his eyes feverish and hazy. He takes a shaky breath before finally finding the energy to murmur, “M-May.”

“May? You want me to get May back down here?” Tony asks. May had been down in the med bay with the two for most of the day, only retiring to a guest room in the tower after Tony had begged her to get some rest before her early hospital shift.

But even after giving his answer, Peter still didn't seem appeased. “No!” He whines. “I-I need Lukey.” He says with a sob.

Tony’s brows can only furrow. “Lukey?” What/who the fuck was a Lukey?

“Please M’ster S’ark, I need him.” Peter begs.

“Okay! Alrighty kiddo I…I will do my best to get…Lukey.” Tony reassures the boy as he stands from the uncomfortable med bay chair, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Just hang tight kiddo, I’m gonna figure this out.” He grabs his phone, quickly but quietly leaving Peter’s room.

He was gonna get this kid to sleep if it was the last thing he did.

Tony doesn’t understand immediately, but using the context clues he was given, he figures that if anyone knew what a Lukey was it would be May.

He could only hope that she wouldn’t be too pissed at him for waking her up at this hour.

The dial tone only sounds twice before she picks up. “Tony? What’s wrong? What happened?” She asks in a panic, ever the protective aunt.

“May! Everything’s okay! Peter’s…well, he’s um, still awake. I can’t really get him to calm down and-and I think I need your help?”

He can hear May flip on the bedside lamp and sit up. “W-What is it Tony?”

“Peter is asking for someone named Lukey? Something named Lukey? I-I was hoping maybe you know Lukey or-or can get him here at this hour? I just…he still can’t sleep May and I don’t know what else to d-“

He’s cut off by a snort. An honest to god laugh.

“…May?”

“S-Sorry, I um…” She giggles a bit more before continuing. “Yes, I can get Lukey here at this hour. Just…give me thirty.” She sighs, but Tony can’t sense any annoyance in it. She almost sounds like she’s smiling?

“I- okay then? See you in thirty I guess?” And she hangs up.

Tony doesn’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or what, but he feels absolutely crazy. “Still don’t know what the fuck a Lukey is.” He mumbles to himself, before heading back into Peter’s room.

Sure enough, after thirty more minutes of doing his utmost to calm the distraught spiderling, Tony hears May coming down the hall. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding with the hopes that May and the elusive Lukey’s arrival will calm the kid enough to send him right to sleep.

May enters the med bay room quietly. And alone? Where was Lukey?

Peter turns his head to the sound of the door shutting, his bleary eyes able to make out his aunt standing next to him. “May.” He rasps, fresh tears spilling over his cheeks. There really wasn’t much that wouldn’t make Peter cry at this point.

“Oh, my poor baby.” She coos, her kind fingers pushing the hair off of his overheated forehead. “You’re having a real hard time, huh tough guy?”

Peter nods miserably. “I-I need Lukey, May.” He whines.

The woman smiles warmly. “I know honey. He’s right here, I got him.” She reaches into the tote bag on her arm and pulls out a small blue blanket with a silky trim. It looked old but ultimately well-loved.

Oh, Tony thinks. Lukey.

Peter takes the blanket eagerly and is quick to hold the fabric lovingly to his chest. His thumb rubs the trim soothingly. Almost like magic, the boy’s crying has basically stopped, replaced with soft hiccups and shaky breaths.

Tony looks up at May, puzzled yet…impressed. He holds his tongue, though, not daring to interrupt the moment or disturb the finally calm spider-kid.

After a few moments of hushed reassurances from May, and of course the comfort of Lukey, Peter is finally asleep. The room is now overwhelmingly quiet, and Tony takes a much-needed deep breath.

He glances at the blanket that is now wrapped tightly around Peter’s shoulders, before looking at May. “So, Lukey?”

“It was a gift from Ben’s mom— Peter’s grandmother. She gave it to him the day he was born. She passed not long after but…she loved him a whole lot, him being her only grandchild and whatnot.” She explains.

Tony’s heart clinches. He knew May was the only family Peter had left, and to hear about other Parkers just made Tony remember how much the kid had lost.

May continues. “He had a connection to the blanket pretty instantly, only ever really stopped crying when he was wrapped in it. It was the only thing that would put him right to sleep.”

They both look at the snoozing boy. “Still is apparently.” Tony jokes quietly.

May hums in confirmation. “We joked that this thing was magic when he was younger, but honestly I’m really starting to believe it.”

Tony nods, reaching up to touch the blanket softly. He had to admit was kinda nice. “And…Lukey?”

“Star Wars. Luke Skywalker.” May explains. “We all called it his blankey until he was old enough for Ben to show him A New Hope. It was Lukey from that point on.”

Tony feels a bit stupid for not realizing sooner, that goofy space movie was all the kid ever talked about.

“I should’ve known he would’ve needed it. Really wish I’d have brought it earlier.” May sighs tiredly.

“Hey you-you’re exhausted too May, please go back to sleep. I said I’d take Peter duty for the night and you have your shift in a few hours.” Tony offers.

May stands from her spot by her nephew. “I guess I should, huh? If you all need anything else though—“

“I’ll let you know immediately, May. Swear it.”

May smiles warmly. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Good night, May.”

She leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Tony lets out a deep breath, giving Peter’s hair one last pet before deciding it was about time he retire to his cot in the corner of the med bay room.

As he drifts off, he thinks of his mother and the stuffed elephant she gave him when he was a young child.

He makes a mental note to look in the tower’s storage units, see if he can find it.

#sick peter parker #peter parker whump #iron dad #sicktember2021

23 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Protective Detail (4/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, violence, blood, guns, mild injuries, Nestor being a goddamn thirst trap

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This chapter is a liiiiittle longer than the others have been but hopefully that’s not a problem. Did I do a deep-dive on Gino Vento’s google photos to be able to know what his body art situation is?? You betcha. Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sillygoose6969 @mydaiilyescape @lovebennycolon @the-radical-venus @gemini0410 @garbinge @slutformayansmc @paintballkid711 (as always, if you want to be on my taglists feel free to let me know!)

Despite the fact that the only thing on your agenda for the day was going to the grocery store, you still came into the kitchen in the morning to see Nestor sipping coffee in yet another button-down shirt and pair of slacks. You wondered for a moment if the man even owned just a pair of casual blue jeans.

“I don’t know where the Galindos shop,” you said with a laugh as you poured a cup of coffee, “But the grocery store I go to doesn’t have a dress code. I thought you knew that.”

He shook his head but you could see the smirk pulling at his lips, “This is just how I dress, Y/N.”

He didn’t use your name often, but each time he did you felt your entire body turn into jello for a few moments before you regained composure again. You took your time getting ready, loving that you didn’t feel rushed or like you were on a schedule. You told Nestor that he could drive, pretending that you just wanted the extra space in his car for shopping purposes. But you were also testing a theory that if you let Nestor have his way more often, he would let you know a little more about who he was as a person. Plus, you had to admit, you didn’t really mind his driving too much. Even if he did drive without the radio on.

Having Nestor with you while you grocery shopped was nice because you got to leave him in charge of pushing the cart while you perused the aisles and picked things out to eat for the next few days. You’d shove produce in his face and ask him if he thought it was fresh, and he would begrudgingly help you out, rolling his eyes at how terrible you were at telling if cantaloups were ripe.

The two of you were walking down the cereal aisle and he was shaking his head at you while fighting back a smile, “You’re like a child with access to a credit card.”

“Listen, Nestor,” you stood on your tip-toes to try and reach towards the back of the top shelf, “Coco Puffs have no age limit.”

He reached over you with ease and grabbed the last box from the back of the shelf and placed it in the cart, not saying a word as he continued pushing onward. You smiled to yourself for a few moments before snapping back to reality and speed-walking a few steps to catch up with him.

He was helping you bag items at the self-checkout and if you were honest with yourself, every now and then you would forget that he was with you to keep you from getting shot or kidnapped. Sometimes you even felt like friends, as much as someone like Nestor would let a person be friends with him.

Once you were out on the road and heading home, you looked over at Nestor with puppy-dog eyes, “Can we stop at Starbucks?”

He looked at you, shaking his head the second he saw the way you were looking at him, “The lines are always ridiculous. The ice cream will melt.”

You sighed, knowing that puppy-dog eyes most likely weren’t going to work on him but it was worth a shot anyway. You leaned back in your seat and scrolled on your phone, wanting desperately to play music to break up the silence.

Nestor passed the street that you normally turned off to get home. You looked over at him and saw how tense his body was. You sat upright, putting your phone back in your purse, “What?”

He nodded towards the rearview mirror, “Car’s been following us since we left the store.”

Your stomach knotted and you tried to take a deep breath but it didn’t help to calm you down at all. You instinctively reached for the glove compartment like it was your own car, and you were expecting Nestor to stop you, but instead he reached and opened it for you, not having to take his eyes off the road to dig around and get the gun out for you.

“You shouldn’t need to use it,” he placed the weapon in your hand and his lingered for a moment, “But just in case.”

He did his best to stay on busier roads, hoping it would be a deterrent, and also hopefully make it easier to lose whoever it was that was tailing them. You felt your heart pounding inside your chest—you had been hoping that your father had dealt with everything and that Nestor really was just an unnecessary precaution, but that wasn’t the case.

Somewhere along the way, the road went dead. Nestor was white-knuckled on the steering wheel and you were trying not to let your hands shake. He had been steadily increasing your speed, but even so the car had kept up and pulled up alongside you. You tried to get a good look at the people who were inside, but before you could, Nestor slammed on the gas and tried to speed ahead of them in one last burst to lose them.

Before he could successfully get in front of them, they swerved and hit the back driver’s side corner of the car. With the speed that Nestor had picked up they hit you hard enough to send the car spinning. By some miracle the vehicle didn’t roll, but you swerved off the road and slammed into an embankment, trashing the front of the car and pinning Nestor’s side. Even if he wanted to open his door and get out, he couldn’t. It all happened so fast, you don’t think you would’ve been able to explain exactly how the two of you ended up in that position even if someone tried to pay you to.

The other car pulled up, opening their passenger door. You had already undone your seatbelt and you instinctively shot the gun in your hand, busting the glass window. You fired off a second bullet and got the man who was coming towards you in the leg, causing him to drop. You were getting ready to fire off a third shot when a third man jumped out of the car and dragged him back throwing him in the back seat, the only sound in the air was a slew of curses of the man who was bleeding. You froze up, unable to take an easy shot that would take someone’s life.

“Just fucking go!” the man yelled as he barely got his accomplice into the back seat.

The car started peeling away before the back door was even completely shut. Clearly, they hadn’t been planning on you being armed at all, let alone ready to shoot. You took a shaky breath as you put the safety back on the gun. You turned to Nestor, who had a harsh burn along his neck from his seatbelt, as well as a cut and a welt on the side of his forehead from where his head slammed against the window while you were spinning out. You unclicked his seatbelt and gently tried to wake him without shaking him, not knowing how hard he had slammed his head.

“Nestor?”

He groaned in response, “Fuck.”

“Oh thank god,” you let out a sigh of relief.

“How many?”

“At least three,” you gently and slowly turned his head, trying to get a better idea of his injuries. You had a feeling that it was nothing serious—he was just going to be bruised and sore for a few days. His side of the car got slammed pretty bad when you went off the road. You pressed your lips together for a moment, “Still got feeling in all your limbs?”

He laughed, although it was weighted with sarcasm, leaning back against the headrest, “Yea.”

“Good,” you sighed, letting your body sink back into your seat as well, “All things considered, this could’ve gone a lot worse.”

He looked over at you, “Looks like we’ll be using your car for a few days.”

You slowly shook your head, “The ice cream is definitely gonna melt.”

His next laugh was genuine, despite the pain he was in, “You have the worst priorities in the world.”

“Hey, I checked to see if you were alive, didn’t I?”

After a few phone calls made to your father and some of his connections, you had a tow-truck and a temporary replacement car there in no time. It was convenient, the only thing you weren’t thrilled about was the fact that your father was the one who delivered it.

“What happened?” he ran to you and wrapped you in a hug

“They followed us out of the grocery store,” you said, taking a slight step back when he finally released you from his embrace, “Nestor noticed right away. They never saw my house.”

He nodded, “That’s good at least,” he held you gently by your upper arms, “How are you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, “Neck is sore from getting spun out, but I’m alright. I should probably get Nestor home so I can get his cuts cleaned up.”

“You have things to take care of him?”

You nodded, “Yea of course.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

You shook your head, “No, I think we’ll be okay. I just wanna get home.”

He nodded understandingly, “Okay. I love you, mija, you know that right?”

You smiled, “I know. I love you too,” you hugged him, “I’ll talk to you later and give you a full download of the situation, alright?”

“Alright. Please, drive safe.”

“I will,” you kissed his cheek, “Te quiero.”

“Te quiero,” he walked over and shook Nestor’s hand, “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

He nodded, feeling like there wasn’t much to thank him for in this situation, “Your daughter is a very capable woman.”

“She is,” with a final nod and one last look over at you, your father went back to his own car and took off.

You and Nestor waited for the tow truck to finish loading the SUV before finally piling into the car your father had brought for you. It was pretty reminiscent of Nestor’s SUV and you knew that was probably by design. In the back of your mind you knew your father probably wanted it to be your car so he could finally give you what he considered to be a real car. Truthfully you hated driving bigger vehicles, but you weren’t about to hand the keys over to Nestor.

“I’m sorry,” he said one you were both in the car.

“What’re you sorry for?” you asked as you buckled in.

“It never should’ve come to that, to you having to use my gun.”

You shook your head, “Don’t do that. You were unconscious. Not even you are cool enough to be able to pull that off while knocked out. Thanks to you, I get to sleep in my own bed tonight. So don’t beat yourself up,” you waited for him to meet your eyes, “Self-pity is the only thing that doesn’t look good on you, so knock it off,” you offered a small smile as you started the car.

He smiled as he settled into his seat but he didn’t say anything. The drive passed in silence, and for once you weren’t itching to turn the radio on. Part of you wanted to reach over and cover Nestor’s hand with your own, but you fought the urge. He somehow managed to keep his eyes open the whole ride home.

Once you started getting what was left of the groceries out of the car, Nestor asked for the house keys so he could do a check. You told him not to bother, that there would be no way a second threat would be lurking in your house after what just happened, but he insisted. It wasn’t a battle you were going to pick, so you handed over the keys.

The house was quiet, and you didn’t make any comment on it as you started unpacking the groceries. Nestor was sat on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and the look on his face made your heart feel heavy. You texted your father, asking for one small, very ridiculous favor, hoping that he would grant it to you.

Once all of the groceries were put away, you went and grabbed your first aid kit from the bathroom and sat down next to Nestor on the couch. This time, he didn’t look annoyed about the closeness you shared.

“C’mere,” you motioned for him to lean closer to you so you could start wiping and cleaning out the cut on his forehead. Neither of you said anything while you tended to him. He cringed slightly when you used the alcohol, but he remained silent. You told him that after he showered you would put a bandage on it just as a precaution, but the gash wasn’t really that deep. It was more to make you feel better about it. You wiped down the burn across his neck with an anti-bacterial rub, but there wasn’t a whole lot else that you could do for it.

“How’s your side?” you nodded to his side that got slammed into the door of the car when you hit the embankment.

“It’s fine,” he wasn’t looking at you.

“Can I see it?”

He stood up, ready to go shower and wash the day away, “I said it’s fine.”

“Well if it’s fine then there’s no reason not to let me see,” you weren’t yelling but it was a firm tone that you hadn’t used with him before.

He sighed, not having the energy to put up a fight. He untucked and un-buttoned his shirt, pulling the one side out so that you could see his chest and ribcage. There were a few bruises starting to come in, but it didn’t look terrible. You tried to stay focused on the real reason you wanted to look at him, but you had to admit that you let your eyes linger a little longer than medically necessary. You hadn’t been expecting to see so much ink on his skin.

“Can I go shower now?”

You nodded, “Yea. Thank you.”

You didn’t have the energy to go and get changed, so instead you melted into the couch, pushing the first aid kit to the floor. You heard the shower turn on and then, for the first time, he put music on. Your eyes went wide, thinking for a moment that you must’ve hit your head at some point too and were hearing things. After a minute went by, you finally let yourself relax, not even wanting to turn the television on and risk drowning out the melodies drifting out of the bathroom. You didn’t know what kind of music you were expecting Nestor to listen to, but what he was playing was much more mellow than you thought it would be.

You were resting with your eyes closed when there was a light knock on the door. You got up, smiling because you knew what it was. You opened the front door, smiling at your father’s newest assistant who looked like he was only a couple weeks out of college. He stood there with a smile as he held out a brown paper bag to you.

“Your dad said you needed these?”

You smiled and nodded, “Yes, thank you so much,” he nodded and went to walk away when you caught his attention again, “Hey, I never caught your name.”

“Ricardo. You can call me Ricky.”

“Thank you, Ricky.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good night.”

You shut and locked the door and put the bag in the freezer, grinning over the fact that your father was still willing to indulge you in silly things like this even after all this time. You snapped back to reality when the sound of the shower and the music both shut off. The door creaked open and you fought the urge to peak into the hallway.

After a few minutes went by and Nestor didn’t reappear in the living room, you took it upon yourself to go to him. You grabbed the bag out of the freezer and two spoons before making your way down the hall.

You knocked lightly on the door, not used to it being shut. His voice was quiet on the other side, “Yea?”

You opened the door and fought to not let your jaw hit the floor. Nestor was lying on his bed, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. All you could think about, though, was the fact that he was lying there with no shirt on, just a pair of sweatpants. You truly couldn’t believe the number of tattoos that the man had. His chest, stomach, and arms were completely decked out in ink of all kinds. You hadn’t given much thought to him having tattoos—you saw the one on his neck and his hands but other than that it never really crossed your mind. Your quick glance earlier didn’t do his extensive body art justice.

And his hair wasn’t braided—his long, thick curls were thrown up into a messy bun on top of his head. You were certain that there would never be a better look for him than that. You wished it didn’t take such a rough day to get it out of him. You cleared your throat slightly, chastising yourself over how your mind instantly flew to some very unprofessional places.

“I come bearing gifts,” you said as you walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, “Well, gift. It’s just one.”

He opened one eye, smiling as you set the pint of ice cream and spoon on his nightstand, “Which of your father’s assistants had to drive that over?”

You laughed, “The new one, Ricky.”

He forced himself to sit upright, “Poor kid.”

He reached for the ice cream and your eyes were glued to his forearms, figuring it was the safest place for you to study as you digested all of the new ink that you were seeing. You were trying not to gawk but he was making it really difficult for you. You bit down lightly on your bottom lip, unable to force yourself to look away.

He noticed you staring and immediately became very aware of how he looked, “Fuck, sorry. Let me grab a shirt.”

You shook your head, “Stop. This is your home too for now. I don’t give a shit,” you laughed, “After today you can wear whatever you want,” you took a scoop of ice cream out of your pint, “Your hair looks good like that, by the way.”

He smiled, slowly pulling his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged by his pillow, “Thanks. You tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, “Hey, man-buns are in right now.”

He chuckled as he methodically scooped away a layer at a time. You pulled your feet up and sat the same way he was, the two of you facing each other. Neither of you said anything as you ate, and you soaked up the moment.

“Can I put a bandage on your cut?” you asked as you put the top back on your ice cream container.

“It’s really not that bad.”

“I know but it’ll make me feel better.”

He shrugged, nodding, “Sure.”

You gathered up your spoons and what was left of your ice cream and walked out of the room. You tossed the containers back into the freezer before going to grab the first aid kit off of your floor. After thinking about it for a moment, you made a pit-stop in your room and changed out of your clothes, opting for a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

By the time you walked back into his room, Nestor had put on a t-shirt moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs off so his feet hit the floor. You sat down next to him and looked at his forehead. You sifted through the different-sized bandages you had before you found one that was satisfactory. You leaned in, gently applying it to his forehead.

You rested your palm on the side of his face, lightly tracing your thumb over the bandage to make sure it was completely on. Nestor’s eyes were closed, and without thinking better of it, he leaned slightly into your touch and you froze, not wanting to give up the contact. You tried to relax your body, but you couldn’t.

A few seconds later he opened his eyes again, and realized what he was doing. He sat upright and cleared his throat, not sure what to say or do. You forced yourself to break the silence, “Need anything else?”

He shook his head, “No. Thank you. I know I’m here to keep you safe but you definitely saved my ass today.”

You chuckled, “And you can save my ass tomorrow,” your expression grew a little more serious, “But really, you good?”

He nodded, “I’m good.”

“Okay,” you rested your hand on his knee for a moment, “Goodnight, Nestor.”

You went to take your hand away as you stood when you felt his come to rest over it, completely enveloping it, “Goodnight,” he gave your hand a soft squeeze.

You walked out of his room, shutting the door behind you. you turned off all the lights in the house before going to your room and collapsing onto your bed. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened that day. You traced over the top of your hand where Nestor’s had been and, despite the day the two of you had had, you found yourself smiling.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva fanfic #my writing #drabblesmc #protective detail #multichapter #chapter 4

207 notes · View notes

alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

She’ll never know [Yandere! Iceland x reader]

Synopsis: Everybody’s pumped for the week-long skiing trip in Switzerland. While Emil and you are back to showcasing your weird relationship— “platonically” holding hands and sharing beds, Mathias never catches the drift like everyone else does and demands the same treatment from you. Emil eventually gives in to jealousy and denounces his friendship with you the first night in. He thought he was satisfied with these developments, all until he overhears a conversation between Mathias and Lukas two days later. Seems like he wasn’t the only one pining for you. His chance at revenge arrives when he finds the Dane unconscious in the snow after a freak accident. Wordcount: 4,288 The reader is referred to as she/her.

It was supposed to be a drama-free ski trip.

You were tagging along for the first time, sitting with him on the plane and sharing a room at the resort. Getting a seat next to you was a wildcard, for sure. But the latter was a given, considering it was Tino who made the sleeping arrangements. Out of everyone in the group, or anyone for that matter, you had always been the closest to Emil—the Finnish man was well aware of that.

Even then, he planned on sticking to you like a tattoo. For seven straight days, being with him also meant you would be in the company of a loud-mouthed Dane. And sometimes, he could be all up in your business. But he was safe for now, so long as he didn’t try anything on the plane.

The soft murmuring of passengers and white noise of the cabin filled his ears as he walked down one of the aisles. Once you found your seats, he didn’t waste time to buckle himself in and get comfortable, all so he could pull out his phone. The last time you were with him, you both watched Interstellar. Well, most of it.

“Em, this flight is a little over an hour. Why not take a nap instead?” You suggested, but he never slowed his movements to open Netflix.

While the downloaded video loaded, he pulled off his sweatshirt to ruffle up his silvery-white hair. Under that was a black graphic T-shirt with a cat on it. “Mm... No. We have to finish it while it’s still fresh in our memory.”

“Okay, fine. I didn’t wanna watch it right now because I’ll cry again.”

“So? Nobody’s gonna see.”

Nobody except him. But you never minded, as you were already leaning over to finish the movie with him. His taste in sad movies rubbed off on you, and you were quick to tears. That, he was very familiar with. But besides crying, you also had a habit of falling asleep in his bed after staying up to watch things or play games. So it wasn’t weird to know how often you slept with him.

Eventually, a strange chemistry started to brew between you both.

A physical and emotional closeness so intimate, it was comparable to that of a relationship. But Emil never thought of things like that. Best friends could do this stuff, couldn’t they? Holding hands and sharing clothes was the norm.

Drinking from the same cup was just a regular Tuesday.

“Gimme some of your apple juice.” You whispered, feeling a little dry in the mouth after tearing up. Reaching out for his cup to take a few gulps, he furrowed his brows and grumbled. He was left with nothing but backwash.

“I was gonna drink that.”

A few mischievous laughs fell from your lips. “There’s still some left.” Picking the cup up, you swished around the remaining contents, which wasn’t much.

“This should be more than enough for you, you dehydrated gremlin. I’d encourage you to have more, but we both know you’d only have a sip whether I drank from it or not."

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he frowned. “No I wouldn’t.”

“You would. That’s why I left you a sip.”

“... Shut up.”

The plane landed not long after, and your spunk died down near the conclusion of the film. Yes, it was sad. And yes, you cried. Like Emil expected, you were going to be silent for a while. When everyone regrouped to walk around the airport, you stayed by his side and held his hand. At the platforms to wait for the train, you and him were inseparable—head on his shoulder and all. But in your defence, you were tired. And this wasn’t the first time.

If anybody else did this to him, he would be shoving them off. They could hit their head for all he cared. And that was precisely why Tino and Lukas were giving him funny looks in the carriage.

Laughing quietly to themselves with a hand covering their mouths, they watched on with a devilish expression. “Huhuhu,” was what Emil heard as he sat comfortably in his seat, but he knew what it translated to. Look at you, holding her hand while she’s asleep. He simply turned away with rosy cheeks. He didn’t know what they were on about. This wasn’t weird at all.

Yes, he wasn’t exactly the most touchy-feely with people, but you weren’t just anybody. And he knew he liked you, a lot at that, but it was perfectly platonic.

Nobody was convinced, however. All except for the Dane who practically came bounding over from a few rows down. But it was likely he never even got the gist.

The train finally reached a slower, constant speed, so he was prepared to join the group for some small talk. Leaning down on the backrest, he laid his eyes on you and Emil with a grin. “Well, well, well. Don’t you two look cozy.” He commented, his voice making the boy glance up. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. We’re going skiing today!”

“But hey—”Combing a hand through his wild and unruly locks of blonde, he smiled sheepishly. “Do you think I could sit with her on the way back?”

Just when he thought nothing could ruin this vacation, he was proven wrong. That was right. Mathias was the only other person present who actively showed you affection, and it always bothered him. God, the thought of you sitting with him for hours made him sick.

“... Only if she wants to.” He mumbled, sinking lower into his seat to cause his hoodie to ride up. Since it was already on his head, it came drooping over his face to hide his dark purple eyes. There, he could read the other’s expression.

He could take a few things away from it. Right now, he was rubbing the nape of his neck while watching you snooze. Every time Mathias was expectant, he wouldn’t stop moving his hands. The sight made his frown deepen. When Lukas and Tino witnessed this, they looked away and shared the same thought.

Just let him be, you idiot.

But Mathias didn’t quite get the memo, let alone read their minds.

So he stood up and responded with this. “Well, of course she’ll want to! Who wouldn’t sit next to me?” A brief silence fell around the group. Lukas coughed. Berwald continued to watch the mountainous landscape outside the window without a word, trailing his icy blue eyes over the snow that glowed purple at dawn. “Seriously, guys? This is why I like (F/N) the best. At least she’s nice to me.”

Emil squeezed your hand as you slept. The tightness in his chest only seemed to worsen by the second. And it showed in his visible discomfort. Lowering his head, he let his fringe fall over his eyes.

“... She’s nice to everyone.”

The blonde shrugged while closing his eyes in a look of satisfaction.

“If you’re gonna be train buddies, then we can be skiing buddies. Right, (F/N)?” Reaching down to your head, he tipped it gently in a nod before saying this. “Of course, Mathias! You’re my favorite.”

As if.

“That was a terrible impression.”

“What impression?”

He huffed under his breath. They hadn’t even arrived at the resort, and he was already dreading the next seven days. This gut feeling turned out to be right, because it only seemed to get worse.

***

Shortly after arriving, everyone dropped off their things before leaving to get right into the sport. After napping for nearly two hours, you were replenished with the energy to go skiing. Despite being quite the skilled skier himself, Mathias was kind enough to accompany you on the easier slopes. More accurately put, he was jumping at the opportunity to teach you.

Hell, he’d been waiting outside your room to take you to the ski lifts. The moment you opened the door, you were greeted by the man all geared up, with goggles on and all.

“Morning. You ready to roll? Or, slide?” He asked.

Seeing him so eager was cute, so you were obliged to follow, leaving Emil alone in the room. When said boy left the bathroom after freshening up, he saw the door close behind you. “Sorry, Emil! I’m gonna go ahead! I’ll see you outside!”

And just like that, you were gone. Dropping his face towel off on a chair, he dug his hands through his hair and breathed in deeply. Since when was the last time he felt this much anguish? Yes, he was rooming with you. But that was only at night. Daytime meant you would be with Mathias. He had no place complaining, considering he wasn’t the best at skiing. Nothing he could do about that.

He changed out of his T-shirt and into his snow gear with a sigh.

His excitement to go skiing was gone.

And if he wasn’t going to ski, he’d be holed up in his room. His logic told him this was selfish, but he wanted you to stay with him more than anything.

You returned late in the afternoon as the sun was going down, but he’d been staying inside ever since lunch. Perking up at the sound of the door creaking open, he forced his head down and popped his earphones in. After you set your things down and changed to more comfortable clothes, you walked over to the bed and found a bump under the blanket. Lifting it up by the hem, you found him curled up with his phone.

His earphones fell out. “(F/N)?”

“Who else would it be, dummy? I was wondering where you went.” You kicked off your slippers and slid right in. He didn’t know how much he’d been longing for this until now—the feeling of you laying next to him in bed. But he couldn’t get carried away yet. It wasn’t even night yet.

A displeased expression contorted at your features, but it melted away as you pulled his phone away.

“H-Hey!” He tried reaching out for it, but it was already on the bedside table.

“No more screen time for you.” You tapped him on the nose. “How else am I gonna get your lazy ass out of bed?” He knitted his brows together and rolled into you to hide his face. Then, he curled two arms around you, albeit slowly.

“To do what?”

“To ski, duh.”

He squeezed you. “But I don’t want to.” Emil’s wintry white locks were soft against your chest, and you felt his body heat waft over to yours. It was a sure fire sign he’d been under the covers for too long. That was when an idea struck him. This would definitely get you to stay with him for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow if he was lucky. “I... feel kinda sick.”

Your smile fell and you immediately reached out to cup his cheeks, then clamp a hand over his forehead. When he felt your touch as you checked his temperature, his heart rate escalated. He was on cloud nine.

“... Oh no... You’re a bit warm. I think it’s best that you stay in bed. But don’t use too many blankets, or your fever will get worse.”

The sensation of your hands on him was to die for, and the thought that you were worried about him made it better. Nobody would have expected this trait from the usually detached boy, but he was secretly clingy. And he had the most subtle ways of showing it. An example would be lying about feeling unwell, but he didn’t feel bad about it at all.

A headache was pounding in his skull, and it wasn’t wrong to say he was upset. And plus, if this worked, you could stay with him. He could practically feel a smile creeping to his lips at the thought, but he hid half of his face with the blanket. “... Are you gonna ski tomorrow?” He asked quietly.

You craned your head to the side in thought.

“Only if you can. Who’s gonna look after you when I’m gone?”

Blood rushed up to his face and he nodded. “Okay.”

Reaching out to his cheek again, you groaned. “Oh my god. Why are you so hot? Hold on. I’m gonna find you an ice pack.” You slid off the bed, but not before giving him an affectionate pinch. He made a soft noise in protest. “I think this is a sign for you to fix your sleep schedule and stop eating instant.”

Before you left, he reached out to grab your wrist.

“What is it?”

He released you after a few moments. “... Nothing...”

You smiled weirdly. “Okay, hun. Give me a ring if you need anything.”

A couple hours later, the group gathered for dinner in a nearby restaurant. Despite the freezing temperatures that dropped significantly at night, Mathias insisted to sit outside at the balcony to enjoy the views. The views in question weren’t even that visible with how dark out it was. There was nothing but faint outlines of mountains stretching on for miles into the horizon.

Much to Emil’s displeasure, you insisted that he sit opposite you. Understandable, because it was closer to the indoors where the warm air was wafting out of. But that only meant you’d sit next to the Dane, and he was quick to notice you shivering lightly in the cold.

Like him, you had a sweater on, but he was the human heater, not you. Curling an arm around your shoulders with a softened gaze, he rubbed your arm up and down. Almost like how a boyfriend would to their girlfriend.

And Emil witnessed it all happen.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, min elskede. Do you want my sweater as well?” He laughed, to where you shook your head profusely.

Did he just call you ‘my love’ in Danish? Since when did he start calling you that? And he was offering his clothes to you as well? He thought only he did that. Gripping the hem of his hoodie with clammy hands, he lowered his head as his heart started to sting. Fuck. He hated this feeling.

But what he saw next made it unfathomable.

“No, of course not! I can deal with this. You’d be crazy to take it off—" He lifted his sweater up and threw it over his head, the action making his t-shirt ride up. “—and, you’re taking it off.” He fixed his top before sliding the knit over you. Pulling it down so you could fit your arms through the arm holes, you were overwhelmed with his smell, and not to mention, completely encased with warmth.

He was now left in nothing but a T-shirt.

“That better?” Mathias grinned.

“Yes, you idiot. But if you catch a cold because of me, you won’t be the only sick one in the group.” You grumbled under a blush, a little embarrassed he actually gave you his sweater. “Thank you, though.”

His stomach churned. His breathing deepened. Unbeknownst to you, or anyone for that matter, he started to spiral down a path of self-destructive thoughts. Did he always like you that much? He lifted his gaze to you, and found you carrying on with your usual banter with the Dane. Did you always like him that much? You laughed. Emil bit his lip. It always made him euphoric to hear you laugh, but knowing it wasn’t him that was responsible for it made him feel an unpleasant mix of all kinds of things. Sadness, anger, and a violent kind of jealousy.

So shortly after finishing his food, he stood up and left without a word. That silenced the chatter at the table, and everyone called out to him. But he was too quick on his feet.

You’d never seen him do something like that. Either he was nauseous, or something was really wrong. “He’d got a fever, so maybe he’s going to... You know. I’ll check on him.” With that said, you stood up and took Mathias’s sweater off. “Here. Just in case I don’t come back.”

Jogging up to your room, you were relieved to see that your instincts were right on the mark. Emil had retreated back here, and was currently hiding under the covers. Nearing his side, you lowered yourself to your knees. "Em? Are you okay? Did you puke?”

“... No.” His voice was thick and nasally.

And that pointed to one thing.

The poor boy was crying.

Breathing out a soft sigh, you removed all your layers until you were in your undergarments. Lifting up the corner of the blanket, you joined him before wrapping your arms around his form. “I know you don’t like talking about yourself, but I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” You murmured, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “You can tell me anything. I won’t be weirded out or judge you. I’m just worried about you, okay?”

He popped his head out from under the blanket to reveal his flushed face stained with tears.

“... Anything?”

You hummed. “Mmhm. Anything.”

Emil paused for a moment. Frankly, he had no idea why he was feeling like this. Perhaps he did, he just didn’t want to say it. That maybe, everyone was right about him. That what he felt about you was anything but innocent. The signs were all there. He’d never been this attached to anyone, ever, and even if he was, he would’ve hid it to some degree. But not with you. He’d been all over you since the start of the trip, and even now, he had his arms looped around your neck. And when other people decided to do the same to you, he was choked with turbulent emotions.

It even got to the point of intrusive thoughts. Back at the dinner table, all he could think about aside from worrying about this relationship was this—something terrible happening to Mathias. He didn’t want him to be there. He just wished he’d disappear, even for a little while.

When he realized these desires, he knew he couldn’t tell you. But there was still something he wanted. “... I’m fine now. But I just wanted to ask you something.”

You frowned. “Doesn’t look like you’re fine. You can’t keep brushing it off and expect me to let it go.”

“You’re right. But I promise I’ll feel better after this.”

“... Alright. But the next time this happens, I’m not letting you off the hook.” You murmured, reaching out to give his cheek a pat. “What did you wanna ask me?”

He flickered his eyes down to your lips. Then, he returned his gaze, but his stare felt a little hot on you for some reason. It never crossed your mind that he was hugging you around your neck, but it did now. “Would you ever...” Emil blushed darkly. “... Kiss me?”

You blinked at the unexpected question, but reacted nevertheless. The red flushing his cheeks spread to yours as you strung together the words to respond. “Well... I’m not disgusted or anything. We’re really close, so I wouldn’t mind kissing you.” You answered honestly, but that didn’t change the fact that you were curious why he even asked such a thing. “... Why?”

“I just wanted to know.” Emil mumbled. “Would you kiss anyone else?”

“No. That would be weird, wouldn’t it?”

His heart started to pound in euphoria. But the longer he lingered on what you said, his heart began to pound with another emotion.

“If you’d kiss me, then would you kiss me now?”

You had a feeling things would pan out this way. But you didn’t mind it in the least, in fact, you kind of wanted to do this. Leaning in to him, you heard his breath hitch from the close proximity. “... Maybe. But only a short one, because you’re sick.” Pressing your lips to his for short and sweet peck, he squeezed his arms around you and pulled you in again. Attaching his mouth to yours for a deeper kiss, he caught you off guard by the sudden build-up in intensity.

His coils around your neck tightened, and for the next few minutes or so, he kept kissing you. He just couldn’t stop moving his mouth with yours, nibbling on your lips ever so often. It felt too good. He never thought he’d ever be able to do this, but he was never going back now.

Everything he’d ever done with you now felt like child’s play. How could he have resisted these feelings for so long? Rolling you onto your back, he loomed over you and continued to make out with you on the bed. The connection between your mouths was starting to feel hot. The taste of yours only grew more prominent, and that was how he knew he was denouncing everything he used to have with you. He couldn’t take it, being friends with you. Emil had always been clingy. Jealous. And he was facing the truth—the reason.

He liked you. In every way you could like someone. But that wasn’t all. He was obsessed with you.

That night, you fell asleep on his chest.

To say he was satisfied with these developments was an understatement. He always thought of himself as your best friend, nothing more, nothing less. But he was relieved he finally accepted he really felt about you. So there was no need to pretend to be sick anymore.

He felt like skiing again, especially when you had another reason to be with him instead of Mathias.

The next day was a blast.

He finally got to try the intermediate slope thanks to your encouragement, and he could officially say he wasn’t terrible at skiing. And he continued to explore the harder slopes the day after as well.

Sometime in the afternoon, he returned back to the resort for a hot drink break. Taking a seat in the dining hall, he overheard two familiar voices. He swallowed down what he had in his mouth before listening in to their conversation. Hm. Was that... Mathias? And Lukas? Those two have always been pretty close, so he could already guess that their conversation would include pretty confidential contents. But it wasn’t his fault they held it in his earshot, right?

“Hey, so I’ve been thinking. I really like... You know. And I wanted to ask her out.”

“You mean (F/N)? Good luck trying to separate her from Emil. If they somehow don’t already like each other, then maybe you’ll have a chance.”

“Nah, it’s worth a shot! He isn’t the type to be in a relationship, anyway.”

Emil froze.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

The memories of that conversation replayed in his head like a broken record. Even while he was enjoying the cold night air as he skied later that day, he couldn’t stop lingering on it. Fuelling the anger he felt a few days ago. So that was why he gave you his sweater. Gliding through the soft blankets of snow, he never slowed down. Nobody knew you were dating him yet, but that only reinforced the fact that this relationship was new. Nothing was set in stone yet. And that only meant things could change, wouldn’t it?

His chest tightened and he slowed to a stop. He couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.

As if the world wanted to test that statement, his attention was stolen by a gap in the snow fencing. It looked as if something shot through it, or more accurately put, crashed into it and broke it. Sliding himself closer to take a better look, he was shocked to find a body outside the barriers. A skier. He must’ve swerved too hard and passed out from possible head trauma.

But Emil soon discovered it wasn’t just any random ‘he’. The clothes and gear were all too familiar. Could it be? His blonde hair gave it all away. This skier wasn’t a stranger. It was Mathias.

He was laying on his side with half his head submerged in white.

Upon realizing their identity, the fear-induced urgency to call for help suddenly subsided. Instead, he turned around, and skied away, slowly, back to the resort. What was he doing? Was he seriously going to leave him out in the snow where he could easily die? Emil couldn’t stop himself from moving. Was he seriously that upset? It was clear. He was.

But he knew he didn’t want him to die.

Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone, not until an hour later, at least.

He didn’t know what was going through his head. But he knew what he felt. He wanted him to get sick at least. That would incapacitate him for a while, but not forever.

Sure enough, when the search and rescue found him, he was down with a bad case of hypothermia. He was immediately tended to by medical professionals, and it was revealed that he wouldn’t have made it if Emil never brought up the matter that Mathias had been missing. The color drained from his face when he heard that, and he never felt this guilty in his life. But it was short-lived. After all, he was still alive, wasn’t he?

He secured you in his arms as you cried softly into his chest. Nobody had to know about this. Especially not you, who warbled out how thankful you were that he remembered Mathias’s disappearance.

As he kissed your tears away, the only thought that repeated in his head was this.

She’ll never know.

#hetalia #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #aph #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #Iceland #iceland x reader #aph iceland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere Iceland #one shot #request

116 notes · View notes