#beck spring break tag

[stuckasmain]

Corrodinated attack from the universe for a guy to walk past me in a Hal 9000 shirt at an outlet mall.

[whenthebirdsings]

the stranger in spring [ch. 1 and 2]

| MINORS DNI |

pairing: gojo x reader, gojo x you

tags: dubcon, drug use, stalking, mind control, mindbreak, very kinky and very explicit, dirty talk, degradation, yandere, possessiveness, jealousy, very toxic, god complex. literally, sadomasochism, dom/sub, daddy kink

word count: 12k+ (it won't be this long every chapter, this is just bc i'm combining two in one post.)

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58426777/chapters/148825717

It started, like many things, with a hello.

You’d been on vacation with your friends at the time. Slipping from one bar to another when you caught the blue-eyed stranger sneaking glances at you. His gaze lingering too long on the curve of your hips, hungrily taking in every bit of exposed skin and dipping to places it shouldn’t. A predator eyeing up its prey, waiting to pounce.

It was painfully obvious, but in his defense — you don’t think he was trying to be subtle. The way he’d bat his silver eyelashes at you and flash you a smile from time to time made his intentions more than clear. It didn’t help that he leered at you like he wanted you to make note of him. Brazenly drinking you in up and down, unblinking as his stare never left your lips.

Still, you played it safe. Played it coy. Pretended you didn’t notice him ogling as you engaged in boring conversations with your friends. It was only a month after your break up so admittedly, you were a little lonely — and the man was terribly, terribly attractive — but you didn’t want to make it too easy. Playing a game of push and pull, appraising him when you thought he wouldn’t notice and looking away just at the right time.

But you made sure your eyes stuck to his skin; made sure he felt the heat in them so that he would know. And he did — an eyebrow raised, the curl of his lips amused. The clock ticked close to midnight, and he still hadn’t ordered anything to drink. Seemingly only there to wait it out, to see how long it would take before your friends would depart, one by one.

And then, one by one, they did. Stepping out the door, leaving you to fend for yourself — or, well, maybe that wasn’t fully fair. Considering you were the one who reassured them you’d be fine. They told you to take care and to be careful, but you weren’t really listening. Eyes discerning the stranger’s every movement instead; catching his anticipation, the smile scratching his face when the last of them finally exited the bar.

True enough, he was quick to slip into your booth once he was sure there would be no other interruptions.

“Hi there, stranger,” he said, voice smooth like honey — and you acted like you weren’t expecting him coming as you stared up at him in surprise. “You alone?”

Well, the surprise was half-true.

You knew he was tall, but didn’t notice how tall he was until he was looming over you. Body too big, arms too long. Like this, you felt like a cornered rabbit peering up a hungry wolf. Yet the size difference only made you more excited than put off. A chill down the base of your spine as his gaze brushed past your collarbone.

“You’re not gonna buy me a drink?” you said instead of answering his question. Fingers feathering over your glass — a hint if nothing else. You spared a glance at the clock on the wall, noting the time, the hands landing on twelve. It was midnight, and you had spent the entire night playing cat and mouse that you might as well be direct.

His eyebrows shot up, but it didn’t seem like he was caught off guard. Interested if anything — like he wasn’t already, but now more so. He didn’t say much else, merely called over the bartender with a flick of a wrist. A wave, like he was used to people being at his beck and call.

“So what do you want?” he asked, warm but not overtly friendly. Leaning in but not too close; a distance just right to pull you in but not scare you off. “I recommend their margarita. One of their best, I think.”

“So says the gentleman,” you laughed. You honestly didn’t care much about the choice of drink; you didn’t have any favorites, or anything that tugged at disgust. Alcohol never stood out much to you anyway. But it got you what you wanted, at the right time, the right price. Not that you were usually the one paying. “Margarita it is. On the rocks.”

He nodded — and with another jerk of his wrist, ushered the bartender away.

“Is that just a thing for you?” you quipped, mirth in the crinkle of your eyes as you studied him from behind your glass. “Like, do you just snap your fingers and people bend to your will?”

He didn’t answer at once. There was a roll of his shoulder, a tilt of his head as he looked you over. You felt oddly exposed — walls pried apart and forced down under his gaze as he seemed to look through you instead of at you. Flecks of blue assessing every line of your face; the roundness of your cheeks, the slope of your jaw, your supple lips. Then, back to your eyes. Where he seemed to stare too long, like a hole threatening to swallow you whole.

“That would depend,” he answered, leer lowering to your slender neck now. His fingers twitched, itching to touch, to hold, to choke you out of air. But still, he leaned back. Composed if not smug in the upturn of his chin.

You blinked. “On what?”

“Well.” He paused, let the silence sit seemingly because he liked to keep you waiting — liked you on bated breath, hanging on to his every word. “On whether or not you like men who can snap their fingers and bend people to their will.”

“Very smooth,” you said, dry and sarcastic, though you couldn’t suppress the flush from warming your cheeks.

You didn’t know what it was — if it was the drinks you had prior or the intensity of his stare as he took you in. Like you were precious; gold made to be appreciated, to be beholdened. A toy he could ruin with the tip of his fingers. He reveled in you like he’d known you for eons too long, even when it had only been five minutes.

Either way, red traveled from your face and upwards still to the shell of your ear. Your hand scratching them, nervous and self-conscious as you sounded an exaggerated cough to make yourself seem less fidgety. Not that it helped much, his amusement only intensifying as he broke into a laugh.

“Worth the sarcasm,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes half-heartedly. But then the chuckles died down, leaving in its wake only tense disquietude as the air around you simmered. You squirmed — and pretended not to notice his foot angling close, boot kicking the bone of your ankle. “Seriously though, it’s just because one of my friends owns this bar. So the staff here see me as a familiar face.”

“Ah, so you just have connections,” you sighed, feigned disappointment as a joking lilt lined your voice. Still, there was a tremble — shyness underlying even if you tried to curb it. He seemed to perceive it; lips twitching as though to reign in another laugh. “And here I thought I landed a handsome rich man. Tsk.”

“Well, I am that, too,” he admitted. With his tone, you couldn’t tell if it was arrogance or coy posturing. Or boredom, really, if you listened close enough.

“You’re from this area then, I assume?” you asked, changing the subject as you felt everything around you shift. Awkward, like you’d stepped on a mine you shouldn’t have. “If you are, I’d like a tour. I don’t know the surroundings here very well, and I could use a…” Your eyes raked past his neck to pause at his long fingers. A moment of self-indulgence as you wondered how they would feel on you before you blinked the thought away, “friend. To guide me around.”

Want pooled in your belly, tight and spreading like fire under your skin. He waited for your permission before going for your hand — thumb ghosting over your knuckles, fingers only mildly slipping into empty spaces. It spurred you on; the heat of his palm on your skin. Blood roaring in your ears now as your body shuddered. It’s just the cold, you told yourself. Even though you could feel every fiber of your being teeming with desire from his unwavering stare.

“Not a local,” he replied, a laugh in his tune as he noted the flutter of your eyes. Lashes heavy on flushed cheeks, heady even before your margarita even arrived. “But I do know this place like the back of my hand.” He squeezed yours, as though for emphasis. Nails sending goosebumps up your arms as he grazed them along the length of your fingers. Apperceiving, savouring every callous, every shake — as slight as it were. “So yeah, I guess I could be a friend. To guide you around.”

There was a double meaning in his words, but you didn’t really mind. You knew he caught onto your drift even without a cue. Not that he needed any — you seemed just about ready to climb into his lap even though he hadn’t done much. It was the alcohol. The loneliness you weren’t used to after the break up. You were sure of it.

Or, well, you weren’t, really. Although you had meant to seduce him into bed tonight, you didn’t think you’d be this easy. But he made it easy. Terrifyingly so. A fog in your brain every time his eyes skipped past your face — hungry, hungry and hungry as though you’d been starved and deprived too long.

He snapped his fingers again, and that was when you looked up just in time to see the bartender coming by with your drink.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, thanking the bartender before turning to look at the stranger again. He seemed to watch you with a strange look in his eye; expecting, calculated almost in the way blue glinted in dimmed lighting. But you couldn’t tell because it was brief, gone like it was never there. “So, uh, I guess you’re just visiting your friend. The one who owns this bar?”

“Mm-hmm,” he affirmed. Smile too warm, too friendly. Yet for some reason, it reeled you in instead of pushing you off. “And I guess you’re just visiting too? Or are you here to see a partner or something?”

You almost scoffed at that.

“Me? Partner? Nah,” you said, shrugging him off with a wave. An odd tightness settling in your chest. “I broke up with him, like, a month ago. I’m just here on vacation with friends. They,” you paused, frowning now as confusion snuck into mind. It usually wouldn’t take you this short of a time to warm up to someone, but he made it feel effortless. Comfortable, even though it shouldn’t be, “wanted to help me get over him, I guess. Or whatever, I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted me to have fun instead of sitting around moping in my apartment.”

“Ah,” he sounded, recognition flitting past his features. He was carefully woven by the gods, you remember thinking. Every part of his face perfectly sculpted; lines too immaculate, polished and faultless. Like he was God himself. “Well.” His lips drew into a grin, wolfish and playful. “I guess you wouldn’t be here talking to me if you were already with someone.”

“Exactly,” you snorted. Tense shoulders slouching as he watched you down your glass of margarita in only a few gulps. You didn’t even notice he had ordered another one until he passed you a second glass. Pushing it to your knuckles, smiling as you accepted it. Ever so grateful, ever so obedient. “I mean. I guess open relationships are a thing. Not really my thing though.”

“Understandable.” He nodded, his grin widening behind his hand as he took in the sight of you hurriedly swallowing one glass after another. His eyes flashed, dark and dangerous — but you didn’t notice. Too preoccupied with the brush of his other hand over your wrist. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine either. It’s… annoying. And I’m jealous and possessive.”

“I’m greedy,” you admitted, a little too soon, a little too loud. Your eyes almost slid close as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Very much so.”

“I can tell — hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I think it’s attractive that you know how to drink,” he laughed. Throwing his arms up in defense as you pouted at him in return. Disappointment poured over you at the lost of warmth around your fingers when he pulled away— gaps between them empty again, almost unbearably so. But you ignored it. Maintained eye contact instead as he leaned back into his seat. Sinking into cushion.

“My name is Gojo Satoru,” he supplied, head slanted slightly to the side. “You can call me Satoru. Or, well, you can call me a lot of names, really.”

Your lips pulled into a smile, teasing as you batted your eyelashes at him seductively. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“You’re gonna have to stay around and find out,” the man — no, Satoru answered. His attention briefly gone as he tugged at a loose strand around his sleeve. “What about you? What should I call you?”

You pressed your lips together. Tight and unwilling. The taste of the margarita sat heavy on your tongue, too sweet and too sour all at once.

“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable enough to give out my name yet,” you said. Lied through your teeth. It was odd, how reluctant you were to let slip such a thing when you already told him about your break up and the reason for your visit. But a name had a weight to it, a certain sentiment you weren’t sure was okay for you to just hand out to strangers just like that.

You didn’t think you were going to see him after tonight anyway. But he was fun to be around — and he was good-looking. Too good-looking for his own good actually. You highly doubted a guy like him didn’t have a crowd of people wrapped around his finger. He looked like he was used to drowning in attention, like his daily life consisted of people just falling to their feet for him simply because he breathed in their direction. Not that you blamed them. The man was a sight to gaze at; ethereal beauty personified.

But the thought only served to make you more wary — to be only one of many. You didn’t want to be one of the people grasping for an ounce of his affection, for the briefest of a glance. He looked like he’d brush you off anyway; outside of sex, you’d be nothing but dust. Flakes of dried skin lingering too long on his clothes before he’d shake you off sooner or later. And you’ve gone through enough share of disappointment to know better than to expect anything more.

This was safer, you decided. Gave you more peace of mind. You might get too attached if you weren’t careful enough.

“Fair enough.” He nodded. Fortunately, he didn’t push on. Not that you would have stayed if he did. “As long as you know mine, I suppose it doesn’t matter if I don’t know yours.”

So long as you know what to scream, the mischievous grin on his face seemed to whisper. The words are left unsaid, but you could hear them in the way he crooned, sweet and soft. In the way lust flickered in his gaze, a touch of something feral in blue as he spared himself an indulgent glance at your cleavage. Coming from other men, you would have ran out the door in an instant. Coming from him though — oddly enough, your feet rooted you on the spot even though a sliver of fear caused you to shiver. It was like something had compelled you to stay, and so you did.

Maybe he’s that hot, you laughed at yourself as you shrugged off the feeling. The irony was not lost on you — especially when you remember chastising your friend just an hour ago about not letting attractive men off the hook just because they were attractive. Maybe you weren’t so immune to them, after all. At least not with this one.

“But I am curious,” he said, breaking you out of reverie as you blinked to look up at him. He gently shoved a third glass of margarita into your hands — and your fingers clenched around it so quickly it felt like instinct. Muscle memory. “What do you do for a living? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You grew sheepish. “I work a boring corporate job,” you replied, a sigh in your voice. “It’s nothing interesting. At least not interesting enough that I can just snap my fingers and people will bend to my will.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. Even so, he made no move to give you any details concerning his work life. You didn’t probe; you suppose it was only fair, seeing as he had already given you his name and you denied him yours.

“I figured as much,” he said, smug confidence in the way he threw his head back. “I like playing this guessing game when I see strangers I’m interested in. You know, like, guess where they’re from, what their line of work is, if they’re single — stuff like that,” he explained when your features drew into bewilderment.

“Oh,” you sounded. Brows furrowing into a deep frown. “Oh my god, do I come across that boring?”

Satoru blinked. “What — oh, god, no.” So he said, but his tone lacked the apologetic trace that usually coupled this line of sentence. Instead, amusement underlaid his tenor; the smallest of a laugh like he found you entertaining. Better than boring, you suppose. “I just meant you look… pent up, is all.”

“Oh! Oh,” you sounded, again, with a tint of embarrassment this time as the emphasis in his words settled in too quickly, too heavily. Already, your cheeks burned with shame, your skin prickling as a breath caught in your throat. “Well, I guess you’re not that far off with that one. Between work and the break up and stuff, I’ve been… tense — to put it in simpler terms anyway.”

“I can help with that,” he laughed, a purr in his offer. Tempting, drawing you in like moth to fire as he leaned in a little too close. In this proximity, you could catch a whiff of his cologne; an echo of vanilla, of something sweet you could almost taste on the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t find it in you to tell him off as he grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet him in the eye. “Oh, yeah. I can definitely help with that. If you need me to.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Time seemed to still, your world seeming to stop in its spin. He was so close you only had to move in an inch closer to claim his lips, so close you could see the dip in flesh, the flecks of something sharp in blue.

“Maybe. If you’re lucky,” you said. Tried to come off as coy if not more. Only to fail miserably as you almost stuttered mid-way through, your voice hushed into an entranced whisper, into a gasp too loud. But then he pulled away; a sense of loss along your jawline — and you were relieved and disappointed all at once.

“If I’m lucky,” he echoed. Laughed it out like he already knew he was going to be. Yet he didn’t allow you time to unpack that as he ordered another batch of margarita for you. “Here’s another guess: you like watching romcoms, you spend too much time on shopping apps, and you read a lot of smut online.”

“It’s still literary art,” you argued, defensive, too used to your friends making fun of your taste in fiction. But then it dawned on you that he hit everything on the bullseye — very uncannily so. Like he had been watching you even before tonight, lurking in the shadows, in the crack of your room where you didn’t notice. You frowned, dread creeping into your skin this time. “I — wait, what?”

He was unperturbed; not even a move misplaced.

“It’s just an educated guess,” he reassured you, calm. Too calm even. There was a pause as he waited for your doubt to settle. Sighing then laughing when he realized it wouldn’t. “Relax. I only made that guess because I do the same thing. I mean, I think it’s pretty common. Technically.”

You contemplated that for a moment. A question built at the back of your throat — but then he brushed his fingers together; a snap, and your brain muddled. Mind an empty scape again as you forgot what you were even going to ask.

“Oh,” you said instead. You seemed to be saying that a lot tonight. “I guess that makes sense. There’s stuff like fandoms and all that online, after all.” There was a tentative, thoughtful sip as you brought your glass to your lips. Tilting it a little, margarita sliding down your throat. “Do you… perchance… listen to whimper audios too?”

Embarrassment rushed to your face as he snorted out a laugh.

“No, I don’t,” he managed in between breathless wheezing and loud chuckles, “but I’m not surprised you’re into them. Of course you are.”

You didn’t notice the knowing lilt in his voice. More distracted with your own shame as it burned at your sides.

“Stop,” you whined, a hand rubbing at your face. Like that would erase the flush on your cheeks. “Jesus, you sound like my friends.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he reassured you. Or tried to anyway, because he couldn’t temper his laughter even if he tried. Some of it escaping him regardless, in between words, between syllables too breathy. You realized it wasn’t the right time — but he sounded pretty like that. All breathy, letters chopped between sharp gasps. “I mean, I get the appeal. It’s just that I personally would rather hearing them live, you know?”

His gaze drifted to your lips. You licked at them, wetting them either out of the urge to garner his attention or to alleviate your nerves. Maybe it was both.

The foot around your ankle trailed upwards, kissing your flushed knee now as leather teased sensitive skin. It was warm — too warm. So hot you felt like you were burning from arousal. Slick gathering between your legs as he stopped in between them. Pausing, lingering just a little too close to the hemline of your skirt. He could shove it closer and you wouldn’t complain if he touched want and wetness, if he stroked you too hard, too fast. Made you come all over his shoe.

Your toes curled at the thought — but you wisely kept it to yourself. Clearing your throat again as you reached for another glass. “Right,” you said, soft.

He passed it to you. Fingers feathering over yours, nails a graze on your knuckles. “Right,” he said back, not as soft.

Despite everything — yourself especially — you found that you got along just fine with Satoru. He made it easy; had a witty remark to everything. It helped that he was snarky too, responding in kind when you acted as such. Fire to fire, bite to bite. Looking back, maybe you clicked a little too well even.

Not that you were aware of the fact at the time. Too busy having fun, too immersed in the small talk, in Satoru as he carried himself almost flawlessly every step of the way. Graceful, enticing. Like a siren calling your name as he beckoned you closer. With each second, you found that he bridged the gap between you. Shoulder to shoulder, fingers on fingers. His lips, a breath too close on the shell of your ear.

It was spring when you met Satoru, when you looked too deep into his eyes and it was too late.

“My hotel is to the right,” Satoru said as the red light turned yellow. In a few seconds, it would be green again and you would have to move. “Or we can go straight to your friend’s place. Whichever you choose. I had a great night either way.”

He pointed at the direction in which you had showed him earlier. You eyed him as green clawed at his complexion, as something foreign sat on his face. Your mind addled with lust and a little bit too much of alcohol as he lowered the handbrake and changed gears again.

You didn’t say anything in response. Simply reached over instead to place your hand on a part of the steering wheel that was left untouched. It was almost on purpose, calculated to a fault — but you paid no heed to that thought as you swerved the car to the right. Too quickly, too eagerly. But it was loud enough— your answer: a yes to everything that would come next.

Satoru only smiled at you. Something flashed in his gaze, but it was too dark for you to pinpoint what. “Okay then.” He nodded, pinky finger looping around yours. “As you wish, milady.”

You couldn’t remember the last time Satoru let you breathe.

He didn’t ease up even when you clawed at his shirt, not even when your legs quivered and threatened to give out. Lips capturing yours and tongue dipping in between even before you managed to inhale, even before you could heave out a protest as he pushed you against the door. Caging you in, pinning you between him and wooden surface as he shoved between your legs. The tent in his pants rubbing against the wet patch on your underwear — grinding, hips rolling back and forth in a way that made your knees buckle and clouded your vision in stars.

“Wait —" you panted as he finally let go to grant you a short reprieve. Lips attacking your neck this time as he peppered the skin there with hot, open-mouthed kisses, as he lapped at a bead of sweat down your pulse. It was loud, your heartbeat — fast against the tip of his tongue as he sucked in once unmarred flesh.

“No more waiting,” he huffed, impatient as his hands caressed every nook and cranny, every curve he wanted to taste, to kiss, to mark as his and only his. There was something there in his voice; something poignant and longing, wistful and pained.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on that because Satoru was already dipping his fingers under your skirt. Looking for skin to taint, slick to touch. Desperate in the way he scratched at your inner thighs before hooking around the waistband of your panties. Pulling them up to give you friction and letting go once you cried out, seemingly satisfied before swallowing your whines. You dripped to your knees, and he laughed at you — breath like wispy feathers on your collarbone as his lips mapped a trail lower.

“How do you feel about,” Satoru husked against you as his tongue swirled around your nipple through fabric, “me talking down to you and calling you names? Just asking to make sure.”

You moaned, throwing your head back and slumping against the door as he flicked left and right, then up and down before taking the sensitive nub into his mouth. Sucking, nipping through your dress as you twitched and tugged at his hair to keep yourself anchored. The air felt like ice on your skin as he wrapped your leg around his waist. His other hand sliding to feel for slippery flesh, for your swollen clit as it throbbed under his fingertips.

“I like it,” you managed a laugh in between low mewls and sharp gasps. Heart stuttering in your chest as he snapped his fingers on sensitive bundle of nerves. Pressing firm before pinching hard — an incessant jerk of his wrist as he traced along your entrance and teased at your clit. “But of course you’re into that. Of course you like degrading.”

“Shut up,” he laughed. But then the sound dropped a notch lower; a whisper, a growl low and dangerous as he sunk two fingers into tight warmth. “Sluts don’t talk without permission. You don’t even get to think. Just go dumb for me and moan like a pretty little whore.”

His words sent a renewed rush of heat in your loins. Your brain short-circuiting, a half-whimper caught in your throat as he buried knuckle-deep. Spreading his fingers apart and stretching your walls before curling just right. Angling to stroke at your g-spot, to slam against it mercilessly even as you collapsed to his chest from the wave of pleasure.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he praised as you scratched at the expanse of his back through his shirt. His hand keeping you up and against the door as he gave you one rough thrust after another and you threatened to sink to your knees. “Not so sarcastic now that I’ve got two fingers inside that tight little cunt, huh? You’re so fucking wet — so fucking wet it looks like you’ve been waiting for this. Am I right? Hm? You’ve been waiting, aching for me to finger fuck you like this the whole night. Right? Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re a fucking slut.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears; your body startling as everything became too much all too soon. But Satoru was relentless, no mercy spared for your sake as he kept rutting into you even when you gushed around him. Turned on instead of deterred from the feeling of you spurting to his wrist. Your protests falling on deaf ears as your walls greedily clamped down on his fingers and sucked them in.

“I don’t hear an answer,” he said, condescendingly sweet as he quickened his pace and kissed your tears away when they finally streamed free. Everything was too loud — the sound of his palm slapping against your pussy, the squelching noises circling in the room. Your own heartbeat; little pitter-patters too quick in your ears. “What, stupid whore brain can’t think of one? Need me to tell you what to say? Really? You’re that hopeless? That useless of a fucktoy?”

You shuddered, the knot in your belly reaching a fevered pitch as your eyes almost fluttered close. But you kept them on him, on his face as he demanded your attention with a cold glare.

“N-no,” you whimpered, melting as his free hand found your clit. Cruel as it fondled sensitive flesh without even a pause, without even loosening up at least a little. Letting you feel the full weight and pressure of his fingers as he stroked too hard, too fast.

He raised an eyebrow at you, almost disappointed. “No?”

“No — I mean, yes. Yes, you’re right,” you sobbed, sweat matting your hair to your forehead as he slanted his lips over yours, “I’m a slut. I’ve been waiting for this the whole night. Been thinking about it — about you the entire car ride.”

“Bitch in heat,” he growled, and you almost came undone right then and there. A bowstring almost pulling taut before keeping it together at the last minute as you gasped, screamed out a pathetic half-attempt of his name into the air. He looked down then — down at the sight of him disappearing into your cunt, at the sight of you leaking to his arm. He stared; reveling in the way you pried open and took him in. “Such a pretty pussy on the filthiest fucking slut. Look at you taking my fingers so well. Spreading your legs so wide for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Satoru, fuck —” you tried, only to break into a string of moans as he stuttered before doubling down. The wet noises rising in tandem with his speeding rhythm and brute force as he threatened to snap you in half.

You didn’t even have time to take in a breath. You had an inkling that he would be intense, but this? This was something else entirely. Satoru worked you to the fullest; playing you like a craft, one calculated, brutal thrust after another. At the same time, he was like a madman — a predator finally coming upon fresh meat as he added another finger. Acting only on the instinct to break and destroy everything he touched as he fucked his fingers into you so hard you felt the air punched out of your lungs. The stretch was a little painful, but the pleasure came quick. Overriding everything else as his scent encompassed your every sense.

“Do you do this a lot?” he suddenly asked, lips slipping past your chin to kiss along the curve of your neck. “Fucking strangers you just met, I mean.”

For a moment, you wondered why he was so curious. But the thought dwindled, fading into nothingness, into euphoria as Satoru rocked against your g-spot especially harsh. Your back arching as your nails clawed at his neck, at his arms, at anything you could grasp for some semblance of solace.

“No,” you managed, trembling violently. “Not often. Just when I’m — ah, stressed. And needing some relief.”

Jealousy seemed to cross his face for a fleeting second before it dissipated again. Leaving you to ponder if it was even there to begin with as your hips shook before going limp. Body flushing, twitching uncontrollably as he placed kisses along your hairline. The sight was forgotten with every brush of his fingers, every feather of his lips over warm skin. You didn’t even notice the possessiveness in the way he dug his teeth into you as he slapped against flesh even harder now. Breakneck speed that rendered you breathless as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“We better make you feel good then,” he rasped, dipping his tongue into your mouth again. “Better make the most of it if you don’t do this that often.”

You couldn’t force out a reply. Not that you needed to because Satoru was quick to lavish your nipple with attention again; tongue circling around before licking fast. Lips wrapping around it — steady suctions and eager kisses as you strained against fabric. He rolled your clit in circles before tugging hard, groaning as you pushed your breasts into his face, as you shivered before bucking your hips.

Everything felt like it was stuttering on its axis as Satoru kissed his way down, past your supple mounds, your stomach as it flexed under his touch. His teeth catching the hemline of your skirt once he reached where you wanted him to be — breath hot, lips even hotter. He leaned in, and everything inside you collapsed. You made a stranged noise, hand flying to his hair, fingers tangling in white as his mouth met soft flesh, wet on his tongue.

“Satoru,” you keened, dazed smile on your lips as he gave you a tentative lick before sucking you in. One suck needier than the last as he panted, breathing too loud, too fast against your clit.

You weren’t used to being this sensitive, this receptive. Yet Satoru knew just which spots he had to love to pull it out of you, which cracks he had to pry to force it out of you. So you rode his hand and face with reckless abandon, mouth to clit, tips of his fingers to your g-spot. He pulled away only slightly to hover his tongue over your slit — the only form of attention he was willing to grant you coming in the shape of his saliva dripping down from his tongue and to your entrance. Dirty as it slithered in between your vulva lips and to his fingers, warm as it seeped into your walls.

“Atta girl, that’s it. Such a good fucking slut. Pretty little sex toy.” His eyes fluttered, words slurring and muffled into you as he slurped you up like a man starved and possessed. Chasing after you even when you pushed at his head and flinched away. “Make yourself useful and bounce on my fucking face. Use me to get that pussy off. Make that pussy come for me, I know you can make that pussy come for me —"

You exhaled, the sound loud, hips pausing before setting a swifter pace. Frenzied, drunk in the way you clung to his every word, in the way you squeezed around him like a vice. Satoru made a weird sound against your clit — something akin to a growl and a gasp as you wet his cheeks. It was a mistake to peer down at him because the sight that greeted you was too hot for your already crippling sanity. His cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, hair sticking to various parts of his face as you spurted all over him and dribbled down his chin.

The spring in your belly coiled tightly, threatening to release. Satoru seemed to sense it as he noticed your legs twitching around him before pressing firm and locking him in place. Smothering him under the weight of your hips as you sank down fully on his tongue. Your body stiffening before going still.

“Squirt for me,” he cooed, voice that sweet condescension again. “Be a good bitch and squirt into my mouth. Come down my fucking throat.”

That did it for you. There was one last swipe of his tongue on your clit as he shoved his fingers as hard as he could into your core. You barely caught on to the savage curse he let out as you shattered all over him, climax rushing out of you in powerful bursts as he kept fucking his fingers into your abused hole. Dutifully drinking you up and leaving no drop wasted as he helped you ride out your high.

For a moment, everything slowed. Your mind a puddle as you tried to collect any remnant of reason left behind. If there was even any. But then you felt it — constant friction, full pressure that was never gone. Satoru kept going even after you finished, lapping at sensitive skin even as you slumped around his shoulders, digits pistoning in and out of you still even as your vision cut to black.

“Too much,” you cried, choking on a sob as you tried to wrench yourself free. Yet to no avail as Satoru sucked you in, ruthless as he flicked his tongue on you even while you were still lodged in his mouth.

He let go with a wet pop. “I don’t fucking care,” he growled, eyes glaring at you as they peeked from behind your skirt. Fabric curtaining his cheeks, the slick on flushed skin still visible. “You’re gonna come until I’m done. And I’m not fucking done.”

Not by a long shot, it would appear. Because he forced one orgasm after another out of you even when you begged him not to, even when you threatened to pass out from the overstimulation. But he slapped you awake every time, a sting on your cheek with every smack of his palm across your face, delicious pain that you leaned into as you grew wetter with each strike.

Everything blurred. Blending into a mess too tangled to make sense as you lost count on how many times he pushed you over the edge.

I’m sorry, you whispered at some point.

No, at another.

Stop, and another.

Please, you had even pleaded with him. But you never knew if it was for more or less.

You didn’t even know what it said about you that you enjoyed it so much, that you preened under his attention, keened every time he forced you through a wave of torment. You loved it — basked it in even, in this moment in all its glory as he broke you to pieces and put you back together. Rinse and repeat, until you were spent, until you couldn’t say anything more but a cry of his name. A chant, rippling out of you like an endless prayer. And if Satoru liked it too, he let you know with every laugh, every nasty thing he whispered into the apex of your thighs.

“There you go, press your toes into my back,” he groaned, his face too wet at this point. “Pull at my hair, squeeze your thighs around my head. Show me how good I’m making you feel. How good daddy’s making you feel.”

That made your head spin. Your knees buckling before sinking into his shoulders.

“W-what?” was all you could say, eyes wide as electricity jolted through you and a shiver ran down your spine. You liked that.

“Daddy,” you tried, feeling how it rolled off your tongue. It tasted sweet, tasted perfect. Sinful between your lips. And then:

“Daddy,” you mewled again, louder this time as adrenaline filled every cell. Your body on fire despite the fatigue, pussy swollen and aching for more despite the sweat now drying on your skin. Too much and too little all at once. More and less. “Daddy, please — please. You’re so good, so good. So fucking good —”

“Fuck, that’s it. Sloppy fucking slut. Grind that perfect pretty pussy on my tongue. You’re making daddy so proud. Making me so happy,” he grunted, sounding like he was already fucking you as he bucked his hips into the air. Desperate for any friction, anything to wrap around him and milk him dry as he felt you clench around his fingers, felt you push your cunt lower onto his face. Firm — too firm you would have worried you were suffocating him if not for the way he eagerly met you half-way.

All too soon, you felt another fire pooling low in your abdomen. Your screams chopping in half as you lost every bit of yourself in him.

“C’mon, fucking come for me,” he gasped into you. “I know you’re coming. I can feel it. Come. I’ll take care of you, so just come —"

“Daddy, daddy, daddy — Satoru,” you whispered, in reverence, in dazed worship as your eyes glazed over. Then you dissolved into pleasure, into nothing but Satoru as he held your hand throughout it all. Fingers slipping in between, fitting too right as he filled empty spaces.

One thing led to another and you were on the bed now — kissing, tongues stroking and sharing the same air as Satoru was quick to undress you. Tugging down your dress, the feel of fabric sliding to your ankles sending chills down the base of your spine.

“Satoru,” you whimpered as he latched onto one nipple, grazing the edge of his teeth around it before swirling his tongue on sensitive nerve. Flicking, tasting the sweat down your breast before nipping hard.

“Wrong name,” he growled, cock straining against material. Pushing against you as hard lines met want and wetness, rubbing, grinding firm.

“Daddy,” you tried again, eyes fluttering shut as he dipped down to claim your lips again. His fingers caressed your nipples, kneading supple flesh before pinching down. Yours found his belt, urgent as you hurriedly made to unbuckle it.

“So greedy,” he tutted at you, hair soft against your chin as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Sniffing you in, then exhaling a contented sigh. “Have I ever told you that you smell good?” He slapped your hands away, pulling down his zipper and then his pants for you because you were too slow. “For a slut anyway.”

Heart pounding in your ears, your gaze dropped to see what was between his legs before he grasped your chin again. Tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him instead of his cock as you felt it throbbed, felt it push against your knee. Wet at the slit, heavy on your skin.

“Not yet,” he told you, and you wanted to cry.

“You won’t even let me look?”

He sounded a laugh, but didn’t let go of your chin. Keeping you still, keeping you eye-to-eye with him as he pressed your foreheads together. “Not yet,” he repeated, a low pant this time as you hiked your leg around his waist. Let your thigh skim past his length before locking him in place.

“Whore,” he spat at you, and you felt fuzzy. Hot all over as he shot you a glare before kissing his way down from your neck to linger on your cleavage. Tongue raking along before dipping in.

You clenched around nothing, your eyes ablazed and your head blank as you stared down at him. He was beautiful, even more so now that he was wrapping his lips around your breast, sucking your nipple in, circling his tongue around. All the while looking you in the eye, sly smile growing on your skin.

“Please,” you mewled, tired of his torture, of his teasing as he kissed his nails along the smooth expanse of your stomach. Letting his fingers only barely brush over you before retracting his hand. Still, his warmth lingered, a tingle on your flesh, fire in your loins. And he laughed.

“Please what?” he huffed, tongue lapping up a line over your collarbone. “Be a good doll for me and use your words.”

You heaved out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Crying out, choking on a sob when he dug his teeth into your shoulder. The pain was instant, but so was the arousal — a rush of heat down your slit as you gushed, stained the sheets.

“Need you,” you managed, shivering violently as he traced fingers over your inner thighs. Those barely there feathers again, scratching rather than touching you in full. You were still sensitive from before, nerves hyper-alert, but he took his time tormenting you. Reveling in the way you twitched, the way you looked up at him like you were already fucked out. “Need you to use me. Make me your pretty little whore.”

“But you already are,” he laughed, voice crooned, sweet but sarcastic. Your eyes brimmed with tears, vision blurring before you blinked them away. But he understood; catching on to the plea left unsaid, the whisper hushed. “You want more. Even after coming so much? Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

There was slight arrogant posturing there, and normally, you would have scoffed. Rolled your eyes at him even. But right now, you were too dizzy to think, feeling like you were floating, on a constant high as he placed his hand around your neck. Squeezing, applying firm pressure that had you choking, wheezing around his fingers.

“Need your cock,” you shuddered out. Dazed smile playing on your lips as you grew light-headed. Drunk on the lack of air, on Satoru as he took you in with sadistic glee, eyes dark, almost panting a little as he grinned, wide and feral. “Need it in my mouth, in my pussy. In all my holes. Need you to stuff me full. Fill me to the brim with cum.”

“That’s filthy, princess,” he chastised you, mock disappointment as he shook his head. But his fingers dug into your skin, nails pressing down harder — and you knew it was the right answer. “You want that? Want me to be fucking filthy with you?”

“Yes,” you keened, leaning in. Nuzzling your nose against the bone of his wrist as he cupped your cheek in his free hand. Loving, if not for the way he looked down at you like you were nothing but a set of holes — if not for his other one still pushing his palm into your pulse. But you managed, forced out the words if only for that glint of approval in blue gaze, like he was proud, like you were making him proud. “Would that be bad? If I want daddy to be filthy with me?”

“Fucking terrible,” Satoru huffed, but his cock bounced against your stomach. Pre-cum leaking from the tip, hot and sticky as it smeared your skin and dribbled into your navel. “Not that I expected anything less. Ask a bitch slut a question, and of course, she responds like one. Doesn’t matter what you would say. Everything that comes out of that mouth is fucking dirty anyway.”

You whined, growing wetter from his words as your walls pulsed — begging, aching to be stretched out. Your hand reached down to stroke your clit, to feel anything other than the slightest brush of his fingers, the briefest ghost of his lips. But he slapped that away too, clicking his tongue at you as you peered up at him in tears, in impatience as your teeth caught your lower lip in between.

“Please, daddy,” you pleaded again, batting your eyelashes at him this time. He hummed in thought, appraising you, tucking tendrils of your hair behind your ear. Again, loving — if not for the way he laughed at you, cold and cruel.

Even so, he didn’t deny you any longer as he crawled up to your face. Hand letting go of your neck, tracing your lips as you took in greedy inhales of air. His knees sunk into the space around your neck, your moan loud and lewd as he wrapped a hand around his cock. Hovered it over your face. Over your mouth that parted open, your tongue that darted out to taste.

But he pulled away. Laughing as you chased after him only to be deprived again.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, ignoring your whining as he slid his palm up and down his shaft. Pre-cum gathering before glistening on his fingers, your skin prickling as your cheeks caught some of it before he slapped you with his cock. Let it rest like this heavy weight on your lips before wiping slick away. “Yeah, this is what you want, huh. Sloppy little slut,” he husked as your tongue went to lick at his veins. Tears streaming down your face when he drew it back again.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you groaned, accusing as you glared up at him. He lifted an eyebrow at that, smug expression faltering if only for a second as his fingers brushed past his tip. Again and again until he was bucking into his hand, faster and harder until he was breathing too loud into cold air.

“I,” he panted, head thrown back and eyes clamping shut as he rubbed a fist around the head of his cock. Rolling in circles whilst his other hand pumped up and down what was left untouched, “have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

So he claimed, but you knew he knew the effect he had on you as he watched your eyes roll every time he lingered too close. Cock only a hair’s breadth away from your face, tip almost bumping into your nose every time he snapped his hips. Your tongue reached out, but he would always pull it out of touching distance. Out of your grasp — your lips that ached to take him in. You didn’t know how long you could take this before losing your sanity.

“Daddy,” you cried, wanting more but not daring to move as he kept you still with a glare. With a tut every time you even tried. “Pleasepleaseplease let me taste you. Let me suck you off. Let me make you feel good, make you cum in my mouth.” You paused, smiling a little as his eyes glazed over, as his breath hitched in his throat. “Don’t you wanna cum in my mouth? Make me swallow every drop? Fuck my face to completion? Choke me on your cock ‘till I drool all the way down to my chest?”

“Fuck,” Satoru gasped, composure fractured as his pace stuttered before doubling down. “Fucking brat, fucking stupid whore —” The way he quivered was violent then, tension pulling taut in his form before he let go. Dropping his cock on your face again. Once again heavy on your cheeks as he leaned in. Propped himself up by his palms against the headboard.

“Look at you. Look at the fucking spit running down your chin. Look at my cock, resting on your pretty face,” he purred, almost slurring through his words as he slid his tip over the trail of your saliva down the edge of your lips. Ignoring your pleas, your whines for more as the full length of him sat on your nose. Flushing from the way you panted against him, the way you leaned into him like you were intoxicated. “Bet you fucking like this too, huh? Like when I fucking slap my cock on your face? When I stain those cheeks with pre-cum? You like this, don’t you? Don’t you —”

A long, drawn out mewl escaped you. Your mind heady as he pulled away only to drop down on you again. One strike after another hard as you drooled for even the slightest inch of him.

“Please, Satoru, please. Just fuck my mouth. Just —” you sobbed, eyes glossy again as the torment drove your damn near crazy. Pushed so far you almost forgot to address him correctly. An apology at the tip of your tongue when it hit you a moment later.

But it didn’t manage to leave. Muffled into a startled gasp as the only warning Satoru gave you was the briefest brush of his tip between your lips before he shoved himself all the way in. Giving you no time to adjust to the sudden intrusion as he drew almost completely out before rocking forth again. Cock pushing against the back of your throat, forcing you to override your gag reflex. But the surprise lasted only briefly, gone the instant he started to move. Replaced with lust, with your fingers as they drifted lower to massage slippery folds.

Your chest burned, and your mouth felt like it was pried open too big — at least more than you were used to. Still, you accomodated. You sucked him in instead of pushing him off as he used you to get off. His pelvis kissing your nose with each thrust, saliva trickling down your chin as he pushed your head further into the bed.

“That’s it, suck me — suck me off, suck my cock,” he rasped, a wild look flitting past his face as he looked down to see you slobbering all over him, smiling before choking on his length. “This is what you begged for, isn’t it, you dirty little slut? Fucking deepthroat me then. Swallow me so fucking deep. That’s so good, so fucking good.”

Any remnant of self-control frayed into nothing as you hollowed your cheeks, your moans vibrations that sent him spiraling as you pressed your fingers into heat. Hooking for that sensitive spot within, matching his pace as you bucked against your hand. Palm slapping against swollen clit, crying out every time his balls hit your chin. His scent was potent; all-encompassing and sinking down on you like hands on your shoulders as you swallowed around him.

“God, you’re so good with your mouth,” he complimented you, affectionate as he pushed your bangs away. “Yeah, you better be fucking good with your mouth if you’re gonna run it like a little bitch. Like my little bitch.”

Your eyes flit shut. You tried your best to take him — you really did. But still, you struggled, wheezing with every brutal flick of his waist. Gagging as he sat fully on your face; rendering you helpless and at his mercy as he fed you more than you could handle. But it egged you on instead of turning you off. Your fingers burying knuckle-deep each time he knocked the air out of you.

“You’re so dirty,” he laughed at you, at the bubble of spit down your chest. Your tongue swirled around him as he made eye contact, tempo faltering before quickening — spurred on by your reddened lips, by your face as it flushed bright red. Your tears, pretty as they cascaded down your skin.

He wiped them away.

“Look at how fucking sloppy you are,” he cooed, mock pity lilting his voice as he brushed off a lock of hair from your lips. Making sure you weren’t disrupted as he engulfed himself in tight warmth again and again. Fucking into your mouth so hard you could barely even breathe. “Look at how perfect you look swallowing all that dick. Listen to you moan around it, listen to you fucking moan like a whore. You like that, huh? Yeah? Moan for me while you gag on my cock then. Make me feel good, make daddy feel good. Make that cock cum.”

And that was all you needed. All he had to give you before you spilled on your fingers. Before you gave him a few hard suctions, pressure too tight around him — and you felt him go still. His mouth wide open, eyes a haze as he shuddered before ramming his cock against the back of your throat one last time. He released; one spurt of warmth after another filling your mouth.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, sated and soothing as he felt you struggle to gulp him down. Your hands coming to push at his thighs before he pried them away, nail by nail, finger by finger. “Just take all of it like a good girl. Take my fucking cum. Take it and swallow.”

So you obliged, humming in delight once every drop trailed down your throat. He tasted bittersweet, hot and lingering on your tongue even after he pulled out with a wet pop.

“Let me look,” he said once he managed to collect himself. Looking disheveled but not as disheveled as you as he tugged at your chin for added emphasis. You complied, obedient and dutiful as ever as you opened your mouth so quickly it was instinct.

“Good girl,” Satoru purred as he noted that you had indeed swallowed all of him. Pushing you down again when you tried to prop yourself up. Laughing at you as you looked up at him with that glare again, that hint of a fight in one eye despite the tears.

“If you dare tease me again,” you warned. But the edge dulled, and you didn’t seem all that intimidating. Especially when your legs shook, when your toes curled as his hand crept its way down. Nails raking your flesh, leaving angry red imprints on once unmarked space.

“Patience,” he reprimanded you, the sound soft and casual. But you caught the sadistic lilt, the briefest of a chuckle in the way his eyes flashed at you. He positioned himself between your legs again, cock hovering over you before playing with your clit. Flicking left and right, up and down until he had you whining again. Until the fight in you left, stripped away.

“You want this?” he asked, his voice low and choppy as he traced along your entrance. Groaning as he felt you pulse, felt your walls try to pull him in. “Want me to fuck you? Need daddy to fucking pump you full?”

“Yes,” your whimper broke free in an instant. “I want you. Want you to fuck me. To breed me stupid.”

“Look at you being such a good fucktoy,” Satoru keened before sinking into you. Inch by inch — slowly like he wanted you to feel every bit of him sliding in, like he wanted you to appreciate every second of it. And you did, crying out his name, tugging at your own nipples for him as he stretched you out beyond anyone else ever had. “Yeah, you were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be my cute little cocksleeve, to be my precious good girl. Made to be mine.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. There was something in his voice that sounded oddly ominous, dangerously sinister in the way he drawled out his words. He sounded way too possessive for someone who just met you tonight — but that thought immediately faded as he sheathed into you balls-deep. Pushing as far as he could, pressing down on the shape of him peeking through your stomach as you struggled to breathe. Struggled to even form a coherent sentence.

Then there was a brush of his thumb over your clit — and you forgot what you were even worried about.

“Fuck, yes,” you mewled, legs digging into his hips as you pulled him closer. Your hands clawing at his neck, fingers tangling into white hair as his lips mapped yours in a bruising kiss. “You’re so good. You feel so good inside me.”

Another laugh bubbled out of him, but it circled the room in quivers — breathless as he touched your forehead with his. “You know just what to say. You always do, don’t you?”

You didn’t notice the wistful look scratching at his face. Nor did you notice the way he hooked his arms possessively around your waist as he pressed you flushed against him. His full weight sinking down on you as he pulled out almost completely only to slam back in. Pace slow only for a few moments before he grew impatient, sanity crippling at the feel of your walls tightening around him, your clit throbbing under his fingertips as he stroked it again and again.

“Yeah, you like that, huh,” he husked on your tongue before drawing apart to drink in your reactions. Your eyes rolling back, your face flushed and wet from either spit or tears. You didn’t know what he was looking at — but whatever it was did the trick because he was giving you these deep and hard thrusts that were so relentless you felt like you were breaking in half. “You like how I fuck that pussy? Like how I pound you into the fucking bed?”

But you couldn’t form out words. Your lips wide open to let out a string of broken whimpers instead — sharp gasps and quick pants that left you too loud as his balls slapped against your ass. You couldn’t even think, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind. Relishing instead in the way your eyes turned glassy, in the way you smiled and laughed like you were in a trance.

“You fuck me so well,” you managed, in between squelching noises too obscene, in between the sound of skin smacking hard against skin. He laughed, rolling his eyes at you like he expected nothing less.

“You look so fucking good with your legs spread,” he grunted, free hand reaching for her throat again as he wrapped it around her neck. Pushing down, choking you out of air as your breasts bounced in tandem with the snap of his hips. Reckless abandon, constant friction as he fucked you with a vengeance, like he hated you and he couldn’t have this any other way.

His eyes dipped to where you were joined, and you felt him swell inside you as he groaned at the sight. “Look at that stranger cock going inside you. In and out, just like that. Pounding deep inside that sloppy fucking cunt just the way you like it. Just the way cocksluts like you like it.”

You were teetering on another edge, that spring in your belly coiling tightly before threatening to release. Still, he kept going — pistoned into you like a man possessed even as you gushed, even as you squeezed around him so tight. Your hands grabbing at his arms, clinging to any part of him for solace as you tried not to lose yourself.

“Daddy,” you choked on a sob. “I’m gonna come. I’m so close, so fucking close. I’m gonna —"

Satoru didn’t say much. He didn’t say anything at all — only feathered his lips over your hairline, soft. But that did you in, your body twitching before going stiff. Warmth spreading all over before exploding out you in a drawn out high. Satoru fucked you through it, cock railing into your hole in a building rhythm. He fucked you even after; laughed at you and slapped your hands away when you tried to shake him off.

“Can’t,” you cried, yanking too hard at his hair as he planted kisses along the line of your jaw. Lips catching your pulse, tongue licking before teeth quickly dug in. “Too — sensitive! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t —”

“You can,” was all he said before he folded your legs over your chest. Rocking into you deeper now, the force of his thrusts brutal, fast as he kept assaulting your battered slit. His hand loosened its hold around your neck if only to reach for one nipple, brushing soft before pinching and tugging hard. “You take it so fucking deep for me, don’t you? Take my cock so fucking well. You even sound good — moan like such a good slut. So fucking pretty, so fucking stupid all for me.”

It was torturous but also delightful: that drag of his length along your walls as he pounded you to pieces. Pounded you to tears and a drooling mess as you couldn’t make sense of anything anymore; your ecstatic cries of his name cacophonic, adrenaline in your veins as want pooled despite the overstimulation.

“Right there!” you screamed, fingers clawing at his back as he shifted ever so slightly to angle himself at your g-spot. “Please keep fucking me. Keep fucking me, keep fucking me —”

“There you go,” he laughed as he watched you try to suck him in — felt you dig the back of your knees into his shoulders to force him deeper. “See? I knew you had it in you. A cheap whore like you? Bet you can take hours of thorough fucking just because you’re addicted to cum. To stranger cocks destroying that tight little pussy.”

His fingers latched on to your clit again, flicking in sync with the roll of his hips as he impaled you again and again on his cock. He didn’t let you rest; didn’t ease up even as he felt you clench around him before shattering all over. Wetting the sheets, his stomach as you squirted — spurting every time he pulled out only to shove back in.

“Guys back home fuck you like this?” he asked, knowing full well you couldn’t answer as you muffled broken, half-attempt at words into the crook of his neck. His fingers incessant as they traced circles into your clit. “No, I don’t think so. You gotta be a good filthy fucking slut to get fucked like this. To spread your legs for a stranger for him to fuck you like this.”

Shame burned your cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of your ears as the intensity of it all overwhelmed you and you bit back a moan only to babble something incorrigible. Your body lurching, knees buckling before going limp around his head.

“I can’t think,” you cried out, throwing your arms over your face to hide your expressions before he forcefully pried them away. “Don’t look, I — "

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the sound hushed against your lips as he slanted his over them. Nothing else mattered then as you softened — as you felt Satoru slam into you with renewed urgency. Rhythm lost, fevered heat reaching its peak as his stomach flexed and he drew close. Ignoring your sobs, the way your nails dragged painfully across his chest as he chased after his own high. “Just hold out for me a little longer. Just a bit more. I promise, just a bit more —”

Your head lolled into the mattress. “Daddy,” you moaned, tired but terrifyingly sated. Needy to a fault in the way you pulled at white strands. “Come for me, come in me. Please. Want daddy’s cum. Want you to shoot it all the way to the back of my pussy.”

He broke then; a bowstring snapping in half as he collapsed on top of you. Forehead to forehead, lips to lips as he kissed you like you were the air he needed to even breathe.

“Say my name,” he rasped. Eyes fluttering shut. “Say my name over and over again while I come.”

There was a certain weight in his words. A certain emotion you couldn’t understand. But that, too, faded into nothingness. Into Satoru as everything turned to static.

“Satoru,” so you whispered. “Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.” Again and again like it was a prayer. Like he was God, and you were nothing but his devout follower. His body an altar to be kissed as you pressed your lips all over, catching his sweat, his tongue as he shoved it into your mouth.

Satoru let go at the same time you did — warmth flooding your insides and painting them white as you fell off the edge.

“I paid for the room for two days,” Satoru said as you woke up. Sunrise peeking through the blinds and clawing at your face before you groaned, turning to your other side. “You can order room service too if you want. It’s on me.”

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled. One fist rubbing over your eye before you blinked a few times and your vision finally cleared. Satoru slipped out of the bathroom fully dressed, dark sunglasses on the bridge of his nose as he looked himself over in the mirror. “Going somewhere?”

Satoru peered at you — or, well, the bite marks around the apex of your thighs first before your face. Features soft before shifting into something unreadable.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, awkward as he scratched the back of his head. “I hate to say it because it makes me sound like an asshole — but, uh, I got stuff to do, so yeah.”

You feigned a gasp, a hand to your chest for added dramatic effect. “So you’re just gonna stick it in then dip? Wow. I really am nothing but a cheap whore for you, huh.”

He squinted at you then. “Aren’t you?” he joked, playing along with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder — only to break character as you threw a pillow at him in retaliation. He dodged it, one step too skilled and graceful. “I’ll still be around town, but I can’t promise I can hang out often. I’m here for work stuff too, so yeah. But I did have fun.”

“Me too,” you said, a smile drawing on your face as he reached over to pat your head. Ruffling your hair before passing you a bottle of water. “You were, uh, scary good.”

Satoru’s response was quick. Coy, smug confidence in the upturn of his chin. “Oh, yeah? Say more.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Refusing to indulge except for a light punch to his shoulder. “Shush, you. I bet you’re used to compliments anyway. Doubt there’s anything I can say that you haven’t heard.”

“Well…” Satoru started, humming as though in agreement. You lifted another pillow in threat, but he pried it out of your grasp, flinging it away before leaning in to kiss you. “Jokes aside though, you were great too. Fucking amazing, in fact.”

“Stop,” you murmured, blushing now as blood rushed to your face. Warmth under your cheeks that he kissed as he brushed his lips over your skin. “You should go. Like, actually. Before I jump you again.”

“Shaking in my boots as we speak, ma’am,” he laughed. Granting you and himself one last press of his lips against yours before sighing, reluctant as he pulled away. “But yeah. I really do have to bounce. You’re fine on your own, right?”

“I’m a big girl,” you answered, mirth in your eyes as you eyed the worry and guilt etched on his face. “And thanks for paying for the room. You didn’t have to, but I could use a break from my friends for a bit. They’ve been kinda… pushy since the break-up.”

“I can imagine,” Satoru chuckled, but didn’t resist as you went to fix his crooked tie. He peppered a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Thanks.”

Then he was gone. Out of your space but not without a fight. Seeming like he was forced to tear himself away from you as he made for the door.

“Take care, Y/N,” he said, sparing you one last glance before clicking the door shut behind him. You didn’t notice what he said until you were gulping down greedy intakes of water. Body sore but sated. One hand to your lips, feeling the warmth left behind from where he lingered.

When did you tell him your name?

But then your hand fell limp. A fog in your brain before that thought, too, was forgotten.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Follower Celebration Time!!!

So I noticed I was getting more followers after the Din Valentine's fic and I happened to look at my count and holy moly there are more than 1200 of you!!

So this calls for a celebration!! Also coincidentally it is my spring break next week so I'm down for some fandom fun.

To celebrate I'm bringing back one of my favorite things -

Messages from your favorite Star Wars character

To play you must send me an ask for your favorite character (I have anons turned on if you're shy). You can start sending asks now through next week. Please choose from the following criteria:

romantic - the character will send you a very affectionate message

friendship - the character will treat you like a close friend but there will not be any romantic overtones

enemy - the character will threaten you

crack/comedy - you'll get something ridiculous that should hopefully make you laugh

A few rules/guidelines:

I will do spicy messages but only if you are over 18 and I can confirm this on your blog (can't be on anon for that, sorry)

If you have any specifics that you want mentioned, you should tell me, otherwise the situation/context is up to me

These are meant to be shorter messages, think 500 words max, rather than a full fic

Thank you again for being here!! I'm looking forward to your messages.

Tagging people to get the word out: @boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @trekkingaroundasgard @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings @mandoloriancookie @theofficialbugs @heyitsaloy

[princesssmars]

more of college rockstars kei and touya. nsfw content included <3

spring break with college rockstar's keigo and touya. its been a few weeks since you all started dating and its just so easy since you were all great friends before. its literally like spending everyday with the two people who get you and do everything in their power to make you happy.

the sex is just an added bonus and god are they horny often. you nearly got kicked out of the campus library when touya was feeling neglected while you were studying and instead of voicing his problem went underneath the table and ate your pussy like he was starving >:/

but other than that its been great! they are incredible boyfriends, treating you like their princess and they are at your beck and call. want some takeout from your favorite place? keigo's ordered all 3 of your favorite dishes. want to go to a campus party but need to study? thankfully touya is ridiculously smart and will tutor you at the speed of light and will escort you to the party himself <3

things are also looking up for their careers, their duo getting way more local gigs and more attention from neighboring counties. and you already know when you have a free night they will take you to a gig and let you listen from backstage. keigo is a sap so yes he will dedicate a song to you. yes touya agrees but tells him to stop being corny. yes after the gig they will be so high on euphoria and adrenaline they'll take you into the dressing room fuck your brains out then take you out for burgers after :D.

after a few weeks of this great streak they get asked to perform for a rock festival in a big city, it lasting most of spring break. you obviously tell them to do it, this being a great step in their career. although you are a bit bummed you'll be missing out and will be seperated during your week of no class.

they obviously look at you like you're crazy and just tell you to pack your things.

the whole way there you're excited, seeming to be even more so than them. the festival organizer was incredibly generous and paid for your first class tickets and hotel room, and you def make the most of it when all three of you order fancy airline snacks. (you might have also, with a crazy amount of stretching, become members of the mile high club but thats neither here nor there.)

the first two days are spent checking out the festival's beginnings, meeting new musicians and people, and touring around the city. they definitely take you out to karaoke bars and every other party you wanna tag along to. but if you wanna stay in the hotel room and just watch rented movies and eat snacks one of them will definitely stay with you. probably kei he's a sucker for wrapping up in fluffy robe and getting cuddly.

the day of their performance is nothing short of amazing. their singing is loud and angry and beautiful and its one of the most exhilarating experiences of your life. throughout it they look at you with the biggest smiles and send you a wink, your heart pounding and you cant help but giggle. when its all over and they've greeted fans and talked about future opportunities they barely manage to drag you back to the hotel before ravishing you.

the next day is calm. you all sleep in late, you and keigo waking up giggly because touya is in between the two of you which he rarely does and hes slightly snoring and drooling and he looks adorable.

after a lazy bit of getting dressed and freshened up you all head to a nice little place for a good breakfast and spend the rest of the day doing some shopping and exploring and laughing and just enjoying being with these two.

[berlinini]

Oof, I’m way too weak to pick one Tomlinshaw as a favorite. Top contenders incl. London Rain by writcraft, The Next Bit Was Spanners To My Plan by LadyAJ_13 (lots of their fics could make this list, tbh), The Million Reasons Why by reminiscingintherain, The One Where . . . series by checkthemargins, and Brighter This Time by jiksa.

The author alison has some great poly and voyeurism smut. Won’t You Jingle My Bells by grimouis is good holiday 3-some smut. 😇 I recently stumbled across (it has basically no tags and no description) A Light, A Shiny Gold by vashtanerados and really liked it - a thoughtful fic, with a moment of deep kindness and understanding at the end that made me cry. A new pwp Louis/omc is Bet On It by nouies— the omc is Louis’ boyfriend who’s also concert security and it’s 🔥. There’s an ongoing poly series, For My Lovers, with Louis/Harry/omc by kikiberoski16 that’s good; the omc is a strong character and not just an afterthought. And there’s a couple Greg James ones I really like: Always Keep You Next To Me by lululawrence and Getting A Head For Heights by LadyAJ_13. (Sorry this is so self-indulgently long 😞). I’d love to hear your recommendations!

Thanks for all of this!

I might have read some of those tomlinshaw but they're not in my saved fics except those by alison hahaha

I did start the Bet On It series a while back and looooooved it (it was so timely!) but I forgot to check for new chapters... I will do so! Love their Louis/footballer series too (which seems to be completed now :/) I will def check out the holiday smut - 'tis the season after all!

If you also want something on that theme, Smile Again by mistresscurvy is a lilo fake relationship that takes place during Christmas and it's really cute! Love The New Posh and Becks by that author too (love a good football au!)

The 2 fics that I re-read all the time are Let's Break the Internet, some excellent OMC smut... very unfortunately it's an orphan account so I have no idea who wrote it and can't tell them how I adoooore this one. The other one is To reach a port we must set sail by thedeathchamber.... Henry Cavill and Italy... what else???

I've probably mentioned those in my previous fic recs but A Tear in the Sky by zanni_scaramouche which is a story about a cult, omegaverse, Niall's POV and not smut/love story.

Zouis: To Catch a Thief by StormDancer; Favourite Boy and New York Kiss by wordsnnotes; Stuck In An Eternal Spring by flamboyo would be my top 3. See also a previous rec post and here. (Louis/OMC recs here).

I have opened and bookmarked SO many fics that I have then abandonned because honestly there's SO much. At some point I was reading only stuff under 10K. Recently I switched to IWTV fics, they have some excellent authors too and I feel slightly less weird reading fanfic based on a work of fiction. But I'm always grateful for some good recs :)

[unhingedselfships]

Tagged by @watasemasaru

I might tag people idk.

Update: @wealreadywentdownontheship baaaabe do this lol

ANIMAL: rabbits, foxes, white tail doe

COLORS: dark cool purple, cerulean blue, brushed nickle

MONTH: october

SONGS: i can't breathe - Bea Miller, Lost Cause - Beck, Dear Agony - Breaking Benjamin, Empty - Cranberries, Only If For A Night - Florence + the Machine

NUMBER: 9, 12, 18. The Hermit, The Hanged Man, The Star

PLANTS: hydrangea, forget-me-nots, red head fountain grass, creeping thyme

SMELLS: magnolia, clemetine, rosemary, black pepper, baby powder

GEMSTONE: opal, moonstone, snowflake obsidian

TIME OF DAY: dawn and dusk

SEASON: early spring, late fall

PLACES: southern Kentucky, central Illinois, Hokkaido, her garden hideaway, Kenshi's side

FOOD: chicken and dumplings, fresh baked bread, bacon sandwiches, garlic dill pickles, katsu chicken, tempura yams

DRINKS: spring water, pepsi, chai tea

ELEMENT: air/water

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: libra/pisces/cancer

SEASONINGS: vanilla bean, cracked white pepper, garlic

SKY: hazy dark blues speckled with light, when colors are fading and shifting and wispy clouds hide little

WEATHER: cloudy, drizzly, chilly. nap weather

MAGICAL POWER: empathy

WEAPONS: puppy eyes and sharp knives

SOCIAL MEDIA: myspace or tumblr

MAKEUP PRODUCT: gold eyeliner 

CANDY: nerds, chewy gobstoppers, snickers with almonds

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: sleepy rides in the passenger seat

ART STYLE: John Everett Millais

FEAR: being abandoned or unwanted/discarded, loss

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: banshee

PIECE OF STATIONARY: custom letter paper in soft colors

THREE EMOJIS: 😔🌑🪡

CELESTIAL BODY: aurora borealis

[fullmetalscullyy]

I posted 2,474 times in 2022

That's 1,288 more posts than 2021!

200 posts created (8%)

2,274 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fullmetalscullyy

@lokitvsource

@andrew3garfield

@lokihiddleston

@klainelynch

I tagged 1,823 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#th - 441 posts

#royai - 315 posts

#fma - 211 posts

#txf - 166 posts

#emma talks - 131 posts

#:) - 85 posts

#crimson peak my beloved - 50 posts

#royai fic - 43 posts

#emma writes - 43 posts

#royai fanfic - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#there's a high school au for all the teenage angst lmao and that fantasy au that the plot is there for i just need to sit down and write it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

me: maybe i'll rewatch fmab again

also me: [only rewatches death of the undying & only rewatches sacrifices & lost light]

40 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#4

tragic royai....... soft royai...... domestic royai........ so many tasty flavours in one ship 🤌

46 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

#3

a wall of pillows

more vibesss

rated: g | words: 1842 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, fluff, waking together, cuddling

read on ao3

It made sense that Riza should move out of her bedroom.

Her back injuries, while mostly healed, were still not well enough for her to sleep in a bedroom where water was leaking in through a hole in a dilapidated roof, bringing some damp and a bitingly cold breeze along with it.

It was getting worse, Riza thought with a sigh, as she squinted up at the offending splinter in the structure. The air within the room was making her shiver now. Once night fell, and the early spring sun disappeared behind the trees, it would be even worse.

Her squint turned into a frown, then a scowl.

Roy’s hovering in the doorway as she assessed the damage wasn’t making it any better either.

The only other option was to move into his room. Because she could not face sleeping in her late father’s bed.

A night on the couch was absolutely out, according to her temporary caretaker. Not that Riza minded or would argue with Roy there anyway. The ratty, old piece of furniture wasn’t even comfortable for sitting on, never mind sleeping. It would only aggravate her back further. Roy had offered to sleep there, however Riza had never been anything other than a perfect host, something her father had instilled within her. She couldn’t ask him to sleep on that couch while she commandeered his bed.

“What if we were to share a bed?”

Her sharp glance at such a suggestion didn’t appear to faze him.

No, she didn’t particularly want to share a bed with him. But she didn’t want to freeze overnight. The latter would only hinder her recovery process.

Riza couldn’t have Roy facing the same fate either.

Roy retrieved the pillows from Riza’s bed before she’d even made a decision, and tossed them onto the top of his bed without a care. It was comical how much higher Riza’s pillow side was compared to his, but it wouldn’t be the case for long.

She arranged them carefully into a wall between her and Roy.

It was nothing personal, Riza explained to him, but it made her feel more… comfortable.

It was silly, she thought. She’d bared herself to him completely. He’d seen the tattoo on her back and had listened to her tale of how it came to be. He’d burned the most important parts off her skin. He’d seen her break down with the pain and howl up to the ceiling in agony. It felt like Roy Mustang knew her inside out, better than anyone else ever had, and yet, sharing a sleeping space still made her pause. It made anxiety flare within her chest, making her heart stutter in silent panic and her stomach clench.

Roy’s care as he nursed her back to health had been astronomically great. He’d been attentive and protective. He’d been at her beck and call, seeing to her every wish, not that there were many. When Riza had been unable to lift her head from the pillow in the early days, he’d assisted with her eating and drinking. He’d even read to her.

The sound of his voice had lulled her to sleep more often than she’d care to admit.

And Riza had witnessed his guilt towards it all. It swam beneath his kind, dark eyes and never relented. It was always present and never went away. Riza didn’t think it would for while even though she’d absolved him of his actions against her skin. He’d helped free her, Riza always told him. It was what she’d wanted. She reinforced those facts, but it still didn’t shift.

But it didn’t mean she’d stop trying.

Sharing a bed though… Despite the closeness which had developed even further after Roy had granted Riza’s request, it was an action which felt so… intimate. It felt like it was taking a step further into unknown territory. They were both young adults now and the innocence that had been present when they’d shared a bed previously as children was long gone.

Everything had changed between them over the last few years.

The conversation stating her wish to keep some semblance of a boundary between them was awkward, but Roy didn’t seem to mind. He shot her an easy-going smile and assured her it was fine. He remained open and understanding of her desire to keep distance between them and agreed with her.

“Whatever makes you most comfortable, Riza.”

However, during sleep, they were still drawn together.

Riza woke in the morning to find herself lying on top of Roy.

More specifically, her head was resting on his left side, above his heart – which beat steadily underneath her ear – and she was curled against his side. Her free arm was draped across his torso and gripped onto him by his ribs, her fingers curled into his side as she tried to hold on and secure herself against him.

See the full post

49 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#2

we didn't really see how royai were affected and recovered after father exploded that one time during the end fight on the promised day and as a result i had A Thought:

words: 1471

read on ao3

The blowback of energy was overwhelming. It stole air from lungs and tore away any ability to cry out, to yell, to call for help. It threw everyone backwards before they could even blink. Bodies thumped against the ground painfully and with no mercy. Aches and pains erupted over skin, some down to the bone, others superficial that would heal within a short time.

Those were the lucky ones.

When people were able, the sounds of choked coughing and desperate gasps for oxygen to inflate lungs filled the air, alongside pained groans. Some people were already calling out to others. To try and locate them and to assess injuries. To offer assistance and give out orders to re-join the fight. To cry for help. It all followed after a deafening, still silence where only the wind passed through the battle ravaged area.

Roy took longer to return to coherency than the others. His mind was sluggish and his eyes blinked blearily open to face the sky above.

But there was nothing.

Pitch black.

He knew it had been a nice day that morning. Clear blue sky with not a cloud in sight. That’s how it had started out. What it must look like now, with smoke billowing across it, pulled by the wind and obscuring what should have been something pretty. Even shrouded by the smoke that was now threatening to choke him, what Roy would give to see such a thing. Even for just a second. But even if he could see, if his vision was still intact, he wouldn’t have had a second to revel in such a view.

His mind – when it had regained it’s faculties – quickly ran through an assessment of his physical status. Everything that was hurting before was still doing so, but even more so now. He didn’t appear to have any new aches and pains and his current ones had aches on top of that.

He must have been one of the “lucky” ones.

It was a feat, but he managed to lift his arms and neck with minimal pain and roll onto his stomach. Fighting against his new reality, Roy’s head still turned left and right in an attempt to search for his Lieutenant. It was childish – perhaps feverish after all he’d been subjected to in such a short space of time – but he was sure if he willed it enough, blinked often enough, his vision would clear and he’d see her caramel eyes again.

Desperation and blood loss brought out peculiar thoughts from within him.

He had no idea where she would have landed. He had no idea where he had landed. It felt relatively far and judging by the impact it had hurt but he simply had no frame of reference. No way to tell. No landmarks to look at and pick out given his last known location.

Roy took a deep breath and pulled oxygen into his lungs. He ignored the sharp pain in his ribs as he did so. He took the air in and tried to clear his mind and rationalise. And strategise.

She couldn’t have gotten too far. She must be nearby.

“Hawkeye?” His attempt at a call was pathetic. It was nothing more than a quiet rasp. It was still taking his body some time to reclaim back the oxygen he’d lost after being winded by the hard landing.

It was taking too long.

And there was no immediate answer to his call.

Now with more oxygen, his brain painted a clearer picture in his mind of what could have happened. And Roy remembered and took everything into account.

His attempt at recovery had been slow, but he hadn’t had his throat slit. Hawkeye had.

Roy’s own throat cramped up as he inhaled sharply, consequently choking on air. Fear trickled through his veins and threatened to constrict his heart. It had already given it a squeeze as he fought off the worst thoughts that were currently springing to his mind. Dread crept up his spine and caused his blood to run cold.

If he’d taken a few moments longer to recover, and he’d fared far better than Hawkeye down in the tunnels, how was she after that blast? What was her status? What condition was she in after her already nearly catastrophic blood loss from earlier?

Would she even rise from the ground after being subjected to a blast like that?

“Lieutenant!” He ended up having a coughing fit but his call had been louder and clearer by sheer force of will alone.

Brought on by panic and distress.

Nothing.

The fighting continued on around him. Roy was blind. He could see nothing, so was useless. His attacks would be too dangerous and destructive to be let off unrestrained and he would not injure another innocent with alchemy. He refused. He needed his eyes. He needed his guiding light. He needed –

See the full post

56 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

the way mulder looks at scully and winks at her in this ep i'm screaming crying throwing up

96 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[yuta-nakamots]

Yuta-Nakamots’ NCT 127 Masterlist 

Welcome to my masterlist! Please make sure to check out the guidelines for rules about my writings and feel free to take a look at the upcoming release schedule. Be sure to join my general taglist if you’d like to be tagged in my future works. Thank you and have a nice day!

Key

Genres f || Fluff a || Angst s || Smut m || Horror and other mature genres t || Action

Extras ✧ || 200+ notes ™ || ToMie TradeMarked (inspired by a dream I had)

m . t a e i l

The Christmas Song (f) || Teaser || - Single Parent!Taeil x Single Parent!Reader - 4.7k

It wasn’t uncommon for when the weather grows colder, many hearts do as well. Though you hoped this was not true in the case of yours and Taeil’s, that the warmth of each other’s hearts would be enough to break the ice. Part of the Taste of Winter Collab.​  Part of the NeoWinter Festival and the NeoHoliday Festival.

s . j o h n n y

Touch (f,s) ™ || Teaser || - Volleyball!Johnny x Reader - 8.6k

As a first year student majoring in English, you would have never thought that you’d end up working for the sports news network at your university. Even more so, flirting with one of your coworkers who happens to be on the men’s volleyball team. Part of the NCT Sports Collab.​

[2:50pm] WAP (f) - Boyfriend!Johnny x GN Reader - 0.2k

l . t a e y o n g

Back 2 U (f,a,s,m,t) || Teaser || Prologue || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || - Gang Member!Taeyong x Gang Member!Reader - 27.2k (ongoing)

To ensure the fate of your gang in the new era, your parents decide to arrange a marriage with the most powerful clan, the Lee clan. Taeyong, the up and coming leader of the clan, is soon at your beck and call, ready to give anything for you even if it’s his own life. Inspired by @choco-mark’s series, A Marriage Of Inconvenience.

✧ Tiger Inside (f,s) || Teaser || - Hybrid!Taeyong x Reader - 6k

Your life in quarantine is as boring as normal until your long-time boyfriend Taeyong wakes up with new features, specifically those of a tiger. Neither of you know what to do besides continuing on with your daily lives and accommodating to his new habits. Part of the Wasn’t On Pawpose Collab.​

Long Flight (f,a,m) ™ - Among Us!Taeyong x Among Us!Reader - 5.6k

Join your crewmates in a multiplayer game of teamwork and betrayal! But beware…as there may be an impostor aboard! Their goal is to eliminate the rest of the crew and they will sabotage the ship, sneak through vents, deceive, and frame others to remain anonymous and kill off the crew. Part of the Neo Clock Event. Check out the masterlist here.

✧ Summer 127 (f,s) ™ - Boyfriend!Taeyong x Reader - 2.3k

Going to a waterpark was a great way to beat the summer heat though things only seem to get hotter while you’re there.  Part of the the Sunny Side Event​. Check out the masterlist here.

Stuck With You (f) - Boyfriend!Taeyong x Reader - 4.3k

Going on vacation with Taeyong for his 26th birthday was already a gift in itself but it made you realize that there’s no one else you’d rather be stuck with for a the rest of your life than him.  Part of the Around the World in 31 Days Event. Check out the masterlist here. Part of the TaeTae Day Event. check out the masterlist here.

n . y u t a

✧ Playing Games (f,a,s) || Teaser || - Frat Boy!Yuta x Reader - 11.2k

Yuta is a notorious frat boy known for sleeping around with tons of girls yet never getting into a relationship. You never would have thought you’d become entangled with him until fate ends up placing both of you in the same beginner guitar class during your spring semester. Part of the Bingo Collab. Check out the masterlist here.

Pandora’s Box (f) || Teaser || - Soccer!Yuta x Reader 

Yuta was one of the best offensive players on your university’s soccer team yet his defense was just as strong. Namely, his emotional defense. It became a personal goal of yours to break away into his heart and score points in your favor. Part of the Quarter Life Shenanigans Collab.

[12:57pm] From Home (f) - Boyfriend!Yuta x GN Reader - 0.3k

[5:04pm] Fly Away With Me (f) ™ - Dad!Yuta x GN Reader - 0.5k

k . d o y o u n g

Good Thing (f) ™ - Love Alarm!Doyoung x Reader - 1.6k

The Love Alarm app makes it easier than ever to find love but things never seem to be in your favor. You have come to doubt the sensibility of it because, do you really need an app to find love? Part of the Love Alarm Event. Check out the masterlist here.

Highway To Heaven (f,a) || Teaser || - Street Racer!Doyoung x Reader - 4.6k

Doyoung was one of the biggest names in street racing though part of him knew he couldn’t compete forever. But just like a checkered flag, the day he finished his racing career came sooner than he expected. Part of the Adrenaline Rush! Collab​

[7:13pm] White Night (f) ™ - Vampire!Doyoung x Vampire!Reader - 0.2k

Part of the NeoWinter Festival.

j . j a e h y u n

✧ Baby Don’t Like It (f,a,s) ™ - Idol!Jaehyun x Idol!Reader, Idol!Yuta x Idol!Reader - 9.8k

Relationships can get messy as seen by the way you’ve managed to fuck up one that you weren’t even officially in to begin with but at least your boyfriend seems pretty supportive of it all. Part of the 23 Days of Christmas Event​. Check out the masterlist here.

✧ Whiplash (f,a,s) || Teaser || - University!Jaehyun x Reader, University!Jungwoo x Reader - 10.7k

After your letters to your two crushes, who you thought you’d never have a chance with, are mistakenly received, you’re greeted by a world of indecisiveness. You don’t know which way to go, which man to go with, and every choice you make feels like getting whiplash. Part of the To All the Members I’ve Loved Before Collab​. Check out the masterlist here. Part of the Summer ‘127 Event. check out the masterlist here.

Friend In Me (f) - University!Jaehyun x Reader - 0.9k

Not one for costumes, you weren’t over the moon showing up to a Halloween party dressed as Bo Peep with her three sheep. A drunk Buzz Lightyear and a handsome sheriff Woody quickly change your mind about that, though. Part of the NeoHalloween writing festival. Check out the masterlist here.

[12:10pm] Paper Plane (f) ™ - Physics Teacher!Jaehyun x Student Teacher!Reader - 0.5k

k . j u n g w o o

[extremelyblackandwhite]

lover series - i forgot that you existed

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Warning: mentions of heartbreak

A/N: i’m not entirely sure what to write for my new multiple chapter fanfic i have quite a few ideas and i’m loving the character ideas you’re sending. until i decide which idea to go with, i decided to do something I’ve always wanted to do which is write a little drabble for various sebastian stan characters based on the songs present within taylor swift’s masterpiece, lover. if you have not heard the album here’s the spotify link. i hope you guys enjoy it xx  

Chris was hopelessly, stupidly in love with his best friend, Y/N. He had met her during their freshers week, sat at at pub table along with her flatmates looking the most bored someone could look at a pub. He still remembered how she looked on that day, with her beautiful hair let down instead of the upwards hairstyle she always used during class and a loose red dress, no makeup, staring at the pint in front of her. Chris could help stuck up a conversation with her and from that moment on they became inseparable. 

They were even on the same course, so he saw her every single day in lectures with her cup of green tea and laptop. It hadn’t taken any longer for Martinez and Watney to realise Chris followed Y/N around like a lost puppy. Watney had even tried to get Chris to ask Y/N out, however his hopes were crashed when Beth and Melissa, Y/N’s flatmates, warned him that Y/N was closed off dating.

What they had told Chris was that Y/N was still recovering from a pretty bad breakup she went through the summer before university started. Ever since Y/N spent her days thinking about how Dave, as Chris, Watney and Martinez had named him due to not knowing his name, did her wrong and how she’d rather be a successful student than ever be heartbroken again.

She had sworn off dating and she was not gonna date again. Trust, Chris knew she was really off dating, whenever they went out for drinks or to the movies, every guy would hit on her and she would rebuff him in such a fashion that Watney had dubbed her to be the heartbreaking one of the group. 

     - You’re staring again, Beck. - Mark elbowed in the side, noticing Chris eyes were on Y/N’s back. They always sat a row above the girls not to interrupt their studies as they always complained whenever they spoke during lectures. - Just ask her out.

    - I can’t ask her out. - Chris turned to his friend, upset that they still brought it up. He always told himself that he’d eventually meet another girl and fall in love with her and forget about Y/N but it had been 3 years and he was still head over heels with Y/N. 

    - Beck, Watney, what is so interesting that you’d rather be speaking in my lecture than listening to it? - their lecture called them out making Y/N, Beth and Melissa turned to face the boys, a smirk on their faces. 

    - Sorry Mr. Parris. - Chris said, mentally wanting to stab Watney. He needed to pass this module and if he continued to piss off the lecturer, he would never do it. After what felt like two hours but were only thirty minutes, everyone was dismissed. 

Y/N, Beth and Melissa were the first ones to exit as usual. They always went to their favourite table on the ground floor of the library were they could eat as well as revise for their modules. Those were always the first ones to go out, so they always rushed there.

They got to their favourite tables and placed their bags on the table, sitting on the worn out black chairs, laptops going on top of the table along with their post its filled with more notes. 

    - So, the spring ball is in a week. Who are you guys taking? - Melissa started their short gossiping. They always did a bit of girl talk before they went straight onto their studies. - I’m thinking about inviting my lab partner.

    - Blonde with the cute bum? - Y/N inquired and Melissa nodded. - Are you guys gonna finally stop flirting and go the next step?

    - Look who’s talking, Miss Single. - Melissa teased. - I know who you are taking, no one. What about you Beth, please tell me you’re taking someone.

    - Maybe I’m gonna ask Chris. I don’t think someone has asked him yet. - the redhead said with a smile on her face. Y/N however did not share the same excitement Melissa showed her. She didn’t know Beth had a thing for Chris, it was never mentioned to her. 

    - Chris Beck? As in my best friend Christopher Beck? - maybe it was another Chris. God, the name Chris was a popular one, every single kid had it as either their first or middle name. 

    - Yeah, Chris. Why has someone asked him out already? 

    - Not that I know of. When did you start liking Chris?

    - He’s handsome and he’s sweet, there’s not a lot of guys that are handsome and sweet besides we wanna go into the same NASA programme after university so it has potential to be something serious. 

    - Just took me by surprise. - Y/N shrugged, head going straight to her book. Melissa furrowed her eyebrows turning to Beth to ask her something which caused her to leave to grab a book.

    - Right, Y/N. Spill it. - Melissa grabbed the book away from her, making sure she listened to her instead of reading volume two of the physiology of organ systems.

    - Spill what? - Y/N tried to push the book back but Melissa was already expecting this and put it on the table behind them. - I need to read two chapters in an hour to make sure my study sche ...

    - “Chris Beck? As in my friend Christopher Beck?” - Melissa mocked her voice, rolling her eyes. - We don’t know any other Chrises, you idiot. 

    - That’s just hurtful. There’s another Chris.

    - Where? - she crossed her arms, leaning against her chair.

    - Chris, the guy that serves us coffee every single day. - to be honest, Y/N did not know the name of that guy because he didn’t use a name tag but he looked like a Chris. He was probably a Chris. 

    - God, Y/N just admit it you like Chris. You’ve liked Chris since you two went on that weird medicine field trip and ever since you haven’t shut up about him. 

    - I never talk about Chris.

    - Oh really? Just yesterday we were watching Breakfast at Tiffanys and just because the male lead had blue eyes you mentioned Chris. God Y/N, you like Chris. 

    - Chris is my best friend, Melissa. Besides, you know I don’t date.

    - Why because you’re still hang up on your ex? The same ex you have not mentioned or complained about ever since you and Chris came back from the medicine field trip. - Chris and Y/N were part of the same course unlike everyone else who were only on some lecturers together which meant they got to go on field trips together. Since their group was so tight knitted, she got some alone time with Chris, something she deeply adored as he was probably the nicest, funniest guy she ever knew. In all honesty, she had been so busy thinking about how nice he was, she had completely forgotten about her ex. Heck, she had even forgotten his name. There was no more love, no more hate, it was just indifference.  - Tell Beth you’re going with Chris.

    - No, I’m not going with Chris because he’s going with Beth.

    - Right, are you dense? 

    - I don’t wanna hurt my friend besides I’m his best friend, he doesn’t see me that way. - Y/N sported a sad smile now, something that made Melissa deeply upset. She knew Chris liked her and now she was sure Y/N liked him back, however it wasn’t her place to break it to her friend that her best friend had been in love with her ever since they met. - I don’t wanna hurt Beth.

    - What’s Chris favourite movie?

    - Taxi Driver, why?

    - Beth? - Melissa turned to face Beth. - What’s Chris’ favourite movie?

    - I don’t know, ask Y/N. - she returned to look for the book she was looking for in the huge book shelf. 

    - See? Whenever someone needs anything about Chris they always ask you. Go on, go and ask him out and then return. 

    - Will you stop annoying me if I do so?

    - I’ll even buy you dinner, go.

Y/N got up from her seat, placing the laptop in her bag and walking away from the table. How was she even going to ask Chris out? He was her best friend, he had never shown any interest and he had seen in situation that would stop anyone from being remotely interested in her. As she was about to walk out the library she saw the very familiar grey sweater from the NASA museum Chris always wore. She rushed in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

    - Hi Y/N, are you okay? 

    - Are you going to the spring ball? - she was one of those people, always trying to get stuff away before she got scared and decided not to do it.

    - No, I thought we were going to McDonalds and then to a movie.

    - Right, rain check on that. Would you like to go to the spring ball?

    - No, sounds like a waste of time besides I’d have to find someone to invite to go with or be the alone one and get mocked by Watney and Martinez ... and probably Lewis.

    - No, I mean would you like to go to the spring ball with me as in a date. Me and you in a date.

    - Did Martinez put you up to this?

    - No, I just ... I like you and I’d like it if we went together. See how it works. 

    - I would love to, Y/N.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within-Ch. 14

Chapter 14

           “Whips,” I said sitting on the top turnbuckle at Black and Brave. In the nearly three years I’d been with the school, my training routine had fallen into a comfortable pattern. The women trained with the men most of the time to learn the fundamentals. But a couple nights a week, they spent their time with me. Learning how to apply the fundamentals as a woman.

           “Start in the middle of the ring. Whip your partner to the rope, spring off, wrist and pivot, exchange. Do it again.” I counted them off in pairs and called out the moves. One by one, the pairs went through the steps, sending their partner running into the ropes. The ring shook as they bounced off them and ran back to the center.

           Over and over, one after another, they did it until they could execute the motion perfectly. When they’d mastered it, I hopped down from the turnbuckle and tested my leg. A glance at the clock let me know the class was almost over. I had twenty minutes before I had to close the building and pick up Sefina from Seth’s mom.

           “Alright,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “One of the best counters to the Irish Whip into the ropes is to lock your arms around the top rope. Do it wrong and you will get hurt. Jackie, help me demo.”

           A tall woman with strawberry blond hair and wide black eyes stepped forward. She had a few inches on me, but she was so nervous that she often forgot to use her height to her advantage. She wiped her hands on the side of her leggings as she got close.

           “We’re going to do the whole sequence. You lead.”

           Before she could reach for me, I heard the door swinging open. I held up my hands and dropped down, sliding beneath the bottom rope and landing on my feet. My phone was on a chair on the far side of the practice ring. Marek was already gone.

           “Llane? Where are ya’, lass?”

           I grinned and practically sprinted across the room. “Becks!”

           Becky Lynch walked in the front door of Black and Brave with a grin on her face. She grabbed me up in a hug that rocked back and forth. I was crushed with the weight of how much I’d missed her.

           “How’ve ya been, girl,” she asked, holding me by the shoulders. She laughed. “Other than lookin’ pretty for Jericho?”

           I laughed in return and took her by the hand, pulling her toward the ring. A few of the women stood in awed silence as the two of us rolled beneath the bottom rope. Becky was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with high top sneakers and her red hair hanging free over her shoulder.

           “We were just working on whip counters.”

           Becky made a face and leaned into the corner. “Well, ladies, you’re learnin’ from tha best. Llane’s got a great counter.”

           A thought. An idea. A desperately fun, slightly reckless idea.

           I grinned. “Let’s show them, Becks.”

           The redhead laughed and dropped into a quick succession of squats. She rocked her neck side to side and back and forth. Rolled her shoulders. Did a twist or two.

           “Alrigh’, but remember you asked for it,” she teased.

           The women around me crowded out onto the apron. Becky and I ran the ropes, moving quickly from one side of the ring to the other, bouncing off the ropes to propel us back across.

           “Take it easy,” I said playfully. “You aren’t stretched.”

           She looked out at the women on the apron and winked. “Already askin’ for a break.”

           I cocked my head and jutted out my chin. We fell into a rhythm we’d known when we were in the ring together. For a moment, we faced each other across the ring. As one, we ran toward the center. I grabbed Becky by the wrist and planted my feet, pivoting on my inner leg to push her past me into the ropes. She bounced against them and pelted toward me. I softened my knees, automatically expecting her to throw her shoulder tackle.

           Instead, she snatched me smoothly by the elbow and tugged me past her. She twisted her hips and shoved me toward the ropes. I turned and took the impact on my shoulders. My arms hooked back around the top and I pushed off from the canvas. Momentum carried my legs up and my core strength brought them the rest of the way over my head. An instant later, my feet were on the apron and already moving toward the turnbuckle. I had climbed to the second one before reality caught up with me.

           Becky leaned against the ropes on the other side of the ring, a bright smile on her face. She nodded in approval.

           Rushing white noise. The thump of my pulse in my ears. Vertigo swayed me.

           Before I could blink, I was somewhere else. Back in that December night in an arena packed with screaming people. I saw the ladder rising up in front of me, the red and white of my title hanging just out of reach. I felt the hand around my ankle, the yank that set me off balance. The world swam in slow motion as I fell, my chin hitting the rung, twisting my neck unnaturally. A heavy, burning pain shot down my spine. And then… nothing.

           It was over as quickly as it began. My fingers were wrapped around the turnbuckle pad so tightly that my knuckles were white. The skin stretched tight until I worried that the bones would split through the flesh. The air caught in my lungs, and I was suddenly reminded of the panic of being unable to control my own breath.

           “Llane?” Becky said quickly, her tone serious and sharp. The ring rumbled as she raced over. “Sophie?”

           I froze. Panic. Terror. A dizzying numbness.

           “Alrigh’ ladies,” my friend called over her shoulder. “Class dismissed. Go!”

           Becky stayed right in front of me as the women filed from the room. Shame settled in my gut. They paid for training. They should get it.

           Once everyone was gone, Becky stepped through the ropes and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Le’ go now, lass,” she cooed. “I’ve got ya.”

           My entire body trembled as she guided me down to sit on the apron. We stayed there for a moment before Becky helped me onto the floor.

           I fell onto my back, barely keeping my head from cracking against the mats. Becky sat down cross-legged beside me. “Wha’ was tha’, Llane?” Her accent got thicker in the midst of her worry.

           It took me a few moments to catch my breath. Air seared down my throat and into my lungs. The ache was almost enough to shove the oxygen back out again. No matter how hard I tried, I could still see the mat rushing up toward me. I could feel the crack as my chin hit the rung.

           “I was back there,” I replied quietly. Every moment since that day replayed in my head at lightning speed. I relived every injury, every scare, every moment when I wasn’t sure if I was going to walk again. “I was back in that ring that night.”

           Becky propped her chin on her knees. “There’s talk of her comin’ back,” she said slowly.

           My eyes seared as if acid had been poured into them. All the fines in the world, all the medical bills paid for… none of it made up for the months of my life that had been ripped away from me. It wouldn’t soothe the terror I’d lived with in those days when I wondered if I’d ever walk or if Seth would be willing to stay.

           “Of course. She’s licked her wounds from a loss like she always did. Now, they’re desperate to make up for the star power they’ve run off,” I spat. I thought of everyone who had walked away from WWE since Jon had gotten himself free. First Jericho, then Jon and me. Luke Harper, now going by Brodie Lee, and Gallows and Anderson had followed not long after. “Vince is hemorrhaging talent. Of course he’s going to throw his money at lady Lesnar.”

           Becky snorted. “The locker room is rioting. Everybody. All three brands. People are threatening to walk if she shows up.”

           “Don’t you dare, Becks,” I said, forcing myself to sit up. “You know how Vince is. He’s still being petty about the four of us who went to AEW. Don’t give him an excuse to go after you.”

           “Easier said than done, lass. Seth and Roman are on a mission. They’ve whipped up everyone.” She grinned lopsidedly. “And, of course, I’ve been runnin’ the girls myself.”

           The tears that beaded on my lashes this time weren’t from pain or fear. They were from gratitude. Becky was steadfast in her devotion and her friendship. Even though I’d walked away from WWE, Becky Lynch had refused to turn against me. In my absence, she’d done everything to prove her loyalty and her care.

           “We’re not going to tell Seth about this,” I whispered. “Not right away. I’m going to call my therapist first. See if I can get in to talk to her. Maybe it’s stress.”

           “My lips are sealed, Llane. But don’t wait too long.” Becky grinned sympathetically. “You know he gets.”

Tag List

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[stuckasmain]

Driving down to Florida for spring break and you know you’re on the highway when there’s signs for “Hell is a real place” mixed with “adult superstore” and “pecans”

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

Seasons

I Bleed When I Fall Down (Autumn)

Summary: He answers her beck and call. Set in s4, right after Dean is back from Hell.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female reader

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, angst, mentions non-con unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, mentions Plan B, blood, ectopic pregnancy, emergency surgery, miscarriage

Words: 3k

Author’s notes: This is based on the lyric “You build me up and then I fall apart” from Christina Perri’s song, Human, for @negans-lucille-tblr 2K Followers Writing Challenge.

The mushrooms and bear line is from Angel: the Series spoken by Faith Lehane about a drug-induced trip she and Angel took together.

All The White Horses (winter 2011 - s6) | Mirror In The Sky (spring 2001 - pre-show) |  We Can Spin The Sun Around (summer 2016 - s12)

Please come.

The last time he saw her, she was angry – at him, life, God, the devil. She told him to leave, to just “go ahead and go to Hell, then.” That was six months ago.

Now, she’s pleading for him to come to her. She said she was sorry and that she needs him. He doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t care, he just goes.

When she opens the door to her mountainside loft, he sees that she’s been crying. She’s pale and shaking. He’s seen her cry. He’s felt her in pain and ire. He’s felt her love and forgiveness, but Dean hasn’t felt anything of her in so long that he’s warmed to his depth by her nearness and heavy with guilt over whatever it is that is troubling her.

He doesn’t say a word; he just walks in, wraps his arms around her, and kicks the door shut behind himself. He inhales her familiar clean honey scent, hums and coos against the top of her damp head. She’s so small – he forgot how small she is.

“What is it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her temple, his shredded soul knitting back right in her presence.

She sniffles, rubs her face into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. She hesitates, shifts in his arms, and her breath stutters. What she says next stops all forward progression since she opened the door.

“I’m pregnant.”

Her voice is low and defeated, socking and twisting his gut and his heart. His head starts to throb, and he pulls her in tighter, arches over her. He is without words; all he has is his body to shield her.

“Don’t hate me,” she whispers. “I need you right now.”

He can barely hear her, but he hears enough.

“Never,” he says, finally pushing away from her enough to look her in the eye, training his face to soften, to comfort. “I could never.”

~~~~~~~

“He was in town for a festival,” she speaks quietly, leaning back against Dean’s chest in the corner of her cozy sectional couch, threading her fingers with his as he holds her. “Visiting relatives from over the pass.”

Dean tries to keep his posture neutral, so she doesn’t feel his tension as he braces himself for details he doesn’t want to hear.

“He was nothing like you, and I just,” she draws a breath and sighs. “I thought I could forget for just one weekend.”

They’ve never claimed monogamy but hearing her tell the story of this douchebag... Dean’s challenged in a way he’s very rarely challenged.

“It’s OK,” he mutters, brushing kisses over her pale cheek and jaw.

“It’s not,” she begins to sob. “Like I said, he was nothing like you. And I didn’t…” She clears her throat.

Dean hugs her closer and rests his head on the top of hers.

“I was blinded by how ordinary he was,” she continues. “I couldn’t see that he was awful underneath that blonde hair, blue-eyed, All-American Boy façade.”

Dean freezes. “What do you mean awful?”

“I told him we had to use a condom, but he didn’t listen,” she answers, her tears dropping to Dean’s wrists and hands. “Or, maybe he did, I dunno, but he didn’t care.”

“Sonuvabitch,” Dean grits, the room vibrating in his vision. He hears the man’s cries in his head. He remembers all the things Alistair taught him and how easy it would be to break a human.

She pushes out of Dean’s embrace, sits up between his sprawled legs and twists to face him. “Don’t,” she whispers, her face stained with salty tears. “Don’t go there. I know you wanna kill him, but that’s not how this’s gonna work.”

Dean shakes his head to refocus and pulls her in again. “He lied and took advantage of you,” he says. “Motherfucker deserves to be shot.”

“It’s too late for that, Dean,” she says, tired and sad. “The damage’s been done. I was drunk and stupid-”

“So fucking what?!?” Dean says, starting to get up out of the corner of the couch. She pushes him back in place, slots her knees on either side of his hips. “He had no right.”

“Dean.” She presses her palms over his chest to calm him, and it works.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Dean says, apologizing for his outburst and for the fucking asshole who hurt her. He makes the effort to do what she’s asked, to just be there for her in the moment.

Once he’s settled under her, she continues. “I didn’t notice any of the signs until the next morning when I woke up alone, went to the doctor for Plan B and antibiotics,” she says, irony and bitterness coloring her tone. “I thought I did all the right things.”

“You did,” Dean answers, his rage at a simmer. “You did everything you’re supposed to do when someone…”

She takes his face in her hands and kisses him. “I’ve been through the stages with this,” she says, and Dean sees the strong, nurturing girl he’s loved for so long unfurl in his lap. “I called you because I wanted you here with me, and maybe that’s selfish. But until now, I didn’t know what to do.”

Dean runs his hands up her thighs and around her hips. “And what’s that?” he asks.

“I can’t keep this baby,” she answers, and Dean’s stomach drops. “I thought maybe if you stayed and we... but, no. I can’t because it’s wrong to expect that from you. And I can’t because it isn’t yours.”

Dean’s skin ripples with goosebumps. What if it were his, though? he wants to ask. In another life, this would all be different.

“I know you need to feel this,” she says, smoothing a fingertip across his forehead like he likes. “You need to process it, but please know that just you being here has turned everything around for me.” She smiles through the remaining wetness brimming her eyes.

“OK,” he kisses her once, soft and slow. “I’ll do whatever you need, I’m here now.”

“I know,” she says, settling back and laying her head over his heart. “God, I felt such despair for losing you.” Tears flow over her cheeks once more, soaking his t-shirt. “Guilt for telling you just to go, and then- you were so far away when I was with him. I thought I could forget or make it easier, but it just hurt more.”

“Shh...” Dean pulls her up for a kiss – a real one, lips on lips and tongues sliding urgently. “That’s enough,” he murmurs into her, sliding his hands into her hair and under her top.

He needs to do something - to take action and rid them of the misery hanging over them.

“I’m gonna make it all better,” he says, pulling at her clothes, tucking her under him on the couch, infusing warmth and solace into every kiss and touch.

She unravels under him, and together they spin a cocoon of safety and acceptance that only they can create. Dean’s missed this most of all - who they are when they’re together.

“Please,” she says, running her hands everywhere over the skin she can touch and taste. “Missed you so much.”

He shifts down and down, touches her light but steadfast. His fingers gently open her, stroke the length of her dampening folds, and up to circle her clit.

He breathes her in. “Missed you, too,” he says, placing kisses to the insides of her thighs, trailing toward her increasingly wet center.

As his tongue swipes through her slick, she arches off the couch and grips his hair. He settles deep, wraps his arms around her hips and pulls her in. He doesn’t think, he just does. When he’s with her, he can do no wrong.

As she writhes and keens under him, he sets about doing his level best to erase that whitebread asshole from her life forever.

~~~~~~~

Sunrise is imminent, casting blue and grey through the windows and onto her bright, white linens. Dean’s senses are piqued by sounds of distress and a sharp, metallic scent. He reaches for her and his hand lands in vacant cold, sticky, and damp.

He jerks fully awake and sits up. There’s a dark puddle and smears of red on the sheets and comforter. Then he hears her sobbing and his eyes dart to the bathroom where the light spills under the door.

“Dean,” she sobs through her tears. In a fraction of a second, before his name has fully fallen from her quivering lips, he’s moving through the open bathroom door to find her in the empty tub, bleeding from between her legs and shaking, paler than ever.

“Honey.” He grabs a plush bath sheet as he rushes to her, checks her pulse, and wraps her in the soft cotton. “I’m taking you to the ER,” he says and she nods reaching for and squeezing one of his wrists. “Be right back, just gotta throw some clothes on, ok?”

He smiles as warm as he can get then nods and runs to make quick work of his clothes and boots, not bothering with laces or buttons.

Did he do this? He just knows that he hurt her.

When he makes it back to the bathroom, she’s pushing herself to stand and he meets her before she can climb out of the tub.

“Alright, I gotchu,” he says, tucking her tightly in the towel tightly and lifting her to carry her to his car. “Just stay with me,” he says, carefully taking one stair at a time once they’re outside.

She buries her face in his chest and cries. They reach the car and Dean gently places her on the front seat then slams the passenger door before running around to the driver’s side.

The drive to the hospital is mere minutes, but he feels like it’s forever. He keeps one hand on her and one on the wheel, speaking quietly to her about everything being OK, even though he feels like his world is closing in on him. Finally, he screeches to a halt in front of the ER, kills the engine, and flies out of the driver’s seat, yanks the passenger door open and hauls her out and into his arms.

Deans bursts through the ER doors, shouting. “She’s unconscious and bleeding - and she’s pregnant.”

Before he can say another word, there’s a gurney and staff carting her off. The fluorescent lights buzz in his ears as a nurse approaches him. He can still see a sliver of her leg and ankle through the curtain they’ve drawn.

“Do you know her blood type?” the man asks.

Dean shakes his head. “Just take mine,” he says. “I’m O, anybody can use that.”

The nurse is quiet as he taps the screen of the pad in his hand with information. He tries to guide Dean to a seating area, but Dean resists. “I need to see her!”

“We’ve got her,” the man says, and Dean takes note of the nurse’s name tag.

Rob is unruffled and earnest. Something about him is familiar. His tone and his presence appease Dean’s nerves enough that Dean gives in and follows Rob’s lead.

“OK,” Dean says, backing up and finding the section of chairs for guests.

“I’ll be right back,” Rob assures Dean before disappearing behind the curtain.

Dean texts Sam. He lies and tells him he caught another case in Colorado. He tells his little brother that he met up with a mutual hunter and that he’ll be in touch and not to worry. In reality, Dean should be worried about leaving his psychic-powered brother alone, but he makes the choice to be there for her right now.

Dean paces the floor as time drags. He can’t see her and it’s killing him. Better late than never, Rob emerges with hope in his stride.

“So?” Dean says, idling in front of the nurse.

“She’s stable,” Rob answers. “They’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but she’s going into surgery.”

Dean deflates and drags a hand over his face. “What kinda surgery?” he asks, pain clear to even himself in his tight voice.

Rob’s face softens. “It’s an ectopic pregnancy,” he begins.

Dean’s heard of it but doesn’t know what it is. It sounds terrible. His lack of knowledge must be apparent because Rob continues.

“The embryo implanted in and ruptured one of her fallopian tubes,” Rob explains. “Resulting in internal bleeding and infection, which has spread rapidly and widely. They have to perform an emergency hysterectomy. How was she feeling yesterday?”

Dean swallowed his tears and anger. How could he have sex with her and not know?

“She was upset,” Dean answers, feeling remorse like a blanket of lead settle over him. “She… we hadn’t seen each other in a while and…”

“It’s OK,” Rob says, gripping Dean’s shoulder. “There’s nothing you did wrong or could’ve done to stop this. But she’s a fighter, she’ll make it through this.”

Dean feels tears prick his eyes and bile rise in his throat. Every ounce of pride he had, every sense of accomplishment for comforting and righting her drains from his body.

“C’mon,” Rob says, ignoring Dean’s hesitation and pulling him toward the curtain. “She wants to see you.”

“Is she-”

“She’s awake for a few more minutes,” Rob confirms. “Make it quick, Dean – I’m not supposed to have you back here.”

Dean’s surprised that Rob knows his name. He figures she must’ve told Rob when she asked to see him.

“Dean,” she whispers, relief in her eyes and tone as she reaches for him.

“Hey,” he replies, just as softly, taking her hand.

“Hey,” she smiles and sighs. “I don’t have a lot of time, but…” She swallows and grips his hand in hers. “I need you to know something. I need you to know that I want you. I’m never happier or more fulfilled than when you’re here with me.”

“Honey,” Dean starts. “You need to rest, your surgery-”

“Let me finish,” she breathes. “I’m happy with you, Dean – and I’m desperate without you.”

Dean feels tears fall over his cheeks. “You shouldn’t be sayin’ any of this.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t care anymore about normal,” she continues, determination and fire in her eyes. “I just wanna be happy, and I don’t wanna be depressed for weeks every time you leave.”

“Then I won’t come back,” Dean says. “I’ll leave for good this time.”

“No, Dean!”

He’s taken aback by her vehemence. Rob appears in Dean’s peripheral vision and motions to Dean that it’s time to go.

“No,” she repeats, pulling his attention back to her. “You can’t control this or fix this. You can’t make a deal and you can’t cast a spell – I won’t let you do that to me or us.”

Silence hangs in the air as Dean processes how she so handily disarmed the very beginnings of his plan. Without deals or magic, what does he have, though? And…

“Is there an us?” he asks.

“I hope so,” she answers.

“Time to go, Dean,” Rob says. “She’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says before gently kissing her knuckles and setting her hand at her side. Her lashes flutter closed as the staff hurries around him to roll her off to surgery.

~~~~~~~

Dean waits hours alone for her. He questions everything. He thinks about leaving a dozen times, but she asked him to be here and he can’t leave her like this.

Then Rob sneaks Dean into her room just as she wakes.

“Mornin’, princess,” Dean says, easing beside her on the bed.

“Ugh,” she grunts then mutters, “I feel like I did mushrooms and got eaten by a bear.” Dean chuckles as he fluffs her pillows and generally fusses over her.

“Well, Rob said you’re a champ, so good on you.”

She scrunches her brow. “Rob?” she asks. “Dean, stop with the pillows, ok.”

“Your nurse friend,” Dean says, shrugging and reluctantly pulling away from trying to make her comfortable.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know anyone named Rob.”

Dean blinks then looks over his shoulder. A cool, light breeze in the still room sweeps over him.

Angel? Reaper?

Dean doesn’t know what’s what anymore. He spends so much time reacting that he can barely think. There was just something about that guy... but she’s safe and healthy and alive in front of him.

“… anyway,” she says. Dean’s missed some of what she’s said, but he knows what she’s talking about. “We can’t play fast and loose anymore,” she continues. “I can’t; it almost killed me.”

Dean sighs. “I never wanna see you hurting again,” he says. “I want everything good for you. But that ain’t me.”

His declaration is half-hearted. This girl - now woman - has spent eight years buried in his heart. She’s been patient, loving, kind, and consistent. She’s always honest with him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was made for him somehow.

“How ‘bout you let me decide what’s good for me?” she says, challenging him once again. “I know you, Dean, and you know me. I’m not asking you to stay; I’m asking you to keep coming back.”

Dean watches her, skeptical of his ability to be ‘good.’ “I don’t deserve you,” he says.

“You do,” she asserts. “And I deserve you.”

Dean lets go a heavy sigh and basks in the turn of events. This will forever change them, he knows that.

“Look at me,” she says, and he does. “Take your time, Dean, but we’re it. We’re endgame. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Dean smiles and dips in to kiss her. If she won’t let him out on his word, he’s going to have to work to earn the love and respect she insists on giving him.

If you like what you’ve read, please let me know and/or buy me a coffee!

[vincevanbro]

two worlds ✘ becky

TAGGING → Becky Baker, Vince Bell, Special Mention: The Baker Matriarch

TIMEFRAME → Spring Break

LOCATION → Florida

NOTES → A visit to Becky’s grandparents goes terribly wrong, and for the first time since meeting Vince and Becky are forced to recognize the vast differences in their upbringing. 

Becky: After getting settled in, she had to make sure she was looking her finest. In front of the Baker grandparents it was almost like a sin if you weren't dressed well. Now that she was in her dress and all dolled up, she comes out of the bathroom and looks at Vince. She had told him to at least pack a pair of casual clothing with him. "You ready? I told my grandma we'd be there in like an hour. It's super important that we're on time." Becky said. If Vince couldn't already tell, Becky was stressing out. Her grandparents weren't the nicest folks around and that's why she warned Vince beforehand.

Vince: becky’s in rare form today, checking and re-checking her appearance in the mirror, making sure his tie is fixed up just right. (a tie, for something as simple as a family gathering) and he’s starting to wonder just what kind of lion’s den he’s about to walk into. “okay, okay, i’m ready” he replies, running a hand over his crisp cut as he takes one final glance at the mirror. they pile out of the hotel and into the car he rented, and he senses a tenseness from becky next to him. “is everything..good?” he asks finally, thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion. afterall, how much trouble could two little old people be?

The Baker Matriarch: She sat on the front porch of the home that she shared with her husband — the same one that she had raised her son in and then later on her grandchildren would visit. She was happy that her granddaughter, her pride and joy, was visiting her again. It was a joyous occasion, and knowing her Becky, she would enlighten her as to why her grandson didn't do the same. Barbara Baker was a sucker for baking pies, turning her head in time to smell the cinnamon and sweetness of the apples that sat on the windowsill, her husband stepping outside as she held a cup of coffee — his fourth one no doubt. "Our little sunshine daisy will be here soon, birdie," he reassured her, even though he was watching for the moment that she would arrive, too.

Becky: Once the two of them got into the rental car, Becky bites down on her lower lip as Vince asks if she's good. Clearly she wasn't considering just how many time she checked her appearance in the mirror before the two of them left. Looking over at Vince she couldn't help but smile as she looked him up and down. He really did clean up nicely. "I did something bad." Becky said as she looked away from him her smile fading. She just hoped that Vince would forgive her after all this. "I didn't tell my grandma you were coming. I know I should have, but my grandparents are super religious and that's why I warned you about the fact that they can be rude too. I was just scared that my grandma would have said no to you coming if I mentioned you on the phone." Becky said. She starts to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she waits for him to respond to her confession.

Vince: “why..wouldn’t you?” he doesn’t get nervous, and now is no exception. he’s dealt with rude and far worse. but there’s a certain prickle in his chest, a certain something he can’t place that makes him feel that maybe she’s a little ashamed of him. something he hasn’t felt with becky ever before. still, he allows himself to portray no particular emotion, just straightens up and tightens his grip on the wheel because they’re approaching the long winding driveway, littered with palm trees on each side, and a few little garden gnomes. the vision of what a visit to the grandparents was supposed to be, sweet and warm. so why does he feel like he’s walking into some kind of trap. “alright—“ he sighs as we switches the ignition off, because there’s no turning back now. “let’s go”

The Baker Matriarch: The sight of a car caused her push herself up off of the porch swing, her husband's hand holding hers as they moved closer to the edge of the wrap-around porch that encircled their home. Eyes that mirrored her granddaughter's gazed upon the car and were full of excitement. She stood there waiting as Becky's grandfather left her side to go open the car door for her. He loved Becky as much as he loved Luke, but there was something about his granddaughter that sat differently with him. Boys his grandson's age were independent and rough around the edges whereas Becky had remained wholesome and never strayed off of the path that God had carved out for her. For that, he was truly blessed. Walking towards the car, he realized that she wasn't alone. In fact, he was taken aback at the sight of a coloured boy sitting in the driver's seat, opening Becky's door. "Did your father pay for somebody to drive you out here?" he inquired, slightly concerned but more elated to see his granddaughter again.

Becky: "Only because of how they are." Becky said. When they arrived at her grandparents house, she let out a sigh before looking over at Vince and nods. When her grandpa came and opened up her door, she simply sighs at what her grandpa had already asked the second that he saw Vince next to her. "No. There's someone I want you two to meet." Becky said as she looks over at Vince with a smile as he gets out of the vehicle. "This is Vince Bell he's actually my boyfriend." Becky admits. She knows it'll come as a shock to her grandparents, but she wasn't ashamed to introduce Vince as her boyfriend.

Vince: in a span of seconds he hops out and crosses the few yards of space between his door and becky’s. and as if on cue, her grandparents come padding out of the house, seemingly innocent and sweet enough. he smiles, because he’s not an animal. and they’re literally within the first few seconds but so far so good, the day is bright, and becky looks beautiful, and did he hear that correctly? dark hues narrow just slightly, even though his gaze remains on becky who seemingly brushes it off, doesn’t think much of it. why would she? it’s a subtle and underhanded remark, but it’s that tone, that inmistakable condescending air that he’s encountered too many times before. “nice to meet you--” he nods, lips pulling into a taught smile.

The Baker Matriarch: Barbara didn't understand what was happening, her husband and Becky being too far away, but then another person emerged from inside of the car, causing her to straighten her spine. She watched as the two people she loved the most turn towards her, her husbands eyes holding a look that she can't place, soft blue orbs trying to decipher the unspoken message. Who was the coloured boy following behind them? Becky looked as beautiful as ever, her husband holding fast to his granddaughter as they greet her on the porch. "Rebecca," she coos softly, arms reaching out to wrap her baby up in them, a happy, breathy laughter rushing from her lungs as she sways back and forth with her granddaughter nestled in her arms. "Did your daddy finally buckle down and take your granddaddies' advice about a handservant? He cleans up nicely," she says, waving it off as it wasn't encouraged to compliment the help. "Birdie," her husband counters, shaking his head as if to say 'Don't, that's not what this is'.

Becky: Becky couldn't believe this. It was one thing for them to be rude, but the fact that they weren't even acknowledging that Vince had spoken to them? That didn't sit well with Becky. The young girl shifts uncomfortably in her grandmothers arms for the first time. They weren't listening to her and they definitely weren't being nice to Vince just like Becky had thought in the first place. Becky removes herself from her grandmothers arms and looks at her. "You didn't just call him that." Becky said as she walks over toward Vince. Letting her hand intertwine with his as she glares at her grandma. "Like I said before he's my boyfriend. He's not a servant and he never will be." Becky said already standing up for her boyfriend.

Vince:  is known perhaps for one thing, not his wicked jump shot, not the crisp clean kicks he wears to school. not his low fade, or dry humor, or even the fact that he’s the heir to entire drug cartel. but his temper. and he let the first snide remark from these racist pricks slide, but he’ll be damned if he allows them to get over on him with a second. “damn, i knew it felt like 1954 in here--” he chuckles dryly, holds tightly to becky’s hand. “look i don’t want no trouble becks. we can go”

The Baker Matriarch: didn’t know how to react. She remembered a time when she had fallen in love with a coloured boy, and her daddy had forbade her to see him. She didn’t necessarily care what colour her granddaughter’s suitors had ( or in this case, her boyfriend ), but she did care about her virtue and stood solid on the belief that it was to remain intact until Becky was married. Vince seemed to care about her, and the headstrong girl didn’t appear like she would allow any wiggle room in regards to this specific union. Barbara looked at her husband. He knew about her past. He knew what kind of hateful man his father-in-law had been, rest is soul, but if she knew anything, people like that didn’t earn everlasting life through acts like the one she was showcasing right now. Her granddaughter was everything that she wasn’t, and she prayed that she never lost her fire. “Will you two come inside for tea?” she asked then, joining her husband at his side who placed his palm against the small of her back to help guide her inside their home.

Becky: When Vince held onto her hand tighter she couldn't help but smile a little. Now she was thinking that maybe it was a good idea for the two of them to just leave. Seeing as she didn't want Vince to have to continue to get ridiculed for being who he was. Though when her grandma asks if the two of them would come inside for tea she glances at Vince. "That'll be his call." Becky said as she squeezes Vince's hand. She didn't want him to feel like he had to say yes and she definitely didn't want him to feel like he was walking into more of a trap. All the sudden her grandma was just going to let the two of them come inside? She wasn't so sure of this anymore.

Vince: he can’t figure out this lady’s angle. one minute she’s referring to him as a “colored boy” in 2020, and the next she wants him to join them for tea? fat chance. vince’s expression is cold, and he doesn’t need to stick around to see this woman’s true colors any longer. “nah I’m good” he replies dismissively, taking her sudden change of heart as feigned politeness and turning his back on her grandparents and their sunny villa, but not without a few parting words. “you can keep your tea and crumpets and kiss my black ass” he says loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and anyone else that needs the message.

[that1girloverthere]

Burning Sunflowers

Chapter 2

Hey guys this is the second part of the “start of a new series??” post I made recently. I hope you guys enjoy and keep an eye out for future updates!

“How was the test?” My mother asks as a way of greeting as I step into our house, turning for a moment, both to remove my shoes and to hide the pain that I’m certain crosses my face.

“Fine,” I say, lying too easily. At least I know I’m not Candor, I lie too quickly for my own good. “Long but not bad.” I finish, moving around her in our small kitchen. Despite our long lineage in our faction, we have one of the smaller houses in our area, my grandparents long ago deciding to keep its original structure while the rest of Amity was slowly renovated. Our elbows touch as I wash my hands in the sink, moving to take over the cutting from her.

“Your day?” I ask, compulsory of children my age, tilting my head to catch a glimpse of her gently placing a pot onto the stove. Like most Amity women her age, her hair is lengthy and kept in a loose braid down her back. In times of celebration flowers will be pinned into the grooves of the plat, only to fall out slowly throughout the day. It’s times like this that I feel my eyes begin to water, my knees weaker than they should be. If I choose to leave, I will not only forsake my role as a member of my faction, but as a viewer of our customs. No longer will I witness the festivals we have at harvest or run through fields of freshly planted crops. This section of my life would cease to exist.

A small sigh comes from her nose- distracting me from my self pity- in the way she does when something troubles her. Though rare, I know the sign well enough by now.

“Can I help in anyway?” I prod, half needing a distraction from the test results sinking in my stomach.

“Oh no,” she replies, a calloused hand brushing my arm, moving to my hair slowly. The pattern that she traces over my skin is one of well practiced skill, tracings made over and over through the years. “It’s only that I worry for you. I always have before you kids’ choosing days. I know I have nothing to fret over, or at least your dad likes to tell me so.” She finishes, the guilt in my gut only increasing. I can only offer a stiff nod.

“Here,” she removes the knife from my hand, “Go get washed up and relax for a bit, you need time to think without your mother over your shoulder.”

Again, I send a nod in her direction, feeling like an intruder in my skin. “Thank you.”

•••

I wake up to a pit in my stomach,

cold sweat coating my body, and a singular word on my tongue.

Divergent.

I reach under my pillow for the source of the noise that woke me from my dreams. Or rather nightmares.

Clutching the watch in my hands I stare at it’s face, not caring of the time- since it’s always the same; 4:15- I watch my reflection in the tarnished glass. My hair spirals out of its bun in different directions, the barely there curls I have somehow being tossed loose in my sleep. Instead of simply turning off the alarm as I do every other morning, I flip it over. With unsteady hands I remove the batteries from its back, a hot commodity in Amity.

Having a reputation for living an “all natural” lifestyle, the bulk of our power supply comes from the sun and wind, but the long spring seems to play a cruel trick on our systems. Poorer families without their own power set ups find themselves lacking. That makes these batteries all the more of a necessity.

I take deep careful breaths, just like the ones our teachers have taught us since we could count.

In 3, hold 3, out 3.

A shiver runs over my skin in tandem with the breeze through my window, soft moonlight coating my room, my yellow curtains rustling. With a moments hesitation I rise from my bed, sticking the gift into my short’s pocket, planting my feet on the small chair that conveniently resides under my window pane. I grab the wooden edges, lifting myself smoothly through the open space. The process one of muscle memory for me now, after years of practice. At the thought my hands quiver at my sides. In mere hours this could all slip away.

A silhouette cuts across the field in front of me, loosening the tension I’d manage to build in my chest. Carefully, I follow, my feet hitting the worn dirt beneath me, swiftly bridging off from the common path taken, I arrive at our tree. My breath puffing white before me, goosebumps rise on my exposed legs.

“You came.” A voice calls from beside me, shock lacing their tone.

“How couldn’t I?” I retort, my eyes catching his as I turn. His hand finds mine faster than I’d like it to, the palm that holds me is damp but calloused. Familiar.

“How,” As he begins I study his features, in case this is the last time that I see them. His hair is a pale yellow, bordering on white when he works in the fields full shift, but it’s his eyes that are the most noticeable. The most remarkable, so says the girls that watch him from the corner of their eyes.

A green that can only be compared to fresh cut grass, or better yet the leaves that would hang overhead us now if it weren’t for the dreariness of the season. “How did your test go?” He asks, making me break my stare.

“It was okay.” I mutter, watching as his ever present smile slightly dips, if only for a moment. The perfect Amity boy that he is, he never leaves it off his face for long.

“You know you can tell me whatever you’re thinking right?” He says, the hand that was once firmly pressed against mine now sliding up my arm.

I nod, my muscles tense. This feels wrong, like a betrayal I didn’t know I could make.

“It’ll all work out in the end, it always does for me and you.” With this he leans forward, his breath too hot as it hits my face. A too soft hand touching my chin as too dry lips move along my cheek, then the corners of my frown, closer and closer.

“Beck-“ I whisper, a shaking hand pushing against his chest. My stomach twists. “I- I can’t. I’m sorry. Just not right now, please.” My head falls onto the tree, a slight tug flows through my hair from the bark catching it’s strands.

“Alright.” He nods, removing his hands from where they lay on me. “I should get going, the sun will be rising soon.” With each word he takes a small step back from me, as if waiting for me to change my mind.

“Wait.” I prod, my heart aching at the hope in his eyes. The hope I know I’m going to crush, no matter my decision in the next few hours. “Here, take these.” I dig into my small pocket for the batteries I know are there.

Their cool metal bites against my fingertips. Gently I place them into his hand, closing his fingers around them.

“Violet, you know I can’t accept these.” He says the words without much contempt, knowing the value of what lies in his hands. “Give them to your family.”

I shake my head, now being the one to back away, my shorts catching on a branch next to me. “Just take them, Beck. And good luck choosing.” I choke out, turning to sprint for my window not far in the distance, knowing he won’t risk calling after me. My head feels light, dizzy even.

Beck and I’s history flashes through my mind. My parents were of the same initiation class as his mother, only she was a transfer. With only the kind of love and peace that two Amity could offer, my family managed to help a hardened Candor into the functions of our faction. With this their group became inseparable. Having children at the same times, raising them as siblings. Well, except for Beck and I. It was my 15th birthday, and among some minor tragedy that I had decided was happening, he not only managed to calm me down, but to spark up some kind of relationship, more than what was ever expected.

Our intimacy was only supposed to fall under the “free love” preaching of our faction, but somewhere along the way the lines became blurred, our emotions conflicting at times. Me, still seeing this as an act of fun, or more-so freedom. Him, growing attached to a future I could never promise him. Not with my failure at being a symbol of my faction.

Where others were soft and kind I was hard and aggressive. Not taking well to the constant smiles that plague everyone’s faces, or the hugs that are always doled out without reserve. I was wrong. A misplaced piece and a perfectly made puzzle.

It’s hard to tell whether I ever loved him more than a great friend, whether I ever could have, but that doesn’t matter now.

Now I must choose.

Tag List: @slytherinintj13 @buried-in-books @marvelmenappreciation @insecureunicornn @katelinwrites @tazzclegane @kgurew @nohemi2500 @beenthroughalot

(Let me know if you want added or removed)

[smoaking-greenarrow]

Oooh hello! #5 pls! :D (also in the post you said season 2 but I think you meant season 3 ;) Thanks!

A/N: This little nugget is a bit darker than what I usually write, so I want to put a warning here (please note tags). It’s the result of a binge of Netflix’s You, especially Beck’s poem in the show’s finale that I’ve been obsessed with for weeks now (there are pieces of the poem in the story, italicized as Felicity’s inner thoughts, so credit to the You writers!) This fic will have elements of abuse and unhealthy relationships. It is not graphic, but it is referenced. And it is Olicity. And it’s me. You can count on a happy ending. I’ve been calling it my Dark Notebook AU, so there’s that. :)

p.s. Thanks for catching that typo @allimariexf :p

Kerosene and Desire

How the hell did you end up here?

Felicity’s hands shake as she grips the steering wheel in front of her. The dark trees race passed her window, and light from her headlights bounce off of them in a menacing sort of way.

It isn’t just the sinister looking forest that sends shivers down her spine. The scene she’d fled from was just as sinister.

You knew somewhere deep it was too good to be true. But you let yourself to be swept.

She shakes her head at herself, her eyes flickering down to the heavy ring on her finger.

She’d always thought that a diamond ring, a beautiful house full of beautiful kids, and climbing the ladder of success in her career, were her life goals. It’d been the dream. The fairy tale. And she thought she had finally found the man to give her everything she wanted.

And maybe she had…but a long time ago.

Felicity sucks in a deep breath, releasing it slowly and blinking back tears when they threatened to fall.

The closer she gets to Central City, to him, the more anxious she becomes. The road in front of her is unknown and terrifying. It could break her heart all over again. But the life behind her is so much worse.

Disgusted at the thought of him, Felicity pulls the cumbersome ring from her left finger, hurling it at the floor of the passenger seat and hearing it ding against the car door. She already feels like a piece of her burden is lifted, her finger and her heart feeling lighter.

Still, Felicity knows that it isn’t too late to undo all of it. She doesn’t have to blow her entire life up. She could turn the car around. Fix it. Go back to the monster she’d once called a man.

You needed to be saved.

She could forgive him, pretend it never happened, take it all back. She could bury it the way he buried every horrible part of himself. She could smile. Even when she felt like screaming.

Knowing Adrian, he’d end up exploiting an apology from her one way or another. Somehow. With trembling lips, she always relented. He always seemed to win, always got his way.

It’s something she will never understand. And she doesn’t want to understand someone so twisted and hurtful. She doesn’t want to think about the fact that she had met him while her heart was broken, and he had put the shattered pieces back together…but he’d done it all wrong, to the point where she wished he’d never touched them at all.

Yet, she’s afraid. Is she really ready to throw everything away? Be the girl who calls off her wedding before she makes it down the aisle?

Didn’t you want this? To be loved? Didn’t you want him to crown you? Didn’t you ask for it?

A harsh shiver runs through her, bile rising in her throat that she swallows.

You could go back. Say you love him. Say you can live like this…anything but the truth…. What if you can’t love him back?

The thoughts make her stomach churn even more, her head filling with fears. What will her friends think? Her mother, who is more excited for this wedding than she is? What will they say if she tells them the truth? Will they even believe her? She knows the man she almost married. He’s charming and persuasive. He’d done enough to fool her, how could she blame everyone else for believing the devil’s tricks, when she’d done the same for nearly two years?

Tears spring in her eyes that she can’t hold back this time. So much change all at once. Too much. Her world is being turned upside down, and she feels like she just needs to keep her head above water but there are too many waves crashing around her and she doesn’t know how to swim. It’s overwhelming.

Felicity huffs, moving to roll her window down, letting in the chilly breeze of a fall night. The air stings across her wet cheeks, and her hands tighten on the wheel again, her knuckles turning white as she drives towards one of the safest places she’s ever been. Him.

There is no going back. You don’t love Adrian.

She glances down at her hands, seeing her finger bare. Its unchained from the ring that had felt wrong ever since the day she let Adrian slide it on.

Suddenly, the wind feels exhilarating. She never has to look down at the thing again. She never has to feel it weighing down on her hand, more like a burden than a promise. Now, she knows where she was going, or rather to who.

And Felicity feels free.

For the first time in two years, she feels free.

And she laughs.

She laughs and cries and lets all of the emotions mix together, allowing herself to feel them. There is no point in biting her tongue anymore. No point in swallowing down how she feels. The problem had never been her. It had always been Adrian Chase. And it is such a relief for her to finally accept that.

With her window down, Felicity screams.

She screams for all of the times she’d felt like less of a person because Adrian had told her that she was. And she screams for all of the moments she’d actually believed that, keeping her mouth shut instead of speaking her mind. She screams for every skeleton she’d found in his closet. For every inch of her he’d stolen while she’d had her back turned. Every tear shed, hating herself for things out of her control. Things about him that she can’t fix. That no one can fix. For the nights she fought for a relationship that is unworthy of her. Simply because she’d seen it as something to be saved rather than the wreck that it is. That he is.

When the sign for Central City appears, Felicity finally quiets, her throat raw. She wipes at the tears on her face, sniffling as she tries to gain her composure.

He is only minutes away.

The fact that she’d found and remembered Oliver Queen’s address since the day she found out he moved to Central City probably should’ve told her something.

Maybe somewhere deep down, she’d always known she’d end up here. Running. Maybe he had always been the one she wanted to run to.

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[vore-yeol]

“I Am Manly” (Hunhan/Gt/Fluff)

Warning: This writing contains size difference of giant tiny standards. If this makes you uncomfortable or you do not want to see it feel free to blacklist some of the tags.

Luhan was disturbed and utterly flustered. His wide doe eyes had narrowed into slits as Sehun easily pushed him over with the tip of his massive pointer finger. His minuscule fingers dug into the wobbly grains on the kitchen table. He had grown accustomed to being at the beck and call of his much larger partner but felt it completely unfair and unjust. He scrambled to stand up as Sehun’s lips twisted into a subtle smirk. Before Luhan could curse at him once again for his carelessness he was left with his lips parted in surprise and his pale cheeks rosy red with a fresh rush of blood. Sehun had pressed a soft, gentle kiss against his small partners form before standing up from his chair and leaving the room to attend to some unknown business.

Luhan‘s brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms feeling that familiar feeling of realizing his size take over. His cheeks flushed this time, but with an angry, frustrated red rather than a lighthearted and subtle pink.  His lips twisted, and he stomped his foot and screamed out into the abyss that was their massive kitchen.

“I’m manly,” Luhan said it to himself in a whisper—his voice coarse from the previous scream. He knew Sehun wouldn’t hear it. He knew it. But he just needed to say it so he could hear it himself. He was manly even if Sehun could shove him over…he was manly.

His surety faded the more he thought about it. Was he manly? He was so small and was literally just knocked over by the tip of his partner’s finger. That was pathetic. His size made him pathetic. He sunk down onto the tabletop and felt overcome by the realization. That sinking feeling of utter loss and smallness swelled into something different this time. A rock hard and unmoveable determination, he would prove he was manly if it was the last thing he did.

That night came swiftly, the two snuggled up close in bed. Luhan had his whole body rested and pressed into Sehun’s side. He was overcome by the warmth that fanned over him, his tiny fingers felt the press and swell of Sehun’s powerful lungs and he nudged his head into the larger’s side further. Sehun chuckled softly at the feeling. He loved it and Luhan knew that, the rumble of his laughter shook his whole body and he felt the tingle of it run along his small spine.

He couldn’t even see Sehun‘s precious smile from this angle so he pulled back and forced himself onto his legs to he could. There it was, his lips drawn back into a perfect little smile. His dark eyes twisted into little crescents. Then Sehun noticed him staring and his smile softened as he looked at him. Luhan’s face was once again alight with a fresh coat of blush.

“You‘re so cute,” Sehun said it nonchalantly. The tip of his finger gliding along the length of Luhan’s body and Luhan’s blush vanished. He knew it was a compliment, he knew it. Sehun loved calling him cute, but the light pressure of his finger just made him think of earlier and how Sehun had pushed him over with little effort on his end.

His heart suddenly squeezed in his chest, then dropped into pounding too fast. He pushed Sehun’s finger away abruptly and could hear the way it surprised Sehun. He gasped out, then moved his finger closer again—this time though Luhan didn’t let him touch him lightly or push him over. He tackled Sehun‘s hand. His muscles strained as he tried to subdue Sehun’s wriggling digits that were larger than him.

He heard Sehun chuckle. Luhan hit his middle finger hard, then got tangled in Sehun’s other fingers. This time Sehun’s chuckle blossomed into full-blown laughter. He thought this was funny, entertaining. The hot coal of anger that settled in Luhan’s chest rose and expanded—mottling his face with a severe red this time. He hit to hurt now, his fists driving into flesh hard and he felt Sehun flinch this time and take in a hissed breath. He continued fighting and then the words fell from his twisted lips and through gritted teeth, “I am manly!”

Sehun‘s wiggling stilled for a moment and it suddenly his laughter that was there a second ago is gone. The mattress beneath Luhan‘s feet shifts and Sehun’s growing shadow overtakes him. The springs beneath them scream out and Luhan’s stomach drops. He doesn’t have to look up to know that Sehun is now on his side, it only takes a simple second. Before Sehun’s fingers wrap around Luhan’s small and struggling form and force him down closer to Sehun’s head.

Luhan begins to kick at Sehun‘s fleshy palm. His fingers doing their best to break the skin on his fingers, tiny nails digging in at thick flesh that he can‘t seem to get past. Sehun presses him suddenly into the mattress and the duvet. Luhan is rendered immobile. His legs and feet can‘t push up on the weight put upon them, his hands however don‘t give up the fight. He continues punching and tearing at anything he can grasp onto—having no clue that it makes him look close to a tiny baby throwing a tantrum rather than a grown man fighting off an enemy.

Luhan refuses to look into Sehun‘s face, he doesn‘t want to know what he thinks of this sudden act of rebellion. He doesn‘t. So he continues to struggle and struggle, his tiny muscles straining and pulling as his exhaustion slowly begins to tamper down. He gives up moving and struggling at some point and drops his gaze. Not wanting to see Sehun, he failed. He was a joke for trying to be manly.

“Look at me,” Sehun’s words are firm but not loud. Luhan doesn‘t do it.

“I said look at me,” This time Luhan swallows the growing lump in his throat in an attempt to stifle his embarrassment and looks up into Sehun’s eyes. His gaze isn‘t harsh like Luhan thought it would be but is rather soft and smothered with emotion. His brows are tilted upwards and his lips twisted into a small frown.

“You are manly Luhan,” The words aren‘t what he expected. He parts his lips to say something but finds himself rendered speechless. Sehun’s eyes narrow as he says the next words, “What made you think you weren’t manly?”

Luhan attempts to shrug feeling the full weight of his actions press into him. “I just…I feel like you push me around a little and it makes me feel…emasculated.” Luhan’s cheeks alight with a fresh blush and his gaze drops with the last whispered word.

Sehun shakes his head, his hot breath fanned across Luhan’s flushed features and he leaned down. Luhan had no choice but to meet his larger partner’s gaze. Sehun swallowed up the entirety of his vision, it was moments like this where he realized just how small he was, he could see his pitiful expression reflected back at him amidst the brown hue of Sehun’s irises.

“You are manly Luhan, I‘m sorry if I made you feel any less of a man with my little jokes. I didn‘t mean to, you’re just so cute sometimes I can’t help it,” The sudden compliment left Luhan’s already huge eyes blown wider and his cheeks reddened further. “But you are manly. It takes guts to have a partner so much larger than you and still hold your own. It takes guts to fucking claw at me and not be scared out of your damn mind. Luhan, you don‘t even flinch when I walk past you and the ground shakes. You are the manliest person I know and you don’t have to prove it. You just are if anything your size proves it further to me.”

Luhan didn‘t know how to respond to this once again his partner had left him speechless and caught unawares. Sehun had a hard time expressing his feelings but the surety with how he said these words felt like a swift punch to the gut.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit babe,” Sehun whispered these words and Luhan felt a flood of emotions break free and slam into his chest. The tips of his lips trembled slightly before easing into a soft smile. He opened his mouth to respond to Sehun. To thank him, to do something but before he could Sehun moved and his lips pressed into Luhan’s small form. Luhan squealed with laughter at the way his partner’s soft lips pressed into very sensitive and ticklish spots. He couldn‘t control his squirming or anything else.

Sehun pulled away and stared at his partner, Luhan couldn’t contain his smile. This time he pushed his torso up and leaned on his elbows. He pressed a soft kiss on Sehun’s top lip and sunk into it gently.

“I love you Sehun,” Sehun smirked and rolled his eyes. He leaned back down and pressed another soft kiss into Luhan letting him know the feeling was mutual.

So I managed to put this together because it was cute enough and something I could picture rather easily. I hope you enjoy it! I hope it wasn’t too rushed either and would love some feedback-if you have any questions ask me as well.