#another reason is that its just rude and humiliating

[celabi]

Scummy Scaramouche and his nurse gf! ☆彡 1.2k — nsfw

Errrr re uploading this bcs someone told me the format glitched out and was doubling paragraphs, sorry! 🙏

Pfft, he’s picking fights with groups of bigger guys that he knows overpower him tremendously— taunting and mocking them with that snarky smile of his until they’ve finally had enough of his cocky little attitude and decide to beat him blue. But even then, as he’s pathetically crouched down to the ground, his slender, bruised arms up and covering his head to avoid injury to the face, does he laugh at their sorry excuse of punches and hits. When his voice is hoarse and shallow as he deems them weak— it was not meant for his ears only, or because he was scared, it was simply because one of those kicks made direct contact with his rib cage and did something to his vocal cords, he likes to believe that he is not the weak one here.

God does he hate how they laugh back at him, for it is he who should be the one with power, but… he just can’t find the strength to stand up. Instead, he can do nothing but curl into his body to try and suppress the growing ache in his chest, and stare with half lidded eyes as they dump everything out of his bag and onto the floor, with all of his belongings rolling across the dirty, campus tiles. ‘… how irritating.’ He thinks, watching one of the ‘bullies’ bring their foot down to harshly stomp the assignment that Scaramouche had asked you to help him with. Huh, whatever, yet another reason to spend time with you.

He’s not sure how long he had sat back against some random locker before his tormentors left and he had finally caught his breath— maybe ten minutes? thirteen if he counts how long it took to muster up his remaining strength and sit up— before he’s back on his two feet and wobbling towards the nurses office, one hand pressed firmly against the growing bruise on his stomach— and the other clutching the wall so he doesn’t topple over. Of course, no one that passed Scaramouche bothered to ask if he’s okay, or if he needed any help, for not even a single glance is spared towards his battered figure that limped down the hallway. He thinks he doesn’t care— but still, he has to admit that it’s pretty humiliating when even his professor doesn’t want to question his wounded state when rounding the hallway.

But does he have to care when his hand finally grips the door handle to his destination? No, he doesn’t— so he wastes not a second longer and pushes through, accidentally with too much excitement it seems— seeing that he sent the door banging against the wall and almost off the hinges. He flinches at his display of eagerness— while you jump up in surprise from the loud thud that bounces around the room. Oh no, he didn’t mean to frighten you! That’s the last thing he wanted, so (even though its limited due to the wounded state he’s in) he slightly leans his body downward in a shallow bow and opens his mouth to apologise for his rudeness— only for his hand to be pulled and his body jerked forward, out of the doorway and into the room, the door closing shut behind him.

Since when did you get so close to him? Maybe his heart rate didn’t fully return to nor— No, it doesn’t matter, you’re close to him. And he knows that’s all that matters. He follows closely behind and allows you to pull him along towards one of the clinic beds with no complaints whatsoever— and even though his eyes start to blur, and his head starts to spin from the strong reek of antiseptic, he sits down on the seat which you had silently gestured him towards. ‘She’s so professional when she’s on the clock… that’s fucking adorable.’

“Again? Kuni… do you get into fights you can’t win because you like the pain, or something? With the trouble you manage to find yourself in lately, you’ll see your ‘fatal demise’ sooner then you think.” Even though your words are what he thinks are to be taken in a joking manner— he’s a bit confused when a disappointed sigh, roll of the eyes, and a slight head shake of disapproval is what he receives in return. He blinks once ‘So strict’ and slightly lowers his eyes from your own and onto your glossy and plump lips— so soft looking that he can’t help but to glide his tongue across his dry ones out of excitement. ‘So stern’ his eyes lower down again to stare at the white coat that wraps snugly around your elegant figure, one that makes you look very high class. ‘So harsh’ they lower once again, just enough until they can subtly lock onto the plush thighs that faintly peak through the thin pantyhose covering your legs. ‘… god, she’s fucking perfect, like my own personal nurse.’

At this point— he’s not even embarrassed that his cock had started to erect in his pants, because he’s sure any sane man with a functioning brain would pop a boner at the sight above him. To be looked down upon with a face so fetching, a stare so proper, and words so sharp— it intoxicated him more then it probably should have. Scaramouche let’s out an unbalanced exhale, and goes to re-adjust his position to try and suppress the growing ache in his cock, only to grunt out in pain when he accidentally puts all of his weight onto one of his recently acquired contusions. “Jesus, fuck!” That’s what he gets for letting his enthusiasm get the better of him I suppose.

Over the sounds of him kissing his teeth and the discomfort he expresses through pained groans— he is just able to make out how you start to teasingly ‘tsk’ at the state of his suffering, before your feet pad across the tiles as you approach. It hurts, but not as much as his cock does when your face nears his own— and god did you smell good, so good that it overpowers the intense lodo foam scent that flows around the air. He is so entranced by your sweet aroma that the thought of trying to hide away his erection never even crosses his mind— you however, just so happened to notice it.

From gazing longingly into your glimmering eyes to, reaching out and grasping his hand around a chunk of the fabric to your coat— he’s brought back into reality when a light weight presses somewhat softly against his clothed boner, and his chest is being pushed backwards against the wall behind him inadvertently. Another groan falls from his mouth— this time however, it’s one of relief— so through lidded eyes and open senses, Scaramouche is met with a teasing grin, and the feeling of you palming away at his cock.

“Aw, poor thing. You’re in pain… I can help with that, it’s what i’m here for, after all.” Yep, you’re are just so generous, he thinks— and does nothing but nod with his little remaining strength, sit anxiously still as the zipper to his pants slowly starts to glide down, and flutter his eyes shut when your hand finally wraps around the base to his cock.

“Hahh… y-yes please. Do whatever you want to me…”

[yanderenightmare]

I have an honest question and I don't want to sound rude or anything at all but what's so interesting about CNC. Like I see people hype it up but to me it just feels like romanticizing r4pe..I'm not really into CNC so I can't talk bad or downplay whatever they do but I'm just asking because I want to understand it better.

A question I, by no means, can answer perfectly. However, in the spirit of philosophy and amateur psychology, I will lay unto you, ye who have keen ears, my theories.

Now, I am in no way a psychiatrist. However, as I am a woman who does a great deal of fantasizing and further thinking of what I fantasize about, I thought I might assume the role of a sexologist as it is no protected title.

I’ve long wondered why we (women) fantasize about things that would appall us if manifested in reality. It makes little sense that an act so ruining in practice should make us feel fulfilled when the mere thought of it is humored.

In the vast complexities of psychology, no matter how much I drink of its depths, I can’t seem to get my fill enough to understand it. Trying to figure out female arousal is like pulling hair from a clogged gutter and trying to undo all the knots. It’s a web of contradictions.

However…

First theory – there are cultural reasons. If we accept the inbuilt instincts of old and the instincts we adopt through media while growing up – all in all, the great history of aggressive men dominating passive women – we are conditioned to accept that this is what romance looks like.

Second theory – there are the emotional reasons. The "Beauty and the Beast" motif – featuring classic co-dependency. Women submit to abuse because we have an inbuilt need to nurture others – so when we love men who require to abuse and own us in order to love us, we somehow forget to protect ourselves in favor of loving them, which in this case means allowing them to abuse and own us. It's warped.

Third theory – there are psychological reasons. In fantasies and writing or viewing, we get to reframe traumatic experiences in a positive light or rework traumatic experiences in a safe environment – a form of psychological self-defense, much like Stockholm Syndrome or a type of self-inflicted Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Fourth theory – research has also been conducted regarding physiological reasons. Here, we have another inbuilt self-defense mechanism – a seldom talked-about phenomenon – which shows that women tend to become physically aroused when they sense any possibility of sexual aggression in their environment – in order to lower their chance of injury if they are raped.

Through all this, I believe one can narrow fantasies of rough or non-consensual sex into something as paradoxical and polar as having a wish for control and a wish to relent oneself of it. And coming to this conclusion, I realized that such is the pursuit of many, even in endeavors not of the erotic kind.

Humans wish to have control just as much as humans disdain having control. This is why BDSM (bondage, domination, sadism, masochism) kinks and fetishes are found in some shape or form in nearly every romantic or sexual relationship in existence. You’ll have the dominant partner wishing to achieve control over a submissive partner wishing to relinquish control through such means of domination, humiliation, pain, and pleasure.

But it’s more complex than that, isn’t it? 

Yes. Because, contradictory – a submissive partner may wish for control, and a dominant partner may wish to lose it. Human beings are an unyielding paradox where we flex across contrasting aims with no means to an end.

Yes, we wish for control, yet disdain having it. Perhaps we find the answer to this paradox in maintaining control by losing it?

Moreover… how does this relate to nonconsensual sex fantasies?

Here, we get a fifth theory containing the ego – a spin-off of a kind from the third theory. Here we find the wish for control, where, in the lustful fantasy realm, non-consensual sex bolsters a woman's feelings of seductiveness and desirability in the way it has the power to make a man lose his decency and self-control, driving him to commit crimes of passion despite ill consequences of losing his pride and honor as a man – also, ultimately, risking getting sent to prison. 

Put simply, some women enjoy the idea of being irresistible enough to drive even a good man crazy. The thought of being attractive enough to make a man love-sick and the power and control that follows it is, in this case, a turn-on.

A sixth theory – another spin-off from the third theory – is that fantasies of rape allow women to reduce the distress associated with sex, as they are not, in this scenario, responsible for what occurs. Moreover, the logic here states that when one is forced into something, they’ll have a lesser need to feel guilt or shame about acting out their own sexual desires.

Put simply, some women wish to maintain their innocence despite having carnal desires only satiated by means of sinful acts. 

This begs another question.

Is this a lingering feeling of guilt and shame around female sexuality?

Of course! Women are constantly met with disdain when open about their sluttiness.

So, are fantasies of nonconsensual sex a type of projection they do because of this?

In some cases, yes!

Transferring our own sexual desires unto another gives us permission to act them out without feeling guilty or dirty – because, inside this fantasy, it isn’t us committing the indecencies.

... Okay then...

Summing up theories five and six:

Control. To feel wanted, lusted for, obsessed over, and coveted by others. The power of driving someone to lovesick desire, a frenzied state, where they would do anything, even illegal, to have you. Additionally, despite such harsh cases of ego, wanting none of the responsibility for it, wanting to be free of sin, to maintain innocence and purity in light of such dark desires.

Or is there a seventh theory? One found in our idyllic construct of freedom – this aimless goal of ours to make ourselves appreciate breathing – done by balancing the electric powerline between having and losing control.

Is it this act of switching places, the attraction and pull, the stimuli and response, the attack and retaliation? In the chaos of contradictions and uncertainty, we find a thrill that occupies our otherwise hibernating minds – bored to the degree that we become machines in our daily programs. 

Is it simply that we need a little extremity as a remedy for our dull lives?

Do we fall in love with illegal things simply because we are denied them? Simply because they’re illegal? Self-harm, drug use, gambling, murder, rape…

Are these things a part of us? And are we, without them, left feeling unfulfilled? Is The Purge perhaps onto something vitally important? A cure for boredom, this mediocrity that leaves us feeling so blue?

I think, if I were to find a comparison, it’s quite similar to the blind bounds of excitement others ascend to in the midst of playing violent video games. The rush of falling in and out of enemy territory, of danger and safety, from being a predator to becoming the prey, of victory and defeat, of chasing death only to be comforted by one’s remaining life – because in reality, you're safe and sound in front of a screen.

Also, in other cases - rollercoasters, horror movies, extreme sports, etc...

Yes, the wish to trip in and out of control isn’t limited to the realm of lust but is present in most aspects of life. We find it in extreme cases such as drugs, gambling, gaming, relationships, and in other subtle cases of professions and work.

If you don’t like it, that’s your business, and I wish you the best of luck in lust elsewhere.

On another note – and such another warning and disclaimer – I want you not to accept my tales of lust as love stories. Personally, I think hints of toxic displays such as jealousy, obsession, and possession in a partner are natural – but – a difference is made when such feelings become restricting to a degree you no longer feel free. I implore you to make such distinctions for yourself when regarding yourself – and, in extreme cases, when regarding others.

In said regard, I do not condone the events nor the actions of the characters in my stories – neither offender nor victim. Don’t allow yourself to fall prey to toxic partners! The signs are always there – keep a weathered eye out for them.

And no, I’m not blaming those who’ve allowed themselves to stay in toxic relationships. I, myself, am guilty of that. But I won’t excuse my poor judgment either. You know when something doesn’t feel right. We shouldn’t blur the lines of right and wrong in the name of love – or whatever else we may lend our self-control to – such as religion, culture, family, societal pressure, etc...

You are in control. Don’t forget it. And don’t allow anything else to become the case.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Crazy, Stupid, Love

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When Dean has to work at a café to learn infos on a hunt, he thinks it's the worst. Until he meets her. At first, she's only kind of an annoying coworker. But an unfortunate event brings them closer, and Dean starts feeling things for her. If it's love, he doesn't know. But for the first time, he starts wondering how it would feel to have a normal life. A normal job. And a normal relationship. But first, he needs to get her revenge against that shitty boss.

Note: this happens in the begining of season one

Word Count: 9k

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Content Warning: Toxic work place, rude customer, humiliation, bullying, swearing

Squares: Humiliation for @hurtcomfort-bingo,/ Revenge for @jacklesversebingo

A/n: I'm gonna be honest, at first, I didn't want to post this fic. When I saw the attention the last few fics I took so much time to write got, it made me sad... But then I remembered how much fun I had with this one, so decided to post it in case someone else has the same fun reading it. ALSO! This was for @eevvvaa writing challenge! I picked the movie Crazy Stupid Love but actually used the quotes! They will be in bold in the text. Happy reading!

Usually, this situation would have upset him. After all, he was stuck here 8 hours per day, 5 days per week and always finished too late to go to the nearest bar afterwards. It also wasn’t the best first real job to have, as it was lame, boring, and always the same thing. But working at a café also had its advantages.

Like the beautiful barista that he had the chance to see on his first day. She was leaving, as she was only working mornings, and he was working evenings, but Dean couldn’t detach his eyes from her. Beautiful body, hair immaculate even after 8 hours of wearing a net, skin tanned to perfection.

“Oh great, another one.”

That wasn’t the girl he was talking about. No, the girl that just spoke was Y/n. At first glance, she looked like the manager. With the most seniority in here, she knew how things were done and how to do them quickly. But she was no boss. To make her agree to be his trainer and show him the basics, the real boss had to insist a lot. He didn’t know all the details, though, but she ended up accepting.

It was for a hunt. Otherwise, Dean would never be here. Sam said there was something weird in the neighborhood, and that the best way to discover what was going on was to talk with the community. And the best place to have conversations with people that didn’t want to talk with the police was of course at the local café. All the rumors and crispy details of the town were floating in there. The reason why it wasn’t Sam doing the whole barista thing was as simple as upsetting.

“Dean, you have all the charm. People- ladies- will open up to you like blooming flowers in the spring.”

Ugh.

Back to the present, Dean ignored Y/n’s comment and tilted his head to the side, still eyeing the morning employee that was leaving. “What do I have to do to get on the morning shift?” 

A groan of annoyance resonated behind him. His smile fell. He was stuck with her for a while, as they were both working evening shifts.

Alone together.

-

There were 60 seconds in one minute. And 60 minutes in one hour. A shift lasted 8 hours here. That was way too many seconds to spend doing nothing but wait to leave.

All that was in his head was the hot chick he kept seeing since he started working here. After only bumping into her these past 2 weeks, Dean finally decided to ask her on a date. And since he was Dean Winchester, no one could tell him no. And the same day, after his shift, he would meet her in front of the pizza place that was two blocks away.

And he couldn’t stop looking at the clock, head in his hand, hoping that staring at it would make the time go faster.

“I asked for a hot caramel latte with almond milk and no foam, what the hell is this?!”

It was near the end. In 15 minutes, the shop would be closed and then it was cleaning time. Weeping the floor, throwing away the remaining food that was not sold, washing the dishes, etc. That was always his favorite part, because even if Y/n was a pain in the ass as his supervisor, she was chill and allowed him to choose the radio station while they cleaned and he could leave once his part was done.

At first, the voice didn’t alert him, and Dean kept on making himself busy with cleaning tables that didn’t need it. But then, something broke, the sound heavy of meaning, and he was on alert. Every fiber of his body was on and he turned to the source of the sound.

Right at the counter, there was a man with his back to him. Without seeing his face, Dean knew he was angry. Pissed, even. At his feet, a broken cup, porcelain in pieces covered the floor soaked in coffee. Two steps allowed Dean to know what the man was looking at, and when he saw her…

He immediately rushed without thinking.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave, sir,” Dean put his hand on the customer’s shoulder, which made him jump. The man turned to him and aggressively stepped back. 

“Don’t touch me,” the man hissed. “You’re working here, huh?” He looked up and down at Dean, noticing the apron of the café he was wearing. “Must be the manager here. Well, your employee here is worthless, you should be careful who you hire, for fuck sake!”

At that, Dean couldn’t help but wince. That was unnecessary rude to say. He glanced at Y/n again and felt his heartbeat with pain. Her head was down, probably to hide tears. That was probably not the first time she had to serve asshole customers, but it was the first time Dean noticed it. Working in customer service was not easy at all, you had to be strong to endure all of that everyday.

He only knew Y/n for about two weeks, but he already knew a lot about her. She was calm. Kind. She cared about doing her job right. Yeah, she was a bit bossy and used every opportunity to send subtle little insults towards Dean just enough to annoy him, like how he couldn’t even do a coffee, in this economy? But it was never mean and he liked that side of her that didn’t let people step on her toes. But right now, in front of that man? She was small. She wanted to hide. It wasn’t the Y/n he knew.

“I’m not the boss,” Dean answered finally, placing his gaze back on the man. “But we’re closed, so I’m gonna ask you to leave.”

The rude customer was the last one in the café, so it wasn’t like he was breaking any rules. And he was Dean Winchester. He made the rules.

Red seemed to eat at the man’s face so much he was angry. “Not before I get what I fucking paid for!” He started yelling. Dean didn’t mind being screamed at, he was used to it with his dad, how sad it sounded. But when the man turned to Y/n to yell at her, Dean couldn’t hold himself back. “You useless cunt!”

“I said, out!” Dean grabbed the customer by the neck and quickly sent him backwards. His legs met the table right behind him, but it wasn’t enough to make him understand. The man lunged forward in an attempt to hit Dean, but he didn’t know.

Dean was waiting for it.

The fist missed, and the man stumbled into the void and collapsed on the floor like a clown. 

“This isn’t over,” the man growled and got up. Sure he would strike again, Dean was ready to fight. But this time, the fist didn’t miss. The pain came later, a few seconds after the hunter realized he got hit in the face. Fortunately for his ego, Dean managed to stay on his feet and not fall pathetically on the floor. 

He reached for the wound.

It was right near his left eye, it would bruise for sure.

With deadly flames in his green eyes, he looked at his target.

“Oh, you’re dead.” 

The rest happened quickly.

Dean decided he wouldn’t hold back anymore. As his head throbbed with ache and anger, he was about to hit with everything he got. But at the last moment, something interrupted him. A body, warm, soft, encircling his own, stopped him from moving.

“Please stop…”

Her voice woke him up completely. Shaking, she put herself between the two men to stop the fight even if she was scared.

The man took the opportunity to run away, the bell chiming behind him as the door closed violently.

A long silence followed the departure of the aggressive customer. A couple of seconds passed, then minutes, before she realized there was no silence actually. Things were happening around her, words were spoken, and the only person besides her was running around locking doors and closing blinds, cursing every word he could think of at the moment.

Her hearing was nothing but a shrill sound, almost painful, like she was deaf. It took another minute and him calling her name for her to come back to the present.

"You okay? He didn't hurt you?" Dean was kneeling in front of her. She finally noticed she was sitting down on a chair. Shaking her head, she tapped her hands in her face to finish waking herself up from her slumber.

"You're hurt and you ask me if I'm okay?" She stood up as she spoke, Dean doing the same. Then she seemed to disappear in the backstore to come back with a bag of frozen vegetables they used for the soup. "Sit down," she instructed. 

Dean would have been impressed by her capacity to focus after such an event, especially with how she was a couple of seconds ago, but he knew better. She wouldn't meet his gaze, her head was down, and when he glanced at her hands, it was to see them shake.

"Y/n-" 

"Oh, come on, sit down, your masculinity won't suffer too much, I just want to check," she rolled her eyes and almost pushed him to the chair. Dean let himself be moved around with a smirk. That was the Y/n he knew. "There, it's not that bad, huh?" 

"It's no big deal," he tried to convince her, after all, as a hunter, he got hurt more than once before and healed perfectly fine. But when he saw her, he understood. And he let himself be checked by her only for her. To reassure her it was nothing, it was fine, it would bruise into a black eye and nothing else.

"Okay, it's not that bad," she sighed in relief as she said that.

"Told you," Dean snickered with a smile. "Ouch!"

The frozen bag was now on his bruise and Y/n was turning her back to him. His first instinct was to ask her if she was okay, check on her, after all, she seemed pretty shaken up, but he knew she needed time, that was all.

"We should call the police," Dean ended up saying. Usually, he would never propose that, but the customer was human. A monster in some sort, but completely human, so the police could take care of it.

"No!" She turned harshly towards Dean, surprising him.

"Why not?" 

Pacing back and forth, Y/n seemed to get lost in her thoughts. "It's not necessary, I doubt the customer will come back, and it would put the cafe in a bad spot, we would lose customers and…"

Again, Dean knew. Y/n was a good employee, she loved doing her job right, but she hated the place, hated the menu and the disgusting coffee served here, and hated the management. But they were the ones giving her her salary at the end of the month, so she couldn't disappoint them.

"I can deal with the boss," Dean said, standing up, the bag still on his eye.

In front of him, Y/n sadly shook her head. "It won't be necessary." She pointed at one corner of the cafe. Then another. "There's cameras around, and he loves to watch. Loves to tell us everything we do wrong. He probably already knows it happened. We'll see tomorrow, I guess," she sighed. Then, like a thought crossed through her head, she lifted her head completely and crossed gaze with Dean. "Your date! You're gonna be late!"

Dean wanted to laugh. So badly. Of course, he talked to her about it. Kristina, their coworker from the morning shift and Dean's date, was waiting for him. But after what happened, it completely got out of his head. Smiling, he shook his head and placed the bag of defrosting vegetables on the table beside him.

"I'll call her, say something came up. She'll understand."

Y/n cringed, biting her lips and frowning. "I don't think she cares enough to understand. But you're cute and sexy so maybe she'll forgive your ass."

Immediately after saying those words, Y/n became a puddle of embarrassment. Her body flushed with the realization of what she just admitted.

"Really?" Dean would not let that go. "You think I'm the perfect combination of sexy and cute ?"

"Shut up," she murmured between her teeth, grabbing the nearest thing, the cloth he was using to clean the tables, to throw it at him. "Get out of here your shift is over."

"Yeah," Dean surprised himself by what he said next. "But I won't let you walk back home alone. Consider me your cute and sexy bodyguard," he laughed at her reaction, but it was nothing compared to the sound leaving his mouth when he received another cloth on the head. "Hey, this one was wet"

"Oops!" 

-

The next day started pretty badly. After a complicated night with barely any sleep and lots of nightmares, Y/n got up early to get ready. Even if her shift started at 3pm, she knew the phone would ring and the ruthless voice of her boss would order her to come in to talk.

About what happened.

It was not even noon when it happened. She was at her third coffee, so she had energy even if she felt dead inside. Since she was already dressed, all she had to do was grab her stuff and head to the cafe. Like usual, she had to walk since she didn't have enough savings to buy a car.

The weather was quite nice, compared to how gloomy she was feeling. It was warm and sunny outside. Y/n barely made a step out, locking her door, that a loud engine startled her. The sun was reflecting strongly on the hood, blinding her as she walked with caution towards it, and for a moment she thought maybe it was the customer that found her and came to finish what he started. Fortunately she recognized the car quickly, as it was the same car that drove her home last night.

A 67 chevy impala.

It was even more beautiful than when she saw it yesterday.

The drive to the cafe was quiet, apart from the chichats. How are you? Do you feel better? So, did he call you too? Usually, Y/n would have commented on something random just to annoy Dean, but when he turned his head towards her at a red light to ask her a question, she saw the bruise around his eyes, reminding her of the night before and how everything was her fault. If only she hadn't messed up the order…

Once parked in front of the cafe, Dean stopped the engine to turn to Y/n. "Hey," he said in a calm and steady voice. "Whatever happens there, it was neither our fault."

"I appreciate it, Dean, but it was. I was in charge, even though I told the boss more than once that I didn't want to be, so what happens on my shift is my fault." Without leaving him time to answer, she opened the door and left the car to enter the cafe.

The moment she stepped inside, a loud silence echoed around her. Every employee stopped chatting to stare at her, the customers mimicking their actions, wondering what was so much more interesting than getting their order right and fast. 

Y/n hated that. The attention. The eyes on her. The silence. Her body started shaking, both with anger and humiliation, the tears almost painful to hold back. But then, as she was about to step towards the boss' office, a warmth settled on her shoulder, stopping the tremors at once. And a voice she was starting to grow fond of whispered near her ear.

"Ignore them. They don't matter right now."

With Dean, she felt safe. Strong. Like she could do everything and never feel afraid anymore. That was until they were sitting in the office in front of the boss.

“Y/n, I am wildly disappointed with you. What you did was beyond unprofessional, and I can’t believe I have to do this. You’re suspended.”

It was nothing less than what she expected from her boss. Since working there, she had done everything to stay in his good graces, sometimes doing other people's jobs to compensate. Everything to keep the restaurant clean and to continue serving fresh food every day. It wasn't Kristina who would write down expiration dates on perishable products, or place the new arrival of breads behind the ones already there to prevent the oldest ones from remaining at the bottom of the shelf, covered in mold. If this place passed the health inspection every year, it was thanks to Y/n’s efforts, efforts that no one had ever noticed or considered.

It was probably better that way.

Head bowed, Y/n took a harsh breath and opened her mouth to apologize and admit her boss was right. However, the words could not come out of her mouth fast enough, because someone else was already speaking.

“This is bullshit,” Dean exclaimed. A quick glance in his direction, and Y/n could see his hands forming fists on his thighs. “Y/n did everything perfectly, it’s not her fault if customers don’t respect anything, not even themselves!”

“Dean, I think you're new here,” the boss replied with a calmness that didn't mean anything good. Y/n tried to draw Dean's attention to her to signal him to shut up, that it was nothing, that she could survive a week suspended, but the young man paid her no mind. And one look at his face showed her the same anger she had seen in him the previous evening, when he had decided to defend himself against the customer. “I watched the surveillance cameras carefully. Your reactions with this client, although undoubtedly intended to be heroic, were completely unacceptable. The next time you make a mistake, you will suffer the same fate as Y/n. For now, take your day, see you on Monday, Dean.”

"That's all?!" This time, Dean stood up as he spoke. “Y/n gets suspended, and I only get a warning and a day off? What the f-”

“Thank you,” Y/n quickly cut him off, grabbing his arm firmly to silence him. Strangely, like the day before, her intervention seemed to calm Dean down very quickly. “See you next week.”

As she was about to leave, her hand still holding Dean's wrist to drag him out of the office, a voice called out to her.

"Two weeks. See you in two weeks.”

It took a lot of control for her to say nothing. The inside of her cheek hurt from how hard she bit it, dragging Dean out of the office and then out of the restaurant. It was only once outside, far from prying ears and vulture eyes, that she was finally able to breathe.

“FUCKING BULLSHIT! FUCK YOU!” Suddenly came out of her mouth. If Dean still had any anger at that moment, it suddenly vanished when he heard so many curses coming out with so much anger from the usually calm Y/n. “Oh. It feels better."

Having never seen her like this, it took several seconds for Dean to compose himself. Large green eyes were fixed on her, wide, shocked, even, until a good hit on the arm woke him up completely. "Ouch!" He rubbed his arm as if it hurt even though her fist had barely tickled him.

“What the fuck was that, seriously?! Talk to the boss like that? You’re born stupid or you’re just too dumb to think, fuck, Dean!”

Still as surprised and shocked, Dean didn't respond immediately. Y/n was angry. More, even. Beyond pissed. Which was completely normal under the circumstances, except Y/n wasn't normally angry. She could get upset, complain about the system, the management, the customers, or how she was the only one doing all the little things that made the café special and comfortable, but she was never angry.

“I couldn’t let him talk to you that way, I just couldn’t,” Dean explained calmly. It was quite rare for him to be the calm one in a heated argument. But in this case, he knew he had to keep his own rage to himself, she didn't need more anger. She needed to speak, to expel this emotion out of her like a demon that needed to be exorcized.

“Well, that was fucking stupid,” she pointed at him, her gaze meeting his. This surprised him again. Y/n was shy, although she was a good leader, and he noticed she had trouble looking people in the eye for several seconds. She always ended up looking away, and he knew it wasn't because she was dishonest, but rather that she was afraid of the judgment in the eyes of others. So that she was yelling at him while staring right at him… That surprised Dean again and made him speechless.

For a few seconds, he forgot that he was being told off by a girl for defending her, and lost himself in the contemplation of her magnificent orbs. Since he had known her, he had never really seen them, or bothered to look at them.

And her eyes were beautiful, even filled with anger.

Probably noticing the eye contact was getting considerably long, Y/n finally broke the almost trance-like effect to gaze elsewhere.

“Have you had it long?”

She was still not looking at him. "What?"

“The uncontrollable need to save the damsel in distress.” The corner of her lips lifted up in a smirk.

“I-” He couldn’t tell her that this was actually his life. Saving the woman and the orphan, killing the monsters, it was so ingrained in his life that it was part of him.

“Come on,” she muttered, still not meeting his gaze, gesturing to him to follow her.

"Come on… Where?" It was the longest conversation he'd had with her, and it was only because she was angry, he remembered. He was here for a hunt, he had to learn more about the people of the town. Concentration and focus were required, but yet... This side of Y/n, her confidence, how she wasn't afraid to yell at him like that, when she was normally so gentle...

He liked that side of her. Not that he disliked the rest, it was just-

“I think you have tonight off, and I, well, the next two weeks.” Starting to walk towards the impala, she then stopped and turned her head just enough to look over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to help you rediscover your manhood. Do you have any idea where you could have lost it?”

A big smile stretched Dean's lips. This was the Y/n he knew. “Probably over there,” he pointed to the horizon. “Near the pizzeria. You hungry?”

-

The pizza was the most delicious thing that had passed Y/n's lips in a long time. Very greasy and dripping with cheese, the junk food was simply good after such a catastrophic day. And sharing this moment with his colleague, accomplice, even, and perhaps friend- if he wanted to- was the icing on the cake.

Her heart always beat a beat and a half faster when he was near her. And although she tried not to like him, not to get attached to what was clearly a bad boy who preferred girls like Kristina, who just hung out with her because he had free time… She simply couldn't deny it anymore. What her heart desired was starting to win over what reason screamed at her.

Don't fall in love.

And yet, as that evening at the pizzeria after her suspension turned into an almost daily routine, her heart prevailed. The crush she immediately had for the young man with emerald eyes and cheeks covered in a milky way of little freckles was slowly transforming into something deeper.

A week had passed since her suspension, it was Saturday again, and as usual, Y/n and Dean found themselves at the pizzeria. The owner himself now came to take their order, even though he already knew what the two wanted since they always ordered the same thing. Everything was going exactly as usual, Dean recounting his day at work, how slowly everything was going downhill without her.

“I worked with a new guy, and son of a bitch, I’ve never seen someone take their time so much. It’s like he did it on purpose,” Dean sipped his drink. Y/n’s gaze followed the movement of the Adam’s apple rising and falling as he swallowed. She was barely concentrating on what he was saying. “We had two complaints that the sandwich bread had mold, but the person in the kitchen didn't get in trouble for it. It’s like the boss knows that no matter the wait time, the quality of the food, or the attitude of the employees, the cafe will always make money since it’s the only one in town,” Dean let out a little laugh which only spread the butterflies in Y/n’s stomach. “Let me tell you that over the past week, some regulars have stopped coming. Oh, and many have asked where you’ve been.”

“It’s not surprising,” she finally answered after a few seconds of silence where only the chewing of Dean devouring his pizza could be heard. On the table, near the windows, the dessert was already there, two slices of pie that the owner had reserved for them knowing they were coming. Her gaze fell on the dessert as she spoke although she really wanted to look him in the eyes. Admiring the perfect color of his orbs, admiring how everything was perfect about him. It was so difficult. “What’s surprising is that the health inspection hasn’t closed this place yet.”

These words hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by silence. Finally glancing over at Dean, she found that he had stopped eating mid-bite, staring blankly at her. It was almost as if Y/n could see the gears moving in his mind.

“Yet.” That was all he said next, taking the time to finish his bite before continuing. "I have an idea."

“I could figure that much,” she laughed as she took her drink, anything to occupy her hands and look normal in his presence. Luckily he couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage.

“We're going to avenge you,” he pointed ahead, at her, and that was enough for her eyes to move from his finger to his eyes. She managed to hold his gaze for several long seconds which seemed to her like hours of torture. "You'll see."

"See what? Oh, how cute,” a voice broke the bubble Y/n and Dean were in. She hadn't heard that voice in a week, and it had been the best thing her suspension had given her, except for all the time she'd spent with Dean since.

“Kristina,” Y/n muttered under her breath, her eyes immediately going to her pizza. A weight seemed to settle on her chest, pressing down hard with its gigantic pressure.

“Hey,” Dean greeted her, and the pressure thumped harder against her heart. “How you doing, Kristina?”

His tone was kind. Friendly. Sweet. Just like he was with Y/n. But with a bonus, he was flirty.

Obviously.

She was not special.

“Oh, I'm doing well, much better,” she laughed. “Especially since Y/n isn’t at the café anymore. No one is ordering us around anymore, right, Dean?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see movement. Raising her head just enough to have her in her sight without looking directly at her, she could see her hand on Dean's shoulder. Besides, she wasn't alone. Two other girls from the cafe were standing with her. Without looking at them, Y/n knew. She felt their gaze on her, burning, like vultures around prey.

“I actually liked working with Y/n,” Dean replied as calmly as ever. His words created a spark of hope in Y/n who this time looked directly at Dean. “It’s not as fun without her,” he continued.

“Oh,” Kristina laughed, and her two henchmen followed suit. “I know you want to stay in her good graces by saying all this,” she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear, but made no effort to lower her voice. “But you don’t need to. I think she's going to get fired. The customer came back to file a complaint against her.”

"What?" Dean leaned back slightly to get a better look at Kristina. Now he had his face so close to hers that only one movement was necessary to kiss her. And he had a perfect view into her cleavage. “But…” He turned his head towards the girl sitting in front of him, obviously not understanding why she was being fired and not him.

“You don’t have to lick her boots anymore,” Kristina put a hand on her hip. “I know she’s in love with you, but at this point, it’s pity, right? Spending time with her… Poor little thing. No friends. No boyfriend. Only feelings for those who don’t love her. Just like last time, always falling for the new guy.”

Her face was burning. Y/n was seething, with anger, with sadness, with humiliation. And the worst, the worst was Dean's expression. His gaze, which he constantly fixed on her, seeking to meet her gaze, wanting so much for her to grant him one look, was now stuck in emptiness. And a look of pure confusion made him frown.

Dean refused to look at her anymore.

It was too much.

“Ew, friends to friends,” Kristina added, as if the stabs she had already thrown didn’t hurt enough already. “Ew.”

Standing abruptly, Y/n slammed her hands on the table. Head bowed, her hair cascaded in front of her face, trying as best as they could to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes and inevitably rolled down her cheeks. A ton of insults raced through her mind, but they all got stuck in her throat with this lump growing and growing, until finally, the tears flowed.

One.

Two.

One fell silently onto the table. The other, on her plate, right next to the barely eaten slice of pizza.

Before the third tear fell, Y/n was already out of the restaurant and walking as quickly as she could towards her house. The tears continued to flow without her being able to stop them, but she remained silent. If she could control one thing tonight, it would be her voice. No sound would come out of her mouth until she was alone, at home, in her bed. Only there, she would let herself scream all this pain into her pillow.

No one tried to catch her.

-

“Good news,” Sam announced before his brother had even closed the door. “Get this. There was no monster from the beginning. It was actually kids who created the whole thing to attract attention. You don’t have to play barista anymore.”

"Oh." 

Looking up from his laptop, Sam fixed his gaze on Dean. The door closed slowly and he took off his coat just as slowly and placed it on his bed. The motel was shabby, like all the others, and usually, Dean would never place his precious leather coat on those blankets which he called "the most disgusting object the universe has known." He'd cleaned the covers several times to be sure, but the comforter had kept this unnatural color, so he still didn't trust it.

“Dean.”

“I'm going to take a shower,” his brother grumbled as he headed towards the bathroom, completely ignoring what Sam had just said.

“Okay, but-” the door slammed. “Okay.”

Sam waited for Dean to finish his shower for almost an hour. The only reason Dean Winchester would take such a long shower would be the fantastic water pressure, but having used this bathroom for over 3 weeks, Sam knew that really wasn't the case.

Finally, Dean came out.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Sam closed his laptop to put his full attention on his brother. The latter sat at the end of his bed, dressed with fresh clothes, his towel on his shoulder to catch the droplets falling from his hair.

“Have you ever dreamed of a normal life?” Dean answered his question with another question. At this, Sam rolled his eyes.

“I had a normal life before, remember? Before you picked me up to find Dad?”

Dean made a sound that was a mix of a sigh of guilt and a grunt of frustration, probably directed at himself. "I know but…"

“I can't believe it,” Sam stood up at the revelation. “You like working there.”

“Nah,” Dean slapped the air like he was chasing away the stupid idea. “Actually, yeah, but not anymore. Working in customer service is horrible.”

“I feel like there's a but,” Sam went to sit next to his brother on the bed.

“But,” Dean took a deep breath. "There is a girl."

Sam sighed. Obviously it was about a girl. “Have you slept with her yet? Because if you want to stay here for a one night stand, I swear-”

“She’s in love with me.”

Sam turned his whole body towards his brother, his eyes wide. "Oh."

"Oh."

“Do you like her back?”

At this question, Dean's face disappeared under his large hands. “I don’t know,” his voice sounded muffled by his palms.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed, removing his hands at the same time. It was his turn to avoid looking at someone, staring at the void instead. “I don’t know what it is to love. How to love. If it’s love. It was never explained to me, you know, it wasn’t dad who would tell me how to know if I love someone.”

A silence followed his words, but not for long.

“With Jess…” Sam began slowly, as if the words he was about to say were poisonous snakes that could bite him at any moment. “It was simple. I felt good with her. She felt good with me. And together, we were good.”

“Okay,” Dean listened intently, as if the answers he was looking for were on his brother's lips.

“Do you like spending time with her?” He then asked.

Dean didn't even think for a second. "Oh yeah."

“When you're not with her, what do you do? You think about her, right?”

This time, Dean took a moment before answering. “Well, I worked at the cafe, so obviously I was thinking about her, since she wasn’t there but she used to. And then, when I finished work, I would go see her and we would order food or go to the pizzeria.”

“Okay, and then?”

"And then what?" Dean finally looked his brother in the eye. He still had questions, still doubts, confusion, but that was completely normal. A soft, understanding smile stretched Sam's lips.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Oh, how I want to punch that shitty boss in the face,” Dean clenched his fist to mimic his words. “I never hit women, but that girl, Kristina, humiliated Y/n terribly earlier. And I reacted too late, she was gone and-”

He stopped speaking suddenly, as if enlightenment had finally reached his mind.

"And?"

“I have to join Y/n, apologize, I-”

“Dean.”

Stopping just as he was getting up and putting his coat back on, the green eyed man turned to his brother.

“If you're in love, I can't tell you, Dean. But I can confirm that you like her. But for tonight, let her breathe, these feelings are new for the both of you.”

At these words, Dean collapsed on the bed. “Oh, you’re probably right. I don't want to rush her, you know, she's so shy, but at the same time, so... Fierce. She's the perfect balance of sweet and spicy. And I let her down.”

To that, Sam didn't know what to answer. He knew that feeling, the one of having abandoned the person you love. That's how he felt ever since he lost Jess.

“I'm sure you'll figure out how to make amends,” Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Actually… I think I already know,” Dean turned his head towards him, green eyes meeting amber ones. Green eyes sparkling with a new resolution, probably very wicked. “And you, my dear brother, will be able to help me.”

-

Turned out, losing another employee during the busiest time of the year was a sufficient reason to terminate a suspension preemptively. And although, clearly, this did not seem to make certain employees happy and even less the boss who hated coming back on his decisions, Y/n was able to return to work after barely a week of forced leave. And also, strangely, the customer’s complaint seemed to have vanished from existence. Or maybe it was another lie that Kristina came up with to hurt Y/n.

And what a surprise when she arrived and saw the place.

It was depressing. Everything was messy and upside down, unopened boxes that needed to be refrigerated were lying around everywhere, and other products that needed to stay at room temperature, like syrups, ended up in the freezer. No rotation had been made, and it was with sadness that she had to note all the food they lost and throw everything away. It took her a long time, long enough for someone she despised to come and tell her how to do her job.

"What are you doing? Customers are waiting! Have you forgotten how to work?”

After making this more than derogatory comment, Kristina returned to her favorite position, the one that required the least effort.

Her heart was heavy. Filled and at the same time, empty. Since the last time with Dean at the pizzeria, she hadn't received any news. No call. No text. No, her heart wasn't big with heaviness, it was broken. Split. And now that she had returned to the café, she learned he no longer worked there.

Good for him, she thought as she put away one last box before heading towards the front of the café to deal with the customers. At least he was out of this hell. It was maybe better that way.

“Sorry for the wait, what can I get you?” The usual words were so ingrained in her that they came out of her mouth as soon as she was behind the cash register, without even looking at the customer.

“I would like you to give me the chance to talk to you,” a familiar voice said in front of her. That voice, low, hoarse, and so perfect. She had started to get used to hearing it almost every day. But this time, it forged yet another crack on her heart.

“Dean,” even saying his name was painful. The pain of a lost friendship and crushed hope. The pain of a humiliated moment, a bad memory where he had sat there in silence while she was being crushed as an inactive witness.

“Y/n. There’s no word to express how sorry I am for-”

An apology, of course, wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was more than she had expected. He was there, in the flesh, in front of her. So, for once and although it was difficult because looking at him would hurt her even more, Y/n raised her head and stared into his sad gaze. Ready and open to hear what he had to say.

There was a sadness almost identical to her own in his beautiful green eyes. Guilt, regrets, he seemed sincere-

“Dean! I thought you had left the ship,” Kristina suddenly entered Y/n’s bubble, who didn’t waste a moment to move to the side. It wasn't unknown that Y/n didn't like being touched or having someone in her bubble, and Kristina knew it, so she did it on purpose. All the time.

“Excuse me, but I was talking with Y/n,” Dean replied in a neutral voice, almost annoyed, even.

“Oh, sure, you want to feel better about last time, but you don't have to,” Kristina continued, crossing her arms over her large chest.

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to Y/n. “I’m serious, Y/n. Come with me, I need to talk to you. And they don’t deserve you.”

Y/n's mouth opened, then closed, tears welling up in her eyes at an uncontrollable speed.

“Seriously, Dean, don’t you see how pathe-”

“Kristina, shut the fuck up. You’re bothering us.”

This really didn't please the girl who made an offended sound, threw an unimportant insult, and left without another word.

Once finally alone again, Dean was ready. Ready to tell the beautiful barista in front of him everything that was on his heart, even if he didn't really know exactly what it was himself. He had some in the past, girlfriends, one night stands, crushes on the most beautiful and popular girls in school, but that wasn't the same thing. He felt an attachment to Y/n, a different feeling that he couldn't describe. If it was love, he didn't know. But he knew he didn't want to lose her.

“It's a little too late to come to my defense,” her voice said instead of his. Taken by surprise, Dean's mouth opened then closed, like a fish looking flabbergasted. “Although I really enjoyed seeing someone tell her to fuck off for once,” the shadow of a smile drew on her face for a second, but quickly faded away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work-”

“Wait,” Dean found his voice just in time.

“I don’t have time, Dean,” Y/n turned her back on him, giving him one last eye contact above her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with sadness and seeing her like that physically hurt him.

“On the contrary,” Dean insisted, a smile tugging at his lips as he knew the plan was going like clockwork. “You will soon have plenty of time.”

Seeing the obvious confusion spread across her face, Dean jerked his head towards the boss's office. This caught the attention of not only Y/n but also the other employees, because at the same time, voices were heard coming from that direction. Loud voices, displeased, and then the door opened.

“I am very disappointed with the state of this place. It's deplorable. I’m afraid I won't change my mind, the café is going to close.”

“Wait,” the boss looked tiny behind the person who had just spoken. Like the weight of reality was finally falling on his shoulders. Stomping him to the ground like a pest, just how he had always treated his employees. "You can’t, you don’t have the right!"

“I have all the rights, I am a health inspector, and this place is completely unsanitary.”

Witnessing the whole scene in the front row, like she was in the cinema, Y/n was jubilant. Finally. Finally this place was recognized as being good for trash. Finally, the boss got what he deserved. Finally, things seemed to come full circle and it was all over.

The health inspector subsequently introduced himself to the employees. He looked very young for this job, early twenties, probably, long hair parted in the middle of his forehead and hazel eyes, but regardless, he had done his job properly so Y/n didn’t care about the details.

“This place is going to close. But don't worry, you are entitled to unemployment compensation. Time to find something better for you,” the inspector finished his speech with a wink. If Y/n wasn't so excited by the idea of ​​being rid of this miserable job, she would have been sure that the wink was aimed at her personally.

A laugh brought her attention back to Dean who was still in front of her. As the health inspector informed the customers present of the situation and put a note in the door to say the café was permanently closed, Dean was giggling.

“You did this,” Y/n finally understood.

“Told you we would get you revenge. Now, can you please come with me and listen to me? I need to talk to you.”

“After what you did for me, lunch is on me,” Y/n laughed as well, took off her apron which she threw behind her, and left the café without a glance behind her.

-

“Listen. So uhm, how can I say this, so uhm… God, I’m so bad at chick flicks and emotional stuff.”

The two had been sitting at the pizzeria for about an hour and a half pizzas. The same place as usual, with the same order, but this time everything was different. It was not simply out of friendship that they came to share a meal, there was more. Hidden feelings, others clearly visible but which had not yet been addressed, and frustration mixed with regrets.

Dean had been trying for two slices of pizza now to say something, but would immediately turn red the moment he tried to open up emotionally. And Y/n couldn't even blame him, seeing the efforts he made for her, what he did at the cafe, for her, and now he was trying so hard to explain and make it up to her… He could say absolutely nothing and she would be satisfied.

“Take your time,” Y/n mentioned between mouthfuls, leaving all her attention on the young man in front of her who still made her heart beat so quickly. Of course, he had made mistakes, and to forgive him just because he had the best revenge for her was pretty stupid, but oh well. Love makes you stupid, right? “It’s not like someone is waiting for me.”

“It’s just,” Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face. Y/n's gaze stayed on the ring on his finger, a ring she had already noticed before. “Not easy to say this. I mean, not to you, but like, talking about my stuff like this. But there’s one thing I know I have to say, and here it is,” he finally seemed to find his bearings, beautiful green eyes anchoring into hers, his red cheeks creating a nice color contrast. "I'm sorry. Sorry for not saying anything when Kristina was there being a bitch. I guess I was taken up by surprise with what she said, but that’s no excuse.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Y/n shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she knew exactly what she wanted to say to him. She took a big breath, words and sentences forming quickly in her mind. And it all came out of her mouth as quickly. “I am not ashamed to like you. Not at all. Because you are nice. Pretty. Hella sexy. And I feel comfortable whenever I’m with you. And I like spending time with you, and always wanna spend more. I won’t be ashamed to think all those things about you, because they are true, and they only make you a better person.” Pausing her words, Y/n forced herself to keep her gaze on Dean's again. She noticed that since those words had come out of her mouth, it was easier to hold his gaze. “You don’t have to have the same feelings, I understand. You don’t have to reciprocate or answer my confession, I can already see how bad it is for you to express feelings,” she laughed briefly at his scowling expression. “What I’m trying to say is… Yes. I like you a lot. And if you only like me as a friend, well, I’ll take that. It might hurt, but it would hurt more to not have you around anymore.”

Phew. It was hard to say, but once everything was out, Y/n felt better, lighter even. A heavy weight was finally leaving her heart, but there was still a little left. That was pressing. And tightening with the question… What will his answer be?

Dean took a brief moment to think before answering. Everything had gone silent, neither of them were eating, and both were probably holding their breaths.

“I've only known you for a short time,” Dean finally broke the silence, and the breath left Y/n's lungs which burned as it passed. She could feel the “but” coming. “But…” And there you go. “I really appreciate your company. A lot. I don’t know if it’s the same thing you feel, or if it’s love, but for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t want to leave this town. And I want to continue spending time with you.” Hope was reborn in Y/n, a wave of indescribable emotions suddenly invading her. “I'm going to have to leave, eventually, for work, but... I really want to take a break and try. I don’t know if I can do it, have a normal life, be with you, and just quit my job, so… I can’t promise you anything. I will probably leave eventually, I have so much stuff to do and…”

“You know,” Y/n continued when she saw him struggling with his words, hope now so strong in her body that she was almost vibrating. It wasn't a confession of love, but it was even better. This attachment Dean felt for her was worth even more than any cheesy love confession from the romantic movies or books she loved to delve into. “I no longer really have any ties to this city. No more jobs. If… We realize that things are working between us, and that you need to leave, nothing stops me from coming with you.” Realizing that it was probably too direct since they weren't even together, Y/n quickly adjusted her mind. “But those are just random ifs and thoughts,” she hurriedly took a bite of her pizza, just to make her stop talking.

“Y/n,” raising her head, she looked back at Dean. The latter had a big smile on his face and shook his head, clearly amused by her words. “If I told you what I did for work, you would never believe me. And when you”ll see it with your eyes and will be forced to believe me, you’re going to want to run away from me.”

“You’re a secret agent then?” Y/n hurriedly said, her mouth still full of pizza, her eyes wide. “Wow. Impressive.” She laughed, and Dean nervously laughed with her. If only it was that, it would be so much easier. “It really reminds me of my uncle.”

“Your uncle was a secret agent?” Dean asked, amused by the change of subject and how she was easily taking everything he said to her.

She was really the right one. Maybe she wouldn't run away after all.

“No, actually. When I was young, I often spent time at his house, but my parents stopped visiting him. They said he had lost his mind. But I loved these stories of ghosts and werewolves, he always told me he hunted them, saving people, like a secret agent of the supernatural,” a big smile stretched her lips at this thought, past memories flooding back into her head. It was so long ago, but she kept good memories of her uncle. Expecting the same reaction from Dean, Y/n only met a shocked face, frozen in a position that didn't suit him at all. Eyes wide, mouth parted, his skin white like he actually saw a ghost. She waved her hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dean?”

“Y/n, what’s your last name again?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, she blinked once and then twice. “Uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s Singer, why?”

A long silence answered her questions and her face dropped a little bit. Why did it matter?

“Your uncle… What's his name?”

“Dean, I haven’t seen my uncle in almost 15 years you know-”

“Y/n.”

“Robert. It’s Robert. But I always called him…”

“Bobby.”

It was her turn to have her eyes widen. “Yeah…?”

“I think you and I have more in common than I thought. And you really need to meet my brother,” he immediately stood up and threw two 20 bills on the table. Standing up in turn, confusion filled her entire expression.

“Dean, that’s way too much for two pizzas- Dean?” But she couldn't add more, and the confusion turned into this small, pleasant flame in the middle of her chest when Dean's hand met hers. “Okay, but you’re going to have to explain it to me because I don’t understand anything.”

“You'll understand,” Dean's smile was indescribable because it was so big. But that smile was hiding something else. Secrets that his beautiful lips had surely sealed away for far too long. “Let’s go,” he walked outside, said goodbye to the restaurant owner, and led her to his car. But once inside, he stopped before starting the engine, frozen yet again as another realization hit him.

“What? Something's wrong?”

“You… uhm… might recognize my brother, actually.”

“Why, was he a customer at the café?” Y/n laughed, fastening her seat belt. This whole thing was so sudden, so random, she just wanted to burst laughing. She felt good even if she didn’t quite understand everything that was happening.

“It was the health inspector,” he finally started the car and backed out of the parking lot and onto the road in one smooth, sexy motion.

“Oh. Wait, he’s a health inspector?”

“Not… Really?”

“Dean.”

Silence.

“Dean, did you fake the inspection?”

“Not really?”

“Dean!”

“Please. I’ll explain everything once we arrive. Do you trust me?”

For a second, Dean took his eyes off the road and looked into hers, and she held the gaze for the entire second and saw nothing but honesty. Then, he turned his head and broke eye contact, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see his right hand raised slightly towards her, waiting to be picked up.

“Yeah,” she finally said, gently placing her hand in his. It was warm. Comfortable. And how he squeezed, tenderly but also firmly, showed worry about losing her. “It might be crazy and stupid, but I trust you, Dean Winchester.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa​​ @wickedinspirations​@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278​​ @kazsrm67​​​ @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies​​​ @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland​ @deanswaywardgirl​​​ @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse​​​ @djs8891 @mimaria420 @this-is-me1​​​ @syrma-sensei

[f10werfae]

Hiii, Can I do a request with Henry Cavill?

Here’s the situation, yesterday was my birthday and from 15 only came 4 (all of them had already confirmed that they’ll be here and also they gave a “joke” gift and made feel really humiliated) I want Henry comforting the reader in that situation. Because God knows that hurt soo much and I really wanted someone to comfort me. Angst but with lotsss of fluff please 🥰🥰🥰

Birthday Cake ☁️

Pairing: Boyfriend! Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 1,863

Summary: Request tells all ☺️

Warning: Slight Angst in terms of the reader being humiliated, other than that it’s fluffy

(Hope I fulfilled the request ☺️)

—————

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

—————-

(Y/n's P.O.V)

'jeez y/n you are lookin fine tonight, 26 and still gorgeous’ I said to myself, my hands running up and down my dress clad body, this dress had definitely boosted my confidence. For the first time in weeks I had finally gotten a week off of work, BUT for a very good reason, it’s my birthday week.

(The dress)

Henry and I decided to celebrate just him and I later on during the week, allowing for my friends and I to go out tonight. A dinner at the restaurant, followed by a few drinks at the club.

For the first time in weeks, I felt pretty and happy. Something work had very much bogged down.

I had already received a gag gift if you will, from these friends and honestly I didn’t know how to feel at all. They had decided to gift me a massive cardboard cutout of one of Henry's exes, writing on the back “the original”

Now of course when I saw it I laughed it off, but deep inside I knew that they had hit a massive insecurity of mine.

Trying not to be rude I just stored the cutout in my clothes closet, thinking of the best time to throw it at the dump.

When all of a sudden a ping of texts vibrated my phone from the nightstand, it slowly shifting with each sound, interrupting my train of thought. Humming to myself I walked over to the table, instantly seeing a flood of notifications from the group chat.

The Girls 🍷

Stephanie: Hey Y/n, looks like I can’t make it this week, just found out my boyfriends throwing a party and you know i’ve just gotta keep an eye on him

Monica: Yeahh that’s what I was coming here to say, today’s date is just really inconvenient for us to be honest. Hannah told me to say she can’t make it either soz xx

Leah: Y/n let’s reschedule another time?

Chloe: Yeah soz can’t make it, promise next year tho yeah? 😂😂

Y/n: I don’t get it? I asked you guys if you were free today?

Chloe: Don’t get an attitude Y/n jus cus its ur bday

“From 6 to 1, within 5 minutes” That genuinely must be a record for me.

Looking at myself in the reflection, all energy and confidence, gone. Huffing out, I grabbed my phone again, deciding to phone up the reservation at the restaurant, the one Henry had made for me.

(Phone Call)

Random: Hello this is ** Restaurant, how can I help you?

Y/n: Yes hello, uh I’m calling about the reservation for Cavill, at 6:30pm?

Random: Ah yes, hello Mrs Cavill, the reservation for 6?

Mrs? I swear Henry needs to stop introducing me as his wife, it’s going to make me blush to a point where it’s permanent

Y/n: Yeah unfortunately something has came up, so would I be able to cancel the reservation. I’m so sorry about this

Randomer: Oh no, it’s not bother Mrs Cavill, thank you for calling to let us know

(End of Phone Call)

Putting down the phone, I could not be bothered to even get unready, deciding against it and heading towards the kitchen.

Pulling open the fridge, I picked up my chocolate cake and set it onto the counter. Getting up to grab a fork, and sitting back down again, my feelings still numb.

Without thinking I started stabbing the cake with the fork, whilst continuously scooping parts into my mouth. Tears unwillingly slipped down my cheeks, my vision clouded.

Why am I always the one left in the end? Even on my f*cking birthday and all I wanted was to see my so called “friends”

Sooner or later it’s going to be Henry leaving me, I can already feel it.

Then it’ll just be me, again.

I guess you could say my thoughts are a stretch, but in times of hardcore emotion, it’s hard to control the type of thoughts you get.

In the middle of a massive bite of cake, there was a series of rapid knocks at my front door. Wearily I walked over, opening the door, to see Henry?

“Bear?”

(Henry’s P.O.V)

Sitting with the lads at the club, I watched the clock mindlessly. Y/n had sent me out for the night so she could have her girls night, but honestly I didn’t mind, I know how much she’s been needing something like this.

When it finally reach 6:30, I suddenly had the idea of calling up the restaurant to send her table a batch of their finest wine. If I couldn’t be there for her, I will be there another way.

(Phone Call)

Random: Hello this is ** Restaurant, how can I help you?

Henry: Hi there, I’m asking about the Cavill reservation?

Random: Yes the one your wife cancelled tonight?

Henry: She cancelled it? Why? When?

Random: At around 5:30? She said something had come up, sir.

Henry: Okay thank you, bye

(End of Phone call)

“Who was meant to be there tonight?” I said out loud to myself, leaning my head back.

“Ah yes stephanie” I said to myself, instantly going to her instagram to see a new story was put up.

what the hell was going on, why was all of

Y/n's friends out at this dude's party? Where was Y/n?

Instantly standing up, “I gotta go lads, somethings up”

Hearing a chorus of goodbyes, I jumped into my car and drove back home; Y/n's car was still in the driveway and the lights were on in the house. Knocking on the door rapidly, my heartbeat ringing in my ears.

“Bear?”

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“W-what are you doing here?” I asked, swallowing the last bit of cake in my mouth.

“I should be asking you that babe, why are you not out?”

“This is why” I said passing him my phone, seeing his face start to furrow as he read through the group chat texts.

“Oh pup, i’m so sor-“ Hearing his voice, I could feel the tears starting to build up again, rushing to his arms for comfort.

His arms instantly surrounding me, his lips pressing kisses to my head.

“Why didn’t you call me? You know I would have taken you out instead” He said cupping my face to look at him, placing another kiss onto my nose.

“I-I just didn’t wanna look like a loser with no friends Hen” I said sniffling, wiping my tears with the back of my hands, before his hands pulled mine down. Wiping my tears with his thumbs, he placed soft kisses on my rosey cheeks.

“You’d never look like a loser to me love, you deserve much better than those people you call friends. How about this, lets get you more comfortable and we can have a night to ourselves?”

“Yeah okay” I said smiling slightly, seeing his eyes peer down at me with so much love.

“You look absolutely amazing tonight, lord have I got the hots for you” Henry said laughing slightly, slapping my ass as we walked up the stairs to our bedroom, giggles being heard along the way.

“Alright i’m going to pick you out some soft pyjamas, you just sit down on the bed and don’t do anything. Tonight is all about you”

Nodding my head, he walked into our closet before walking back out again.

“Why is my ex in our closet? With that written on her” He said looking at me confused.

“Oh the girls gave me that as a gift, nice right” I said sarcastically, seeing his face fall again. “Those b*tches, love I cannot stand to see you with them again if they’re treating you like this”

Henry pulled the cutout out, folding it smaller and shoving it into the corner beside our bin where he claimed it “belongs

Walking back into our closet he pulled our our matching velvet pyjamas, putting his set on first before walking over to me.

“Sorry Hen, I know you were out with the lads tonight” I said putting my hands in the air as he helped pull the dress off me, his hands unclipping my bra for me, before putting on the warm pyjama top.

“Sweets I can go out with them anytime, your birthday is once a year”

He held the trousers out for me, letting me step into them before patting my thigh softly, then standing up to his full height again.

“Meet you down at the sofa okay? i’ll be two minutes”

“Ok but don’t take too long bear, might miss you too much” I said winking at him, feeling myself starting to lighten up a bit.

Heading downstairs to the sofa I sat down, turning on the T.V to put on anything for background noise. Hearing Henry grunt, I turned my head seeing him carrying at least two comforters and five pillows in his grasp.

Just before throwing them all on top of me before running back upstairs again, leaving me to settle into the pillows and blankets, transforming the sofa into a massive bed.

Running back down the steps, he jumps in next to me, putting a box in my lap with a number “1” written on it. His arm going around my waist to pull me into his side, his lips kissing my temple, his hand tucking the hair behind my ear.

“What is this bear?”

“It’s your first gift of course, out of 26”

“Are you serious? 26?”

“Well yes, now go on, open it poppet”

Untying the ribbon, the box fell apart into its different layers, photos throughout our relationship littered the sides.

“Oh Hen” I started, tears brimming my eyes, but for a good reason this time.

The first photo, however, caught my eye bringing a bright blush to my face as I picked it up. Henry's fingers tracing shapes into my side as he watched my reaction.

“H-hen when did you take this?”

“Well, you were just so cute, snuggly and warm. At that point I just fell more in love with you babe”

The picture was that of Henry and I in bed, specifically me laying half asleep on his chest after a very intimate night. My eyes looking up at him, half open, my breasts hidden by his hand reaching the whole way around me.

“I don’t know what to say bear”

“How about 'cake?' “

“Oh yeah, there’s some in the kitchen if you want” I said caressing his bearded face, his hands playing around with the hair on my neck as I turned towards him.

“Okay i’ll be two seconds then love” He said getting back up and returning with the whole cake platter and a fork in his hand.

“Open wide” He said, getting a piece of cake onto the fork, before feeding me it.

“Do you not want a bit?” I asked confused.

“Oh i’ll get some, dont worry love” He said quirking his brow at me, before smashing his lips onto mine. The kiss getting passionate as he set down the plate, his kisses getting slippery and more heated with him then pulling away.

“Red velvet cake? Almost as sweet as you baby”

[xcaptain-winterx]

Hey, I’m very excited for your Kinktober 2023 celebration!

Here’s my ask:

Character - Lloyd Hansen

Kink - Praise/Cuddling/Aftercare

Bonus - Werebear!Lloyd

Okay, so the idea is that Lloyd wasn’t always a werebear, but he got turned into one, just like how the witch in Beauty and the Beast turned the prince into a monster.

Werebear!Lloyd has found his mate and dragged her home. But even after she calmed down from being kidnapped, and then finding herself in a weirdly intense relationship with this creature/man… Lloyd is struggling with the bear’s instincts. They’re so different from his own. He liked rough, dirty sex that ended with him slipping out the door fifteen minutes after the deed was done. The bear wants to cuddle, and if he doesn’t get the appropriate amount of cuddling in, he’s on edge and cranky. Really cranky - and he takes it out on Lloyd.

Nowadays, Lloyd craves cuddling. He used to hate it. The bear inside of him demands he spend hours cuddling with his mate, multiple times per day. Lloyd finds that he needs to praise his mate. He has to gain her approval - the bear demands it. All of a sudden the selfish, rude, and vicious Lloyd Hansen has developed a teddy bear streak, thanks to finding his mate and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

How does he reconcile the werebear’s powerful instincts with the human side of his personality, especially when the bear’s need for softness with its mate refuses to be denied?

Little Cub

softdark werebear!Lloyd Hansen x reader

summary: above

warnings: small amount of fluff, monster kink, big dick, smut, rape, Lloyd being himself, humiliation, dark stuff, kidnapping, blood

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc. I think I did a lot of mistakes in this fic. This is kinda a dark fic….just so you know. Will do another part if you request it

Main Masterlist Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Lloyd Hansen Masterlist

Lloyd is planning how he’s going to torture the fucking cunt who cursed him into this beast. He perhaps was a monster, but still didn’t deserve that. His words. It’s not his fault that he didn’t want to kiss her. That bitch looked ugly as fuck.

He can still feel how his bones cracked and muscles twisted as he transformed. The painful screams he let out as he became the thing she cursed him to be in all eternity.

A bear. A giant light brown bear with sharp claws and teeth.

There’s not a moment he isn’t reminded of what he is now, even when he isn’t in his other form. From his now sharper and longer finger nails to how his body is now covered in more hair, though, he must say, he likes the mustache.

Not only is his normal physical form now different. Lloyd is so hungry all the time and mostly for meat. Problem is that he’s alone in his castle with no staff or anyone to bring him food. Well, there once were people, but his hunger got the best of him. Now, he’s all alone. He’s forced to go into the woods and hunt for whatever living creature he sees. On lucky days, he finds humans in the forest, hunting or just taking a walk, but most days he just finds deers, bunnies or wolfs.

The hunger isn’t his biggest problem though, no, it’s how fucking hard he gets for no reason at all 24/7. He could be sitting down in one of many lounge areas and suddenly get a boner without thinking of anything slightly dirty. It’s not like he doesn’t have needs and jacks himself off a lot, but this is way different. It’s painful. When he tries to ignore it, he feels how the beast is making him feel like a thousand bullets are piercing through his skin. Like needles are boring through his bones and muscles. His muscles tense, his nails getting longer, veins popping until he transforms into what he hates most. Once transformed, the need to breed is so strong he humps everything which is near him, trying to get rid of the pain. In his other form, he doesn’t feel like him. It’s like he’s only half himself. The bear is a constant voice in his head, making him insane.

Over time, Lloyd got better at controlling it, but the smallest things could set the beast in him free. He only leaves his castle to hunt for food. He can’t even drink his sorrows away because he already drank every bottle in the castle….in just three months.

Oh, but Lloyd would’ve never guessed how lucky he would get today when he goes to hunt in the woods.

Today, you are on a walk in the forest. The sky is covered in thick grey clouds. It’s getting grayer by every passing second. You just wanted to go on a quick walk to clear your head, but got lost, though you are not panicking. You would be, if you knew what was going to happen because not so far away you caught the attention of the hungry eyes of Lloyd. His pupils are dilated that there is no white anymore. Your sweet smell making his dick painfully hard. Lloyd already smelled you miles away, running immediately into the forest when he first caught the smell of your scent.

You walk down an old path, asking yourself how you get out of the forest, until you hear something. You turn around, but see nothing. A breath leaves your lungs you didn’t know you held in. Just as you are about to continue down the path, you come face to face, well, more like face to chest, with the chest of a big man. Hair is covering his entire chest and as you move your eyes upwards, you can see his dark eyes staring right into your soul.

You don’t move, you can’t move. You’re too scared to make a move.

“Run, rabbit” he says, flashing you his sharp teeth in a cocky manner. Fear finally crosses your face, and a scream leaves your mouth as the man slowly starts to get bigger. You take off and run away, his laugh fallowing you. You run through the woods, like your life depends on it because it probably does. There’s no explanation that you can think of as to what he is. You just know that he’s not good.

It starts to rain, first, only small drops before a full on shower. The once dry ground is now muddy and slippery, making you almost slip. The falling raindrops are hitting your cheeks and making it sting like needles. You almost don’t hear a loud growl behind you due to the rain. It’s getting closer and closer.

In your panic you don’t see the wet mud line before you and the next thing you know, you slipped out and fell into the mud, but at least not face first.

You turn around in the mud to see a giant bear in-front of you, looking at you with his cold dead eyes. The color of his fur, the sharp teeth and the look he is giving you makes you realize that this monster in front of you is the man.

You somehow can’t scream, even as the beast jumps at you and presses you deeper into the mud and before you know it, this monster raises his claw and rips your clothes off in one swift move. You try to get out from under him with no luck.

He’s too big.

The beast sniffs you before grazing his teeth over your collarbone to your stomach. Silent tears start to run down your face.

It suddenly puts a claw on your left shoulder and presses your right leg up, putting you in an uncomfortable position. You feel something hard touch your pussy and it’s then when it dawns on you what is going to happen.

The monster doesn’t give you a chance before slamming his dick into your pussy, giving you no time to adjust. This time you scream. You scream like you are getting torn apart because you literally are. It feels like someone is cutting you open.

Lloyd doesn’t care about your screaming or your tears, he’s desperate for this, no matter how fucked up it is. He’s diving into your pussy over and over again. As Lloyd thrusts into you, his furry hips slapping against yours in a primal rhythm. He growls low in his throat as he takes you, his thrusts deep and powerful.

You feel pain with only a little bit of pleasure. Even if you know your climax is approaching, you are begging him to stop. The begging coming out as screams for mercy.

Lloyd’s thrusts are growing deeper and more powerful, his groans echoing through the woods. He doesn’t care that you come around his dick and neither that you start coating his dick in your blood. He thrusts faster into you before shooting his sperms into your pussy with a loud roar.

Your eyes widen a last time as his cum fills you up before the black around your vision takes over. This doesn’t stop Lloyd though, from rutting into your passed out form again and again, needing to release.

Once Lloyd is done, he pulls out of you, automatically growling, well, more like the beast in him, as his sperm spills out of your abused pussy. Still in his beast form, he turns to make his way back to the castle, but something pulls him back.

The beast.

It’s making his body feel like it’s on fire, burning down with no way of putting it out. He falls to the ground, feeling like he’s going to die until he smells you. Lloyd looks over at you, not understanding why you stopped the monster’s torture on him. He slowly manages to get up and goes over to you, grunting before biting into your leg and pulling you with him to his castle.

As he arrives, he drags down to the cells. Lloyd grunts as his body becomes smaller again once he lets go of your leg. The hair falling down, the ears vanishing and his teeth and claws shrinking. He stands up, getting used to his body again, feeling exhausted now that he feels all the orgasms he had. Having an orgasm as a bear is like having three orgasms and he had five bear orgasms. He is ready to go to sleep.

His eyes move to you before he walks out of the room, not staring at your naked body, but your soft face framed by your beautiful hair. He shakes his head as he realizes what he’s doing and walks out, slamming the cell behind him and locking it.

Your body is in pain is the first thing you realize as you come back from what felt like the dead. You open your eyes, blinking a few times before you start to realize where you are. Curses leave your mouth as you try to move your body, deciding to just stay in the position for a while as the pain grows bigger every time you try to move. You look at the room from the ground, gray stone walls, no windows, cold hard stone ground and prison bars as a door.

“No no no no no” you say over and over again, panicking at the fact of where you are. You manage to move in an upward position, letting your back rest against the cold stones. A deep pain interrupts from your leg as you move it and as you look down at it, you see a deep bite mark. It’s still red and bloody, looking like out of a true horror movie. Not only that, but you can also see the dried blood on your body at your pussy. The rest of your body, including your hair, is covered in now dry mud.

You cry as you remember what happened, the beast catching you and fucking you in the mud. You don’t know how you got here, but looking at the bite mark, you can imagine that wherever you are, the monster is here too.

“Stop crying so fucking loud” a voice whispers aggressively from behind the bars.

You lift your head to look at the voice and see the man from the woods, the man who transformed into a monster.

“Go away!” you scream at him.

The man sighs and throws his head back, annoyed. He pushes himself off the wall and leans with his head pressed on the bars. A mocking pout spreads on his face.

“Aww, is the girl scared of the bad big bear?”

You wipe your tears away, looking at him with pure rage. “Fuck you”.

Lloyd laughs, his sharp teeth shining brightly in the moonlight from the small window. “Again? You truly are a freaky hell of a woman” he says, winking at you.

The veins in your neck are about to pop as you charge at him. Well, try to charge at him, but your legs give midway out, falling right onto your knees.

“Cute” he says, looking unimpressed.

You lay defeated on the floor, feeling dirty and gross. You wished you never would have entered the woods.

He looks at you, feeling weird, like he feels a deep pain in his heart. Pity? Sadness? Regret? God knows what it is, but Lloyd doesn’t like it. He can feel the beast inside him starting to get hectic, needing to be pet out.

His gaze wanders to you once again. Normally, he would have killed his victims by now or eaten them, but the beast won’t let him eat you, even though you taste so delicious.

Lloyd thinks for a moment, before asking, “what’s your name?”.

“Why should I tell you my name?”

Lloyd opens the door. “Because I’m hungry and your blood smells delicious”.

You gulp and say “My name is y/n”.

He steps closer and crouches down in front of you, grabbing your face and pulling it harshly as you try to move your head away from his soft touch.

“Such a pretty name to such a pretty face and pussy” Lloyd says smelling your dirty hair.

Not only can he smell you but also you him. You smell a dark woody smell mixed with sweet apple. Two opposite smells, one sweet and the other a strong manly smell, but they still fit together like two sides of the same coin. Now that he’s so close, you can analyze his face, from his thick mustache to his light freckles and beautiful eyes that aren’t as dark as you remembered them to be.

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask, trying not to shake out of fear.

Lloyd’s eyes move to meet yours, his eyes boring into you. He thinks for a minute, trying to ignore the beast before making a decision.

“No”

“N-No?” you look at him slightly confused. You truly thought he would kill you.

Lloyd lets go of your face and stands up and then simply walks out of the cell, not locking it. You think for a second of escaping. It’s a now or never situation, but you know you wouldn’t make it far in your condition and you are not that keen on seeing the monster in his form again, so you wait and are happy with your decision because not a second later he walks back in the cell with a bucket in his hand.

As he comes closer, you see that he is carrying a bucket filled with water and a wet cloth hanging on the side. Once in front of you, he puts the bucket down, making water splash down from the side.

“Clean up” Lloyd says, looking down at you. You nod, waiting for him to walk away, but he doesn’t, he just continues to stare at you.

You don’t know what to do; you don’t want him to watch your naked form even more. He looks like he’s waiting patiently for you to do something.

Just as you are about to grab the cloth and clean yourself, thinking he wants to watch you, he kicks your arm away from the bucket, making you wince.

“Oh, thank you, Lloyd, for being so nice and giving me something to clean up. How kind of you” Lloyd says sarcastically. He got you something to clean up with and you don’t even bother to thank you. Typical women.

You can’t believe what you are hearing. This man, monster, who kidnapped you, raped you and hurt you wants a thank you. Not only are you confused as to his demands, but you also just learned that his name is Lloyd.

“Are you deaf!”

Lloyd’s screaming brings you back and you quickly shake your head. “Thank yo-“

“Is that what I told you to say!” he screams again.

“You told me to thank you and that’s what I-“ you can’t finish your sentence because Lloyd splashes some of the water on you.

“Say ‘thank you, Lloyd, for being so nice and giving me something to clean up. How kind of you’. Now!”

“But-“ he sprinkles with his fingers some water on you again.

“Say. It”. You wipe your face before finally saying what Lloyd wants you to say. He grins as he stands straight again, but the grin doesn’t seem evil this time. It looks like a happy grin and if you look closely, you could see a small blush. Lloyd walks after soon after you said at, leaving you alone in the locked. Just as he’s about to walk around the corner, he turns back to you.

“Maybe you last longer than the last ones”

With that, he fully leaves, leaving your scared form alone.

The sky is pitch black and the air of the night cold as you are woken from your slumber by footsteps. You know there is only one other person in this place and you don’t want to see him. You act like you are still asleep, facing the wall, trying not to move, which is hard because you are freezing.

After you washed yourself with the bucket of water, you forgot you don’t have something to dry yourself with it or even to sit your ass on. The cold floor and the air are making you shake like crazy. You won’t be surprised if you catch a cold.

The footsteps come closer and closer. The closer they get, the more you notice those footsteps are heavy and sound like more than two feet.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize who-or what, it is.

You lay your face more into the floor, trying to sink into it, scared of what will happen soon. You can still feel his seeds inside you.

The footsteps stop in front of the cell and put a hand over your mouth. With some luck, the beast will just walk away if it sees you asleep. All hope is lost though, as the lock rattles. It rattles for some seconds before it stops.

Maybe it can’t open it in this form. Maybe it will walk away.

A scream almost leaves your lips as the beast suddenly trashes against the cell, trying to get in. It doesn’t take long before the cell door slams open. A tear slips down your cheek as the monster walks into the cell. Everything comes flashing back from when the beast was on top of you, slamming into you repeatedly. You hear it come closer and just beg god to let it be over fast. The claws of the beast turn you onto your back, but he doesn’t get on top of you. Instead of getting on top of you, the bear lays his head on your stomach, snuggling into you.

You are shocked at that action, not understanding what’s going on. You hold your breath, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does.

You open your eyes and see the bear with closed eyes on your stomach, looking like a big puppy. As confused and freaked out as you are, you don’t complain.

He’s so warm.

After a while, when you are sure he’s 100% sure he’s asleep, you dare to put your hand on his head. He stops snoring as you do it, before continuing letting out soft snores.

You smile, seeing this huge bear be soft, even though he’s a monster-well, you don’t really know what he is.

This doesn’t mean you like him, though.

No.

[dotspoetrycorner]

Rise of the Pink Ladies Cynthia x OC Part 7

Chapter 7: Frosty Palace

Ella’s POV

After ditching the pep rally I went to the frosty palace. I didn’t know where else to go, my parents expected me to be at the school and I couldn’t explain to the why I left. So here I am in the almost empty diner, drinking a milkshake and rethinking all my choices. 

I know Susan’s just upset and is looking for any reason to be more upset, but how can you publicly humiliate someone like that? But what else can I do, they are the only way to get though the year.

The pep rally must be over because the diner starting filling with people, I really just wanted to go home at this point, so I quickly finished my drink and left. I had just managed to weave my way through all the people and cars when I ran into someone. They were running and the impact was hard, making me fall flat on the ground. 

“Watch where you’re-“ I started to yell but then I looked up and saw Cynthia. “Oh- I’m so sorry!” She said frantically, trying to help me up. “Why are you in such a rush?” I asked. “Im just trying to get home.” She replied. “Me too. Rough night?” She nodded, “Yeah. After what happened at the pep rally, I-“ “what happened at the pep rally? I left early.” I guess something pretty big. “The t-birds said they would let me join them if I came up with a plan to get back at those stupid socs for embarrassing Richie… no offense, but your friends are awful.” She explained. “I don’t even know if they’re my friends anymore. Not after they wanted to embarrass Jane like that.” 

After walking for a while I realized Cynthia and I should have parted ways by this point, she’s walking in the opposite direction from her house. “You don’t go this way.” “I’m walking you home” She replied. “You really don’t have to-“ “I’m walking you home.” Alright then. We just kept walking in silence. It’s so weird, we used to be able to talk for hours, talk about anything and everything, and now we’re struggling to find even one thing to talk about. 

Cynthia was the first to speak, “so… are you caught up on the English assignment?” I just looked at her, that was the best she could come up with? She continued, “Look, I’m strapped for conversation here and you like books.” I laughed, “After Of Mice and Men, Animal Farm, and The Catcher in the Rye, Little Women is an amazing change. I’m on my third re-read.” I glanced over at Cynthia, she was just staring at me, smiling. “What?” I asked, “Nothing. That’s just very you.” I looked down, it’s weird, our dynamic is the same as it used to be but now I get this weird feeling when she’s around. She spoke again, “I didn’t mind it at first, I actually kind of liked it. Jo was cool, then she got into all that love crap, I couldn’t get through it.” 

That conversation broke the ice and we were back to exactly how I remember us being. But eventually we arrived at my house. “This is me. Thank you, you turned my really bad night into a pretty okay one.” I said and hugged Cynthia. She tensed up for a second then hugged back. That feeling came back. I told her goodnight then started walking up my driveway, hearing a soft “goodnight” as I walked into my house.

I was greeted by my mom. “Was that Cynthia out there?” She asked. “Yes” I replied. “I didn’t know you two were still friends.” “I’m really tired. Im going to sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I said, quickly walking up the stairs. Its not that I didn’t want to tell me mom what had happened that night, but it’s a long story and she just wouldn’t understand. 

lying in bed I couldn’t sleep, all I could do is think. I couldn’t be friends with Cynthia again and keep my other friends, and they have been really rude the past couple of days, and Cynthia and I have always been great friends for one another. But Susan, Dot, Rosemary, and Pearl have been with me through the past 6 years, through everything. I don’t know what to do.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Again 3 Hatters

Fem! Reader, he has had beef with, is no longer in a relationship and he teases her about it. Goes as far as to say "Maybe he just bored with you." She immediately stands up but instead of punching him she leaves the room.

He has to go get her and finds her trying, and failing, to stop crying and he feels pretty guilty. When trying to talk she tells him to go away. He managed to appease her and when asked why she takes it so hard she says.

Reader: I broke it off because he cheated.

Jervis : Why did he do that?

Reader : Maybe he just get bored with me.

Which Jervis would visit ex to teach him about loyalty?

"Bored of you" x femme reader

Sometimes we just need our f/o's to take care of people who have hurt us.

Tw: hypnosis, drugs, murder

Btas:

- There's very few people he tends to genuinely dislike. But for some reason you just rubbed him the wrong way.

- So of course when he found out you were now single, it was certainly no tragedy to him. Yet as you continually whined about why your boyfriend would leave you- the worst thought came to mind.

- Normally, he wouldn't be quite so mean-spirited. It just sort of came out, "Maybe he was just bored of you." He winces and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

- He's expecting a physical punishment that never comes. Seeing you cry... oh, it breaks his heart. He's falling over himself to say he didn't mean it- that he doesn't even know why he said it!

- It's then that he's sitting next to you, hands on his curled up knees, on the ground to listen to everything. Even as you tell him to leave, he assures you hes trying to be supportive. Then he hears about the ex. He cheated?! What a horrible-

- You're going to hear a miniature ramble on why you don't deserve that and you're better than that! It's a quick turnaround of him not being very fond of you to him stating all your positive traits.

- Now, I don't think he'd quite jump to murder or maiming since you're not an item or particularly that close at this point. I do think however he would terrorize the ex. Just a little. As a treat! Scaring him is fair game.

Gotham:

- He's definitely the more spiteful when he's hurt which is most likely why he doesn't like you. Even if it was a slight you didn't even think of as one! So he's quick to roll his eyes when you're upset.

- It's genuinely a catty side comment he's making when he says your ex got bored of you. Nothing he really thinks you're going to take seriously. When you stand up he realizes that was the step too far.

- He prepares himself for a punch or some kind of verbal abuse before you're storming out. Its likely another rogue was in the room and gave him The Look. He sighs and goes to follow you, feeling like an ass.

- This feeling only gets worse when he finds you crying. He stands in front of you, sincerely apologizing. It stings to have you tell him to go. He's quick to ask, "Why are you taking this so hard? You're a smart, attractive woman. Surely you can find someone else-"

- It's perhaps cold but he truly doesn't get it. Not until you tell him about the cheating. And his own words flung back at him.

- "Ah. I see. I'll see you later." In order to make up for his rudeness, Jervis is going to pay a little visit to the ex. A little hypnosis... Some humiliating outfits.

- The next time you see him, he's standing next to your ex and having him usher a flurry of apologies and any kind of humiliating acts Jervis can think for him to do. He'll either kill him on your order or let the ex live in utter confusion of what's happened.

- He nods after he's done. It's his way of hoping the two of you are on better terms.

Arkhamverse:

- The difference between Arkhamverse and the other two is if he said something like that- it's intentionally manipulative or without any malice at all.

- He doesn't particularly like you for whatever odd reason. After a rogues meeting you mention the fact that you're single. How sad you are- you seem to be making conversation and seeking comfort and he's completely oblivious to that.

- "Maybe he was just bored!" He shrugs. People can be so boring... they want him to be boring, too. He doesn't even see you stand or think he's actually going to be hit.

- But he swears he could hear you sniffle as you left the room. That was what got his attention. Quietly, he slinks behind you and finds you crying. "Oh." He stands there for an awkward moment, unsure of how to respond.

- He almost leaves when you shout at him to go. That he's crazy. But he stands still.

- "Oh please, no. 'I am not crazy! My reality is just different than yours.'" He quotes, then another, "'How fine you look when dressed in rage.'" Even through quotations of that book, you could tell he was trying to be some semblance of comforting.

- You end up telling him everything from the cheating ex and your fear that it really could have been because he was bored. This Jervis outright calls ex a cad. A cowardly fake of a partner!

- Another difference between this Jervis and the others... you don't hear about the ex disappearing. He just does. Better not for you to find out and get upset. Ex gets used as an experiment for new tonics and mind control drugs. Some go better than others.

- Oh well. Sometimes the Rat dies horribly. Not like this one deserved much better! Not even good enough to be used for his work.

[hxhhasmysoul]

Hi, there um H. (srry idk what to call u ^^;;) I just wanna say that the anon sending u those rude ass asks, sucks ass tbh for causing u to feel the way ur feeling now and how I empathize w that feeling of humiliation and paranoia to overthink and nitpick ur previous actions without even knowing what it is specifically that caused for this barrage of negativity and insults/accusations.

Because they never stated a specific instance or samples to begin with. And they’ve addressed you twice already and be incredibly verbose about their criticisms against you without actually stating wtf it is about your stance on feminism that they’re put off with. They’re the ones being unclear, offensive, and confusing. Not you.

Your English is more than perfectly fine!! 💜 I admire how you can use the language very effectively and that’s someone who’s not a native speaker as well. :D

I enjoy JJK and your blog is one of the few that I follow and engage with because your posts are succinct and interesting to read.

You’re very thorough in posting ur analysis as well with actual txts and panels to back it up so it matches up w how u came about your thoughts on certain aspects of the story. And that’s just cool tbh. I save screenshots and note my own thoughts too but I don’t find the time or energy to organize and be half as coherent.

Another thing is, ur posts lack that moral posturing, the sort that’s becoming more and more popular ugh, of analyzing/criticizing fictional content based on what they supposedly represent instead of what the actual text or context of the source material is. Especially in this bloated (jjk) fandom.

That’s admirable and refreshing.

So… ye :) I know it may be weird having all of these come from a relative stranger but like i said I’m intimately familiar with this… kind of upset a tactic like theirs has caused. And I hope my words help a little. Nd again, I’m a non-native English speaker as well so if it’s a lil confusing its most likely bcoz i don’t get to practice that often. XD

Don’t let this rude person get to you!! 💪🏼G’night!

Thank you very much for the kind words, you made me tear up ;-;

I'm glad you enjoy my meta. I don't claim I'm right about everything but I really do try to always reference the story.

And the moral posturing gets to me too, because it really doesn't do anything good.

I don't mind when people tell me that they don't like that I can be very harsh to others, it's a perfectly reasonable thing not to like. Or that they disagree with me, as long as they disagree with something I've actually written.

[mrspark7777777]

Stormblessed really has some nerve acting like she's some wounded puppy who got yelled at for no reason. She had blocked me even though WE HAD NEVER EVEN INTERACTED BEFORE which makes me think she saw me 'support' another blogger she didn't like in her quest to 'root out' others whose beliefs weren’t like hers.

These are Storm’s words taken from another blog from her 'stepping away' post -cue the world's smallest violin-

“Blocking people to curate my space is not harassment or bullying or disrespectful. Its simply protecting myself and trying to curate a safe space for me personally. Nor have I ever started a hate campaign to try and drive another blogger off the platform.”

Like girl, how are you gonna talk about 'protecting yourself' and creating a 'safe space' when you’re the one being rude through DM's and blocking people left and right for no reason?? For the record she DID drive off other bigger Jikook blogs because her jealousy got the better of her especially when any real Jikook tea or numbers were involved.

Stormblessed is just mad and playing the victim now because some people finally SPOKE UP about her bad behavior and SHE GOT CALLED OUT and her usual 'friends' on here (chikooritajjk, ejassy) couldn't do enough unpaid PR to defend her this time. Because Storm's actions speak for themselves.

THANK YOU for doing the good work and calling out her BS. And BIG HEARTS to all the others here who have been humiliated and bullied by Storm because of her jealousy and fear of being 'dethroned'.

She can cry me a fucking river for all I care tbh

You are an influential blog who knows people can be susceptible. You can yell "I didn't send anyone to do anything" till the cows come home. But the fact remains that people were bullied off because of something you did. And I am not buying that she doesn't know how much power her words hold. Like I see people here keep saying; miss me with that bullshit.

[anthonybialy]

Worthy of Untrustworthiness

Aspiring tyrants who expect trust in government ruin it.  They wish to make snickering illegal.  Wallowing in pushy goons’ ruefulness is rude even if those commandeering your autonomy smirk when you note you have rights.  Social media’s most pious users will warn you about bullying before ordering you to comply with the president’s most humiliating commands.  An administration that comes as close to burning money as possible owes you laughs.

Ordering life to comply takes everyone believing their hardest.  The whimsical approach is like Peter Pan and just as fictional.  The White House thinks they scripted this adventure to show the power of genuineness as they fail at faking it.  Working fantastically at bending reality to their will.  Oh: your money is useless and the trains they demand you ride into the future won’t stay on the tracks.

The undeniable successful geniuses are obviously awful at the things they’re not supposed to do.  Does anyone feel healthier with Joe Biden ultimately in charge of the process?  Focusing on clumsy prophets is the only way to make the government cult creepier.

Begging bureaucratic junkies to not go above and beyond reflects the overestimation of abilities inherent to those who tell everyone else what to do.  These particular federal workers are not going to get promoted for doing tasks outside listed responsibilities.  Please take the job description seriously.

The actual roles aren’t getting addressed.  A presidency based on doing what’s outside its domain is rotten at its actual tasks.  Russia is behaving as angelically as China.  Back home, we feel particularly safe aside from the military acting like it’s fighting for social justice, cops being treated like criminals, and an erased border allowing anyone interested to hop in an oppressively regressive John Birchian hellhole.

The ruling faction shows what they believe is unbelievable.  It’s their one useful service.  Government enthusiasts are terrific at illustrating why government blows.  Conservatives treasure what is surely a bipartisan effort to stifle stifling.

The sheer oafishness of every Biden action goes against everything he believes.  A corrupt ice cream aficionado helps reality by showing why not to let him feed goldfish, much less be in charge of provisions for humans.

Have you yet come to appreciate authority on steroids?  Another injection doesn’t help.  Foes of action decided you’d be kept safe by not getting to do anything.  Preserving humanity by not being human was an effort to stifle that very thing.  We didn’t have rights or a halted virus, but life seemed pretty cool when they were really in charge otherwise.

Chronic overreach proves precisely why not to trust those stressing their joints.  Wholesale allegiance that makes the case against it can only be maintained by shrugging while stifling dissent.

Effectiveness does not necessarily equal decency.  Anyone actually good at governance would be able to retain control despite wholesale objections, which disqualifies the incumbent.

Full control shows why it’s ghastly.  Thanks for the lesson.  The lack of trust inherent to mandates leads to expected negativity in productivity.  The only thing worse than trending toward autocracy is these particular remedial politicians having it.  Remedial senator Biden got promoted to the gifted class.  Counting crayons is too strenuous for a president who can’t count money or grandkids.

Oh: so that’s why they loathe the nation’s rulebook. Constitutional limits exist for a reason, which we know thanks to those who violate them.  Democrats allow criminality in order to create a precedent.  We now know why barriers are in place if there was any doubt.  Foes of rights instead place limitations on human interaction.  Positive rights aren’t a good approach despite liberals once again getting suckered by wording.

A party imposing woe knows how to not get people on their side, which should but won’t teach them about market incentives.  Avoiding those who are most enthusiastic about exceeding boundaries shows why they’re there.

Showing why they’re not actually doing things sort-of counts as an achievement.  Paint a warning on the White House door about how there are zombies inside.

This loathsome oafish White House discredits government more than any Heritage Foundation report ever could.  We’re seeing the private sector at work, only the exact Bizarro opposite.  Succeeding by failing helps everyone watching the Dark Side of the Ring-style drama play out.  Wrestling scriptwriters inflict their weak storylines on alleged rubes who know they’re fake.

A lack of practical experience can only be made worse by bothering those with it.  There has never been a collection of executive flunkies more incapable of succeeding at the private sector, which drives them to the one domain where they can guarantee business.

Civilization’s micromanagers can’t do anything like their actual tasks.  But at least they do everything wrong.  Terrible morons creating a lousy example offers the communal benefits they praise.  Illustrating why they don’t deserve our patronage negates their demands we submit.  When government acts like parents, punk kids naturally rebel.  The next executive order will ban three chords.

[johnlloydsibong]

Sexual harassment refers to any form of unwelcome sexual behaviour which is offensive, humiliating and intimidating. Further, it is against the law to sexually harass anyone. Over the years, sexual harassment has taken a lot of time to be recognized as a real issue. Nonetheless, it is a start that can protect people from this harassment. The essay on sexual harassment will take you through the details.

Sexual Harassment and Its Impacts

Sexual harassment comes in many forms and not just a single one. It includes when someone tries to touch, grab or make other physical contacts with you without your consent. Further, it also includes passing comments which have a sexual meaning.

After that, it is also when someone asks you for sexual favours. Leering and staring continuously also counts as one. You are being sexually harassed when the perpetrator displays rude and offensive material so that others can see it.

Another form is making sexual gestures towards you and cracking sexual jokes or comments towards you. It is also not acceptable for someone to question you about your sexual life or insult you with sexual comments.

Further, making an obscene phone call or indecently exposing oneself also counts as sexual harassment. Sexual harassment can impact a person severely. It may stress out the victim and they may suffer from anxiety or depression.

Moreover, it can also cause them to withdraw from social situations. After that, the victim also starts to lose confidence and self-esteem. There may also be physical symptoms like headaches, sleep problems and being not able to concentrate or be productive.

What Can We Do

No one in this world deserves to go through sexual harassment, whether man or woman. We all have the right to live freely without being harassed, bullied or discriminated against. It is the reason why sexual harassment is illegal.

To begin with, the person may try talking to the offender and convey their message regarding their unwanted behaviour. Further, it is also essential to stay informed about this issue. Make sure to learn about the policies and procedures regarding sexual harassment in your workplace, school or university.

Further, try to document everything to help you remember the name of the offenders and the incidents. Similarly, make sure to save any evidence you get which will help with your complaint. For instance, keeping the text messages, emails, photos or more.

Most importantly, always try to get external information and advice from people who will help you if you decide to file a lawsuit. Likewise, never deal with it on your own and share it with someone you trust to lighten your load.

To conclude, sexual harassment is a very real issue that went unnoticed for a long period of time, but not anymore. It is essential for all of us to take measures to prevent it from happening as it damages the life of the victim severely. Thus, make sure you help out those who are suffering from sexual harassment and make the perpetrator accountable.

Harassment is unwanted behaviour which you find offensive or which makes you feel intimidated or humiliated. It can happen on its own or alongside other forms of discrimination. Unwanted behaviour could be: spoken or written words or abuse. offensive emails, tweets or comments on social networking sites.

Examples of harassment include offensive or derogatory jokes, racial or ethnic slurs, pressure for dates or sexual favors, unwelcome comments about a person's religion or religious garments, or offensive graffiti, cartoons or pictures. The effect of harassment to a person are Harassment is associated with increased risk of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as diminished self-esteem, self-confidence, and psychological well-being (see Pryor and Fitzgerald 2003; Welsh 1999; Willness, Steel, and Lee 2007 for review and the common form of Sexual Harassment in the Workplace. From unwelcome and offensive comments to unwanted physical advances and requests for sexual favors, the #1 most common form of workplace harassment is familiar to us all.

[chososheart]

The Enchanting Melody to His Screams - Eren x Reader (1)

Pairing: Eren Yeager x F! Reader

Content: established relationship, mutual pinning, modern au.

Series summary: When Eren comes home late from work, with a little more than just work-life clouding his mind, Reader takes his stress away in every way imaginable. She bonds and is allowed just a tiny piece of the chaos that he's kept to himself for so long. What Reader doesn't know is that there's a lot more from where that came. Will Reader want to know its full extent, or will it be better for her to walk away?

CW: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m) and (f), gagging, dacryfilia, penetration (f), spanking (slightly mentioned once or twice) degradation kink, slight humiliation kink, creampie, praise kink, unprotected sex.

word count: 10.2k (sorry lol)

It was around 10:30 pm and Eren still wasn’t home. You walked back and forth from your apartment’s front door and the counter in your kitchen. You anxiously bit on your nails while your mind took you places you didn’t want to be. You hate it that you do this, but when he’s this late, you can’t help but think that something must have happened. That on his way back from work, while he drove, an accident may have—no. Stop.

You take a deep breath and hold your body with your kitchen counter. Your head falls forward as your chest and back move up and down. You push yourself away from your counter in one quick move and run your hands through your face, hair, and breath out. You pull your phone from your back pocket again. You check the time and try giving him another call.

Ring, ring, ring, ring—nothing. Eren gets off work at around 7:00 PM. He’s three hours late. How could you not be worried?

And while your mind tries to think of logical reasons that don’t include your lover’s death to explain his tardiness, the front door opens. You didn’t even hear the keys shuffling. You noticed he was home when the door shut behind you. It was loud, too loud for the quietness of your apartment. It was a tight and loud slam, one that made you jump and spin around with your heart in hand. You stood there for a few seconds, analyzing him. Looking at the man before you up and down. You sucked up a breath and let a faint smile adorn your face before running to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

His button-down shirt was creased and felt rough against your skin. He smelled like his office. It's a cool and empty scent, hard to describe, but the best comparison you can make is to those plastic cups by the water cooler in hospitals or clinics.

You hold his cheeks with both hands and pull him down to meet you halfway. He gives you a quick peck before taking his jacket and shoes off. And the way he did it wasn’t rude; he just wasn’t as affectionate as he always is. When he comes home from work, he’s eager to see you, to feel you. He opens his arms and waits for you to find your place in them. He holds you there for a moment while waddling from one foot to another, kissing your head multiple times until he finally lets you go. Today was obviously different. He ignored you as he moved toward the couch. He plopped down and you watched as the leathered seats molded themselves around Eren’s body.

You blink a few times, confused on why today was different. Is it me? Is he irritated by me? Is it someone from work? Maybe he’s just tired—no. He’s always tired and never treats me like this. Is this normal or am I just too spoiled?

Your lower lip had, unconsciously, found its way under your top teeth, cushioning it until it drew blood while you exaggerated what could be described as an average couple’s night. But that’s the thing, you aren’t an average couple. You and Eren never left the honeymoon stage, and you’d noticed signs of it ending if that was the case. What is up with him?

You look at the wooden ground for a minute. It puts a smile on your face. You still remember the day you picked it out. Eren wanted marbled floors, you wanted wooden. He let you have wood. Because you’re not like most couples.

You take a deep breath and look up, look at him. And that’s when it hits you. His face is weird. You analyze it a bit further and notice he had a crease between his brows, which only shows up when he’s deeply irritated. His lips were chapped and smaller than usual, a bit faint in color too, dehydration. His eye bags were puffy and dark. He looks like he’s dead, let’s be honest. While we’re being honest, the dead look makes you want to shove his cock down your throat—wait, that’s a good idea!

“Eren?” You say as you approach him, head tilting sideways, arms slightly crossed behind your back, just how he likes.

He’s sat with his legs spread, widely spread, just how you like. His elbows are supported on top of his knees and his back is slouched, just how you don’t like.

You shake those thoughts away and approach him slowly. “So, how was work?” You reach the armrest and lightly sit on it. You rub your hands on his shoulder blades and he buries his face in his hands. They’re so big, not a centimeter of his face is left uncovered.

“It’s nothing,” he said, voice hostile.

You hate it when he does this. When he shuts you out without even giving you a chance to come in, a chance to see if you can help him. He instantly assumes you aren’t capable of doing so.

You breathe in, and out. You held your eyes lightly shut for a minute or two. He could feel your disappointment, hear it in the quietness in the air. He doesn’t do it on purpose, he thinks. It’s automatic at this point.

Eren grew up being babied. He grew up being thought of as weak, insolent, impulsive, and irresponsible. He worked hard to gain strength, power, to protect the people he loved instead of having them protect him, but it wasn’t enough. He still got looked after. He never got an ounce of trust in his life. Never was trusted with his abilities, so, how is he supposed to trust and believe in himself?

He doesn’t like involving others in his problems. He feels that raged little boy in him, humiliated whenever you ask him, “what’s wrong?” And he feels even worse when there is something wrong. How can you read him so well, notice the storm following him that he just can’t see? Sometimes it annoys him. Sometimes it saddens him. Right now? He feels useless. In his job, his domestic life, relationships, all of it. But he’ll spare you.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he grunted, hands leaving his face, back unbending, and laying against the cushions on the couch. He looked at the roof now. His legs were parted but they bounced anxiously. He turned his head and looked at you. You were already looking at him, why is he so sexy?

You roll your eyes, look at him for a few more seconds and release a sigh. “Want me to drop it?” Your voice was dull, but the care was still there. He could hear it. And it warms his heart that you know when to stop, you know not to push him.

“Yes, please.” He stared at you longer than he should have. It’s times like these when he deeply appreciates you. He knows you worry for him, but you still give him independence, you still trust him to come to you or deal with it on his own, something he never got to do growing up. He loves you so much he feels as if his heart were to burst.

“Okay, can you tell me if you’re tired?”

“I-” He opens and closes his mouth involuntarily, almost like he had an automatic response but stopped himself halfway. “Yeah.” He breathes out.

“Are you stressed?” You lie against the cushion with your elbow for support as you reach a hand to pass through his hair.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and felt the gentle tugs of your fingers parting through his deviled hair, your nails scratching his scalp so good he’s surprised he didn’t moan, you are, too.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, yeah.” He groaned, deep and heavy. His eyes fluttered open and caught you moving from next to him to stand in front of him. He knew what was coming. He breathed in, slow and thick. You kneeled in front of him, holding on to each of his thighs and using them to support you while you got down on your knees.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Want me to take some of that stress away?” You tilt your head and flash him a glimpse of your breasts as you lean to unbuckle his pants.

Eren felt stuck, stuck in the spell you seem to have him wrapped in. He can do nothing more than nod. He feels pathetic when he gets like this. You’ve been together for a few years now, so, why are the breaths that are coming in and out of his mouth getting stuck in his throat? Why can he feel his heart in his fingertips? And why can he feel the emptiness that consumes his soul when he leaves you, flying around his stomach, making a mess of his body, nerves, and reactions? Prickling his hair and making his cheeks flush and nape itch. Just what have you done to him? Just what would he do without you?

You unbuckle his belt. The clinks it makes bring a smile to your face. But it doesn’t make you smile as big as you do when you get to unbutton his pants, pull them down and squeeze his cock that’s strained by his briefs.

He hisses. “Careful.”

An empty threat if you will. You giggle, like a drunken straight girl, giggles right before she kisses her best friend at a frat party.

And that sweet laughter coming from your mouth does nothing more than worsen the ache coming from his cock.

“Careful with what?” You hold his eyes with yours and squeeze the head of his cock again, this time, rubbing it. “With this?”

“Fuck.” He breathed as he closed his eyes and widened the space between his thighs.

“Eren.” The sound of your voice, of you, calling out his name made his eyes flutter open. “Tell me what you want.”

He looks at the TV behind you and tries to control his breathing, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

“I want you to start with—” He looks at the paintings on the walls opposite to where you were, trying to calm the flush he felt forming on his cheeks. You’ve never asked him; you’ve always just assumed. Why are you asking now?

“I- can you start with… kisses.”

Kisses?

“Want me to kiss your cock? Yeah?” you say, as you lower his briefs.

Again, he feels his breath get stuck in his throat. Like, genuinely stuck. He feels like he’ll choke and be in need of medical assistance at any moment now.

“Yeah.” His palms were sweaty. Why are his palms sweaty? There’s something in Eren that worries him when he’s not in control, maybe this is no exception? Maybe the loss of dominance in a sexual aspect is foreign to him, hence the nervous reaction. Whatever the cause may be, it needs to stop. Eren feels like his voice will crack as a pubescent boy does; but he knows if it happens, he won’t hear the end of it from you,

or would he?

You have his dick in your hands. It’s big and girthy, like always. But instead of shoving him down your throat, you look at him and kiss the tip of his head.

Eren’s eyes widened when he felt the softness of your lips on him.

You trail a few kisses down his shaft and when you reach his tip again, you wrap your lips around his head and gently suck and let go.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch.

You ended each delicate suck with a kiss, with a smack of your lips. And each time he heard it; his hand twitched toward your head. You practically made out with him. You licked him and showed him love you have never done before.

You let your drool hit him, you spread it around while you slowly jerked him off. Eren has always been vocal, but it doesn’t compare with how he reacted now. Groaning, and breathing like some sort of physical limitation prevented him from getting a full lungs worth of air. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on so much it hurt.

“Please—suck it.” He breathed.

Everything you’ve done until now could be considered teasing and he doesn’t want it anymore, so you expand your mouth and completely wrap his head with your lips.

His hand found its way in your hair and tugged you slightly lower. You gladly take more of him and start to prepare your breathing to take him in your throat. It doesn’t happen, though. Eren would normally shove your head as far as it would go, but today wasn’t like that. You release his cock and lick his tip. You have one hand massaging his balls and the other swirling on his head, not too much, though. He’s sensitive. While your hands work their magic, you seek proximity with him. Something about him being so vulnerable with you has you looking for the same comfort. He notices and complies.

He lowered his body when he saw you raise yours. He took your face in his hands and stroked your cheeks, his thumb, drawing small circles on your skin. His eyes were shut and mouth ajar, a few moans spilling from when you circled on his slit.

He opened his eyes and pulled you hard against him. His lips found yours at once. It was so intimate, so enthusiastic, you forgot to breathe, to continue pleasing him. You raise your hands and grab his face, bringing him closer, needing him closer. Your teeth crashed together and your tongue sloppily looked for his. You held his face so firmly, so tightly, that when you let go, your handprints were left on his face. The proof of your fingers harshly holding what’s rightfully yours, flushed deep red and made the rest of his face look pale and drained. You drained the color from his face. Your touch consumed it all. Your touch consumes all of him.

When you broke away from the kiss, you fell back down on your knees and took him all the way in, gagging, and looking up at him with those sweet eyes of yours.

You gently start to bob your head up and down, gagging and closing your eyes every time his tip meets your throat. Your nose burns, your neck feels hot, and your eyes start to water, but it’s worth it. For the view you get, it’s fucking worth it. Eren’s hands were back on your hair, slightly pulling you down, not enough to hurt you but because he couldn’t stop himself. The same goes for his hips. He’d buck them up and take your breath away, literally. But because he really, honestly, truly couldn’t stop.

He opened his eyes and looked down at you. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and your eyes never left his cock. You were back to jerking him off, but with a mixture of licking, and sucking, too. His pleasure had all your attention, that much was evident. But even as he was on edge, even when it wouldn’t take him long to reach that peak he wanted, he kept your needs in mind.

It must be killing her, he thinks.

And he didn’t have to give it much thought. The press of your thighs as you released a moan that could embody what it meant to be desperate and lustful, was enough evidence.

It is killing her.

“Baby,” Eren called. No reply from you, though.

“Hey,” He grabbed your face and wiped away the tears that glowed with the harsh lights of your living room, “baby, get on the couch, yeah?”

He grabbed your forearm and kept his hand on your cheek, it was warm. He tugged on your arm to encourage you to get up.

You didn’t.

“Don’t worry about me, Ren.” You went to grab him again, but he stopped you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Eren’s eyes stared wholes into yours.

You don’t know if it’s his change in demeanor or the fact that you had his dick in your mouth a few seconds ago, but you feel the need to obey. It could be the tie that hung loosely from his neck, his button-down white shirt that’s slightly unbuttoned, or his sleeves that have been rolled back that forces this reaction out of you. It’s definitely the tie.

And you do. You sit next to him on the couch, and though you’re almost at eye level with him, you feel small. Especially when he said, “strip.”

You take your shorts off and throw them on the ground. Your oversized shirt quickly followed, creating a small but messy puddle on the floor. You slipped your panties and bra off next. You were now bare. You’re sitting with your legs tucked under your thighs and you’re facing him. His eyes scanned over Your body like a sailor’s eyes do when he’s seen the beautiful but mythical creature all have warned him about. He looked at You like he was stuck on a tiny boat with a fisher’s tackle in hand as he leaned toward the said mythical creature. And as he leaned on the edge, eager to see just how much his eyes can capture, he gets pulled in. Forced in freezing-cold water in the deep of night only to be never found again. That’s how he felt. Your beauty, Your mere existence, pulled him in and trapped his soul with Yours. You were the siren many would purposely sail to find, to die for. He reached a slow hand Your way and cupped Your breast. And unlike his gruesome comparison, Your beauty didn’t fade away in a matter of seconds as Your true form is revealed and he’s eaten alive. You were still there; intact, looking at him with eyes that glowed brighter than any and every star those miserable sailors could have seen in those trips to find You.

You were, quite literally, the definition of breathtakingly beautiful. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

He sucked in a breath and squeezed, double-checking. You look down at him and notice his dick twitch, which reminds you of what you were doing before. You lean toward him, his thighs, and take his dick in your mouth again.

“Ah—fuck.” He threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, and reached a hand to rub the side of your thigh. He ran his fingers through the curve of your ass until he found his way on your cunt. His pointer finger lightly traced the outside of your pussy, until he pushed his finger in your vulva. Rubbing in a straight line, passing through your clit, and circling through your entrance, teasing you. It’s when you arch your back and moan against his dick that he forces a finger in.

Eren cursed under his breath and pulled his pointer finger out, replacing it with his middle one. He couldn’t see you from the position you were in, but the warm, slick walls clamping onto his finger were enough for him to twitch in your mouth. You’re too much. He can’t find it in him to make you stop, though he knows his arrival is soon. He slips another finger in you. Listening to all the pretty sounds you make, muffled by his dick in your mouth. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them down and touching your g spot, making your eyes roll so far back, you thought you were somewhere else for a bit. Somewhere brighter than what the lighting in your house provides you. What was that?

“Fuck—you feel so good.” You were dragged back down to earth when Eren bucked his hips into your mouth. The gagging sound you made, plus, your throat coming to your defense and closing around him, made him release, maybe the whiniest moan you’ve ever heard from him. And when you let go of his cock, coughing and wiping drool off your face, he took the opportunity to lay down on the couch. He lifted one of your legs and slipped in between them, face staring at your pussy. You understood what he tried to do and lay your upper body on top of his.

Before you could start sucking him again, Eren took your hips in his hands and forced you down on his tongue. He licked at your entrance, tasting you, while your clit remained on his chin. It was firm and already felt so good.

You braise yourself by putting your hands on each side of his waist and arching your back. Your weight naturally feels heavier against his face, almost suffocating him, but that’s exactly what he wants. You start slowly rubbing your clit on his chin while he patiently stuck out his tongue.

A moan slips from your lips when he tightens his grip on your thighs. You lean forward and grab his dick. You give him a few pumps and put him in your mouth again. When you reposition yourself and slide your pussy further down his face, his tongue touches your clit. You stay like that.

You could feel his moans vibrating against your clit. He felt so, so good. You rub your pussy up and down his face, just like you did before. He lets you have your fun for a bit, sucking on his cock while riding his face. But when he felt himself get close, he dug his face in deeper, held you still by your hips, and sucked on your clit. He’d switch from sucking on it to liking. It almost felt as if he was making out with it. His tongue was soft and gentle, warm and slick as he showed love to your most intimate parts. His passion and true enjoyment were felt through each whimper left abandoned on your skin. It was times like these you wondered who he’d do it for, for whose pleasure this was for.

You felt tingles build up under your skin, ready and needing to break free, to explode. The air in your lungs had somehow found its way into your stomach and was now trapped with no way out. When you felt his tongue poke—no, barge into your cunt, your legs tightened against each side of his face, a natural response to such an intrusion. His dick twitched in your mouth; his space was tight. He couldn’t breathe, he was being asphyxiated. If this is how he went out, he’d gladly do it again. But he wants to finish the job first. A slap on your ass made you release his head from his most precious acclaim. Maybe later.

While he focused on you, you tried your hardest to pleasure him. His cock was deep in your mouth, not in your throat, but close. You focused on sucking him, but it was impossible. The moans you gagged around him were one thing, but the position itself was hard for you to keep up with. You took him out of your mouth and slid your hands up and down his cock, applying extra pressure to every vein you saw and swirling your thumb at the tip. You circled on his slit knowing it’d draw the whiniest moans out of him. It did. It had your pussy pulsating and throbbing around his tongue.

And with the sounds he made, the vibrations from his grunts and moans on your clit, you were coming. You stop the movement on your hands and sit up straight on his face to amplify the pressure. You circle and rub your pussy on his face until a cool-like feeling that originated from your clit, erupted and made your body numb and overwhelmed with electrifying pleasure. You felt as light as a feather that swirled through the air on a breezy day. Your eyes were lidded and mouth ajar, ears blocking out all sounds in the air as you were overtaken by an absolute state of ecstasy. With a final deep breath, you fall back down on him. His cock, in front of your face, and ready for you to take him in again.

This time, with no occurring factors to distract you, you take him all the way in. You gag and cough aground his tip when it meets with your throat but keep him in there, regardless of how your throat ached and nose stung. You began to bob your head up and down on him. Taking a little bit more than the last time. He still held your thighs in his hands. He squeezed on them, almost treating them like stress balls.

“Ah—fuck. Just like that baby.” He panted. Dangerously close himself. “Gonna make me cum so good. You always do.” He massaged your ass cheeks in front of his face. “Why don’t you take me a little—” He bucked his hips up, but it wasn’t a full thrust. It was more like an uncontrollable twitch. “More.” His voice cracked.

You moan around him once more and allow him to thrust his hips up into your throat. He bent his knees and began thrusting rapidly into your mouth. You couldn’t breathe. Your cheeks were probably stained by colorless teardrops that rapidly chased each other down your face to see which could reach your chin, fall, and melt on Eren’s warm skin, the fastest. You didn’t care, you couldn’t when the air was filled his moans and his grunts.

And with a few more thirsts, he came. Warm and thick straight down your throat. He harshly bucked his hips up a couple more times, until he was met with a twitch of his body. That’s when he sighed and remained still against the couch. Eren closed his eyes and breathed heavily. His chest felt tight. As if a million bricks were stationed on top of his heart. He got to experience that breeziness when he came. He got to feel like he was floating on the calmest sea there is. But it all came crashing down when you got up to clean yourself. When you had given him a quick peck and left for the bathroom, his heavy heart panicked. As if the bricks and after-sex-laziness magically disappeared, he stood up. Quickly catching up to You and following You like a lost puppy.

You hadn’t expected him to follow you. You assumed he needed a little space. So, it was a shock to you when you were dampening a towel in the sink, to see his reflection in the mirror.

“Eren?”

He was heading toward the shower but stopped behind you to lay a gentle kiss on your shoulder. It spoke. The kiss, it spoke. A thousand—no, maybe a thousand and one—words. It shivered your body all the way to your soul. Such a soft and small gesture, but the effect it had was explosive, or at least, it felt like it.

And he knew it, he could see it on your face. How it twisted into confusion. How your demeanor changed, how it left you a quiet mess, if that makes sense. It quickened his heart and made him feel warm when he saw the effects, he had on You. It reassured him of any late-night anxiousness that clouded his mind, the ones he’d never admit to having.

He hummed against your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Laying another kiss on your shoulder before burying his nose on the crevice of your neck. He breathed you in.

Home.

He always felt at home. He didn’t know if it was Your scent, Your warmth, Your energy, or Your soul, but he knew no matter the place, no matter the situation, he’d find a home in Your arms. It could be the way You responded, raising your hand to part the locks of his hair in between Your fingers. It could also be how Your body reacted, chest raising so high You swear Your lungs were to burst. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He feels safe with You and that’s all that matters. That’s all he needs to know about this weird connection your souls have.

“Do you want to shower with me?” The vibrations laced in his words tickled your neck.

Your body’s failed attempt to jerk you away from his ticklish torture resulted in your head slammed against his.

He laughed as he shut his eyes deeply.

That hurt.

“You could’ve just said no.” He hugged you tighter with a smile on his face, paying no mind to the ache of his head.

You laugh with him. You’re not necessarily embarrassed, but you still apologize. Which Eren thought was unnecessary as you laughed at him with every ‘apologetic’ word.

He let go of your waist and opened the shower door. He looked back at you and wordlessly asked with his eyes if you were joining him, which of course, you were.

After slipping in with him, you turned on the water and waited for it to heat up.

When it did, you stood underneath it, letting everything soak on the water except your hair. Steam quickly filled the bathroom, and you felt your shoulders, drop. All the stiffness, vanishing just like that. You felt like you were floating. Your eyes closed as you were fighting to keep your body awake.

But that quickly changed when Eren tried to join you.

He reached a hand to feel the temperature and dramatically gasped when the water hit his skin.

“What the fuck are you?” His eyes distastefully staring wholes into you.

You snap your eyes open and look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Why is the water so hot?”

“Oh, my fucking God.” You turn your back to him.

“You’re boiling yourself like a chicken.”

“Eren, just get in.”

“You’re fucking crazy, I’ll die.”

You turn and look at him. “You’re not gonna die.”

He muttered something under his breath with the cutest pout on his face. You couldn’t be bothered to even ask him what it was.

He reached a hand around the water and made it colder. It was still warm, but not as much as before. You shake your head with a laugh and let it go.

He stood under the water and let it coat him completely. He shut his eyes and let the water hit his face as he brushed his hair back. He opened one eye to peek at you. “The fuck you laughing at?” Though his tone was harsh, the boyish smirk on his face upon seeing your body said otherwise.

“Nothing.” You dragged the ing and reached for the shampoo bottle on the space in the wall. You go on your tippy-toes, position the bottle on top of his head and squeeze.

He shuts his eyes tightly and says, “what the fuck are you doing?” His hands quickly start to wash it away since he was under the showerhead.

You pour an extra amount for his tone and put it back in its place

“If you get this shit in my eyes, I’m gonna be so mad-”

“Shut up.” You laugh and lightly punch his bicep.

He opened the same eye as earlier to peek at you, eyebrow raised, questioning the slight bump he felt on his, and I quote, ‘ripped bicep’.

“Yeah, don’t fuck with me!” You punch that arm again with just as much gentleness as before. It makes him suck in his lips to hide the grin You drew on his face.

He finishes washing his hair but remains under the water. “Are you gonna put that condition-shit that makes my hair smell like you?”

“Yes, Eren. Can you turn around for me?”

“Is this what makes my hair shiny and soft, too?”

You hold back your laugh. “Yes, Ren.”

“I like to look at it in the mirror sometimes.” He looks up at the tiled walls as he felt gentle tugs from the bottom of his hair. “If I move fast enough it looks like someone is shining a light at it or something.” He folded his arms over his chest and itched his elbow.

“Does it look bouncy? Is that what you mean?” You separate his conditioned hair into two sections and start braiding them. One of his favorite feelings in the world is feeling you play with his hair. Braiding is one of them. He loves the gentle, but prominent tugs he feels when a piece is tangled in your fingers. It’s the kind of pleasure that makes him shut his eyes and fall asleep under your touch under given any situation.

“Um, yeah, but I wasn’t really thinking about that.” He turns his head to look at you behind him. “If I move really quickly, like, turning my head to the right,” he rapidly turned his head to the other direction as a demonstration, “It looks like I’m getting hit with, like, a light.”

“Oh, you’re saying it’s shiny?”

“Yeah, but when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound as cool,” he muttered. A pout now adorning his face.

You grab liquid soap and start rubbing it over his body. “If you want it to shine, you gotta let it sit for a bit, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You rub your hands on his back. Your fingers slide through every dip of his bones. His muscles flexed firmly under your touch. You circle your soapy hands around his shoulders and neck. He shuts his eyes with a tight sigh and turns around. He looks at your body, up and down with eyes so fierce, he could start a fire by simply thinking of one. The dim lighting of your bathroom hugged his sharper features while highlighting his softer ones, the ones Carla gifted him. He looks down at your chest again and then down at your hands. Your eyes were stuck on his once he met them. Slowly lowering his hands, he reaches for yours and gives each one a quick squeeze before placing them on his stomach. He looked down at your hands and looked up at you again through his eyebrows. His forehead creased and pupils almost touched his upper lids

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping closer to him while caressing his body. You watched big and small bubbles follow your hands through his skin. You left a trail where your hands passed, through his chest, which flexed under your touch, his shoulder blades that felt tight, his abdominals, which you made sure to apply extra pressure to the creases and dips of his muscles, and his arms. You felt his hairs slowly rise under your touch.

And while you focused on how his body reacted to your touch, he squeezed soap into his hands and rubbed them together, placing them on your body, too. A small gasp slips from your lips as his hands slip through your body. His gaze followed his hands that traveled through you. He circled his hands around your shoulders and collar bones. Big, rough hands washing the most delicate parts of you. He stepped closer, so close his body was joined with yours, his hardened cock against your pelvis. You felt a storm of shivers intrude in your body. Making you almost as warm as the clouds of steam that surrounded you. You look at Eren in the eyes, he isn’t looking at you. He’s too focused on his hands as he slides them lower. His eyes quickly shot up at yours, silently asking if you were okay with it.

With a quick and breathless nod, he focuses on your chest again. He cups both breasts at the same time, soapy hands tickling your hardened nipples. You moan and look up at him. He didn’t look real. He was wet with his hair neatly into two braids and a cloud of smoke behind him. Everything looked opaque and unreal. It was too good to be true.

He squeezed your breasts, fuck. His deep groan echoed and bounced around every wall in the squared room until it disappeared into the steam.

“Eren,” you whimper.

He squeezes you again and dissolves the harshness of his hold with a massage. It made you dizzy, hazy. How the slightest bit of pain could feel like the most blissful sensation you have ever felt.

“Eren.” You moan this time.

“Yeah?”

“So–you’re so hard,” you say breathlessly.

“Ignore that.” He squeezed your breasts once more before massaging your shoulders again.

“Eren.”

He shut his eyes and moved his hands down your stomach.

“Er-”

He squatted down and slid his hands down your legs. He looked up at you with big eyes that pleaded. His cheeks flushed pink from the steam and water dripped from his body and face. His hands were warm and squeezed everything they touched. While keeping your eyes locked with his, he laid a gentle kiss on your pussy.

You gasp from feeling his cold lips make contact with your skin. A warm feeling rushes south and pools in your stomach. And he does it again; keeps his eyes on yours while gently kissing your soft skin. You stabilize yourself by grabbing his hair. He kisses again, this time adding his tongue. You pull on his hair, desperate to release the tension on your cunt. Eren moans, deep and low against your skin, terrifying you with an attack of chills. He quickly kisses the same spot again before raising his lips to kiss your stomach and then your neck as he gets up.

He grabbed onto your neck with one hand and roughly pulled you against him. His hardness touching your stomach, and lips crashing with yours, teeth and noses bumping against each other with the swift movement.

“Mhm,” you whine before opening your mouth and allowing him access. He parts your legs with his knee and places the top of his tight under your pussy.

He takes your hips in his hands and rubs your cunt on his thigh. He flexes his thighs and bites your lower lip when he feels the pulsations coming from your clit, above his muscles.

You grind on him, back and forth, as you gasp for air. It was too much. Him, licking your pathetic breaths away while you ridiculously grinned on his thigh and as his cock embarrassingly pressed against your stomach, was too much. You were both panting disasters who felt too hot to be holding onto each other as you did. It was all too much for you, and him, too.

Eren couldn't wait another second. “Fuck,” he muttered before spinning you around and pressing you—chest first— into the cool and wet tile wall.

His cock, now inches away from where you want—no, need him the most. You arch your back with a cry. It hurt. To be left untouched, like this, hurts. Your cunt throbbed and you felt like every throb that built up would eventually explode. That’s how much you needed him.

It’d be untrue if Eren said he didn’t feel the same. His balls felt tight and strained, he needed that release in pressure, too. Having you against a wall, completely bare and dripping wet for him, had his lungs failing as he couldn’t take one proper breath with You like this in his sight.

“I know, baby. I know.” One hand massaged the soft curve of your ass and his other pumped his cock while his tip was pressed between your ass cheeks.

You feel his struggle and arch your back deeper while spreading your legs further.

He separated your ass cheeks with his thumb and watched his cock get swallowed in your warmth.

Eren closed his eyes with a sigh of pleasure, satisfaction, and desperation, all combined into one. He felt as if his neck muscles could no longer hold his head up and allowed it to fall, to hang between your bodies as he continued to push through the tightness of your cunt.

Your cunt gripped onto him so tightly, he could barely move. Your cheek was pressed against the wall along with your chest. The contrast of having something so crisp, so cold, against one half of your body while your other was completely involved and wrapped in the warmness of all kinds: solid, liquid, gas, made you hazy. Your head was foggier than the room you stood in.

“I’m all in.” He breathed heavily behind you. “I’m all in,” he said slowly. His hands held his body by pressing them against the wall in front of you, head laying on the back of your shoulder, your warm skin and scent spinning his world. He groaned heavily behind your ear, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses on that spot. He pulled his hips back and his lower body twitched, fuck.

You were so tight. With his eyes still shut, he rolled them to the back of his head. So, so, so tight. He sometimes forgets but is always reminded, not with the first thrust, but with that first attempt to pull out, how your walls clamp around him so tightly it almost hurts. He slams his hips forward, almost angry with how you make him feel. With how quickly you make him fight back an orgasm. You’re pushed further against the wall with the impact, a broken moan spilling from your opened mouth.

He pulled back until he saw only his tip inside, and pushed back in. He hit every spot at once. Eren didn’t even have to try, but he put in the effort anyway. Snapping his hips forward with a wave of his hips. Fucking up into you.

Every sound released in the air sounded like chants. They all echoed around the room and slid in the deepest parts of your ears. You wanted to scream his name, make it sound like a choir because you’re sure it’d be possible.

The sounds of water crashing on top of you, angry slaps of skin against skin, also adorned the air. The warm water flowing through your skin, his cock making your walls clench around him, and every push of his hips into yours, pushing you further against the wall…

It was too much. It was all too much.

“Eren,” you whine. Desperate for that release.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-” You’re interrupted by a moan spilling from your lips and joining all the other sounds in the air.

“You’re close—yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Gonna cream around my cock?”

Your face heats up. No matter how cold the surface you’re against is, nothing could have cooled the hot rush of blood that invaded your face when he said that.

He smacks your ass. Watching it jingle under him. He gave it a squeeze that was bound to leave a mark.

“Answer.”

He fucked into you harsh and hard and slow, giving you enough time to process and flavor each thrust, focus on every touch of his body with yours.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath as he pulled out.

Your eyes snap open instantly at the loss of contact. You pissed him off, he’s not gonna let you cum. “Eren, you’re-” You start, but you’re cut off with Eren's hands on your shoulders, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall, in the position you were in when this started.

He looked down at your body and grabbed your breast. Eren split your legs open with his thigh, took one of your legs, and held it against his hip. His cock was so fucking hard, it had veins. It twitched up and his tip, which is usually pink, was flushed one or two shades darker. He held himself by the base and pushed into your never-ending warmth. Eren closed his eyes and wrapped the leg that he held, around his back, which pushed him deeper into you.

“Eren—fuck.” He held his hand over your mouth. Your eyes widened and your chest heaved up and down.

“You wanted to stay quiet, right? Stay—quiet then.” He panted, trying as hard as he could to not show Your effect on him.

You open your mouth, but he just wraps his hand tighter around your face, your jaw. He pulled out of you a bit, your leg not allowing him much space.

“Shut the fuck up.” He snapped his hips up into you.

You moan against his mouth. He thinks your muffled voice sounds even better against his skin.

Eren’s other hand reached for your breast and squeezed. His head fell against yours. Forehead to forehead, he now looks at your eyes and watches you moan and gasp against his hand.

“Didn’t I tell her to shut the fuck up?” He loves how disobedient you are at times. It gives him a rush that he just can’t seem to explain. Eren squeezed on your chest harder and fucked into you quicker.

Your eyes were shut, and your body was held up by him and the wall. Your legs were exhausted, and your arms held up by his shoulders. You clawed at any skin you could find, whether it was his chest, shoulder, or back, it didn’t matter. It somehow helped to release the built-up tingles that flowed through your body with every drop of water.

Eren removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his mouth. Kissing you deeply and breathing you in at the same time. Your hands quickly find his hair and pull him closer.

He lets go of your lips and says, “please—please cum.”

Your mouth was left open in front of his, but you didn’t join it. You were close, you could feel that rush in your core.

“I can’t take it anymore. Please, baby. Cum.”

You moaned, loud and clear, it echoed around the room and hit him back, snuck into the deepest parts of his ears. “Fuck,” He whispered. Though it was audibly low, you didn’t miss the crack of his voice. “I need you to cum. Need to feel you—please.” His deep breaths filled your ear. His lips kissed the top of your ear, all while he pushed you up and down the tile wall. “Gonna fill you up—once you do. Promise.”

You threw your head back against the wall. He was so whiny. How could he be so dominant and then beg you to let him cum?

“Gonna make you so full of my cum—fuck. You’re gonna make a mess of my cock when you cream around it, right? You fucking slut.” He groaned.

And that’s when you came. With one deep gasp, you felt chills race down your back and felt sounds come from your mouth, but you couldn’t hear them. Tingling sensations erupted from your core and trembled your whole body. You felt high,

higher than you ever had before, and when you came crashing down, you fell against his body. Into his arms with the biggest smile that could fit your face as he mercilessly chanced his high.

Your cunt pulsated around him, he felt it specifically on his tip and he couldn’t hold it anymore. With a few more thrusts, he came. Eren completely emptied himself in you and shot his warm cum as far back as he could reach. His face was on your shoulder, his teeth chewing down at your soft and wet flesh as he fucked into you, riding out his high until his body’s twitching made him stop.

Eren stood still, still inside you and panting heavily. Your body, heavy, but held by him and the wall. He had, actually, quite literally, fucked you dumb, he smiled to himself.

“Baby?”

He grabbed your face in his hand and turned it to look at him. Your eyes were lidded and your pupils, blown out.

“Hey, baby,” he shook your head in his hand, “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and tucked in, yeah?”

You smile and nod.

***

After washing your bodies again, you finished showering. You now looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You were moisturizing your face while Eren was somewhere in your bedroom, probably already asleep, like always.

A few minutes before, he was sat on the marbled counter, his back against the mirror and his hair tucked back with a gray headband with the cutest bunny ears on top. His eyes were shut, and his eyebrows creased as you applied SPF on his skin. Sometimes Eren forgot to do the nighttime routine you specifically made for him, but on the nights, he did remember, he thoughtfully enjoyed it, especially if it was done by you.

His favorite part of bonding with you like this is making questions he already knows the answer to. “What’s this for?” As he holds a cleanser. “Is this water?” As you tap hyaluronic acid on his skin. “Why is this so wet?” As you tapped the moisturizer in. Honestly, he didn’t care about the products or what they did. What he looked forward to, was seeing you explaining what that specific product did and why he should use it. Sometimes he’d get extra annoying and ask the reason behind each use. He watched you with a sneaky smile on his face as you scolded him on why his face should be wet when you’re applying ‘more wet’ on his face, referring to the hyaluronic acid and moisturizer.

You were so passionate about it, eyes expanding every time you said, “moisture barrier,” and “slugging.” As if any of those words were even remotely related to the question he asked, or maybe they were, he wouldn’t know.

“Mmm. I think I get it now,” he said. Eren watched as your eyes grew hopeful and shined with happiness.

“Really?!”

“No.” He plopped down from the counter and kissed your pouty mouth. “Don’t take too long in here.” And left out the door.

You smile at the recent memory as you spread the extra product on your neck. After quickly washing your hands, you head to your bedroom. When you open the door, you carefully tiptoe in, afraid to wake him up. He’s grumpy, you’ve made that a mental note. After four-light steps in, he notices your presence. “Took you long enough.” He muttered, his forearm covered his eyes, his Adam’s apple popped out due to his outstretched neck.

“Sorry, got distracted with… some music,” you say as you lift one knee on the bed and crawl in.

When Eren felt your weight on the mattress, he placed the arm on his face on your side of the bed, his hand closed and opened, he did grabby hands.

You take the invitation and lie on top of it. Eren turns on his side and pulls you closer. You slip your legs and body in the warmth that’s found under your duvet and cough out a laugh at how Eren has already taken his special place on your chest. He nudged his face on the warm flesh of your breasts and allowed the heartbeat and raising and falling of your chest to steer his mind into a calmer place, one he felt safe in and happy to enter. Your scent and the overall comfort of laying like this just made the experience better.

He laid a few kisses on your breasts and tangled his legs with yours. You laugh at his clinginess. You find it adorable but surprising, especially when he felt comfortable enough to show you this side of him.

You’re not sure how you expected a man like Eren to sleep with his partner, but what he does now is not it.

The first night you stayed over at his place, back when you were young and dumb college students who called each other's dorm rooms their place, was normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. He cuddled when you scooted closer to him, he drew circles on your bare and vulnerable skin and kissed your forehead any time he could. Back then he felt distant, though. Nothing like the man he is now. He didn’t necessarily make you think he didn’t like you, but that he didn’t feel comfortable with too much PDA, which is something you respected.

It wasn’t after a year or so of dating that he was intimate with you like this. What you found special about that night was that he looked for your warmth while he was asleep. He looked for you when his consciousness and pride couldn’t stop him. When he scooted closer to you, you thought he wanted to spoon you like he always did. You thought his warm arms would loosely wrap around your body. You thought he would press his chest to your back. You thought you’d eventually feel his breathing on your neck; the definition of protecting someone; but then he didn’t, he did the exact opposite, actually. He pressed his head against your heart and held you by the waist, tightly, very tightly. Weirdly, in the same way, a child hugs a teddy bear when they crave affection.

Your heart burst into a million pieces upon seeing him like that, you don’t know why. Maybe it was how innocent he looked? His brown hair was tucked behind his ears and his pale skin of winter, glimmered when hit with the light from the full moon outside. His long eyelashes fluttered and tickled your skin. Eren looked so at peace, so comfortable.

That night, you wrapped your arms around his head and allowed him to breathe you in, to feel you. You brushed his hair and felt him hug you tighter. You kissed the top of his head and found sleep not long after. The next morning, Eren woke up later than usual. You woke him by scratching and kissing his head gently, and for the first time since you’ve spent the night with him, he wasn’t unexplainably grumpy when awakened. He fluttered his eyes open and upon seeing your face higher than his, him in your arms, he froze. Stayed still for a minute or two, maybe three, honestly. But after the unknown minutes that he spent collecting his emotions, his eyes soon found yours. He stared at you with a shy smile as he said, “morning.” His sleepy voice made your chest rise.

Since then, it’s not uncommon for Eren to go to sleep in your arms. It usually happens after a long day when he’s ready to be vulnerable.

You scratch his head while he closes his eyes and pulls you tighter against him. He really needed you. You don’t say anything, though. It’s better to give him his space, to allow him to soak up all the comfort your body is willing to give. And just as you had figured, he broke the silence first.

His eyes were closed, breathing faint, but still there, when he said, “today was shitty.”

You hum in acknowledgment.

“Remember when you told me tea had caffeine in it?”

“Mhm.” You close your eyes and focus on his voice as you brush his hair back.

“I can’t stand the smell of my breath after coffee, and my mask traps it in. So, I drank tea today because it has caffeine in it.

“I went to work and maybe two hours in, I was already exhausted. When I had to present my idea today, I forgot almost everything I had to say. I was so tired. Kristen and Springer made a few comments about my stuttering, but Braus said I did fine.” He sighed a weighted breath. It hit the skin of your breasts. It was warm, too. “I don’t think I’ll get that promotion. My colleagues are assholes and I’m over this fucking job.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered, hoping you hadn’t heard him.

You had.

“Eren, you don’t have to hide how you feel from me.” You look down at him and see his fingers playing with the straps of your tank top. He blinks as he looks down at your skin. “You know you can be vulnerable. I won’t ever judge you.”

He stares down at your skin, warm and soft, and presses his face harder against you. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears flowed from his eyes onto your skin. His cheeks had blotches of pretty pink that covered them, the tip of his nose was flushed red, and it stung. He sniffed, hoping the discomfort from his nose would disappear but an accidental hiccup slipped from the back of his throat. And if the warm tears that shimmered your skin with the moonlight weren’t enough of a sign, this is.

“Baby.” You kiss the top of his head and brush his hair back. “It’s okay.” You kiss him again, and again. “It's okay.”

“I'm just so tired.”

“Of what, baby? You can tell me anything.”

“Of a nine-to-five. Of not having time for the shit, I want to do. I feel like I can't even get a good night’s sleep anymore. I feel stuck. Like a caged animal. This isn’t what I wanted to do in life and I just get so angry-”

He stops and takes a deep breath. “My whole life, all I've ever prioritized was my education so that I could get a job and be independent. I was so set on proving my sister wrong. Proving to her that I don't need her, that I don’t need her protection… that I never gave any passion or hobby of mine much thought.”

His right-hand traced circles on your back. His shoulders trembled a bit. His voice traveled through your ears in waves. “I guess I didn't realize how empty and disgusting my life was until this last week. How am I a slave to other people’s wants and desires in my life but not to my own? I don’t even know what I want. If I told you right now what I want, it’d be a lie.”

Eren looked at the supple skin of your breast and laid a gentle kiss on your skin. A teardrop fell when he closed his eyes while doing so. He opened his eyes to see another teardrop fall on your skin. He waits for it to melt and blend into your skin before a breathy chuckle fills the air. He lightly closes his eyes before shaking his head and grinning ever wider.

“You know what’s fucked, but made me happy?

“When Mikasa came to me, asking me for money last year. You remember that don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“To see my big sis, the fucking pride and joy of the family, Mikasa Ackerman on my doorstep asking me for a small loan of a couple thousand to get her through the week, was truly the highlight of my year. And don’t get me wrong, I felt bad for her, of course, I did. She’s my sister. But it’s like my ego grew twice as big when I saw that out of all the people she knew, she came to me for help.

“She could’ve asked Armin, or even our parents, but no, she chose me. When I realized she finally saw me as enough—as reliable enough to help her, I realized how caged my life was. After that, it just went downhill. After getting that small satisfaction that I no longer craved, I realized just how empty my life was. The only thing that felt right was you, of course. But other than that, I have a shitty job and a shitty, boring life. I want to do something, anything. Literally, anything would be better than this. Last week I had a dream that the world was fucking ending and got disappointed because I woke up. You know, I actually did shit in that dream. I was the hero.”

It didn’t feel like the end of a sentence. It felt like Eren had more to say but considering just how long he’s kept this to himself, you feel like pushing more information out of him would just be cruel. This is more than enough for you to understand what’s happening. Actually, you didn’t think you were even getting this much.

“Eren, I support you.” You look down at him and sweep his hair away from his forehead. “I’ll always support you. If you want to quit your job and figure out what you want to do, I'll get one.”

Eren looks up at you, at the light twinkling in your eyes, at the truth spilling from your lips, and at the admiration shining in your eyes.

“We can figure this out together. You would never allow me to be miserable if the roles were switched.” You breathe in, and out. “Allow yourself to be vulnerable, Eren. You aren’t weak or unreliable if you ask for help, or even if you allow others to do things for you. You deserve to be taken care of just like you’ve done with me and everyone else in your life.”

Eren felt his chest rise with your words. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He shielded his emotions by laying his cheek against your chest again. He breathed you in, so heavy that your arms were lifted from the sudden expansion of his back, and he said, “thank you, for everything.”

Just what would I do without Her?

-

dipping for another month lol (jk lol)

-

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[marwritesgood]

Invisible String | S. Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Summary: [Based on Invisible String - Taylor Swift] Even after two years apart, all signs seemed to point her back to Sherlock, despite her best attempts at ignoring them.

masterlist

A/N: This is a part of my folklore/evermore-inspired fic collection.

This one is a long one! Many details from the movie have been changed slightly. I had quite a big plan going into this, so I didn't pay as close attention to characterisation and accuracy as I would have liked to, but I do quite like how it turned out!

Nonetheless I hope its a good read x

There will be one more part following this story :)

Y/n felt her feet begin to drag as she sped across the train station platform with her uncle trailing closely behind her. She could not bear the thought of being in her hometown any longer. Not after an especially humiliating end to what was meant to be a promising season for her.

She marched with determination, aiming to kick and scream her way onto the train that was already preparing to take off. She would have made it too had it not been for the old woman who came out from nowhere and took hold of her hands.

"Miss Y/l/n, would you care for a quick reading?"

Agatha was a pleasant old woman who Y/n never previously thought ill of. However, for the mere reason that she was standing in her way, Y/n felt her cheeks heat up in frustration and she forced a smile. Throwing a fit would only slow her down.

"On any other given day, I absolutely would, but our train is about to-"

Y/n was interrupted by the sound of the train whistle and the roaring of its engine. Her already sour mood worsened as she watched it leave the station, knowing the next train would not be for another half hour.

"Appears meant to be, does it not?"

She turned to her uncle Francis and met his mockingly cheerful smirk with a bitter frown. Agatha took hold of her hand once more and gestured towards the small table she was stationed at with her crystal ball. Y/n sighed.

"Oh, all right."

Agatha grinned as she guided her towards the empty chair across from where she was previously seated. Y/n huffed as she hovered her fingers over her side of the crystal orb. This was not her first time sitting with Agatha.

The woman glanced at the crystal and inhaled deeply, mumbling something quietly to herself. She was well aware that Y/n was sceptical about her craft, but Agatha was most intrigued by the way she begrudgingly sat herself down with her every time.

"Are you in quite a hurry, Miss Y/l/n?"

"I suppose you could say that," Y/n answered mindlessly.

"Running away from something?"

Y/n's eyes shot up at Agatha and narrowed.

"Lucky guess," she muttered.

"Hm," Agatha's brows crinkled as she squinted and peered closer into the ball. There was something most intriguing embedded in the fabrics of her future.

"What is it?"

While she did not necessarily believe in fortune-telling, Y/n quickly found herself with nothing left to do than become somewhat invested in whatever conclusion Agatha would make about her destiny. From the way the inquisitive look on the woman's face, it was not difficult to be even the slightest bit interested.

Agatha finally leaned back and met Y/n's eager eyes with little to no expression.

"You've not made much progress in finding a suit this season, have you?"

Y/n scoffed and pulled her hands away. For someone trying to make a business out of her supposed gift, she was clearly still learning how to speak to her customers in a way that was not offensive.

"If you are going to just insult me, I will be on my way-"

"Allow me to finish," Agatha interjected, grabbing hold of the young woman's hands and guiding her back down. "I see a change in your luck occurring soon."

Once more, the young woman let out a huff.

"Go on."

"It will happen when you least expect it, but it will be soon," Agatha explained.

"How very conveniently vague," Y/n muttered.

"Your scepticism will not change your fate, Miss Y/l/n."

The younger woman shrunk. Perhaps it was rude to respond so smugly to something she was being stated with sincerity, whether or not it held any truth. Satisfied, Agatha gazed upon her crystal ball and closed her eyes momentarily.

"On your path towards this new suitor, I see.... a field of daffodils," she stated as she scanned through her perception of Y/n's future. "And I see a necklace, a cartographer and... and an apple."

Y/n shut her lips tightly as she stifled a laugh. This time, her amusement was less in regards to her disbelief and more to the thought of being matched to a mapmaker with impaired vision. It was hardly the sugarcoated fairytale she was expecting to be sold on.

Shortly after, the sound of the train track echoed through the station as the 4 o'clock train to London arrived. Agatha opened her eyes and smiled wearily at the only person who agreed to receive a reading from her all week.

"I suppose that is my cue to let you go."

Y/n dropped her hands and reached for the money she had stored in the small purse she carried with her. Much to Agatha's surprise, the young woman placed the money in her hand and smiled warmly before rising from her seat.

"I thought you do not believe in fortune-telling," Agatha sputtered, taken aback that she was choosing to pay for a service she did not buy into at all.

"I do not," Y/n shrugged before turning towards her train, but not without grinning at the now grateful old woman.

As agitating as Agatha could be, Y/n knew she was tight on money. While she could care less what the stars had written for her, she did not mind sitting with Agatha just to be able to offer up what limited financial help she could give. It was the very reason Y/n typically took her up on her offer.

She and her Uncle Francis continued down the platform as they headed towards the entrance of the train when Y/n stopped in her tracks. There was a young girl being approached by a train station guard and there was something eerily familiar about her.

"Uncle, would you be willing to purchase an extra ticket?"

Francis nodded without thinking to question why. As he trodded along to the nearest ticket booth, Y/n approached the guard and the girl, both of whom she was well acquainted with.

"Mr Slater, I hope you are not reprimanding my charge." Y/n looped her arm through the young girl's and turned to face the guard with a disapproving scowl. "As her governess, I do believe that is my job."

"You are this young girl's governess?" Mr Slater narrowed his eyes. He had spoken to Miss Y/l/n on several occasions and never once did she mention being a governess to a particularly troublesome youth.

"Do you question my integrity, Mr Slater?"

The guard's eyes widened in horror and he immediately shook his head profusely. While he was not convinced she was telling the truth, he knew better than to cross her.

"Of course not, Miss Y/l/n," he winced.

"Then you will excuse us," Y/n smiled, before turning away and heading for the train, her grip on the young girl's arm still firm.

Once she was certain no one was suspicious of the two of them and that Mr Slater was well out of earshot, Y/n loosed her grip.

"It is lovely to see you again, Enola," she murmured, her eyes still glued to the path ahead of them.

"I was hoping you would not recognise me," Enola groaned.

When she saw Y/n sitting with the fortune-telling lady, Enola tried her best to make it by without raising suspicion until she bumped right into a train station guard. Y/n let out a quiet laugh as the two of them boarded the train.

"I think you will find that you Holmes siblings are terribly difficult to erase from memory," she muttered. After a quick glance down at the young girl, Y/n made note of her pitiful disguise. "-Even with a frilly dress and a ridiculous hat."

Enola lifted her hand and took her hat off before chuckling. She was most sceptical about wearing it but the lady at the store had her convinced it was all the rave now.

"It is quite ridiculous isn't it."

As the two of them followed Francis into the first available private compartment, Enola found herself feeling uneasy as she remembered the entire reason she was undercover, to begin with.

"Will you be alerting my brothers that you have seen me?"

Her voice was small and filled with worry. Y/n frowned momentarily. While she knew it was the right thing to do, she also knew Enola would not have run away for no good reason. After a moment's deliberation, Y/n sighed, her mind already decided.

"If that is what you wish," she began, before glancing down at Enola and offering an assuring smile. “But, if it is not, I will not tell another soul.”

Y/n felt nostalgic as she spoke. When Enola was old enough to run and talk, Y/n always promised to keep quiet when it came to the mischief she would get up to around the estate. She envied the freedom Enola had to run amuck with no strict and rigid parents to refrain her from doing so. For that reason, Y/n was determined to preserve that freedom in every she possibly could.

“That is," Y/n continued. "After you tell me why you are running from your brothers.”

"You know why," Enola sighed.

Following the death of their father, Mycroft and Eudoria revisited the plans put in place for what would happen in the event of her death. While most of it was legal jargon that no one else cared for, it was the matters pertaining to Enola's guardianship that became a highly contested topic.

With Eudoria's recent disappearance, Y/n quickly realised that meant Enola was now under the care of her eldest brother. She felt an evergrowing bitterness settle in her stomach as she remembered the heated argument she engaged in with Enola's older brothers, both of whom saw no flaw in Mycroft becoming her guardian.

"What does he have planned for you?"

Y/n held her breath and hoped it was far from what she feared would happen. That poor Enola was not being forced to stare down the barrel of a finishing school and an arranged marriage.

"Exactly what you suspected."

Y/n winced.

“But it is more than just Mycroft," Enola added. The young girl inhaled sharply. "It is also my mama.”

“I am sorry to hear about her disappearance,” Y/n frowned.

While Eudoria Holmes was an incredibly complex woman, it was always clear how much she loved her daughter and how dedicated she was to raising Enola. For this reason, Y/n could not understand what possessed Eudoria to leave.

"I believe she has been trying to communicate with me."

"You do?"

"Yes," Enola smiled. "And if I can get to London, I am certain I will be able to find her."

Y/n wanted to feel comforted by Enola's unwavering confidence, however, she could not obliviate the immense worry that loomed over her. Even as the young girl explained her thought-out plan of getting to London, the crease between Y/n brows as she listened remained.

When Enola finally finished her vague explanation of what was an incredibly detailed and complex plan, she stood up from her seat and headed towards the other side of the train carriage.

"Enola, that sounds like an awfully dangerous pursuit."

"I am aware of the risks I am taking, Y/n," she replied nonchalantly.

"I don't believe that you are," Y/n replied honestly.

While she hated being yet another person doubting Enola's judgement, Y/n knew her doubts came from a place of concern, not her ego. However, it appeared to make no difference, as Enola's expression remained blank. In fact, just as Y/n went to speak again, the young girl turned her back and sped off to the other end of the train carriage.

"Enola, where are you going?"

Y/n followed after her and felt her anxiety grow exponentially as she watched Enola unlock the door and peer outside. The train was passing an empty field and was headed for a bridge.

"It was really lovely seeing you again, Y/n," Enola smiled sincerely when she turned back momentarily. "I've missed you terribly, as have my brothers."

Y/n's eye's widened as she realised what the young girl was doing and felt her stomach drop. She wouldn't, Y/n hoped. Not when they were closer and closer to the bridge. But Enola just smirked.

"One of them in particular."

Y/n sprinted for the door and watched with terror as Enola leapt from where she stood and disappeared from the doorway.

"Enola!"

She raced towards the nearest window just as the train carriage made a sharp turn and approached the bridge. It was not until she saw Enola's figure safely standing up on the field where she landed that Y/n finally exhaled.

After catching her breath, she headed back to her cabin and hoped she would get to see Enola again soon. Y/n's thoughts were far too flooded with worry, she barely noticed the yellow flowers that adorned the field they had passed nor Enola's last words before she jumped.

When the train finally arrived in London, there was a familiar brooding gentleman standing on the platform. When Y/n grew impatient with the long line of people waiting to exit her carriage, she cursed the fact that she and her uncle were the last two waiting. She stood on the tip of her toes and squinted as she peered through a nearby window.

It had been two years, but it was still so easy to recognise him. Not only was Sherlock wearing the same hat he did when they last spoke but he still stood tall and stiff like one of the lampposts they passed on walks through his hometown. Y/n wondered if he still remembered those lampposts or if they, too, were a disregarded memory.

When she and Francis finally reached the exit, Sherlock was in the middle of questioning an old couple. Francis was able to race past without the detective noticing however when Y/n lowered her head and attempted to do the same she was outrun and out of luck.

"Miss Y/l/n.”

His tone was ever so stern and formal which made Y/n's face scrunch. She begrudgingly turned around and faced him, donning a sarcastic smile as she watched the gentleman step closer.

“Detective,” she spoke curtly.

“What brings you to London?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes. Though she would never admit it, she had spent many hours imagining what he would say the next time their paths crossed. She hoped for, at the very least, an apology but was instead with him questioning her as though she were a suspect in his latest murder investigation.

“Why is that of any interest to you? I do believe this is a train platform, not a police station.”

“Avoiding the question, I see,” he noted snidely.

She glared at him and stepped closer.

"I would choose my next words very carefully if I were you," she warned. He sighed and for a moment Y/n could have sworn he smirked.

"You are travelling alone?"

"Of course not," Y/n answered, before turning around and gesturing her hand towards her uncle Francis who was organising their carriage.

“Is there something you want, Mr Holmes?”

“My sister, Enola. She is missing,"

Y/n inhaled sharply and immediately regretted it after remembering just how annoyingly attentive Sherlock was. In an attempt to save face, she softened her expression and mustered an answer as quickly as she could.

"I am sorry to hear," she responded rapidly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and studied her closely. It had been a while, but he could still pick up on her nervous habits. The way her pace of breath changed and how she averted her eyes. It was as clear as day to him.

“You have seen her.”

He expected her to crack and immediately disclose any information she had, but Sherlock was quickly remembering that Y/n was far from predictable. When she began laughing at his question, it became clear to him that she would not be letting up any time soon.

“Of course, I have seen her, Mr Holmes." Y/n shrugged condescendingly, a sly grin ever-present on her lips. "I have known Enola since she was a mere infant.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know that,” he scolded, a familiar sense of agitation settling uncomfortably beneath his skin. Y/n was unfazed by his frustration. If anything, it amused her. Even so, Sherlock continued to press for answers.

“You are hiding something.”

“Everyone hides things,” Y/n shrugged.

She turned her heels and attempted to head back to her uncle Francis, but Sherlock raced past her and obstructed her path. He was beyond agitated.

“If you know where my sister is, you must tell me at once.”

"Why must I? She is not your ward," Y/n hissed.

Sherlock's brows rose in surprise. Even after two years, she was still adamant about advocating on his sister's behalf. Though he could now

"Again with this?" Sherlock laughed bitterly, bruising Y/n's ego in a way he had grown masterful at. There were few things she despised more than being patronised and he knew it better than anyone else. "My answer is as it was two years ago when you nagged me relentlessly about this."

"Well, then you need only look at your reflection to find the culprit for your sister's disappearance," Y/n sneered.

"I will never understand-"

"Your brother means well but you know how he treats Enola," she interrupted. For a man so brilliant, she could not fathom why he still did not understand her reasoning. "... Like she is a mere burden and not a young girl with her own thoughts and pursuits."

"You do not know what you speak of."

Y/n could not help but laugh. She knew precisely what she was saying. It was the very reason Enola confided in her and not one of the other adults that surrounded her.

"And you do not know what it is like to be a young girl whose entire destiny rests in someone else's hands," Y/n shouted, her jaw clenching as she a lump rise in her throat. "It is terrifying and daunting, so I can understand what possessed Enola to run away, especially when you can very easily change her circumstance by becoming her legal guardian... yet you continue to choose not to."

Sherlock's cheeks flushed. It had been a long while since he was confronted so aggressively regarding his role and duties within his family. Two years to be exact. He was quickly remembering the very reason he chose to pursue work such a great distance away from home.

"You are overstepping your bounds, Miss Y/l/n," he growled.

Since arriving in London, he had encountered more than his fair share of irritating people, but no one got under his skin quite like Y/n. No matter how much he push and retaliated she was always eager to fire back just as ferociously.

"Only because you are being complacent to the demise of your sister's happiness and you know it," Y/n scorned. How could he leave her behind with such carelessness? "Your parents would have wanted more for her."

"Regardless whether or not that is the case," Sherlock fired back, unwilling to hear another word from her about it. "That is a private matter. And despite how persistently intrusive you continue to be with our lives, I must remind you, Miss Y/l/n, that you are not family."

She inhaled sharply, stifling a gasp behind her tightly held lips. She felt the corner of her eyes begin to sting but composed herself just before they glossed over with tears. She would not give him that satisfaction.

Not after he made it abundantly clear to her, through his two-year silence, that he did not care one bit for her feelings. That she was not significant enough to have a place in the new life he had paved in London.

“You have not changed at all, Sherlock."

He felt him should slump at the disappointment and hurt ever prominent in her tone. He knew he had a tendency to take things too far, but it was only with her that he felt affected by the ramifications of it.

“She could be in danger,” Sherlock whispered, hoping Y/n would finally come to her senses and tell him what she knew.

“Enola is a brilliant and capable young girl,” Y/n began.

She would have considered telling him the truth had he not been so patronising with her. Enola needed to discover the truth about Eudoria's disappearance and Y/n was willing to ensure she did just that. Especially considering the fate that awaited her if she made her presence known.

Y/n was fuming at Sherlock's utter disregard for just how affected Enola was and would be. She expected such ignorance from men the likes of Mycroft, but she always hoped Sherlock would never follow suit.

“I understand that you think so very highly of yourself, but you mustn’t let that ego of yours cloud your already questionable judgement."

“My judgement is perfectly fine,” he rebutted defensively.

“Then I am sure you will be able to solve this without badgering me for information I simply do not have," Y/n glared. "Now if you will excuse me.”

She pushed past him and finally made her way to her uncle and their carriage. As if her week was not already dreadful, to begin with, she had to encounter the most irritating detective in all of England. Y/n hoped it would be a long time before they ever crossed paths again. However, as Sherlock watch her carriage leave, he felt an unnerving urge to see her again and knew exactly how he could ensure that.

***

The following morning Y/n wandered the halls of her uncle's estate curiously. Normally Francis was found wandering the gardens with his wife, but neither one of them were in sight. When Y/n returned inside and headed towards the sitting room she heard the faint sound of two men speaking, both voices familiar.

"Uncle Francis?" Y/n called out as she cautiously knocked twice on the door before slowly entering. Francis was sitting with his wife on the chair facing the door while another gentleman had his back turned on the opposite seat.

"Oh, good morning, dear," Francis smiled, rising from his seat to greet his niece. "I trust you slept well?"

"I did," Y/n answered gratefully. It was a relief to be from home. She quickly returned her attention to the seemingly intense conversation he was having. "What is the meaning of all this?"

"My dear, you will remember Mr Holmes," Francis spoke, gesturing towards the fourth person in the room.

Y/n glanced at him once before taking the only other available seat which, much to her dismay, was beside Sherlock. The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence on opposite edges of the settee. Y/n wondered if her aunt and uncle could pick up on their disdain for one another.

"Of course, she remembers, my love," Margaret, Francis' wife, murmured. She grinned as she glanced over at the two before looking back to her husband. "They were practically inseparable during our time in the countryside house."

Y/n shifted awkwardly as she thought back to the last time her family and Sherlock's were together. That was the last time she could remember looking him in the eye and not feeling repulsed. It was hard to imagine they were once great friends.

"Miss Y/l/n," Sherlock spoke, turning his head and greeting her with a curt nod. Y/n offered no more than a sidelong glare before turning back to her uncle and ignoring Sherlock's presence entirely.

"Has something happened, uncle Francis?"

"A family heirloom was taken from our vault sometime last week," he explained sadly. "Your grandmama's lavalier. Her most prized possession, second only the pendant she gifted you when you came of age."

Y/n frowned. Her grandmother passed a mere three years ago and, as her only grandchild, Y/n was inherited many of her prized possessions. The lavalier, in particular, was meant to be gifted to her upon her wedding day. Weeks prior, Y/n was beaming at the thought of finally being able to wear her grandmother's beloved necklace. Now she was left disappointed yet again.

"The lavalier is missing?"

"Stolen," Sherlock corrected.

"I do believe I was speaking to my uncle, Mr Holmes," Y/n sneered.

"I suppose you are both right," Francis smiled, unaware of the tension in the room. Y/n sighed before turning to face Mr Holmes.

"Well, have you discovered who has taken it?"

"I believe your missing lavalier may be a part of a much larger ongoing chain of heists," Sherlock explained, ignoring Y/n's annoyance. "I have a lead I am rather confident in, I just need to inspect the premises before I go any further with my investigation."

The detective let out a small cough before excusing himself. Y/n watched curiously as he made himself scarce, noting something odd in the way he made himself scarce with such abruptness.

"I believe breakfast will be served soon, dear," Francis announced. His wife was already on her way towards the dining room when Y/n rose from her chair and spoke lowly.

"May I be excused, uncle?" She asked. "I don't particularly have an appetite at the moment."

"Well if you have a change of heart,"

"I won't, but thank you," Y/n smiled graciously.

Francis did not miss the way her eyes were glued to the window. It took him half a heartbeat to realise his niece was looking for the detective. The crinkle on her temple as she scanned the garden made him chuckle.

"Do not be too hard on the man, Y/n," he whispered.

His niece's eyes widened and she met his smirk with a humoured grin. Any other person in her family would have scolded her for acting with such impropriety. Her mama would have surely scolded her on how unbecoming her snide remarks and constant glares were. Francis was much different, which was the very reason she asked to go with him to London for a few weeks. She could hardly take another lecture or disapproving frown.

"Fear not, uncle," Y/n chimed. "I will be as kind to him as he has been to me."

She and her uncle parted ways in the corridor. While he followed after his wife, Y/n returned to the garden and looked for the brooding detective with a permanent frown. He was examing the gates from afar, trying to make note of the different points of entry.

"Have you spoken to the maids?" Y/n asked abruptly, startling Sherlock. While he scowled, she stood beside him and joined him in gazing at the gates. "They keep a very attentive eye while moving around the estate."

"I doubt it will be necessary," he dismissed.

"How can you be so sure?"

Y/n raised her brows and waited expectantly.

"I have my reasons," Sherlock answered shortly.

She scoffed. Never mind that she knew the estate far better than him, there was no interfering with what he decided was the truth.

"You have not changed at all," she muttered in disdain.

Sherlock turned around and walked towards the home. He liked conducting investigations on his own. It was the very reason he chose to work independently as opposed to with an agency.

"If you will excuse me, I have an inspection to conduct," he huffed.

She turned around followed him inside, unable to let him even a moment of peace. When he heard her footsteps follow him onto the paved foyer, Sherlock gritted his teeth. Why could she not leave him be like any other sensible person? Why did she have to go out of her way to get underneath his skin?

"Well, I have a beloved lavalier that I intend to find."

"I do believe I was the one asked to look into this," Sherlock argued pointedly, finally turning around and facing her again. She stopped in her tracks and glowered.

"You may have my uncle convinced that you are fit for the task at hand, but I remain rather sceptical."

"Ah, so it appears you have not changed at all either," he scoffed.

"Do you ever grow tired of being so self-righteous?" Y/n scorned.

"Do you ever grow tired of your relentless nagging?"

"No," she shouted. "I find it rather useful when dealing with frustratingly difficult people."

They were both far too busy glaring at one another to realise how close they stood. When he had no snide remark to respond with, Y/n let out a huff and stepped back. While she had much more to reprimand him about, there was a greater issue at hand.

"Sherlock, that lavalier means a great deal to me."

He softened his posture and nodded once. When news of her grandmother's passing reached the countryside, it was Sherlock who spent hours sitting beneath the willow tree comforting a very devastated Y/n.

Of course, he knew the necklace was greatly important to her. After all, it was the very reason he insisted on finding it free of charge.

"I cannot just sit idly knowing it is gone," Y/n sighed. She braced herself for an insulting response from the emotionally-detached detective himself but, to her surprise, he let out a smile.

"I know," he whispered.

Watching her eyes light up made his stomach turn in a way he found surprisingly favourable. It had been a while since he had seen that.

"So you will let me help?"

Sherlock gave it a moment's deliberation before remembering the lead he had. Y/n watched in anticipation as he narrowed his eyes before letting out a sigh.

"Hm... reluctantly so," he muttered before turning his back and walking towards the nearest bench. He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper before unfolding it. "As a matter of fact, your help may actually be crucial to retrieving it."

"Of course, it is," Y/n grinned as she assumed the seat beside him.

"You will remember I mentioned a pattern of heists targeting family heirlooms."

She nodded and watched intently as he held up a sketched out portrait of a man, the name Leonard Kingsley scribbled in the bottom left corner of the page.

"I believe I have found the culprit," Sherlock began, before quickly folding the page and tucking it back into his pocket before anyone else could see it. "Which is why your presence may prove to be useful in allowing me to corner him."

"How so?"

"He will be at a gala tomorrow," he explained lowly. "I initially planned on attending it alone, but it may be wiser to attend it in disguise, so as to catch him off guard."

Sherlock shifted closer to Y/n so only she could hear him, however, he kept his eyes averted and scanned the view ahead of him to appear as though they were not discussing anything of much importance. She took note of his behaviour and followed suit.

"And how exactly do I fit into this scheme of yours?" Y/n asked in a hushed tone.

"Well, the invitees are mostly couples," Sherlock answered. "If we were to pose as husband and wife, I am certain we will go unnoticed."

Y/n nervously glanced at him quickly, curious to see his expression. He was still so stoic, which irritated her far more than she would have liked. How could he propose they act as a couple so nonchalantly when the very thought of it made her heart pound?

She brushed off the thought and turned back to the view ahead of her, hoping he did not catch her watchful glance. Sherlock did.

"What if we are spotted by someone who recognises either one of us?" Y/n questioned, straightening her back and narrowing her eyes.

"The gala caters to a rather niche group of people," he assured. "I presume you are not well known among the London mapmaker society?"

Strange, Y/n thought. Though she knew no mapmakers, the topic of cartography felt oddly familiar. She quickly dismissed the thought.

"Very well, then," she nodded. "If that is what is needed to recover my missing necklace, then so be it."

Y/n rose from her seat and walked past him, unaware that Sherlock was not yet done speaking.

"Stolen," he muttered, prompting Y/n to scrunch her brows in confusion. When she turned to him, he finally met her gaze with teasing eyes and otherwise indifferent expression. "Your stolen necklace."

She bit her tongue and entered the house silently.

***

Y/n's eyes wandered down to her ungloved hands. Her mama would be livid if she knew what her daughter was up to. Y/n had never felt more exhilarated. She walked up to Sherlock who held the carriage door open for her.

"Shall we?"

She stepped out carefully, far too preoccupied with ensuring she did not stain her dress to notice his watchful glance. Sherlock pulled himself away and closed the carriage door. As they approached the doors to the building, she suddenly moved closer to him and tenderly looped her arm around his.

"What are you doing?"

Y/n glanced at him and stifled the urge to grin. There was something about the way he was so easily startled by her, not to mention the fact that he was not pulling away.

"We are acting as husband and wife, are we not?" Y/n quipped pointedly.

"For someone not yet matched, you seem to have a rather vivid understanding of how a couple behaves," he retorted quietly.

She winced. He was not the first to point out the fact that she was still unmarried, yet it still stung. She pursed her lips as they continued to follow the small crowd of guests.

"It's hardly a well-kept secret," she scoffed. "Or at least it is to anyone with an ounce of empathy and emotional intelligence."

"You only say that because you lack any real intelligence."

"I do pity the poor woman destined to tolerate your ego until death do you both part," Y/n groaned.

Sherlock glanced at her then at the sight of her bare fingers clinging onto his sleeve. It was clear she was nervous, so he took it as his opportunity to startle her for a change. Resisting the urge to grin, he moved closer to her and spoke lowly.

"The grip you have on my arm tells me it is envy you feel for her. Not pity."

Y/n gasped and slapped his shoulder lightly. Sherlock chuckled beneath his breath. If it had been any other person, he would have been livid.

"Not even in your wildest dreams, Mr Holmes," she hissed.

"Just for tonight then I suppose, Mrs Holmes."

He remained unfazed by her shocked expression and took hold of her hand before they walked into the ballroom. By the time they moved through the crowd and found a secluded spot to stand and spectate, her fingers were intertwined with his. Sherlock did not mind at all.

After several rounds of dancing, Y/n and Sherlock secured a spot close to the edge of the dance floor. From there, they were able to gauge a better view of the other attendees without raising suspicion.

"Do you see him?" Y/n asked.

Sherlock squinted as he looked across the room and nodded.

"He is across the ballroom," he sighed defeatedly. "It would be impossible to follow after him without raising suspicion."

Y/n raised a brow and leaned closer to him.

"For a self-proclaimed genius, you have a rather limited skill set, don't you?"

They were standing on the edge of a dance floor. Did he not see the obvious solution to their predicament? Just before the music changed, Y/n gripped his hand firmly.

"I shall have you know-"

He could hardly finish his sentence. Before he realised what was happening he found himself amidst other couples looking to dance the next set. Sherlock's breath quickened as he looked around the room nervously. He was never good at dancing but, luckily, Y/n knew that better than anyone.

"Just try and follow my lead," she whispered assuringly.

Y/n took hold of his shoulder with her free hand raised her elbows just as she had been taught. Sherlock glanced over quickly at the gentleman across the floor and tried his best to mimic.

When the music started, Sherlock found himself struggling to keep up with Y/n's swift and graceful movements. Thankfully, all of the other attendants appeared far too invested in their own conversations to notice his shaky hands and hesitant steps.

"Where did you learn to do this?" Sherlock asked curiously.

He would never admit it, but he was rather impressed. Though Sherlock never paid much mind to ballroom dances, he could tell Y/n was very skilled at it.

"I spent a month learning just about every ballroom dance," she explained. "And then another ten teaching it in Nottingham."

Sherlock drew his brows together in confusion.

"I took up an instructor position at Miss Moore's finishing school for young ladies," Y/n clarified but to no avail. He was still puzzled.

"How am I only just hearing of this now?"

"I took up the position after you left for London," she spoke softly. "I wrote to you about it, did you not receive the letter?"

Sherlock winced, his expression suddenly riddled with regret. It suddenly became clear to him why she was so short with him ever since their conversation at the train station.

"....I did," he gulped.

Her face fell.

"Oh," she inhaled sharply.

As the two of them continued to dance, Sherlock's guilt grew tenfold as he watched Y/n intently whilst she glanced at everyone but him. Of all the harsh insults he had thrown at her, she had never been as hurt as she was then.

When she realised the set was reaching its end, she quickly brought her attention back to her missing necklace. Sherlock sighed in relief when finally Y/n met his eyes.

"Do you see him?"

Sherlock scanned the room until he landed on the side door. The monocled man was approaching the worker by the door.

"He appears to be whispering something to the guard."

Y/n leaned back, guiding Sherlock towards the left side of the floor until she could get a closer look herself.

"He is heading outside," she whispered. "You should follow him."

"Only me?"

"I will make conversation while you go," she assured him, slowing her steps as the music came to an end. "It might raise suspicion if we are both missing."

Sherlock shook his head, despite Y/n pulling him off the dance floor and attempting to push him towards the door Mr Kingsely left through. He planted his feet firmly and reached for her hand, pulling her closer so no one could overhear their words.

"We do not know anyone here, Y/n," Sherlock reminded her. "You might find yourself in danger."

While Y/n had an urge to scoff at his sudden concern for her safety, particularly after his last revelation, she could not ignore the terror and guilt in his eyes. She sighed before taking firm hold of the sides of his arms.

"Sherlock, do you trust me?"

"Of course," he answered sincerely, without even a moment's deliberation.

"Then go," she whispered.

With nothing left to say, he turned headed for the door. Y/n returned to the crowd of mapmakers and braced herself for a night of pretence. It was

After a long gruelling conversation with the cartographer, Y/n finally managed to pull herself away long enough to get a glass of water. Having to lie about being married to a mapmaker for hours on end left her quite parched. When she finished, she began pacing back to the crowd until she bumped into a familiar figure.

"Oh, forgive me, ma'am," he apologised, turning around and reaching to help Y/n back up. She blinked dumbfoundedly when the realisation settled.

"Mr Harridge," Y/n whispered.

The very man who courted her, asked for her hand, only to retract his proposal all in one season. It had been quite some time since they last spoke. There was a time Y/n would have scorned him unashamedly at the first available opportunity. However, with the amount of time she had to grieve the future she once hoped for with him, she had no more spite. Only questions,

"Miss Y/l/n," he said curtly.

"Are you here alone?"

Mr Harridge gulped before shaking his head. Y/n had never seen him so terrified, not even after she had a heated argument with her mama the night he came over for dinner.

"No," he answered shakily. "Um... I am here with my wife."

"Your wife?"

He extended his hand and gestured past Y/n. She turned and realised he was pointing to the woman caressing her protruding stomach. It all made sense now.

"Oh, of course," Y/n whispered beneath her breath.

When it became clear he intended to propose, Y/n and Mr Harridge disclosed to one another the last person they previously held affections for. For Mr Harridge, it was the woman now carrying his child. For Y/n, it was a particularly irritable detective who she missed terribly at the time.

They chose to make such confessions in the hopes it would strengthen their trust in one another. Y/n was quickly deducting it only made them realise they were not with the right people.

"I am sorry, Miss Y/l/n," Mr Harridge spoke sorrowfully. "I never meant for you to be affected."

While Mr Harridge caused her a great deal of heartache, she was far enough past the pain to realise there was no more point in wielding it.

"I wish you both every happiness," she smiled sincerely. "And you must inform me when you and your wife welcome your child. I will be sure to send a gift."

Prior to his courtship, and even throughout, Mr Harridge was a dear friend to her and her family. She refused to let that be tainted by bitterness all because he chose to be with the woman he loved all along. Y/n stood and watch him approach his wife and wondered if she would be lucky enough to find such a companion for herself.

"That was very kind of you."

Y/n jumped at the abrupt sound of Sherlock's voice. She turned and realised he had overheard the better half of her conversation with Mr Harridge. Sherlock held his arm for Y/n to hold on to, before walking out of the ballroom and towards the front steps of the building.

"I think you will find I am a rather pleasant person when I am not irritated," Y/n quipped.

"Then I suspect you will become a saint when you see this."

Just as they reached the front steps, Sherlock pointed to a group of guards detaining a familiar monocled man. Y/n squinted her eyes before smiling when she recognised the figure.

"So it was him?"

"After cornering him in the garden, he confessed."

In truth, Sherlock had to chase him through the hedges and disarm him when he got hold of a pair of clippers. Y/n did not need to know the finer details, he decided. She just needed to know her necklace would soon be retrieved.

"I take it he is not a real mapmaker," Y/n chuckled as they continued to watch.

"Mr Leonard Kingsley has been posing as a cartographer while infiltrating the staff at different estates and stealing the most prized heirloom from each place to sell in the foreign market."

The two of them made their way down the steps and towards the foyer. After Sherlock organised their separate carriages, they stood and waited, her arm still looped through his despite there being no more reason to continue pretending.

"Y/n, I am sorry," Sherlock sighed, pulling his arm away and opting to hold her hand instead. He had grown rather fond of how her fingers felt intertwined with his. "I should have kept in contact with you after leaving for London."

She watched him closely. It was clear he regretted not writing back, however she still needed some answers.

"What hindered you from doing so?"

"I was a coward," he admitted sheepishly.

Her brows rose. It was unlike him to admit to his shortcomings. Y/n was realising that perhaps there was still much to learn about the boy she had always known.

"I suppose I convinced myself it was better to cut all ties to you completely, as well as Enola and my mother, because..." Sherlock paused and sighed defeatedly. "Well because I wanted to believe I could venture off to London and devote myself to my work and nothing else."

Y/n knitted her brows in sympathy. She had always resented Sherlock's insistence on working and living independently. She never realised how detrimental that must have been to his happiness. He, too, only came to realise this now.

"That sounds like an awfully lonesome pursuit," Y/n spoke, holding onto his hand all the more firmly.

"It has been," Sherlock admitted, feeling instantly relieved. "Nevertheless, I am sorry."

"Well," she smiled warmly. "Considering the tremendous help you've been in retrieving my grandmother's lavalier, you are very much forgiven."

They stood in silence for what felt like only a few seconds. He felt relieved. Perhaps the reason he walked the streets of London with such a dissatisfied scowl was that he was missing the one person who never failed to irritate him relentlessly and perceive the world in a way he could not.

It was her insight and her nagging that he missed so terribly, even when he refused to see it. It was always her.

"I believe this is my carriage," Y/n said as the worker from Francis' estate held the door open for her.

"Ah, yes," Sherlock responded, though he was not yet ready to part ways with her.

He watched fondly as she moved to approach her carriage but, for some reason, turned back remained where she stood, her feet never leaving the paved ground.

"Sherlock?" Y/n smiled. He appeared preoccupied with a thought, though his eyes never left hers. She did not dare let her heart wonder why that was.

He raised brows, finally pulling himself away from his train of thought. Y/n glanced down and grinned.

"You are still holding my hand," she murmured.

His cheeks grew warm and he immediately let go of her. Even so, she was not quick to speed off into her carriage. Instead, she lifted her hand, the very hand he held, and placed it briefly on his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

He placed his hand atop hers and followed her to the carriage, only letting go of his grasp when she was seated inside.

"Goodnight," he whispered before the worker closed the door.

On the journey back to the estate, Y/n's eyes never left her ungloved hands. Mama would have surely imploded had she known. Y/n grinned and peered out into the night sky.

***

A week had passed and Y/n had not heard from Sherlock. As a result, when a worker informed her she had a visitor waiting for her in the study, she opened the doors hoping to see him. Instead, it was his younger sister.

"Enola?"

The young girl turned around and Y/n immediately closed the door behind her and raced forward. She pulled Enola into her arms and hugged her tightly.

"Oh, I was worried sick about you," Y/n cried, before promptly pulling away and inspecting the young girl's face and limbs. "Are you hurt? You must have at least been bruised jumping out of a moving train carriage like an absolute maniac, what were you thinking!"

"I am perfectly fine, Y/n," Enola assured Y/n who pulled her in for yet another hug.

"Enola, my dear, you are so brave but absolutely wild!" Y/n exclaimed. "I don't know whether to reprimand you right now or ask you what you're secret is."

"Rather ironic you say that considering everything I know is because my mama and you," she grinned.

Though she did not doubt the girl was being honest, Y/n found herself narrowing her eyes at her enthusiasm. Watching a young girl jump off a moving train was not something she could easily move past.

"I am flattered, but I need you to promise me you won't ever frighten me like that again."

"I am sorry."

Y/n sighed. Enola was alive and safe. Perhaps that was what mattered most, even more than the terror she felt on the train.

"I am just relieved all your limbs are still intact."

She playfully poked Enola's shoulder, causing the young girl to laugh before sitting on one of the empty chairs facing the desk.

"Have you heard from my brothers?" Enola asked nervously. Y/n leaned against the edge of the desk and faced her.

"Sherlock," she answered shortly. "He was very worried about your disappearance."

"You didn't tell them you saw me, did you?"

Y/n shook her head, causing Enola to let out a sigh of relief. As she leaned back into her chair, Y/n donned a proud grin.

"Fortunately for you, I am a rather masterful performer."

"I somehow find that difficult to believe," Enola chuckled.

Y/n could not help but laugh along with her. Not long after, however, she quickly found herself reacquainted with her worries pertaining to Enola's safety. It did not take long for the wrinkle between her brows to reappear.

"Why are you here, Enola?" Y/n asked concernedly. "Has something happened?"

"I am in need of a place to stay... just for this evening," Enola explained." I cannot return to previous lodgings however if my suspicions are true I might be seeing mama tomorrow."

"Then, of course, Enola, you are more than welcome to stay here."

She knew she would have to come up with some sort of explanation for her uncle Francis, but Y/n did not mind. Not if it meant helping Enola.

Before she could finish thanking her, Enola's face fell when the two of them heard a loud knock on the door to the study, followed by a familiar voice.

"That is your brother," Y/n whispered in a panic. "You must hide before he sees you! Quickly!"

Enola scurried behind the desk and hid beneath it, clasping her hand over her mouth to stifle any sounds she would involuntarily make from fright. She listened closely and heard the door swing open and close quickly after.

"Sherlock!" Y/n shrieked. She barely had the chance to open the door herself when the intolerable detective let himself in.

"I heard you speaking," Sherlock commented suspiciously, taking cautious steps towards Y/n. "Was there someone else here?"

He began scanning the room for any signs of another person. It was not until he stepped closer to the desk that he noticed the way Y/n jumped.

"No, I was- um," Y/n stuttered as she turned to her uncle's desk and picked up the book left open on it. She then quickly turned back to Sherlock who was already inching closer. "...I was reciting some poetry."

"I never knew you enjoyed doing that," he replied narrowly.

"Yes, well I developed a liking for it during my time teaching at the finishing school."

It was a good lie, one Sherlock would have bough had she picked up a book of poems and not a botanical encyclopaedia. For reason he was not willing to disclose, Sherlock ignored her obvious lie.

"What brings you here?" She asked after tossing the book back onto the desk. Mere hours ago she was exanticipating his visit, but now she was quietly hoping he would be on his way out soon.

"I wanted to personally return the missing lavalier," he answered. "Your uncle has returned it to the vault now."

"Oh, wonderful! Thank you for that, Sherlock," Y/n beamed. Her smile quickly wavered when he continue to step closer and whe his eyes began to wander over her shoulder. "W-was there anything else you needed?"

Y/n stepped back only to realise there was no more space between her and the desk, much less the young girl hiding beneath it. She placed her hand behind her and gripped the wooden edge.

"I suppose there is," Sherlock replied nonchalantly, though his eyes were narrowed and tense. He moved even closer to her. "I still have yet to figure out where Enola has run off to."

"Well, I am certain she is perfectly fine... wherever it is she may be."

"How can you be so sure?"

As though she were not already nervous enough trying to lie for Enola, Y/n had to also endure the watchful glance of the gentleman she held such strong feelings for.

"Well she's an exceptionally intelligent young girl," Y/n blubbered. "I mean... all of you Holmes siblings are alike in that manner."

"It is very unlike you to speak so kindly to me," Sherlock commented.

She could have sworn there was a trace of disappointment in his tone, but she was far too overcome with nerves to give it much thought.

"Yes, well I am trying to turn a new leaf, you see."

"Y/n," Sherlock began, the corner of lips turning upwards like he had his chess opponent cornered. "Is there anything you know about my sister's disappearance?"

"Like I told you previously. No," Y/n held firm, despite having little confidence she had him fooled to any degree. He continued to lean closer, causing Y/n to lean back and hope Enola was out of sight.

"I fear I am still not convinced you are being honest with me."

"Then I do not know what else to say," she shrugged, though she was just about trembling from nervousness.

"Might I suggest the truth?"

Sherlock went to lean even closer, knowing true and well he would be able to discover his sister sitting beneath the desk, just he suspected. However, he stopped when he met her gaze. Their faces were mere centimetres apart, but she remained silent.

Y/n was well aware that he knew, but she looked at him and hoped he would trust the decision she made to help Enola. Sherlock needed only a moment of looking her in the eye to comply. If it had been anyone else, he would not have stopped, but it was her. And though he would have enjoyed the opportunity to reprimand his sister and Y/n for undermining his intelligence, he fought the urge and stepped back.

"Very well then," he muttered softly.

She watched in shock as he turned away completely and began pacing across the opposite end of the room, studying the books on the shelves.

“Well… when my sister eventually does make her presence known, I suspect she will be pleased to learn that I’ve decided to take her as my ward.”

Y/n raised her brows as her eyes widened in shock. After years of debate, he finally gave in and announced it to her with such nonchalance. It was most peculiar.

"And when the transferral is made official," Sherlock continued. "My first task will be to appoint someone as her governess. Ideally, they would be someone already familiar with her and with me. Someone who is able to advocate for Enola even in spite of my tendency to be stubborn."

He approached Francis' globe and spun it once with his finger before continuing on. Y/n furrowed her brows and watched him pace curiously. Why was he disclosing this to her?

"Perhaps someone who is firm, but also kind. Someone loyal and patient and..." Sherlock paused and turned to face Y/n. "Frustratingly insightful."

Her jaw fell when she realised.

"In any case, I hope you will consider taking up the position," Sherlock smiled, moving back towards her. "I am certain Enola will be thrilled to have you back in her life."

She would not be the only one, though Sherlock was not yet ready to admit that. Her eyes gleamed as she gave it more thought.

"Well, I too would be delighted to spend more time again with... Enola," she grinned. "However, I must ask... why the change of heart? Two years ago you were disposing the unopened letters I wrote to you. Now you are wanting to employ me?"

Sherlock nodded. It was a fair point to make. Perhaps he was being foolish expecting her to be willing to work in close proximity to him. However, he knew he would be a greater fool if he did not at least attempt to persuade her.

"I may have come to the realisation last week that I... I rather enjoy being in your company," he explained. "It is something I have missed greatly. Something I will not take for granted again."

"And what of your sudden decision to become Enola's guardian?" Y/n questioned, still puzzled by his sudden change of heart.

"Well," he began. "There is this particularly irritable young woman in my life who has continuously reprimanded me at every given opportunity to the point where I... I soon found myself convinced that this was the right thing to do."

"It sounds like you have an awfully wise woman in your midst," she smirked.

"Yes, I suppose I do," he agreed, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their gaze remained unbroken, though Y/n was quickly startled by the sudden feeling of his fingers intertwined with hers. She froze for a mere second before chuckling at how dumbfounded he appeared to be. Did he realise what he was doing?

“Sherlock," Y/n whispered. He continued smiling at her, studying her eyes and her face like it was the greatest mystery he had stumbled across yet. "You are holding my hand again.”

“I am aware," Sherlock replied, knowing he did not intend on letting her go again anytime soon.

NEXT PART

[bnha-dumpster]

Hear me out

Step-brother Shigaraki shoving a vibe in (male) reader during a dinner and Shigaraki is controlling the vibrator and then after dinner Shigaraki fucks the life out of Reader

i was gonna work on monster stuff but this is just *chef's kiss* i think i'm going down the road of a pseudo-incest kink whoops and laughs at myself as i add plot for no reason (also gives you guys a visual reference of the toy in the fic)

pairing: step-brother shigaraki x male reader content tags/warnings: dub-con, pseudo-incest, mild exhibitionism, choking, sex toys, degradation, mind break word count: 2.1k

Things around the household have changed drastically since your mother remarried. You love your mother and want her to be happy, but you feel that things have changed far too fast and far too much.

You had been told that your step-father wanted you to move in with him for two reasons. One; you don't have a job since you're attending university full-time and two; his house is pretty close to your university. You've seen his house from the outside and you can't deny the thought of living in such a large house is pleasant. It's a good deal. But if you had been told that your step-father has a shut-in son that lives with him before moving in, you might've reconsidered it.

Shigaraki is rude and has zero social skills. While you don't actually mind people that don't have social skills- it's often times not their fault- there's something about your step-brother that just unnerves you. You see him and alarm bells go off in your mind.

He likes to catch you off guard. Coming into your room to watch you, pinning you to surfaces, groping you, watching you shower- there's something really wrong with him.

"Tomu-"

You're trying to walk downstairs to go eat dinner with your mother and step-father. Trying, being the keyword. Shigaraki has you pinned to the wall once again. One of his hands is able to completely hold both your wrists- he's not even that much bigger than you! He's using his free hand to tug your sweatpants down to your knees. The pinning isn't exactly new, but he's never actually pulled your clothes off.

"I bought something for you. It's a little present for having such a cute brother." His voice makes you shudder, but the item he holds up next to your face makes you tense up. It's a brand new, probably expensive, sex toy.

"Tomura- hey- let's not-" You squirm and shake your head.

"Don't cause a fuss. Just let me do this, 'kay?"

The lube on the toy is your only saving grace as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and tries to put it on you. It doesn't work very well, the lubed up toy sliding against your limp cock a few times before Shigaraki growls lowly.

"I'm taking my hand off and I expect you to stay still." True to his word, the hand on your wrists disappears. If this were the first time he tried to do something like this, then you might've run away. But you've unfortunately learned through experience that your step-brother is far stronger than he seems. It's only because of your knowledge do you stay.

His hand is cold and calloused, an uncomfortable feeling against your skin. You grimace as he grabs your cock to slip the ring over it, making sure it’s snug against the base before he pushes the vibrating part of the toy into you. It doesn’t actually seem that bad until he turns the toy on. 

“Shit-” You’re not oblivious to the toy’s function but you didn’t expect it to be so snug against that spot inside you. Shigaraki grabs you before your legs buckle, laughing at your state. 

“Wow, you’re that sensitive?” He’s taunting you, making fun of you. “Is my little brother just a slut in disguise?” 

Your pants are pulled up and a small slap is given to your ass. It brings a small yelp out of you, making you turn around to glare at him. He doesn’t seemed fazed by it. Instead, it spurs him on and you can feel him grind against your ass. Even through the fabric of both of your sweatpants, you can feel how hot and heavy his cock is. You can tell it’s thick and that’s barely hard. 

A sliver of arousal makes itself known with a twitch of your cock. The realization makes you stand up straight and shove your step-brother away, adjusting your clothes to hide the erection beginning to strain underneath your pants. 

It’s difficult to sit down at the dinner table and act normal. You give your mother a small smile as you squirm in your seat for a moment. The toy’s low vibration stimulating every part of you- the base of your cock being teased, vibrations going through your balls and taint, the dildo pressing snugly against your prostate- and it’s difficult to hold your composure. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Your mother is looking at you with concern.

“O-oh, I’m alright, mom.” You force another smile.

“Go lay down after dinner, okay?” 

You give a small nod before you start eating, not waiting for your step-brother to sit down. He’s probably snickering to himself and thinking of what he should do. The sudden increase of vibrations of the toy surprises you and you choke on a piece of food. 

“Honey?” 

“Don’t worry, he’s just a little out of it, right lil bro?” A large hand comes to rest on your shoulder. As you turn to look over your shoulder, Shigaraki stares down at you with a small smirk. You can see the small remote in his hand and you almost want to reach out and grab it. But that’d cause a scene- the last thing you want at the dinner table.

He slides into his seat, not bothering to eat. All he’s doing is staring at you and analyzing your reactions as he plays with the remote in his pocket. 

“Yeah, j-just a little bit out of it.” You try your best to keep yourself together. Eating your dinner as fast as possible is your goal, hoping that this torture is only for the sake of humiliating you in front of your mother. 

The vibrations of the toy change rapidly. It seems like Shigaraki’s just cycling through them for the first time, gauging your reactions as he does so. He’s trying to find the best setting for you right now, surely. The one that does you in is the low and slow pulsing of the toy. 

He’s learning so much about you. You’re smart enough not to fight him physically but still have the guts to snap at him with your words. You prefer to be teased with a lack of stimulation rather than overstimulation. You won’t tell your mother about anything he does so she’ll stay happy. The best part... You’re easy to read.

Now that it’s been a few minutes of dealing with the toy, you’re settling down. It’s still uncomfortable, the low stimulation keeping your cock hard, but you’re able to eat your dinner for the most part. You’re eating quicker than normal just so this can end. 

“Thanks for dinner, mom.” As you stand from the table, Shigaraki cycles through the toy quickly to put the vibrations at its most intense setting. You curl in on yourself and groan, facing contorting. 

“Dear?” 

You give her a reassuring smile despite the heat pooling in your stomach. As much as you want to leave the table, you’re not sure you can do it yourself. It seems to be part of your step-brother’s plan. He puts his arm under yours, holding you up to help you shuffle back upstairs.

“I’ll make sure he’s alright, don’t worry.” 

They can’t see it, but you’re glaring at him as he helps you up. With him being the only reason you’re still standing however, that’s all you can manage to do. You hold onto his torso as he takes you up the stairs and opens the door of your room. 

“You’re close, huh? You were about to cum in front of our parents, weren’t you?” Shigaraki throws you onto the floor of your room with a thud, using his foot to turn you onto your back. He stares down at you and steps on your cock, moving it back and forth. 

“Alright little bro, cum for me.” 

With a particularly large amount of pressure, almost painful, you tense and spurt ropes of cum inside your pants. A stain begins to seep into the fabric and Shigaraki looks down at you with a sneer. You’re squirming under his foot, the toy still vibrating aggressively inside you and around the base of your cock. 

He picks you up by the hair and drags you to your bed, manhandling you so your face is against the comforter and your ass is in the air. He doesn’t even bother turning the toy off as he takes it out of you and slides your cock out of the ring. Your ass clenches around the air pathetically, teasing Shigaraki. Even with something inside you, stretching you out, your ass still looks tight and almost untouched. The only thing eluding to its use is the lube smeared around it. 

You’re given no warning when your step-brother grabs your hips and slams his cock inside you. When did he take it out? You don’t know.

“Shiiiiiit- Do you know how tight you are?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Shigaraki begins to fuck you with abandon, thrusting into you with no care for your comfort. The stretch of his cock, how it reaches almost too deep inside you- it’s horribly uncomfortable. There’s a tinge of pleasure from the stretch of his cock pressing against your prostate almost constantly, but not much else. 

His balls slap against your ass with every heavy thrust and the grip on your hips is bruising. You can feel his nails digging into the skin and you’re sure they’ll leave marks. He’s leaving reminders of this.

A hand leaves your hip to hold your limp cock, pumping it aggressively. The sudden stimulation is painful and you squirm. 

“Now, now, little bro. Be a good slut for me and let me play with you.” Shigaraki sneers at the way you stop squirming at his words. “There... See, you’re a pathetic little slut for your big bro, aren’t you?” 

You refuse to answer, only burying your face into the sheets to hide your humiliated tears. It’s not like it matters. He continues to pump your cock at a fast pace, enjoying the way your walls twitch and tighten because of it. Even if you’re not feeling anything, he is. Your pleasure is more of an afterthought, a bonus. Then your cock begins to twitch back to life. 

“Seriously? You’re feeling good?” Shigaraki leans against you, biting your ear. “Getting off from your step bro treating you like a whore and fucking you? You really must be one if you like this.”

“I’m not!” You protest, turning to look at him. Tears are falling down your face, cheeks red from the embarrassment. “It’s your fault! You’re forcing my body to feel like this!”

Both of you know it’s a lie. You’re definitely enjoying it. As cute as your denial is to your step-brother, he isn’t in the mood for you being like this the whole time. He wants to have to shut you up so your parents won’t hear you begging for his cock. 

With a bit of reluctance, he pulls out of you. You’re allowed a brief moment of confusion as he decides how he wants to position you. Once he decides, he flips you onto your back and hikes your legs over his shoulders. In this position, he rubs your cocks together. His is undeniably thicker than yours, but your length isn’t too drastically different. There’s only a few seconds of rutting them together before he lines his cock up with your ass and slams back in.

Much to his surprise and amusement, you let out a confused moan. The new position must feel good. Your face contorting into pleasure with a mix of self-disgust is beautiful to him.

“Little bro, come on. Just let yourself feel good.” His thrusts slow and he reaches for your neck. The grip on your throat is intense and you can feel yourself becoming lightheaded almost instantly. It’s an intense feeling that mixes with pleasure, clouding your senses. 

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen or just you giving up, but you begin to buck your hips against Shigaraki’s. Your jaw goes slack and your mouth is open, eyes rolling back into your head. The choking keeps you from making much noise so all you can let out are strangled groans. 

“Finally. Let yourself go. Become my whore, my pathetic cumdump of a little brother. Just be my personal cock sleeve, yeah?” 

The words go in one ear and out the other and you let out a string of agreements. Your back arches, cock twitching and covering your stomach in your own cum. It’s the sudden tightness around him that pushes Shigaraki over the edge. He stills inside you as deep as he can and cums, filling your ass. As he comes down from his high, he lets go of your throat. 

“Good boy.” He smacks your face gently and chuckles at your lack of response. “Gone already? Come on, we’ve barely started.”

[whumpwillow]

A is new to the hero team by necessity, and a former villain. They avoid "group activities" as much as they can, so they're usually excluded. They got so used to getting beaten and humiliated by the old crew that they don't realize that this group is genuine; "activities" means baking and movie nights and cuddle piles. By the time they come to terms with craving to join in, it's too late. They're cemented as a burden rather than a friend. They pretend they don't care, and cry behind closed doors

yessssssssssssss one of these asks!! i love "villain joins the hero team and is the lonely outcast" its just such a good trope. especially here since it's been self-inflicted out of fear ahahaha. good shit

villain gets so afraid when the team leader mentions "group activities" the first time, because they think this is going to be just like their old team. they were always the runt, the bullied mule, of their old team and the other villains loved taking turns beating them and forcing them to do humiliating acts like kissing their boots

villain protects themselves the only way they know how: anger. they lash out at team leader and scream at them, tearing into them with any words they can think of. team leader is so confused why villain would so vehemently disagree to baking and cuddle piles (cuddle piles!!!) because they don't know what villain's old team was like. the hero team just thinks of villain's outburst as selfish and unnecessary

any time the team tries to include villain in anything, villain gives them the cold shoulder and brushes them off, because a tough attitude was the norm in their old team. the heroes see the villain as rude and ungrateful, and decide to only interact with them when needed

the team goes back to their old dynamic of being closer than family with each other, basically ignoring all traces of villain's existence except when their presence actually proves useful (for information and such). they generally try to ignore villain, and villain leaves them alone

villain discovers the team's "group activities" are all such soft things and is so surprised to see that they look out for one another, they protect each other, they would be willing to sacrifice themselves for one another, and they comfort each other. none of them are out to get the other and their "group activities" just involve cuddling and sharing soft moments

villain feels horrible for how they've treated the team now with their cold behavior, but it was the only way they knew how to protect themselves. they didn't realize there was nothing to protect themselves from.

villain is too awkward and self conscious to bring it up to the team the reasons for their behavior and they don't want to explain their past to the team (and maybe they don't even realize this was the root of their behavior) so they just resign themselves to being the outcast

they tell themselves they don't care. they've always been the outcast. the runt. the weakling. the unwanted one. it doesn't matter to them

they want to be held so bad

they cry when they're alone, knowing that they destroyed any chance at something better. they cry, remembering all those times they hid from their previous team to escape a beating or after a beating and how they weren't ever allowed to be vulnerable, but this team is. the team is so vulnerable with each other and villain can't grasp how they could ever have that

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn���t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners?