#it's only after we cross a threshold of usefulness that we are finally stripped of the class of womanhood

[tiefling-queer]

there is no universal accessibility. there is no one-size-fits-all.

as a genderqueer person, i'd be over the moon if someone looked at my presentation and stumbled or asked what my pronouns are. there are gnc people, trans and cis, who don't present or perform gender in a way that makes it 'obvious' what they are 'going for'. for me, that pause, however performative, is validating and affirming. for me, as a genderqueer person, presentation anarchy and public acceptance of gender nonconformity is comforting.

and on the other hand, i know trans women who are understandably frustrated at people ignoring cues in wardrobe and makeup and opting to degender them. being degendered or misgendered because cues are being missed or ignored is an awful feeling, and this is especially a problem that trans women and other trans fems face.

we've cultivated these protocols that are polite in specific circles that i genuinely believe are used in good faith most of the time, but that doesn't stop them from mimicing bigotry.

i have no answer. ask for my pronouns and don't ask my trans sisters for theirs. there isn't a nice answer.

[galvore]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒.

▸ Solomon x reader ▸ 0.9k ▸ all comfort no angst, nothing else, just a dump comfort piece

▸ this is a one time occurrence do not get used to it, we shall be back shortly on our program of guts and gore after this short soft intermission. ▸ I had a particularly shit experience in the past few days and needed some comfort, ended up taking the issue in my own two hands. take this in mind when reading it. ▸ I am not up to disclose anything but please be careful when running up the stairs, ripped nails hurt.

“You really need to be more careful, you’re only human after all”

The white hair sorcerer looks up from where he has been busy cleaning out the scrapes on your shin

“Look who’s talking” holding back from snorting right in his face “just because you got magically enhanced doesn’t mean the base product is any different”

“You’re kind of right” he secures the last bandage, before switching legs to repeat the process “but also you’re also forgetting I practice alchemy, among other things” you hiss as the unlabelled ointment he’s been using to treat you hits the irritated skin “and I have more than a couple of different tricks up my sleeve.”

You pout at his refusal to accept his human nature and lay back against the propped up pillows, settling in the comfortable silence that has enveloped in his room, letting him continue his treatment of your injuries, occasionally wiggling your toes to play with the soft fabric of his clothes to ease the boredom of the waiting.

“There” he caps the glass bottle holding the teal liquid and checks that every bandage is sitting in place correctly “should be all set to go, miss”

“You missed a spot” you shove your thumb right in front of his face, showing the red strip of dried blood that collected at the edge of your ripped nail, holding the same deadpan tone you have had since crossing the threshold of Purgatory Hall.

“Give it here” a rare soft smile graces his features as he gently grasps it in between his fingers, calmly going through the same motions of nursing your wounds once again. “You had quite the fall there didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t my fault! The steps were just- just fucking slippery that’s what” outraged at his point of view of the accident.

He doesn’t reply, too busy admiring your puffed cheeks and pouty lips, thinking them to be adorable, glad he finally managed to take your mind off of the dreadful afternoon you had been through.

Once he’s finally done bandaging your ripped nail, he gets up to put away his first aid homemade kit “Now, if the lady is all fixed up, I’m going to grab something in the kitchen” as he lowers your legs from his lap to lay on the bed “and you better not try to move from here while I’m gone” You hum absentmindedly in reply, not particularly paying attention to where he’s going, too busy checking the flexibility of the bandage wrapped around your finger tip.

He re-enters the room carrying a tea tray hosting a small iron teapot and an empty cup , the soft herbal smell wafting your senses, delicate and shooting.

“You really need to work on your clumsiness though” he carefully sets it down onto the bedside table and carefully starts to pour the tea “as much as I enjoy taking care of you, it really vexes me to see you like this”

“I guess I’ll try to be more careful then” playfully rolling your eyes at his concerns, not willing to let yourself be even more vulnerable than you already did by asking for his help in the first place.

“What’s that?” you suspiciously eye the cup he offers you, smart enough not to blindly trust a drink made by a known sorcerer.

“Just tea, I swear” holding his free hand over his heart, in a sort of mocking gesture.

“Just” moving your gaze to look him directly in the eye, hand hovering just an inch from the cup, flashbacks of the effects of whatever he might have made you drink in past occasions flash before your eyes “tea?”

“Just tea, this time” a mischievous glint disappears as soon as it came from his eyes, fully self aware at your silent implication, he lowers the cup to fit in your hand as he turns back to check everything is neat, before joining you to lay on top of his covers “it’s a mixture of various herbs to help soothe your muscles from the impact and also help you relax a bit, hopefully enough to get some shut eye before you have to go back.”

“It better be” you swirl the liquid around a bit before hesitantly taking a sip, surprised at how smooth it tastes, consequentially drinking more once you deem it safe to do so.

He settles next to you, laying on his side with one of his arms coming around to circe your waist “You really need to stop going out on your own like this though, you know this is still a demonic kingdom”

“I know, it’s just” you try to find a way to properly articulate your reasoning for venturing off without notifying anyone “sometimes I need some alone time, and I can’t keep being cooped up in that damn mansion”

“I know but at least ask me for some protection seals or something if you decide to do so. Next time just ask ok? I know how much you hate it, but you can’t do everything on your own” his thumb has started circling your side in a comforting motion, you don’t know if it’s to calm you or to ground him, but you don’t exactly want to choose right now “especially here, please remember that”

“Promise me next time you’ll at least take something with you?” he looks directly into your eyes, his tone lacking any of the playful sarcasm he usually holds, showing how what happened to you clearly affected him.

You set the cup back on its saucer and settle back against the soft pillows, closer to him than you were before, one of your hands coming up to graze his white fringe, gazing back at him “I promise.”

[peachy-panic]

“Look at me.”

Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.

POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.

I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:

@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.

Without further ado.

PROMPT: “Look at me.”

WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!

He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house. 

When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area. 

At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds. 

Until now. 

Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.

There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end. 

In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.

“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm. 

“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”

Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice. 

The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.

When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.

Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that. 

“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.

He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice. 

“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist. 

The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit. 

So he does. 

Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.

All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones. 

Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck. 

“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.

Jaime’s blood runs cold. 

You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this. 

Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.

It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.

“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”

His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids -  leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet. 

“I asked you a question.”

“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper. 

It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy. 

The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

He doesn’t want this.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.

But this isn’t allowed.

His Keeper is happy.

Please, please stop touching me.

He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.

Please don’t make me do this.

His keeper is smiling.

“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds. 

There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it. 

He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.

He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.

Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.

Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him. 

But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.

“Look at me.” 

For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right. 

Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Deal Pt 2

Masterlist

Summary: Clark take you to august to finish the deal.

Warnings: Adult Situations +18, Smut, Dub Con, BDSM, Toys

A/N: second part to @wolfieash​ ask which is here

Taglist: in reblog.

Smut below the cut.

"NO IM NOT GOING ! AND YOU CAN FUCK OFF!" You yelled chasing Clark into the living room arms cross and lips pulled into a snarl.

He rolled his eyes at you, you'd been throwing a fit all day.

"Sweetheart, you made a deal, gave him your word... you cant go back on it" he insisted once more trying to convince you.

"Yes I can it was my word! Not yours, I can do what I want!" You huffed blowing some hair out of your face it was hard trying to be serious when your hair seemed to want to stick in your mouth.

"No poppet I'm not letting you break you word , now get dressed we leave in a hour" he said quickly spinning you around pressing you to the bedroom door.

"Fuck you, I'm not going anywhere!" You grunted pulling away from him.

"Tonight love I promise, now go get ready august is expecting us..." he said grinning almost sweetly at you.

"I don't give a flying fuck! I'm not going" you stomped a foot at him finally making his brow twitch, jaw tightening in irritation.

He stood taller and let his frame seem to devour the space on the hall making you shrink, shivering as you watched your sweet fiancé become a great predator. A loin or bear?

"Sweetheart enough! Now go get dressed...I laid out your outfit" he ground out severely finally having enough. A deal was a deal... and he wanted your ass!

"Out fit? What outfit-OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" You cried entering your room seeing the shear fabric

"That? Its a little body stocking~" Clark said leaning on the door frame arms crossed wearing a huge grin.

"IM NOT WEARING A FUCKING BODYSTOCKING!"

"Well I would if I were you because if not there will be images of your naked ass being flown about on the front pages tomorrow~" he quipped with a smirk.

"Yo-you wouldn't dare!" You said voice loosing its bite as he stared at you.

"Wouldn't I? I mean come on love anal's on the line~" he teased and moved up behind you and slapped your bottom hard enough to make you yip and jerk away.

"Now hop to it... You've got 50 minuets~" he called over his shoulder as he exited the room.

In the end Clarks threat of having you mooney metropolis was too much of a threat and you'd showered and slipped into the body stocking...

But you didn't shave! If they were gonna push through with your whole sex for silence deal then they would live with the consequences! No bare pussy for either of them!

Fuck'em.... or don't? Which was preferable

It wasn't that you didn't enjoy it, it was that you did... a little more then you should have! It frightened you the way you'd enjoyed being used and fought over.

"Oh come on why the long face angel?" August hummed as he opened the glass doors on his rooftop home, the penthouse was shiny sleek and as dark as the man himself.

"Fuck off august!" you grumbled walking right passed him as soon as Clark put you down

"Oh such a foul mouth! We will have to teach you some manners~" the agent quipped as you entered the bare but masculine space, everything was harsh lines and fucked up art pieces of splotching blocky shades of black, red and deep violet.

"Yes she's very snippy today... has been all week, pouting" Clark huffed shrugging. Taking the offered crystal glass with amber liquid.

"Ah we have a brat on our hands then?" August chuckled and walked through the home quickly snagging one of your elbows and directed you to the playroom, not wasting any time.

"Yeah, she doesn't want me to fuck her ass" Clark summarized with a shrug.

"Aww Why not sweety? You loved me fucking your ass? You cried and withered moaning so beautifully~" august hummed into your ear as he pressed you over the threshold into a large windowless room, strip lighting igniting the room in a light red. The devils den so to speak.

"Sh-shut up you prick" you snarled.

Augusts reply was a tsk and he pressed you over to a padded sawhorse and looked to Clark nodding to the ankle and wrist cuffs.

Clark breezed past him quickly securing you down making you curse him, but by this point it was a formality as you had already soaked yourself through.

"Oh would you look at that? Our little brat is eager~" august said with a chuckle and a warm hand probed you lightly making you jolt and try to squirm away.

"Yes I know, she likes denying herself, its strange she knows we will win but Continues to fight?" He said coming around your side ghosting his fingers over your ribs making you shudder.

"Well lets not waste time shall we? I have a few things out ready but first lets get this fitted shall we?" August said menacingly walking around you brandishing a very large O ring gag.

"After all if she's going to throw a tantrum I don't trust her not to bite" he uttered moving towards you.

"I've never thought of using one of those before... it wont hurt her will it?"

"Only her pride Clark trust me even she needs a... dressing down every once in a while" august reassured him.

Your eyes grew wide as the agent approached with the large gag that looked both threatening and enticing, things had been kinky with august but you hadn't ever gone this far into bdsm before. You were scared and still fighting but not as hard? You were curious and being dominated by them last week had... changed you. It had been thrilling to be so out of control.

"Should we... give her a signal or something? Incase it gets to much?" Clark quizzed, he was still all for it but wanted to be mindful of you. He didn't want to hurt you.

"Trust me she's going to love it, but in the case of something going wrong" august directed his attention to you befo4e continuing.

"There is a small desk bell one the inside of the left leg on the saw horse... if thing get too much hit it three times fast and we will get you down" he said seriously.

You frowned as his gaze bored into you, for a second you believed you saw actual concern in his eyes.

It unsettled you, August couldn't really have any feelings towards you could he? I mean this was blackmail!

You nodded quickly to him letting him know you understood.

Then just like that August was haughty again and quickly fixed the gag in your mouth, setting your teeth in the small grooves that was semi comfortable.

"Shes ready when you are~" the agent hummed and stood back.

Clark darted behind you and helped himself to you and august disappeared from sight.

You moaned into the room as your fiancé roamed your folds as if exploring them for the first time.

He was rougher then usual prodding and impaling you fast and hard before slowing and drawing your own arousal over your presented ass.

You withered as Clark used you body, pressing you higher and higher making you teeter on then edge then back away letting you calm down only to work you up again.

"I thought we could... try something... a little bonus for all of us tonight~" you heard august but couldn't see him.

"I'm listening" Clark said as he plunged his fingers back into you harder throwing off your concentration making you cry out.

"I have this" you tried seeing what August had but was too preoccupied with the maddening strokes of clark's fingers as he pounded away at your g-spot forcing you to try and rock on him chasing a high he had already cruely denied you twice.

"What even is that thing?" Cark said not paying attention to you as your body twisted and pulled trying to cum like a desperate whore.

"Here ill show you~" august said and Clarks fingers disappeared from you making you cry out and moan, your pussy tried holding him but it was to drenched to actually grip him.

Then something was pressed into you, large wide and very short.

"Oh-oh fuck?!AH!" You yelped  awkwardly around the gag as the toy settled, curved forward and down pressing on your gspot without being held. There was a large flat expanse resting outside of you to, the toy curved in a large C shape.

"Does that go up her?"

"No no, we just pop her little clit in here~ and press the button!" You jerked as august moved you, thick fingers prodding your clit and sat the engorged nub into a small round dip and pressed a button.

You squealed tensing all at once as you felt a suction on your clit and roared.

"Holy shit?" Clark said in awe watching as you keened and tried throwing you weight around on the toy that was held in place by your muscles clenching to it so tightly... It was bittersweet in a way, your own body holding the sweet torturous device on your clit.

"And it gets better, press that one" you hear a small click and arched moaning out as the egg like shape inside of you came to life vibrating against your insides.

Clark watched entranced as you withered this is what he'd been missing out on? Fuck!

August darted around you and strokes you hair watching as Clark stripped behind you unable to wait any longer as you thrashed about trying to rock into the toy.

"Shh shh thats a girl, now deep breath your wonderboy may be a little too enthusiastic if your doing all that squirming~"

You froze feeling Clark poise himself at your well lubed ass then grunted as he thrust forward splitting you open.

Clark hissed and moaned loudly as the vibrating egg not only made you quiver and tense around him already threatening to flood the place but it also rubbed his cock as he rutted you.

"Oh fuck- thats amazing! I cant- I shit babe!?" Clark didn't wait he immediately began pounding in to the tight quivering body before him.

August chuckled once more before releasing his own belt buckle. Not wanting to let your wails and monas go to waste.

They would work wonders on his cock, offering the sweetest of releases as you screamed onto his cock as he lodged it into your throat.

August was never into men, but he could develop a thing for corrupting this huge perfect man.

For now August would let you and Clark think you were in control of the deal. Let this one final night play out.

But the seed was sewn and before long he knew Superman would return wanting to explore more and more of this little sex dungeon. And then he will strike another deal.

Because August wasn't opposed to making a little compromise to get decent pussy. If he had to share with Supes so be it, it looked like he could teach the kid a thing or two and he would gladly, because he had many more toys to tease you both with~

If things went to plan he'd have not one but two desperate little subs. And he couldn't wait!

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 7

Sorry this took so long y'all. This chapter was difficult to write. Hannibal invites Theresa for dinner and y/n finally confronts her.

Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, child sex abuse; graphic descriptions of violence; confronting an abuser; body-shaming

The stitches in your cut hadn't even dissolved before Theresa intruded on your life again. Before you stormed out, Hannibal did in fact invite her to dinner. Polite society would rule the invitation null and void after that confrontation, but Theresa felt herself exempt from the laws of politeness. Like Evangelicals or craisins, Theresa loved to insert herself where she was clearly not wanted.

Of course, you were peeved at Hannibal for upholding the invitation when she called. But you could tell he had something planned. He was intrigued by her audacity and wanted to see how far it would take her. You couldn't begrudge him professional curiosity, as you too wondered what the fuck her problem was.

In truth, you saw what he did to your grandma, and you wanted to see him do it to Theresa. You wanted her subject to the same psychological torment that she put you through. And that, you realized, was why he honored that invitation. He wanted to vindicate you. And that was the sexiest damn thing you could possibly imagine.

Theresa showed up alone. That was her first mistake.

"Thank you for having me, Dr. Lecter." Theresa greeted, shedding her long coat and dropping it to the ground. "Will [F/N] be joining us?"

"[F/N] will most certainly be joining us." Hannibal said, his voice hardening. He noticed her coat in a pile on the floor and something in his head clicked.

"I hope I'm not overdressed." Theresa tossed her hair over her shoulders. 

She was. And you knew even before she showed up that she'd wear that green evening dress with the plunging neckline. It was the same one she wore to prom. She kept it as a memento all these years to memorialize the day she completely fucked you over. 

She was here to make history repeat itself. 

"Not all, Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal grinned, glancing at the staircase. "[F/N] is just touching up her makeup.”

“That sounds like [F/N].” Theresa laughed. “She always took the most time getting ready in the morning. And she was always the ugliest. It was quite sad, really.”  

Hannibal reminded himself what he had in store for Theresa before letting himself get angry. “If you could join me in the kitchen, I could use a little help with the appetizers.” 

Theresa took the bait and followed him through the threshold into the massive kitchen. 

“Could I trouble you for some psychological advice, Doctor Lecter?” She said, leaning against the island.

“That depends.” He answered, though the tone of his voice connoted a firm ‘no’. “Are you going to be honest with me?” 

Theresa mounted herself on top of the island and crossed her legs. “I’ve just been having quite a bit of trouble in my marriage.”

"Please get off my counter." Hannibal politely demanded. "I just sterilized it this morning."

“My husband just isn’t so excited by me anymore.” She pouted like a child. “He just doesn’t seem interested in... well, any of the things I have to offer him.” 

“Have you considered the possibility that you have nothing to offer?” You said. You approached them with purpose, the skirt of your purple dress fluttering behind you. Your favorite pair of strappy heels clacked against the tile and echoed through the room with every step. 

“[F/N] makes a valid point.” Hannibal agreed, taking you under his arm. “You’re an abusive narcissist, a serial adulterer, and you’re quite horrible at flirting. I certainly don’t understand what you could possibly have to offer.” 

“Nice to see you again, [F/N].” Theresa said, resigned to her defeat. “I didn’t want to say anything at the wedding, but you look like you’ve gained a few pounds.” 

You almost laughed. Growing up, Grandma had subjected you to every form of body-shaming known to man. Nothing Theresa could say would have any effect on you. 

“Really? Because I’ve never felt better in my life.” You smiled, knowing it to be true. “Hannibal is an amazing cook. You’d probably gain weight too if you were eating so well.” 

"Well, I have appearances to keep up." She refuted. "Gideon and I both have very busy schedules. Besides, he finds the kitchen more of a woman's domain."

"Unfortunate for you." Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and picked up a wine bottle by the neck. He kept his hands busy by pouring three glasses of wine. "That Gideon does not put in the time to keep you well-fed and fulfilled. Might I suggest not molesting children as a remedy?"

You snickered as he handed you a glass. You migrated to the dining table, where the trial was set to take place.

"Did you invite me here just to gang up on me?" Theresa leaned back in her chair. "Because if so, that's really mature."

"Of course not." You said, Hannibal pulling your chair out for you. You placed your napkin in your lap. "Well, maybe a little."

Theresa took a long sip of wine. "You're not going to get an apology if that's what you're after."

"Oh no." You shook your head. "I've stopped expecting basic human decency from you years ago."

"Good." Theresa huffed. "Since that's clearly what you want me to be, that's what I'll be."

"Don't give me that shit." You sighed. "I know what gaslighting is and you're not as good at it as you think."

"Y'know I never asked to be a parent figure to you and Anna." She crossed her arms.

"You may not have asked for it but you sure as hell enjoyed it." You countered, furrowing your brow. "Don't act like you weren't the dictator's right-hand man. You sucked up to grandma and always got preferential treatment."

"I was a kid." She shrugged. "You're really gonna blame me for the shit I did before my skull fully hardened?"

"Well, it exposes a way larger pattern of behavior." You explained. "You're a megalomaniac that wants power without responsibility. So you attach yourself to someone with power, probably another narcissist who's too self-involved to see what a leech you really are. It's what you did with grandma and it's what you're doing with Gideon."

Dressing Theresa down like that gave you a rush. It made you feel alive. But more importantly, it made her look small. It stripped her of her power.

"Well done, Sherlock." Theresa taunted. "But you're forgetting one thing. If I were a megalomaniac, why would I waste my time beating up on you? Some nobody with no power to speak of?"

"Because I'm a living reminder of your past." You narrowed your eyes. "I remind you that you can't just beat everyone into submission."

"Ladies," Hannibal interrupted, holding three bowls. He placed one in front of you, the savory broth enticing your nose. "This is pot-au-feu. It is a simple French stew made from beef, vegetables and potatoes. I added a marrow-bone for extra richness. It's the perfect combination of simplicity and substance."

You couldn't even wait for Hannibal to sit down. You'd been so hungry all day. Smelling the meat slowly braise over the course of the day was torturous. You went straight for the marrow, which was a recent favorite of yours.

Theresa picked the bone up between two fingers and dropped it onto the table, her face wrapped with disgust. "I think I'll pass. I'm not a dog."

"You are not." Hannibal said, spearing a piece of meat on his fork. "I find dogs much better company."

Theresa tented her fingers and glared at Hannibal. "So you're just going to let her rip into me? Aren't you supposed to be the professional here?"

"Don't discount [F/N]'s analysis just because she is a student." Hannibal glared back at her. "From what I know about you, she's dead on."

"Isn't this entire interaction a professional conflict of interest?" Theresa folded her arms. "I don't trust her to analyze me because she hates me."

Hannibal put his utensils down. Anger flashed across his face. "I don't think you quite understand what this interaction is. You are not owed an unbiased psychological profile, especially not from me. You are not my patient. You are [F/N]'s abuser."

Theresa narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. "So if you understand that, why am I here?"

"You think very highly of your intelligence, Theresa." Hannibal glanced down at his dish. "Perhaps you can figure that one out yourself."

You coughed, narrowly avoiding choking on your food.

"Darling, please pace yourself." Hannibal instructed, though he seemed pleased with how enthusiastically you inhaled your meal. "You're going to make yourself sick if you eat too fast."

"I'm sorry." You said after taking a long sip of water. "I don't know why, I'm just so hungry today."

Hannibal dropped his eyebrows, looking worried. "Did you take your medicine this morning?"

"I think so." You nodded.

Theresa smiled and reached for her phone. The movement caught Hannibal's attention, and he could tell what she was up to right away.

"Theresa, it's very rude to text at the dinner table." He scolded, taking a sip of wine. "Surely, anything you're saying to your grandmother and Anna, you can say to us."

Theresa, too proud to back down, slipped her phone into her purse and met your eyes. "You're pregnant."

"Brilliant fucking deductive reasoning." You rolled your eyes. "A woman gains a little weight and has a healthy appetite? That's the only logical conclusion I would draw."

"Well, aren’t we defensive?" Theresa taunted. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Theresa, stop it." You gritted your teeth, trying not to convey how pissed you were.

"You're going to need to drop out of school to take care of the baby full time." Theresa sneered.

You knew exactly where she was taking this and you wanted more than anything to just disappear. You reached for the wine bottle and refilled your glass. "Shut up, Theresa. Shut the fuck up before you say something you'll regret."

Her face lit up from the satisfaction of finally making you angry. "And someday you'll blow your brains out just like your mother!"

This time, she would regret it. You chucked the empty wine bottle across the table. It hit her directly in the face with a deafening crunch before ricocheting off the table and shattering on the ground.

Theresa brought her finger to her nose, noticing the stream of blood trickling from her nostril. She stood up, stabilizing herself with the back of the chair.

"I didn't think you had it in you." She jabbed before collapsing to the ground.

You went silent, too afraid to look at Hannibal.

"For what it's worth, darling." Hannibal piped up. "I always knew that you did."

[lightsovermonaco]

Patience is a Virtue (NSFW Max Verstappen)

Masterlist

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to @acollectionofficsandshit !!! Last minute present, which hasn’t been beta’d, but I hope you enjoy ♥

Max had been so busy the past few weeks, what with preseason testing and gearing up for the first race in less than a week. You had not been able to attend testing this year, Red Bull having only allowed essential personnel to travel to Bahrain. It had been two weeks since you had seen Max’s face in person instead of being separated by phone screens. 

Considering Max’s packed schedule, you had fully expected to celebrate your birthday alone. It had been enough of a surprise that he had shown up at the door of the apartment you shared in Monaco earlier that day, having flown home from London to help you celebrate. You had lounged about watching cheesy movies and trading kisses all day before Max had informed you he had something to show you.

“No peeking,” Max said, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip as he guided you along. “Step down.”

Cautiously, you feel with the toe of your shoe for the step. Seagulls crow and you can smelly the briny sea, but that could mean you were anywhere in the city. You didn't have any definitive context clues as to where you were. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“I told you it’s a surprise. Was the whole “close your eyes’ thing not clear?” He squeezed your shoulder. “Besides, we’re here.”

“I can open my eyes?” You asked, wanting to be certain. Max’s whispered affirmation was a wisp of breath against your neck.

Your eyes blinked open, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness of the setting sun. Max’s arms wound around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. A small table set for two sat on a sandy private beach, complete with flickering candles and a waiter standing by.

“Daniel came up with this, didn’t he?” You teased, placing your hand on his corded forearm.

“He may have helped with the specifics,” He conceded, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Charles is the one that let me borrow his villa.” 

You hummed in appreciation of the gesture. “So you are friends.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.”

You laughed and let Max lead you to the table. He pulled out your chair, letting you get settled before leaning in for a kiss. Being apart for so long had made him more affectionate than usual. Not that you were complaining.

Glasses of wine were poured before the waiter retreated back to the house, presumably to give you and Max privacy. Max leaned back, letting the last dregs of sunlight warm his face. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

Your eyes traced the line of his neck, up the angle of his strong, stubbled jaw. Muscles rippled as he took off his signature flat-brimmed cap, running his fingers through his hair before replacing it backwards on his head. And god, you could’ve jumped on him right there. Noticing your stare, Max grinned, his foot finding yours under the table.

“Keep undressing me with your eyes like that and we won’t get to enjoy the lovely meal Daniel planned out.” You bit your lip to suppress your smile. Your assumption that Max hadn’t come up with this on his own was right, then. It was far too cheesy for it to have been all his idea.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers together. “Maybe I’d rather undress you and eat at home.”

“Daniel would be upset that his efforts went to waste.” Mischief glinted in Max’s baby blues.

“I wouldn’t call them wasted,” You murmured, running your bare foot up Max’s calf. “After you leave tomorrow, I’ll be all alone for another week. I think Daniel would understand if I had other activities in mind for tonight.”

Max leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, fully aware that he was torturing you. Your mouth watered from more than just the delicious smell of grilled steak. A wicked grin split his face. “We’re having dinner,” He said, tone leaving no room for a challenge.

“But-”

He moved lightning quick, his hand gripping your thigh under the table. “I said we’re having dinner. Understood?”

“Yes,” You breathed, heart pounding. The dominance in his voice melted any protests that had sprang to your lips.

“Good girl,” He murmured, then sat back like nothing had happened when the server brought out your meal. As soon as Max thanked him, you dug in. Golden, perfectly seasoned potatoes and carrots, and a perfectly cooked steak with a delicious, sweet sauce. You shoveled it in, eager to get home.

“Take your time,” Max warned. “Or you’ll just be sitting there while I finish mine.” Indeed, he cut his steak agonizingly slow, deliberately dragging it out. You tried to match his leisurely pace, but couldn’t keep your mind from wandering. Your leg bounced impatiently. Max once more gripped your thigh, giving you a stern look.

“Patience is a virtue.”

Silence dominated the last of the meal, your body lined with tension. You couldn’t wait to get him home, having wanted to do so since the moment he turned that damned hat backwards. The sun had set by the time he tipped the waiter. You practically lept from your seat when he stood, grabbing his hand and racing for the street.

Max was stronger than you, of course, and when he dug his heels into the sand you had no choice but to halt. “I said patience, my schat.” My treasure.

Your stomach flipped. Just when you thought you couldn’t want him more, he pulled out the rarely used Dutch term of endearment that never failed to drive you wild. You had to get him home, or else you’d beg for him to take you right there on the beach in front of Charle’s vacant home.

Reading the plea on your face, Max relented with a sigh. “Alright, we won’t take a walk along the water like I planned.” He waved a hand. “You know the way home.”

You wound through the streets with practiced ease, your feet having traveled the path between Charles’ home and your apartment countless times. At one point you had to stop at a street crossing, bouncing on your toes.

The hand Max placed on your ass made you freeze. “Anxious?” He murmured, breath tickling your neck. You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could only imagine what he would do to you when you were alone.

After two more agonizing blocks, you were home. You rounded on Max the second the door closed behind you, lips crashed to his and your hands tugging his shirt up. Setting his cap on the kitchen counter, you left a trail of clothing from the front door to the threshold of the bedroom. Stripped down to your underwear, you wound your arms around Max’s neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around him.

He caught you with a grin. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Uh huh,” You replied automatically, jerking your head towards the bed. Max took the hint, laying you back and stripping off his shorts and boxers, leaving him bare before you. The beauty of his body never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it.

Max sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving yours as he slid his hands behind your calves and pulled. You gasped, legs falling open. The sudden heat of his breath on your core shocked your system, sending a shiver up your spine. “Please,” You whispered. 

Your knee jerked when his lips met your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you needed him. His mouth trailed up to your hip, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped again, hips rising off the mattress.

“T-tease,” You breathed, head spinning like a top.

“Makes it sweeter when I finally feast.”

And feast he did.

Max had your panties off in record time, immediately dragging his tongue through your slick folds. His nose bumped your clit with each swirl of his tongue. A low moan tore from your throat. Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in his chocolate hair and encouraged him further with the grinding of your hips to his face. His hum of approval rocked through you, snipping the thread of sanity you’d been clinging to.

Your thighs tightened around his head when he slipped a finger inside you, his tongue devouring your clit like it was his last meal. He tapped thrice on your knee, his silent signal that he wanted your eyes on him. It took every ounce of your willpower to meet his request, gazing down at him between your legs.

His confident wink sent you over the edge, golden pleasure coursing through you hot as a wildfire. His tongue lapped at your center, letting you ride through the pleasure. Only when you whimpered softly did he remove his finger and mouth, his chest heaving.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, words coated in desire. You managed a nod. “Turn over.”

You tried to obey, you really did, but your limbs wouldn’t cooperate. With a growl of impatience, Max flipped you on your stomach. Fingers dug into your flesh as he hauled you up by the hips, face to the bed but ass in the air.

You rock your hips back, brushing the length of his cock. “That’s my girl.”

In one swift movement, he seats himself to the hilt inside you. You don’t need any time to adjust, thankfully, because Max doesn’t waste a second. The obscene sounds of skin on skin fills the room as he slams into you. Fingers tangled in your hair yank you to your elbows, and you looked over your shoulder at Max. 

His name was a plea, the only word in your vocabulary as he fucked you senseless. The sting of your scalp was a sharp contrast to the delicious pleasure flooding through you with each thrust of his hips. More than once your limbs turned to jelly, relying on Max to hold you up. He angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you with each thrust.

“Max, please-”

“Fuck, I never get tired of how wet you get for me,” Max grunted, increasing his pace until the force of it was enough to make you see stars. “Such a good girl, always ready for me when I want you.”

The praise had your walls tightening on his cock, a whimper escaping your throat. "M-Max-"

"Me too," He grunted, slamming into you twice more before spilling his seed inside you. He gave a few lazy strokes as you followed his lead, your second orgasm of the night draining any energy you had left. Max eased out of you and ran a cloth he had grabbed from the nightstand between your legs. 

"I could use a shower after that," You murmured. Max's rumbling laughter sounded at your ear.

"That can be arranged, birthday girl."

[supernovanim]

Strike, Dear Mistress, and Cure His Heart

I was lying in bed yesterday morning, when I realised I would like to tie Dylan O’Brien up. So i wrote this, and I’m not even the slightest bit sorry. It’s just one shortish fic as I don’t know how you’d continue it - there is no plot to speak of, it’s very self indulgent. I wrote it very quickly, although I did have to go back and rewrite some bits in case I ended up breaking his arms (I can’t be the only one that hates physically impossible smut). Let me know if you like it.

Title comes from Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground, which is itself based on the book by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I’d highly recommend both the song and the book.

Summary: Dylan is bad so you decide to punish him

Pairing: Female Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Warnings: References to alcohol and drinking, Swearing, light BDSM (bondage and hitting), Sub/Dom dynamic, Smut, unprotected sex (use protection!), orgasm denial, might be some British spellings

Word count: 3,554

Taglist: @hernameisnoellex3​

You woke in the dark to a crashing sound coming from the hallway and sat up in bed rubbing your eyes. You reached across and turned on the light before you heard it again. There it was, unmistakably the sound of someone stumbling around outside the bedroom door.

Sitting up in your large warm bed you looked over at the space next to you. Empty. Which meant…ah yes, you thought, as the bedroom door crashed open and your boyfriend Dylan tripped across the threshold.

“Sssh” he slurred, putting his finger across his lips “You’ll wake Y/N. She doesn’t…doesn’t like it when I’m drunk”

“It’s not the drunkenness Dylan” you sighed sleepily “You can have as much fun with your friends as you like” you watched as he tried to remove one of his shoes without sitting down, resulting in him hopping awkwardly on one leg “I just don’t know why you always have to wake me up when you get back”

“It’s no…no fun if you’re not there” he finally crashed awkwardly onto the side of the bed and tore off his shoes “gotta wake you up to have fun” his socks followed swiftly afterwards and he removed his shirt in one surprisingly co-ordinated movement, then ruined it by tipping over sideways.

You admired the way his movements had messed up his hair, leaving it stuck up every which way. You also couldn’t help but look at his lean chest and the smattering of moles across his now bare skin.

He caught you looking and leered knowingly, crawling towards you across the covers wearing only his jeans. “There’s my best girl. Missed you” he bent his head towards you and kissed you softly on the lips, his denim clad thighs bracketing you on the bed. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by him tasting of beer, whiskey and cigarettes.

“Ew Dylan” you squeaked “you taste like an ashtray”

His caramel-coloured eyes widened, and he looked hurt “Sorry, I’ll go...go brush them” he yawned, but instead lay back with his head on the pillow next to you. “Just…just going to have a small rest first” and with that he closed his eyes and passed out, leaving you to remove his jeans and go back to sleep.

***

The next morning Dylan took ages to emerge from the bedroom. In fact, it was pretty much the afternoon when he did, and then he spent a while having a slow shower, getting food and groaning softly to himself every so often.

This meant he didn’t notice how angry you were for a worryingly long time. You weren’t sulking, you didn’t sulk, you just stayed on your laptop out of his way and didn’t talk to him. When he bent to kiss you, you moved your head, so it landed on your cheek, and responded to his apology with a non-committal “hmm”

“Baby, baby I’m sorry” he said, the aftereffects of the drinking and smoking adding a gravelly tone to his voice. “It won’t happen again”

“But you always say that, and it always does happen again” you practically growled, letting your anger colour your voice.

“It won’t, I swear” he pleaded “let me make it up to you, I’ll do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want? You mean that?” you spoke thoughtfully, a few ideas running through your head.

“Anything” he put his hand over his heart and looked at you, sincerity filling his gaze. You wanted to believe him, but he’d always been an excellent actor.

“You’d do anything I say, without question?” you asked

“Anything” he repeated, a spark of fear appearing in his eyes. He licked his lips as he stood in front of you though, so you knew he was interested.

You stood and slowly walked around him, contemplating your options. You’d never showed Dylan your dominant side so far in your short but intense relationship, happy for him to take the reins. But now, now seemed a good opportunity to let some of your kinks show, see how he took it.

“Here’s how it’s going to go” you let your voice drop an octave and leant towards his ear “you’re going to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’m going to punish you. Hard” you saw him gulp. “Do you know what the traffic light system is?” you asked

“Y-yes” he stuttered

“Tell me then” you asked thoughtfully. If he’d done this before it was going to be easier than you thought to get him to comply.

“Green means everything is good. Orange means slow down, discuss things. Red is stop straight away” he answered

“Good boy. Have you tried this before?” you asked, curious

“N-no. Just read some stuff, watched some things” he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed

“You happy with it?” you questioned, mentally crossing your fingers for luck

“Fuck yes” he let out with a gasp, so you moved to stand directly behind him, pressing yourself against his back

“That’s the correct answer” you spoke into his ear “anything you don’t want me to do?”

“Um…no marks that can’t be covered by a shirt, I’ve got that thing I’m filming next week”

“Sure” you said, shrugging, “wouldn’t want any of your co-stars knowing what a naughty boy you’ve been”

He swallowed thickly, his throat moving “apart from that I’m all in. You can even get a little rough. That would be…that would be hot” you see him shiver in anticipation.

“Excellent” you practically purred. Then your tone changed, becoming sharp and demanding “I want you to strip completely. Then I want you to kneel on the floor right here, with your hands behind your head”

Speedily Dylan stripped off his clothes, throwing his shirt to one side. He hopped on one leg to remove his shoes, reminding you of last night.

“Wait” you said firmly, and he stopped, both shoes off but still wearing his jeans. You moved round him to go sit on the sofa. “Ok you can keep going, but slower”

He looked at you and slowly popped the button on his jeans. “Good boy” you smiled, and he smirked back as he lowered the zipper. You’d always liked this view, watching as he pushed the denim down and off. Then he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his grey boxer briefs and you unconsciously licked your lips and crossed your legs. Your eyes followed the trail of hair leading down as he slowly removed them, revealing his far from inadequate cock.

You watched admiringly as he tossed aside the briefs and knelt as you’d asked, hands behind his head showing off his biceps.

“Nice” you complimented “what a good boy you are”

You noticed his pupils widen at that, and his dick twitched, starting to harden. Interesting.

“Now stay there, don’t move an inch while I go get ready” you ordered

“Yes” he said quietly

“Oh, and from now on you’ll address me only as Mistress” you added

“Yes mistress” he replied obediently. Oh, this was going to be fun, you thought.

Quickly you returned to the bedroom and stripped, changing into your black satin lingerie set. It was one of Dylan’s favourites. Then you put on your highest black stilettos, the soft suede ones that you only wore if you knew you didn’t have to do much walking. They were unbelievably sexy but made you slightly taller than Dylan which always felt strange. Not today though, today feeling more powerful was the point.

Then you crossed to the closet, reaching into the back and pulling out a small cardboard box. You removed some items from inside, placing them on the bedside table. A couple of silk scarves, a soft leather flogger, and your favourite item – a length of black rope. It was deceptively strong but coated in something to make it comfortable. After all you didn’t want Dylan arriving on set with rope burns. That would take some explaining. You thought for a moment before taking it out of the bedroom with you.

Dylan was exactly as you’d left him, kneeling in front of the sofa, hands placed on the back of his head. You walked slowly in front of him, listening to the sharp tap of your heels on the polished floor and letting your hips sway seductively. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before you turned to face him.

“God” he groaned “you look incredible”

“Did I say you could talk?” you snapped, the smirk on your face in contrast to your sharp tone

“N-no. Sorry…mistress” he responded quickly

“I’ll have to punish you for that” you said, eyes narrowing. At that his eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip, biting back another noise.

You stepped slowly towards him “hands held out in front” you commanded, smiling to yourself as he quickly complied. You stood in front of him, not being able to stop yourself running a hand through his hair. He started turning his head into it, but you quickly removed your hand - “eyes forwards”

His head snapped up “yes mistress. Sorry”

You bent in front of him and wrapped the rope around his wrists, tying each one tightly but leaving a length in between. You made sure the knots were secure but could be undone quickly if needed. “Colour?” you checked

“Green. Definitely green” he replied.

“Good boy” you praised, and tugged on the rope to lift him to his feet “I think we should take this to the bedroom, don’t you?”

“Yes mistress” he complied, following as you pulled him along by the rope.

When you got to the bedroom you led him over to the bed and made him lie on his back, hooking the rope between his hands over the bedpost so he couldn’t move. You made sure the pillows propped his head up and took some of the pressure off his wrists.

“Comfy?”

“Not entirely, but still green. So green” he grinned up at you.

“Good. Going to blindfold you now” you said, picking up one of the silk scarves and moving towards his head.

Dylan pouted “but…wanna see you. You look so good; you have no idea”

“Did I ask for your permission Dylan?” you questioned. He shook his head. “You’re just making this worse for yourself. If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you see me later. Let’s try that again - I’m going to blindfold you now.”

“Yes mistress” he replied sulkily

“Better. Still think you need to learn your place though – we’ll work on that” you said sharply as you placed the scarf over his eyes and tied it at the back, taking the opportunity to give his hair a swift tug while you did so.

Now Dylan could no longer see you, you stood back and admired the view. He looked delectable, his arms stretched over his head, his pale skin with a flush starting on his chest, his impressive cock half hard between his legs. You wanted to touch him, to lick a path between all his moles and get him moaning. Oh wait, you could totally do that.

You moved onto the bed to straddle him, first kissing a path across his stubbled jawline and rubbing your nose across his cheek before pressing your mouth to his. You licked into him, deepening the kiss and tangling a hand in his hair to tip his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. As you bit gently at the tendon of his shoulder, he bucked his hips up and you felt him fully hard against you.

“No – no moving” you admonished, pushing him down with your hips and being rewarded with a pained moan from Dylan. “And try not to make too much noise or I’ll need to gag you”

At that Dylan made a strangled sound, biting it off before it could fully leave his lips. You shut off any protests by returning your mouth to his and enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Soon it wasn’t enough, and you started licking down his body, interspersing broad stripes with your tongue with small nips and bites. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue lave over them, then tweaked them with your fingers causing Dylan to buck his hips again. To stop his movements, you placed both hands on his hips and pushed him into the mattress firmly, turning your attention to his cock.

This was the easy bit – blow jobs always got Dylan worked up. You breathed over his cock, hearing him hold his breath in return. Slowly you licked from the base to the head, collecting the drops of pre cum that had collected and savouring them on your tongue. As you took the head into your mouth and wrapped your hand around the base Dylan started moaning

“Fuck yes, yes baby. So good, so good to me”

“Sssh” you stopped touching him to admonish “no talking”

You returned your attention to your actions, taking him towards the back of your throat and working past your instinctive gag reflex by breathing through your nose. You bobbed your head for a while, enjoying the heaviness of him on your tongue. You reached down with your other hand and cupped his balls loosely. And as you twisted your tongue over the sensitive spot below the head you felt Dylan tense up and his balls tighten.

“Oh god right there yes, so good gonna – gonna” he moaned above you

So, you stopped. You removed yourself completely from him and climbed off the bed. Dylan let out a frustrated huff.

“N-no! Why did you stop?” he pleaded, breathless.

“I told you to be quiet. You’re not being very good. Only good boys get to come” you stated simply.

“I’m sorry mistress. Please, please let me come”

“Nope” you said, emphasising the ‘p’ sound with a pop of your lips “you’ll have to be good first. Now, I think we can put your mouth to better use, don’t you?”

Dylan made a sound that was half pained, half hopeful. A kind of questioning whine. Quickly you removed your bra and panties, leaving you just in your black suede stilettos. You climbed back onto the bed and moved up, so your knees were at his chest. You dug your sharp heels slightly into his sides, just to remind him they were there. Placing a hand on the headboard for leverage, you moved so your core was in front of his face.

“Lick” you instructed “and make it good, you’ve got to make it up to me”

“Yes mistress” he said obediently, already moving his face forwards and feeling you out with his tongue. Quickly he started to lap over your clit, sending electric signals down your spine.

“See” you groaned “you can be a good boy”

He groaned in return, clearly enjoying this. You let go of the headboard and moved higher, placing your hands flat on the wall so you could manoeuvre yourself over his face more. You buried his lips in your core, gasping as his tongue prodded up into your entrance before returning to your clit and moving in small circles. You moved a hand to your breasts, pinching hard at the nipples to increase the feeling. Slowly but surely you felt your release start building from your toes upwards.

“C-colour?” you rasped, worried you might be suffocating him below you

“Green…green…green” came the muffled reply, and it was the vibrations from his words that finally sent you tumbling over the edge, crying out. “Fuck yes. There, there!”. He kept licking you through your orgasm until you felt over sensitive and moved away from him.

You moved back down the bed on slightly shaky knees and looked at Dylan. He looked almost as fucked as you felt, his face slick with your juices and his cock leaking pre cum onto his stomach. The scarf blindfold still sat over his eyes and the blush that had started on his chest now extended to his throat. A light sheen of sweat covered his body as he panted.

“Very good” you praised him “I knew you could be a good boy really. Eating me up so well”

At your words he twisted slightly on the bed, his cock looking harder if that was even possible.

“Do you like that Dylan? Do you like hearing what a good boy you are?” you asked

He seemed to struggle with words for a moment, and then replied his voice cracking “Yes, yes I like that mistress. Want to be a good boy for you”

“Of course you do. Good boys get to come. But not yet, right now I think you should be punished a bit more until you know your place. Then if you’re very good and quiet and don’t move, I’ll ride you until you come” you promised

“Yes mistress” he capitulated quickly

You nodded in satisfaction even though he couldn’t see you and got off the bed to walk to the bedside table. There you picked up the soft black leather flogger – made up of many strips of leather with a handle it resembled a small whip but could be used in a number of different ways.

First you ran it over Dylan’s face letting him smell the leather. Then you moved it downwards, letting the tips fall over the planes of his chest like a brush. The blush on his throat moved up to his face, and you saw him bite off a sound.

“Good, that’s really good Dylan” you said softly, continuing your ministrations with the flogger. You teased it down his chest and the trail of hair there, ending up brushing over his balls and cock softly. At that he couldn’t help it, his hips bucked off the bed desperate to get more contact on his hard leaking length.

“Oh no, what did I say about moving?” you admonished “I can see I’ll have to punish you more harshly. Colour?”

“Green. Still green, goddamn you” he replied

“There’s no call for that” you said and brought the flogger down sharply on his stomach letting the leather snap. He gasped at the feeling but managed not to make any other sound or move.

“I’m going to do that five more times” you stated, “and you’re going to count for me, ok?”

“Y-yes mistress” he said shakily

You moved the flogger down to his inner thighs so he could feel it there, and then snapped it against his pale skin again.

“One” he dutifully counted

The second hit landed on his other thigh, and you alternated back and forth each time. The skin reddened until you knew it was overly sensitive. When he got to a gasped out five, you bent over and sucked right over the reddened skin, leaving a darker mark that would remind him of the feeling for days.

“Well done” you praised “that was excellent. I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you Dylan?”

“Yes mistress. Please, please” he didn’t seem able to get any more words out. His cock looked painfully hard now, and he gasped against the pillows. You decided he’d probably had enough punishment and could be put out of his misery.

You returned to straddle him on the bed. Still soaking wet from before, you easily took his whole length as you lowered yourself onto him in one movement. You felt your walls flex around him and you braced your hands against his chest as you started riding him. Slowly at first, then faster as you heard his breathing quicken. You reached down to circle your clit with your fingers, determined to come before him.

“Hold on Dylan, just be a good boy for a bit longer and don’t come until I say so”

“Please mistress. No more. I c-can’t” he pleaded; his voice wrecked

“You can, I know you can. Hold on” you increased the pressure on your clit and felt yourself tense up. Below you Dylan bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. As you felt your release wash over you you clenched around him, and you took pity on him

“Ok, go on – come for me Dylan” you whispered into his ear

His hips bucked up into you at that, and you reached up and removed the blindfold. It seemed that the sight of you finally did it, and he came with a scream, his body arching against the wrist restraints. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up as you rode out the last waves of your own orgasm.

You reached up and quickly untied the knots securing the rope, removing it and examining his wrists for any damage. Luckily there was nothing permanent, and you tossed the rope away, letting him slip out of you and moving to cuddle against his side. You licked a bead of sweat from one of his nipples and he twitched sensitively.

“So” you asked, “will you be waking me up drunk anymore?”

“Baby, if we get to do that again I’ll give up smoking and drinking completely” he growled, voice low “that was incredible”

“That’s the correct answer” you smiled back… “what a very, very good boy you are”

THE END

[thediamondgirl17]

Rin Okumura x Reader: First Bell

Wow...I have not seen any Blue Exorcist content in a while! But I have to admit I am a big fan of Rin Okumura! He is definitely on the list of some of my top fav anime characters! 

Considering I am a not so popular writer, I decided to write for a not so popular anime! (I don’t know how it isn’t popular, I freaking love this show!) 

Anyways-! Onto the story! As always if you would like a Part 2 to this I will gladly write one! And constructive feedback is always welcome! 

Warnings: PG-13 (Spoilers!: This story will be taking place right after Season 1 of the anime! Nothing beyond that point will be talked about however!)

        You remember it like it was yesterday. Rumors of the gates of Gehenna opening, with True Cross Academy being in the center of all of it. Nobody believed the rumors. Why should they? It had been years since Satan had crawled out of the gates of hell and rampaged through Assiah. You had your doubts however. Everyone knew about the son of Satan, how he wanted to become an exorcist. And then...the gates opened. There was panic everywhere, doors to True Cross Academy opened, mirrors were placed to deflect light through the darkness. And then...Your school was destroyed. 

    Opening the doors and letting in sunlight through mirrors was a great idea and it had saved many lives in the short amount of time that it had been planned. However, nobody had expected demons to lurk in the shadows behind the mirrors. Nobody had expected large demons to find their way through your school and tear it down whilst having sunlight beat down on them, destroying them as well in the process. What in the name of Assiah did they do it for? Nobody knows. However now you had to start somewhere else for Exorcist training.  Everyone in your school then was moved to different schools that offered the same program so you could continue your studies. And of course...Having your luck, you landed at True Cross Academy. 

    Most everyone who was in your course back at your original school was spread around so that one school wouldn’t be mobbed with exorcists in training. Not that you were complaining about getting into one of the most prestigious schools in the country, it was just the student body that worried you. To say you were scared of the twins of Satan would be a lie, but it wasn’t like you were jumping out of your skin to go meet them either. 

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    The first bell had rung of your first class of the day. Demon pharmaceuticals. You gently held your backpack straps and bit your lower lip. You stepped forward and gently pushed open the large door in front of you. It was heavy, but years of training and working out to make yourself stronger helped out a bit with your struggle. You stepped inside and looked around the classroom. There weren’t a lot of people there, which pissed you off considering you had to leave a lot of friends behind to come here. Your eyes travelled to a boy holding a poppet. A girl with purple pig-tails. A boy with pink hair. There was a boy with a blonde Mohawk. One with a shaved head and glasses. A girl with blonde hair. And finally the two who have had your curious since you entered the school. 

    One stood in front of the class wearing the official exorcist uniform. His ears were pointed, and if you looked close enough you could see fangs poking out of his mouth. Your eyes however lingered on the tail that poked out from underneath his official jacket. His hair was black and he had two beauty marks directly under his eyes. 

    “Sorry I’m late!-” A voice called as another demon boy jumped through the threshold of the door. “Holy shit, who are you?!” He asked with wide eyes. Almost like he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. He had the same demonic feats as his brother but his hair was blue and he looked roughed up. Your cheeks involuntarily heated up at the comment. 

    “Rin! Don’t be rude!” The other demonic twin said and wacked his brother on the back of the head gently with his hand. “Everyone take your seats and I will explain everything.” 

    “I-...I’m sorry are you my teacher?” You asked softly and a bit confused. He offered a kind and sweet smile. 

    “Yes I am...Now take a seat anywhere you see fit and I will begin todays class.” He said and went back behind the counter in the front of the room. You nodded slowly and sat down in the far back corner as to not be disturbed. You had known there would be two of them...You did not expect one of them to be your teacher. 

    “As you all are quite aware, we have a new student today. Miss (L/n) please come up and introduce yourself.” He said, and the moment he stopped talking all eyes were on you. Especially a pair of demonic ones. Slowly you got up and walked to the front of the class. You stood next to Mr. Okumura and started talking. 

    “My name is (F/n) (L/n) I was transferred here after a demon escaped from Gehenna and trampled my school while supplying light here through mirrors.” You started, but soon got cut off. 

    “What?! No way! Not one demon from that portal made it’s way through those thresholds!” The boy with the blonde strip shouted as he stood up. 

    “Bon! Lower your voice!” Yuiko scolded him. 

    “I assure you it did-” You started. 

    “Are you sure it wasn’t someone’s familiar?”

    “No.” 

    “How do you know?!” He said getting defensive.  

    “Bon!” Yukio shouted. “That’s enough just let her talk...Please continue...What kind of exorcist are you training to be?” 

    “I want to be a tamer...Well I am a tamer...But I have been studying being a Knight on the side.” You replied softly 

    “And why did you want to become an exorcist?” He asked. You went utterly silent. What would they think if you told them why you were really here? Would they think you were crazy? Probably. A dream to live in peace with demons was not a dream that people take kindly in this field, and you knew that better than anyone in the room. “If you don’t want to tell us you don’t have to...,” He said placing a hand on your shoulder. You glared at his hand and he suddenly pulled it off. 

    “...Your so warm...,” You said softly. “Nothing like the other half demons...,” You said softly. 

    “Well what did you expect?” The girl with the purple hair said sarcastically. “They ARE the sons of Satan...and by the way your reason to become an exorcist doesn’t matter to us...There are two people sitting in this room who want to kill Satan.” 

    “Kill Satan?!” You asked shocked. “That’s suicide...,” 

    “Is not!” The other demonic twin stood up. “I can totally do it!” 

    “I’m going to be sobering honest with you Okumura.” You said and looked straight at him. “Your still half human. You will die.” You said plainly. “Half-demons are mortals...,” 

    “So what?! If I’m so crazy then why are you here hmm?” He questioned. Now the whole room was staring right at you. Your cheeks heated up from the sudden attention. 

    “If I tell you....You can’t laugh...,” You said softly. 

    “Nobody will laugh at you.” Yukio reassured you. 

    “I-...I believe with enough hard work...And studying...We could...Live in peace with beings from Gehenna...And I know it sounds crazy-!” You said. 

    “That’s a great goal!” Rin said shooting up from his seat with a sloppy grin. And there was a moment of silence in the room. A moment you took to mark this in your memory. He was the first one to not laugh, or judge, or try to convince you that your dream was not in reach. 

    “...So is yours...,” You replied softly before sitting back down at your desk. 

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    The next day was your first day doing academic classes at your new school. Currently the first bell for lunch had rung and you went to get food. You stood silently in awe as you noticed there was nothing left for students on a budget. You groaned softly and your shoulders slumped. 

    “Hey!” You heard someone say behind you. “You hungry?” You turned only to find Rin behind you holding a bento in his hands. His hair covered his ears and his teeth were still fanged like, but normal enough to be considered normal. And his tail was tucked away somewhere, but it wasn’t exactly like you were looking for it. 

    “Yeah...Actually...I didn’t get to eat breakfast today either...I’m like the last person to show up every day...,” You chuckled softly. 

    “Wanna split my lunch?” He offered. You did a little double take. 

    “You would...Do that?” 

    “Hell yeah! What are friends for?” He asked and motioned for you to follow behind him. “Follow me!” He called. And soon the two of you were off. After a little while of walking and trying to find a good spot for lunch, you both settled on a patch of grass. “Here...I have an extra pair of chopsticks.” He said and handed them to you. 

    “Thanks...,” You said softly and took a bite from his lunch. “Wow!” You said with your eyes lighting up. “This tastes amazing!” Rin felt his cheeks heat up and he bashfully looked down. 

    “Oh stop!” He said gently waving his hand back and forth, then reaching down and taking a bite from his lunch. “Sho...Do you rweally fink shat we can live wif demons...,” He said with his mouth filled. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at it. 

    “What?” You asked with a slightly tilted head. 

    “Do you really think we can live with demons...Ya’know...In peace?” He asked looking up at you. You paused for a moment and hummed. 

    “I don’t see why not...,” You trailed off.

    “Where did you even get that idea in the first place? I mean- not to be rude...But I don’t think you just woke up one day thinking that humans and demons should live in peace...,” You hummed softly at his question and thought about it. 

    “Well...Way back when I was a little girl...I got attacked by a demon, it latched on to me and slowly was draining my life away...I was only 7 years old at the time.” You sighed and smiled. “But then...An exorcist came and she banished the demon back to where it came from.” 

    “Why didn’t she just kill it?” He asked sipping on his water from his plastic bottle. 

    “It was against her belief...I hold some of those beliefs.” 

    “What were they?”

    “She believed that all life was a precious gift...I believe that too, however I also believe that sometimes things need to die to keep balance...Like how predators kill their prey to survive. I believe the same for demons, that they shouldn’t die unless it’s life on the line.” You blushed. “Sorry I’m rambling.” 

    “No no! I totally get it! That’s a very interesting kind of thinking...but I like it!” He smiled a wide toothy grin. You blinked and felt your heart pound in your chest. 

    “Everyone calls me crazy...When I tell them that...,” You said softly and pushed some hair behind your ear. 

    “People say that about me when I talk about killing Satan...So I guess we’re in the same boat!” He raised his hand to give you a high five. You smiled and gently clapped your hand against his. 

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    After that, your relationship with Rin got much better. You sat next to him in classes, ate lunch with him, did your homework with him, and he even let you come over to his dorm and meet Ukokbach. All in all, you enjoyed spending time with Rin, and he enjoyed spending time with you. And slowly over the course of about three months, you both began to develop feelings for one another, feelings a bit deeper than friendship. 

    It was just before Yukio’s class when it happened. You were just walking down the long winding hallway with huge doors, when you saw something behind you glow. It was Rin, a bit of blue fire gently licked at the top of his head, and the tip of his tail. His cheeks were a soft pink and his walk looked uncomfortable. 

    “Rin...,” You said softly. “You okay..?-”

    “Your really hot and pretty and I wanna go out with you cuz your really cool and I feel like we would make a good couple so whaddya’ say?” He said really quickly. It took a moment for your mind to process everything that he had just said to you. You gulped softly and smiled, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

    “Let’s start with dinner Okumura...,” You said softly, then you heard the first bell ring and smiled. “We’re gonna be late.” You sang before heading into the classroom. However, Rin stood frozen, with red cheeks. A wild large flame surrounded his body as he celebrated in the hallway. 

    “Yes! She likes me back! Oh shit I gotta make something good for dinner!” He cried happily, completely unaware...

    ...that you could hear him through the door. 

[neonacity]

Chapter 10: Clytemnestra

Summary:

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23. Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.

TW: violence, death, mentions of sex, drugs, and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here.

Chapter 9: In Memoriam

MASTERLIST

Fic Trailer

Chapter Music: I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw

----

"What did he say?"

My eyes scanned over the words written over the piece of paper for the last time. There isn't much there, but I feel like there's something crucial I was missing. I looked up at Taeyong and shook my head. 

"Nothing much. But he wanted me to meet up with him."

"Did he give you an address?"

"No. Which makes it all the more strange. Unless he is planning to send another letter?" I handed him the piece of paper which he quickly unfolded to read. A slight frown settled between his brows as he went over it. 

There were only two lines there, none of which really makes sense. 

I will be waiting. 

22:00. Black Daisies. 

"Do you have any idea what Black Daisies mean?" 

I shook my head, mirroring the same look of confusion on his face. I've been racking my brains about it for the past few minutes but couldn't think of anything that might be related to it. 

"I honestly have no idea. He wrote a time beside it… so I am assuming whatever Black Daisies is, it's a code for a place? I don't have any idea which location he is referring to though." 

Taeyong simply looked at me silently before finally folding the paper away. We were back in my room after he temporarily managed to save me from the barrage of questions I was sure the others wanted to ask when they found out the letter was addressed for me. 

Every day I feel like the line I'm toeing gets more and more dangerous. Like a high strung tight rope that's ready to give up under my footing.

"You're not going to him." 

I looked up to meet his eyes. 

"I wasn't planning to..." 

Taeyong's gaze didn't waver.

"Promise me."

"Why?"

"Because I know you'll change your mind in a heartbeat once he involves anyone you care about. So I need you to promise, even if he uses me or any of our friends."

My lips pursed and I evaded his gaze. I heard a soft shuffling of feet and felt my mattress dip as he sat beside me. Taeyong didn't need to touch me to affect me with his presence. After that brief moment of vulnerability that we shared earlier, something has shifted. I thought I will be able to put my walls up again just as easily as I took them down, but it seems like I was wrong. 

When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Softer. 

"Promise me." 

"Is that an order from my leader?"

"No, it is a request from a friend." 

I turned to look at him and cocked my brow to diffuse the tension in the air. 

"You're ordering your noona around?" 

His lips quirked ever so slightly into a smile. 

"You're only one year older…"

"Hey. Emergency meeting."

"And seven months. One year and seven months. Don't forget that," I said, looking away.

A sharp knock on my door got our attention at that moment and we both looked up to see Doyoung standing on the threshold. He looked grim as he moved his gaze from Taeyong to me. 

-----

Jaehyun sat at the very back of the room that had filled up with all the members after Doyoung sent his urgent message. Everyone was scattered in the expansive space which seemed a little bit smaller now that WayV has joined, some sitting on the leather stools while others made do with the floor. Jungwoo and Taeil were deep in conversation beside him while Johnny and Yuta stood next to the door, flanking the entrance with their overwhelming presence. Being the main fighters of 127, it comes natural for the pair to be on the watch regardless if it's just an internal family meeting that's happening.

...Except this is not just an ordinary meeting. Jaehyun hasn't heard the full story from Doyoung yet after he came back from his business, but he has a pretty good idea of what the issue might be. Despite being just one of the crime families under the current Don's network, NCT does follow the traditional mafia ranking within its system. Doyoung works as the Consigliere to Taeyong's Capocrimine, taking over the responsibility of being the advisor and overall gatekeeper of NCT to the outside world. His connections give him access to normal society, which means if he calls for a meeting, it is probably an issue involving the "above ground." 

Taeyong walked in with an unreadable expression that made everyone fall silent in a heartbeat. He joined Doyoung in front of the room and looked over the crowd before finally speaking. 

"Has anyone here given any orders to their crew about stepping up any of our activities?"

The members exchanged confused looks between each other. Mark answered in lieu of Dream, Jeno looking just as confused beside him. 

"Not us. Why? What's up?"

Taeyong looked at Doyoung who grimly picked a folder on the table. The latter started reading the contents of it out loud into the room. 

"Heist in Dongjak district. The biggest bank there was ransacked last week. Cops also busted an illegal racing event last night. The other day, there was an ambush on one of the strip clubs at Guro. News came around that a new drug was being sold there after a rise of reported overdose deaths from it three days ago. Businesses that should be under our protection in Seocho are being ransacked despite them settling their tariff fees with us," Doyoung looked up from the paper he was reading and swept his gaze over the room. 

"That's just four of the 18 other cases that I got for the last week."

Everyone exchanged shocked looks with each other. Jeno decided to speak up, the expression on his eyes intense. 

"Hyung, it's not us. We haven't done any heists since you came back from Tokyo."

Doyoung gave a tight nod and looked over to Johnny and Yuta.

"The drugs in Guro?" 

"Not from us. The last ones we distributed are those we got from Japan and they're just psychedelic shots. They're clean." 

"WayV…?"

"We didn't bring any with us when we landed. Our jet can only fit the crates of armory we had to transport for you guys," Kun said with a frown. 

Taeyong ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. 

"Taeyong, what's happening?"

It was Doyoung who answered for him. 

"There was a rise of undocumented cases that were being fed to the cops in the past weeks. According to the reports, they were done by us." 

"What? That doesn't make any sense," Yuta said from his position by the door.

"It does make a lot of sense, actually. Obviously, we're hands off from all of these so they can only be done by the smaller gangs that we don't manage. And it all started after that announcement was made."

"But those rats wouldn't have any confidence to go against us. They're too small and disorganized to do this. And to even claim that they're NCT? That's just impossible."

"It is possible, if there is someone bigger asking them to act up," Taeyong answered grimly. Jaehyun watched as the man's gaze quickly flickered over to the pale female face sitting on the couch between Chenle and Renjun. That's when it clicked. 

Of course, Jihoon wouldn't be too lax to actually lie low after the bombing of Anarchy. That was just the start.

"Are you sure this isn't Wonho's doing?" Ten asked with concern. "We just got word from our network in Beijing that he was peddling women from kidnappings."

Jaehyun's attention snapped to the boy then at Doyoung and Taeyong at the mention of the name. A heavy feeling quickly started to gather on the pit of his stomach as he waited for their answer.

"That's an entirely different case altogether. But you’re right. The feds caught wind that he was trafficking kidnapped tourists and now they're after his ass." 

"Did he claim his case to be connected to us, too?"

"No. But because of all these other things happening, the police are definitely pinning everything on us."

"Shit," Lucas whispered loud enough for the good half of the room to hear. Jaehyun mirrored the same internally, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. 

Shit indeed. 

This was all supposed to be a no brainer. He only needed to help the asshole get out of the country and then he can brush him off like dirt from his hands after. Why didn't he do it before things hit the fan? Now everything has become so much more complicated.

"How bad is it?" Taeil asked from Jaehyun's left. 

"Bad enough for us to be in the 8pm news. According to our moles, the Chief of Police is going to announce the manhunt for us tonight."

The room has gone so silent and still that the air felt suffocating. If there is one thing NCT is known for in the underworld, it is the group's efficiency and cleanliness when it comes to its operations. Every job done is spotless, every loophole covered. Until now. 

"Can't we pay off—" 

"We can't. We already tried reaching out to all our associates within the force but they can't do anything about it," Taeyong answered before Taeil could even finish the question. "The cases have reached the public and now there's an outcry from the community. Even the police are pressured to do something."

A round of murmurs swept over the room. Finally, one female voice broke through it to ask the question nobody wanted to say out loud. 

"What are we going to do?"

Taeyong's jaw tightened and he unclasped his arms crossed over his chest. 

"We need to track all those gangs doing these activities and put them in their place. It's going to be difficult to hunt each of them down with their size so we will need to use most of our resources here. Reach out to all the connections you could think of. We don't need more crimes being blamed on us."

Everyone's eyes were on Taeyong as the group waited for what he's going to say next. He stopped for a bit before finally speaking again. 

"And we kill Jihoon. This isn't going to stop until he's gone." 

Glances were exchanged within the room as his words sank in. Jaehyun didn't want to break the silence but he knew that he didn't have any other choice but to ask the next question. 

"And Wonho? What are we going to do with him?"

It was Doyoung who answered this time. 

"We'll kill him, too. We've given him way too many chances already. Once we get rid of him, we take the credit and let the cops know about it. Take them off our backs for a bit. We'll take care of him this week." 

It was fortunate that Jaehyun has mastered the art of keeping an unreadable facade. In his head, the words of the woman he loves echoed once again as the consequences of the situation mocked him. 

"No betrayal… or death of a brother shall be held against any of you." 

-----

Johnny threw his half finished cigarette on the gravelled road with a quick flick of his wrist. He scanned the length of the building from across the wall he is leaning on, gaze shadowed by the cap pulled low against his face. Of course, Jihoon would have the audacity and gall to choose a luxury apartment unit as his mistress' "hiding place" in Seoul. The motherfucker is one proud asshole, acting as if he owns any territory he steps on like the crazy psycho he is. 

He's not here for him though, no. Johnny isn't the type to act out on his own, but things are slowly starting to get messy within the family. People may always credit Taeyong for being the first one to step in the line of fire when it comes to protecting the group, but Johnny is a close second when it comes to his sense of loyalty. Ever since that day he was picked up and saved from that hell of underground brawls at 17 by Taeyong himself, he made it his personal promise to do anything to protect his home. 

That's exactly what he is doing now as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for his prey. If his informant was correct, she should go out of the building doors any minute now. 

30 seconds. 40. 56. 

His eyes caught a familiar form slipping out of the main entrance of the complex. The woman was wearing more casual clothes now than when they last met at Anarchy, but Johnny knew it was her despite her hoodie shielding the good half of her face. His sharp eyes followed her, allowing her to put some distance between them before he finally pushed himself from the wall to trace her steps.

She had crossed three streets when he really started catching up with her. He waited until the traffic light turned red on the street she was about to cross before slinging his arm around her casually. 

The woman stiffened instantly in his arms and looked up at him in shock. Johnny smiled casually down at her and pressed the cold nose of the gun hidden under his jacket closer to her ribcage.

"If you don't make a racket, there won't be a need for a murder scene by this road."

She pursed her lips as anger flashed in her eyes. She gave a tight nod before directing her gaze back into the street ahead.

"Good girl. Go straight then turn left. There's an abandoned building on the third alley." 

The two of them immediately started walking, sides pressed closely together. She didn't speak, but Johnny could feel her anger just bubbling underneath.

He unceremoniously pushed her inside the abandoned shop when they finally reached it. She turned to him with a glare and he didn't hesitate to raise his gun to her face, cocking it slowly. 

The move made her brows raise. Instead of looking threatened, she crossed her arms over her chest. 

"What do you want?"

"Your boyfriend's head on a stick. When are you two going to leave us alone? Your lot is causing a lot of trouble for us already."

"Are you here to kill me then?" 

"Oh no. You're here as payment. It'll be interesting to see how he reacts after we mess up one of his own." 

The woman stared at him for a long moment. Johnny’s gun didn’t waiver during the stare down, his hand steady as their gazes clashed. Then, all of a sudden, she did something he wasn’t expecting at all. 

She laughed.

She laughed so hard her voice rang and bounced on the dusty corners of the room. Johnny reigned in the confusion that overtook him with a frown. Is she acting to throw him off track?

The girl straightened up and looked at him with pure amusement in her eyes. The smirk playing on her lips told him that there is more to this act than what he is seeing. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. You stalked me thinking you’ll budge Jihoon by threatening me? That’s so, so, so amusing.” 

Johnny tightened his jaw but didn’t say a word. He watched as she started moving towards where he is standing, her eyes never leaving his. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she stalked him, and for the first time, he actually took a good long look at her eyes. What Johnny saw there hit him like a firetruck. 

Jihoon’s madness, exactly reflected in her own gaze.

She stopped an inch away from his gun. If she moved a little, the cold metal of it would have kissed her forehead. 

“You could kill me now or torture me to death and my brother wouldn’t bat an eye… In fact, he might even thank you,” she whispered softly, almost fondly. Johnny felt the hair at the back of his neck rise. His emotions must have briefly flashed on his face because her smile widened in amusement. 

“Here’s one thing you don’t understand about Jihoon. He absolutely doesn’t care about anyone else other than himself. All these things he is doing? They are all for his sick fun. He is mad. Inhuman. If you want to have any chance of winning this, you have no other choice but to play the game with him.” 

“You’re his sister.”

“Half sister. That doesn’t change anything. I’m just a piece on his chessboard. I would honestly let you kill me now if you want to, but I can’t. Not until I finish what I have to do.”

Johnny didn’t know what got to him but he found himself slowly lowering his gun. The two of them stared at each other, silent, for what felt like forever. Finally, she moved to walk past him. 

“If that’s all, then I’ll go ahead. I suggest you find a better informant next time. Jihoon doesn’t stay in my building at all. Even I don’t know where he is,” she said casually as she moved towards the door. 

“I have no other choice. But believe me when I say that I want him dead just as much as you do.” 

“If he doesn’t care about you, why are you sticking with him?” he asked just as she wrapped her hand on the door handle. She stilled, her shoulders stiff. Johnny is not an ace when it comes to psychological games but when she turned to look at him again, he knew for sure that her eyes were honest despite being devoid of emotions. 

That made him stop. Before he knew it, he was speaking again to ask the one question that he’s been trying to answer ever since they met at Anarchy.

“Why did you save me? Back in the club. I was standing directly above your bomb.” 

For a while, she didn’t answer. Johnny thought he saw a flicker of emotion pass through her eyes, but it was gone before he could process it. 

“I wonder why too.”

The door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the shadowed room. 

----

Chapter 11

Tag list: @hen-marks99, @negincho, @nctisthecity

[mimiwrites2000]

What Does White Mean?

Chapter ONE / two

(completed)

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

(side pairings: Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun x Hitch Dreyse, Mikasa Ackreman x someone new)

Words count: 3416

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

He already filled two boxes to the rim. Pieces falling out from them, the wooden edges of the boxes barely holding them in. 

Sea shells in necklaces, bracelets, rings. But nothing was good enough, nothing was perfect.

He didn't know what the perfect one looked like, but he knew that none of them was it.

In his small workshop, that was, in fact, just a tiny storage room before he started this hobby, Armin worked his way through another piece of jewelry.

A seashell with streaks of pink, light as Annie's lips. Dots of sparkling white adorning it, just like the sparks in her eyes.

He put the final touches on the necklace, twisting the clasp in its place, giving it two tugs to insure its firmness, then opened the cabinet in his desk, and pulled out a third box.

Imperfect piece number one went in the third box.

Great.

The storage room— the workshop had a small, triangle, frosted glass window, but Armin didn't like it, it made the small place even smaller. After he moved in with Annie, he changed it immediately, to a clear transparent glass. 

Their ocean-view cabin met Armin’s dreams to the smallest detail; one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchenette were enough to satisfy them and convincing enough to buy it without second thoughts.

He spent most of his mornings either strolling by the beach or in Annie's arms, and his nights by a bonfire or under the sheets with her.

They had their breakfasts on the porch, with the salty wafts drifting with the ocean breeze, the crooning of seagulls their only companion.

Everything seemed perfect.

Except for the nights when he woke up in cold sweat, screams rupturing his lungs, Annie’s hands trying to calm him down, embracing him and running through his hair. Or mornings while Annie took longer in the shower, while he sat outside, listening to her silent sobs.

But they were ok. Armin always hugged Annie when she stepped out of the shower, and whispered that they're ok, they're alive, healthy, together.

They're ok.

But this jewelry crafting thing came out of nowhere. And Armin wished he learnt about it long before.

It was Annie who suggested it, when she saw his seashells collection accumulating to the ceiling, she said he might as well make good use of it. She didn’t specify jewelry crafts, but he found that these delicate shells needed a delicate use.

And there he was, in his former storage room, picking through seashells, twisting wires and knitting in beads.

He had been trying to make her the perfect piece. He still didn’t find the perfect one.

He eyed the two boxes — the newly third one joining them. He never thought about selling them, or giving them to anyone else, or throwing them away…

He wondered why.

Maybe because he clutched onto one seashell for more than four years, and the habit was born with the many nights he spent eyeing it, whether it was in his room at night, or in front of a crystal in an icy cold basement.

Knock knock!

“Don’t come in!” Armin’s words overlapped, he was so immersed in his daydream that the knocks on the door made him jump in his seat.

“I won’t, I promise,” from the other side of the door, Annie grumbled. Armin felt bad, he never let her in his workshop, mainly because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise that he still didn’t figure out, and secondly… well, he wasn’t ready for any judgment on his poor jewelry crafting skills.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s getting late, I was wondering if you can… you know, get dinner ready? I don’t feel like burning the kitchen.”

“Oh right,” he got up and opened the door, only to be met with an arms-crossed Annie, a passive look on her face. He didn’t know if she was upset because she was hungry, or because he was, once again, keeping her away from his workshop. “We don’t want a burnt kitchen now do we?” he asked, half jokingly

Annie tried cooking once, on his birthday. She tried baking a simple cake. They ended up with a piece of a circular char, on top of it one single candle.

“I don’t think we have-” the rest of the sentence was swallowed down Armin’s throat when he saw groceries lining up the kitchen table.

“I went out an hour ago, I didn’t want to disturb you, but don’t worry, I checked everything on the list, twice.”

“Ah, yes, thanks.”

Guilt swelt in his guts.

She didn’t want to disturb him…

She was upset with him.

He rolled up his sweater’s sleeves, washing his hands, before he started opening the groceries bags, emptying them on the counter.

Annie on the side crossing her arms.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, trying to ignore her glaring eyes by inspecting a head of lettuce in his hand.

“Anything, it doesn’t matter.”

One 

Two 

Three-

“Maybe something fast so you can get back to your small workshop-”

“Okay Annie listen-”

“No you listen!”

The lettuce head froze in his hands.

“You’ve been doing this for weeks! Even- even I don’t know how many months!”

Armin slowly put down the lettuce on the counter, looking down at his feet.

“And you never let me in! Like, ever! I don’t understand why!” she continued, her arms flailing around, before resting on her hips, “every single day, every fucking day you lock yourself up in that room for hours! And I know you’re playing around with your shells but why are you hiding like this?! I’m not gonna pretend that something is not up,” she was pacing around the kitchen, Armin watching her from the corner of his eyes. “I know I’m the one who suggested it, but- but-” she sighed, “even when we go out on the beach, your eyes are always down, searching for even more shells! What is up with you?!”

“Annie-”

“I don’t understand what you’re hiding, I don’t understand why you’re hiding it,” suddenly she stopped, Armin looked at her, “we moved in together, Armin, we live under the same goddamn roof.”

“Annie-”

“What?Annie what? You’re sorry? Keep it to yourself! You’ve already apologized twice before but nothing ever changed,” she turned, and before he could stop her, she stormed into their bedroom.

And he was left alone in the kitchen.

The ocean waves swayed in a symphony, but when he looked outside, all he saw was a dark mass that swallowed him whole.

Armin huffed, he knew this was coming, he knew it so well.

Annie wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t right either.

He was doing it for her. He was locking himself up to make her the perfect jewelry.

Armin kicked the heel of his shoes against the cabinet. Thud thud thud. Putting a rhythm to his mind and his thoughts.

Maybe... she was right. She didn’t know what he was doing, she felt left out.

They only have each other.

No one should leave the other in the dark.

No matter what.

Armin pushed himself off the cabinets, and walked towards the room.

He stood at the threshold, watching Annie curled on her side of the bed under the duvet.

He pressed his lips together, but he didn’t dare make a sound, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. 

He sat on his side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

Annie didn’t move.

Armin sighed. He fucked up, and he must fix it. 

He kicked off his shoes, and slithered under the duvet.

His face confronted her back.

One

Two

Three-

She turned around-

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Armin bit his lips to stop himself from smiling, while gazing at Annie’s stoic face, with a slight dip between her eyebrows.

They talked, confessed, together at the same time, their words overlapping.

“I know your craft means so much to you-”

“I’ve been leaving you out of this-”

“I don’t mean that you should spend every single moment with me-”

“And I want to spend more time with you-”

Then the last sentence, they breathed it together, “I promise to be a better person.”

Their eyes on each other, blue meeting blue.

Magnetic force pulled them towards each other, capturing each other's lips, hands running over each other's bodies.

Their clothes were stripped and thrown on the floor, while the groceries in the kitchen were left untouched.

~~~

The most valuable times for Annie were these moments when she woke up beside him, heads on the same pillow, skin on skin, under the blankets.

The warmth like an aura around his body made her alive, incomparable to soft rays of early morning sun filtering through the window.

It was so early and everything was quiet, even the ocean fell in a quiet slumber.

Without moving, she checked the time.

There was still a couple of hours before Armin's usual wake up time.

She usually got up before him, went on an extra walk, or maybe a dip in the ocean.

But getting up from bed and leaving this beauty behind would be as bad as a crime.

So she stayed, watching his face. His breath warm on her face, his lips slightly parted, bangs ruffled on his forehead. Mildly, she caressed them, brushing them off his forehead. Before she cupped his cheek, and she held the world and the sun and the ocean— all together in her palm.

His eyelashes fanned upon his closed eyes like sun rays. She tilted her head up, and kissed his eyelid, soft, like a feather.

Armin was a light sleeper, the last thing she wanted was to ruin his sleep.

A cold breeze wafted through the window, Annie shivered. She noticed Armin hunching his back, he must be cold as well.

She inched closer, cautious, wrapping her arms around his frame, over his shoulder, nesting her head on his chest. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed her muscles, and in those moments, deep inside, something would stir in her, feelings she wasn’t aware she would experience one day.

Arms wrapped around her, and she tensed, did she wake him up?

She peeked up at him, he was already watching her, his eyes barely open.

He tried to speak, but no voice came out. After he cleared his throat, he tried again, “Good… morning.” his voice deep, hoarse.

She rubbed her feet against the mattress, “Did I wake you up?” she whispered.

He squinted his eyes, deep in thought, “If I said no?”

“Good.”

“And if I said yes?”

Annie runs her tongue on the inside of her teeth, “I can make it up for you.”

At that, Armin props himself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

With one finger pointing at his chest, she said, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

He snorted, the voice vibrated through Annie’s body, and she had to swallow.

“No,” was his simple, predictable answer.

“Your lose,” She said, swinging her legs off the bed, but before she could stand up, arms wrapped around her, rolling her in bed.

~~~

Breakfast time was long gone, so, after Armin went through the groceries from the night before, he made a light meal for both of them. While he cooked, Annie watched him, sitting on the counter, her legs swinging.

She enjoyed watching him cook, muscles of his arms flexing as he cut tomatoes, brushing his bangs away from his face, wiping his hands on the towel.

By that point she could blindly sculpt a statue of his body.

He also enjoyed catching her off guard, catching her eyes every now and then. When they first moved together, she would blush furiously and avert her eyes, but now, even though she still blushes, sometimes she would pay him back with a sudden kiss, or sometimes she would dare him with more than a kiss.

It was the privilege of a peaceful life, the result of going to hell and back, tolerating an agonizing pain for years.

A slow-paced life, where everything was in place, everything was right.

They reached the end of the labyrinthine, they might as well celebrate their victory.

Post afternoon, and after a meal with their legs tangled under the table, they strolled along the shore.

Annie never imagined that she would settle down in a cabin by the beach, every day the seagulls waking her up, and every night the ocean waves lulling her to sleep.

Hand by hand, shoes off, the sand tickling her feet, like walking on a pile of feathers.

The sun above them soft on their skin, a chilly afternoon, perfect for a walk.

Armin tried so hard to keep his gaze on the horizon, fighting the urge to peak down and hunt for shells.

He wouldn’t rest until he found the perfect shell for Annie’s piece.

However, he remembered his promise to Annie, wanted to spend more time with her, she wanted to spend more time with him.

An especially shiny shell caught his attention, tempting him to kneel down, and plunge his hands in the sand and go back to the cabin with a bag full of new shells. 

“I was thinking of going to town for a few days,” Annie said, catching Armin off guard, “my father wrote to me and said he’s holding a dinner, and we’re invited.” 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Armin answered. Her father lived only half an hour away, in the town, alongside a couple of their old friends as well.

They lived with him for a couple of weeks before, as they went hunting for their own place. He was an old nice man, but he certainly had a temper.

Armin was exceptionally nervous around her father for the first few months. For what reason, he still didn’t know, but something about that man made him rethink everything he wanted to say twice.

But after all, her father accepted their relationship, if not a bit too dramatically, for he cried and hugged Armin for the first time.

In the end, they had to move out, Annie was adamant they had their own house.

Armin smiled, “You can move out and live with your father.”

Annie raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I can move with you-” his voice got muffled; Annie’s palm on his mouth.

“No.”

“Whyyyy?” he asked, his voice choked up with a laugh, he wanted to try biting Annie’s hand on his mouth.

“If each of us would get a different room, then yeah sure,” she answered, lowering her hand, and continuing her walk.

“Not my fault you’re too loud-”

Annie started running.

The nearby village could hear Armin’s howling laugh. 

~~~

Annie waited at the cabin longer than Armin would need to catch up to her. She wondered what was taking him so long, though she had a clear idea what was holding him off.

She waited by the door, but then the sun got a little uncomfortable, so she went inside. She hated that the first thing she thought of was checking Armin’s workshop.

She immediately shook her idea, shoving it away. Intrusiveness wasn’t her trait.

But the door glowed in her sight. Walking to it, and turning the knob seemed like the most tempting thing ever.

No

“No,” she said it out loud, to convince herself to stop.

She would certainly be upset if she was in his shoes. She would never do that to him.

Nope.

Never.

One 

Two 

Three

She walked to the door. An old, small door, compared to a standard door, Armin had to bend to get through, but Annie bet she can walk through it, with her head brushing the door frame.

A tiny place for a workshop, she thought, she wondered how he keeps his tools there, the dozens of seashells bags going there, never going out again.

She was burning to know what was in there.

She was in front of the door, she could lift her hand, and turn the knob, and she could see it all for herself.

Finally,

She reached for the antique door knob.

Her palm rested on it.

Turn it turn it turn it turn it-

She twirled and walked away, right to their bedroom, without even a glance back.

A minute or two after, she heard the door of the cabin open and close. Annie got up, not thinking much of it, “Hey what took you so long-”

Armin stood there, with a handful of seashells in his hands.

Annie threw her head back…

One

Two 

Three

“Listen-”

“It hadn’t even been a day, not a single day had passed,” Annie said, frustration evident in her voice, which was as rare as the sky turning green.

“Annie, I can explain.”

Annie crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

Armin sighed, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he had to come up with something.

“I’m making something.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“No no no I mean I’m making something,” he said, his closed clutch on the seashells flailing around.

Annie sighed, “Try again.”

“I’m honest, I’m making something.”

“And?” she inquired.

A moment of silence passed, Armin trying so hard to come up with something, anything.

Annie knew that face very well, the face Armin makes when he’s trying to come up with a good fight in a debate, the face he does when he would lob a few words to hypnotize a whole crowd of people.

But not on her.

Never on her.

She knew him too well for his own good.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, returning to their room. She threw over her shoulder, “Tomorrow is the dinner at my father’s house,” before she vanished from sight.

Armin, left alone, stared down at the seashells in his hands.

~~~

Armin spent most of the night in his workshop, his hands working, but his mind somewhere else.

He didn’t talk to Annie since their confrontation, nor did any of them eat.

Embarrassment gnawed at him, he promised her, yet he broke the promise.

He must be a terrible partner.

Armin sighed.

He wondered why he was even trying to make Annie a piece of jewelry, to win her heart? 

Pfft

She was better off without him anyway.

She could leave him at any second and he wouldn’t even question it. She was smart, pretty, skillful, talented, gorgeous, sweet, and... nice.

And what was he? He couldn’t think of one good trait about himself. Not good enough to match hers.

And he fucked up.

He groaned, letting his head fall on the desk.

The pile of the new shells sat in his sight line, waiting to be cleaned of the sand, but he had no intention of doing so. He wanted to cage himself in his workshop forever, rather than facing Annie again after he broke his promise.

Armin swallowed, wondering how he would meet her father the next day.

Mr. Leonhart was protective, way too protective. Armin knew he wouldn’t hesitate to cut off Armin’s head if he hurt Annie.

Naaah.

He thought. Annie is much more mature than that.

He snorted at himself, he had some stupid thoughts sometime, but this one was the stupidest of them all.

Annie ranting to her father about her boyfriend.

Pffft

Armin straightened his back on the chair, thinking of what he should do.

Then, at that moment, a glimmer caught his eyes.

Armin shook his head, peeking outside the small, circular window.

He wasn’t sure if it came from outside or from the inside, but then it happened again, this time, he was sure it came from the inside of the workshop. Armin looked around, trying to find it.

The moon light filtering through the glass, gleaming upon the pile of seashells accumulated on his desk.

The glimmer happened again.

But that time, Armin caught it.

It came from one of the seashells. 

Armin scattered the pile on the desk, going over each shell, rotating it under the moonlight, trying to find that one seashell.

On his seventh try, he found it.

Something clicked, and Armin knew exactly what he had to do. Everything cleared in his mind, and he found it absurd that he only saw it now.

Locked in his small workshop, with his back bowed down. Armin finished his perfect piece when the first ray of sunshine broke the night.

.

.

.

uwu thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! next chapter (which is much much longer) will be posted in a couple of days or so can't wait for the other ships to make their cameos hahhaaa thank you for reading! like always, feedback, kudos, all is much appreciated

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 21

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Hi,” she greets him as he walks in the door, “I have something for you.”

She’s perched in the armchair, a smile that’s coy and playful curling the corners of her mouth. He gives her a curious smirk as he slips off his shoes and overcoat.

“Okay, like a gift?” he asks, crossing the room to plant a kiss on her lips, stealing another to enjoy the warm feeling of her mouth against his, which is chilled from the wintery air outside.

She shakes her head as he goes into the bedroom, changing into sweats and a T-shirt.

“You’re going to have to find it,” she calls from the other room, and he smiles to himself.

This is his favorite version of her; playful and flirtatious, quick to smile and laugh. He loves all aspects of her personality, but the rarity of this one makes it feel special. She almost never acts this way in front of anyone else, even her family; it feels like it’s just for him. He moves to stand at the threshold of the living room, leaning against the wall.

“Are you going to give me a hint?” he asks, and she considers the question with a thinking man pose.

“Well, I will tell you that right now you are very, very, cold,” she finally says.

His eyebrows lift in understanding and he walks back into the bedroom.

“Colder!” she calls, and he moves to the kitchen.

“Still cold.”

He walks to her desk.

“Mmm, slightly warmer.”

Next he steps close to the fireplace.

“A little warmer.”

He turns to look at her and narrows his eyes. He takes a step towards her.

“Oh, warmer.”

He stands directly in front of her chair.

“Getting hot,” she says with a playful lilt to her voice.

He drops to his knees between her legs.

“Very, very hot.”

He slips his fingers into the waistband of her pants.

“On fire,” She says with a smile.

He moves to pull her pants down and the tips of his fingers meet with something foreign near the top of her thigh. He quirks his head quizzically, fitting his whole hand into her pant leg and pulling out two long strips of cardstock. Airline tickets.

“How do you feel about a California Christmas?” she asks hopefully, and he looks at the tickets to see that the destination is San Diego, December 22nd.

He knew that she and her mother had been talking about flying out to see Bill for the holiday, but he’d assumed that he’d be left at home.

“What about Priscilla?” he asks, both touched that she wants to include him in her family’s celebration and nervous about meeting her older brother, who he understands will hate him by default.

“We can ask the Gunmen to look after her,” she offers. “Unless you don’t want to come with me?”

He can tell by her tone that it’s not meant to be a way for him to opt out, but a test of his willingness to go. She clearly wants him to.

“Of course I want to go with you,” he replies, moving close and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I will admit to being a little worried about meeting your brother, and in his home, on his turf.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry too much about Bill. Missy and Charlie are going, and Mom of course, and they love you. I know Tara will too. So even if he does pull the big brother card and give you a hard time, we have strength in numbers.”

“Is Byers going?” he asks hopefully, and she shakes her head. “Missy only just barely told Mom about him. It’s too soon for them.”

“But not for us?” he asks with the smile he reserves for the times when she alludes to the seriousness of their commitment.

She shakes her head slowly. “Not for us,” she says.

———

“Oh my god, I’m going to lose my mind, Mulder.”

She’s pacing around the apartment, putting things into different piles and open suitcases, her level of stress palpable in the air.

“Honey, stop for a second,” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and dipping his head to meet her eye. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs, waiting as she does so. “We don’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours,” he says, keeping his own tone calm and level to counter hers, “we have plenty of time to pack.”

“It’s not just the packing, Mulder, this entire week was a nightmare. Everything I was hoping to accomplish before this trip was waylaid in one way or another; I missed my doctor’s appointment because of an emergency autopsy and forgot to reschedule it before they closed on Friday, Trudy was out sick half the week so I had to absorb her workload, the dry cleaners lost the dress I was going to bring for Christmas Eve mass, Priscilla is out of food AND litter, and I can’t find my earplugs for the plane,” she rattles off.

He pulls her into a hug, feeling her relax a bit with the contact.

“I will go pick up cat food, litter and earplugs,” he says, pulling away to look at her again, “and I’ll remind you to call the doctor tomorrow and reschedule. Wear that blue dress with the little flowers on it to mass, it looks beautiful on you. And try to breathe,” he finishes, giving her a sympathetic smile.

She forces a small smile onto her mouth and takes another deep breath. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

He pours her a big glass of wine before bundling himself up against the cold and venturing out into the December night.

———

She glances at Mulder intermittently, watching for signs of overwhelm. She knows that coming from a small, dysfunctional family means that he’s not accustomed to the type of gathering they are currently entrenched in; the entire Scully clan plus Tara’s parents and brother, and several members of their church. He seems to be faring okay, sipping a beer while talking sports with Charlie and a few others.

As nervous as he’d been about meeting Bill, he was well prepared. Scully directed him to speak highly of the Chargers while eviscerating the Patriots, and to go easy on the PDA. While they aren’t exactly best friends, Bill doesn’t seem to actively dislike him, and they are calling that a win.

She’d fully expected them to be set up in separate rooms given Bill’s traditional family values, but the number of people who needed to be housed made that impractical. They ended up relegated to the guest room and a single twin bed, though the enormous stack of pillows and blankets arranged on it suggest that one of them is expected to make a bed on the floor. They don’t do that, of course, instead sleeping nested together like spoons, Mulder continuously making half-hearted attempts at getting frisky while she laughs and slaps his hand away.

They are dressed for midnight mass on Christmas Eve, Scully in her flowered blue dress and Mulder in one of his typical weekday suits. They sit in the pew between Mom and Charlie, hands clasped chastely on the bench between them, suppressing giggles as he leans over to warn her that he is at risk of bursting into flame. He traces patterns on her palm with his index finger and she realizes at some point that they are letters. She concentrates, trying to understand his message, expecting it to be ‘I love you’ or something similarly sweet. When she puts together that he is spelling out ‘sex tonight?’ she looks over at him with wide eyes and then purses her lips together tightly to keep from laughing, doing her best to glare at him.

They file sleepily through the door at nearly 2am, quietly going off into their respective bedrooms and pull-out couches, hoping to get some rest before Christmas festivities in the morning. Scully quickly brushes her teeth and washes her face before darting to the bedroom, wriggling under the covers and pressing her back against Mulder, her cold toes brushing against his shins.

“Hm, you’re cold,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Thanks for going to mass,” she whispers back, “it meant a lot to my mom to have all of us there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he answers, his breath hot on her neck, “it’s nice to feel like a part of a real family.”

She threads her fingers through his where they rest on her belly, squeezing his hand. She tries to go to sleep, but his chest rising and falling against her back and the heat of his groin tucked against her backside are distracting. She wiggles a little bit against him.

“Hmmm,” he responds, thrusting his hips against her gently.

She swore that she was not going to have sex at her brother’s house. She knows that they can go without for the week they are here. But as she feels him grow hard against her ass, the throbbing between her legs suggests otherwise. No doubt it’s exacerbated by the forbidden nature of the situation; the door doesn’t have a lock and the house is quiet and still, though packed with enough ears that the risk of being heard is high. When his lips press against the back of her neck, she knows she’s done for.

She reaches behind herself to slip her hand into his pajama pants, stroking him firmly as he breathes hard into her ear, suppressing the groan that she knows would normally result from her touch. He pushes his pants down to his knees with one hand, then hurriedly brings hers down as well. She emits a small gasp when he slips inside her, simultaneously pushing his hand under her pajama top to squeeze her breast.

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers harshly in her ear, and she wants to make a joke about not taking the lord’s name in vain on his birthday but when he starts pumping in and out deliciously slowly, the thought slips from her mind.

If he moves too quickly the bed squeaks, so he keeps a languid pace as he pinches her nipples and kisses her neck, then slides his hand down to play with her clit in the tight space between her legs, which are still pinned together by the pajama pants around her knees. It feels incredible, and yet the necessary slowness and need to stay quiet make her wonder if she will be able to come. As if intuiting this, Mulder withdraws momentarily, sitting up and freeing her top leg from her pants, then lies back down and hitches her ankle behind his knee; her favorite position. He pulls the blanket back over them for warmth and modesty, though if anyone were to walk in now they’d have no chance of plausible deniability. With more room to move, he resumes his slow strokes and pairs them with hard and fast circles around her clit, murmuring little affirmations into her ear so softly she can barely hear them, much less anyone else. The vibration of his voice, the slip of his cock, the rough brush of his fingers, all come together in crescendo as she stiffens in his arms, turning to muffle her cries against his mouth as she comes. Now able to focus on his own release, he continues to pump slowly, pressing his face into her neck and letting out a low growl as she feels him throbbing inside her.

He slips quietly out of the bed, retrieving one of his dirty T shirts and swiping it between her legs before he pulls her pajama pants back into place. They get comfortable again, the sexual tension that had prevented them from relaxing before now dissipated.

He kisses her cheek softly, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Scully,” into her ear just before she drifts off to sleep.

In the morning, they sit around the lit tree, drinking coffee and eating pastries as they shake off sleep.

“Is your house haunted, Bill?” Charlie asks, and Bill gives him a doubtful look. “I swear I heard some weird noises, like creaking and whispering, I felt like I was in a horror movie,” Charlie defends.

Scully hides her face behind her coffee cup, glancing over to see Missy giving her a pointed look.

“I’m sure it was just the Christmas spirit,” Maggie says jovially. “Who wants to open presents?!”

[qobiin]

to live for us

pairing: gratsu (gray x natsu)

genre: angst, fluff | established relationship, canon-compliant

warnings: mentioned suicide attempt, post-galuna island arc, hurt/comfort, gray needs therapy

word count: 1684

summary: Natsu and Gray finally sit down and talk about Gray's Iced Shell attempt on Galuna Island.

“We need to talk.”

Natsu looks up from the drink Mirajane set down on the table before him a few minutes ago. Gray is standing in front of him, arms crossed against his chest in an attempt to stop his hands from subconsciously removing his clothes.

It never works, but Gray is of the mind that it makes him appear more intimidating than he actually is. Of course, Natsu isn’t sure he could ever find someone who wears underwear with hearts on them intimidating.

“Finally!” Natsu cheers, forcing a smile onto his face even when it’s the last thing he wishes to do. “Back home then?”

Gray nods even as he scowls, but he turns on his heel and immediately makes his way towards Fairy Tail’s doors anyway. Natsu jumps up from his seat and waves goodbye to Lucy who is sitting at the bar with Erza.

Happy looks up at him as he stands, but Natsu only has to wave wordlessly at him before the blue cat returns to focusing on his food. Gray is already halfway across the room, not one to wait or beat around the bush for important conversations like the one they are going to have. Natsu follows after him with his signature smile stuck in place, making sure to not have anything appear out of the ordinary about this situation.

He catches a few Fairy Tail members giving them odd glances, probably due to his and Gray’s lack of fighting and loud taunting. Natsu only waves pointedly at them before they avert their gazes and return back to what they were doing beforehand.

Natsu does not try to be subtle as he sniffs the air, taking in the familiar mix of scents in the guild. Everyone in the guild has known him long enough to know about the extent of the abilities he gained through the Dragon Slayer Magic that Igneel taught him as a child. There’s no need to be secretive around his hoard anyway.

Out in the streets, trailing after Gray as he leads them home, Natsu tones down on his sniffing as best as he can. If he garners a few strange or confused looks though, he doesn’t beat himself up about it. Most of these people will write off his behavior as a weird wizard thing and continue on with their day as they give him a wide berth. There is no need to worry.

His attention is drawn back to the moment when the scents start to signal his proximity to their home. Gray reaches the front door first and unlocks it, leaving it open for Natsu behind him.

The smell of home almost knocks him off his feet as he crosses the threshold. It’s just his, Happy, and Gray’s scents here, with hints of Erza scattered all around. Albeit, Gray’s scent is a bit stale considering the fact this is his first time returning home since they came back from Galuna Island.

They escaped punishment for breaking guild rules because the master wasn’t there but Natsu would like to not switch bodies with anyone ever again. It has been a few days at this point and still, Gray has not returned home. Natsu has been waiting patiently for this moment when they will sit down and discuss what is wrong.

Gray is sitting on their bed, shoes off and hands gripping the bottom of his shirt. Natsu reaches out and stops him from stripping, eyes on Gray’s face as the man focuses back in on the moment at present.

“Thanks,” Gray mumbles sullenly, his gaze downcast.

Natsu doesn’t say anything. He merely waits.

“I know you’re mad at me, but if you could tell me why you’re mad at me, it would make my apologizing to you much easier,” Gray scrambles to say after a moment of silence has passed between them.

Natsu tilts his head to the side and inhales, tasting the nerves and fright swirling around the edges of Gray’s scent. He exhales heavily, sitting down slowly on the bed beside Gray.

He leans back and lies down, keeping his eyes on the ceiling and not the man who should have been home with him these past few days. “I’m not mad.”

Gray twists at the waist to stare at him, his shoulders a stiff line that Natsu isn’t sure he has permission to soothe just yet. “Lying won’t help.”

“I’m not mad,” Natsu repeats, relaxing as their scents begin to blend together. “I’m worried about you. You scared me back there when you were going to sacrifice yourself to restrain Lyon. You knew by doing it your way you were going to end your life and yet you tried anyway.”

The silence that befalls them then is deafening. It goes on long enough that Natsu wonders if he should be angry after all. After a few seconds of contemplation though, he decides that anger would not help him right now and waits patiently for Gray to say something.

However, the longer the silence continues, the less likely Natsu believes that to be. Gray isn’t known for talking about feelings. Not just his own, but discussing feelings in general always gives his face a pinched quality that Natsu can’t help but laugh at sometimes.

He isn’t laughing now.

“You remember what I said when I asked you if we could find a place together, right?” Natsu asks once he is certain Gray won’t say anything without more prompting.

Natsu sees Gray’s nod in the corner of his eye and grins up at the ceiling as he thinks of the memory. Gray’s eyes had gone wide with surprise, his scent expanding with the force of it and appealing to Natsu so much he barely realized how close he had been getting until Gray pushed him back with a hand on his bare chest. Natsu had leaned in again to bury his nose in Gray’s neck anyway and gulp down lungfuls of his scent, smiling as Gray threaded his fingers through his hair and asked him why.

“I told you that you were the first in the guild to be added to my hoard when we were children. That I would want you near almost always and would despise every moment that we were apart,” Natsu recalls, his smile softer at the edges now. “I told you I fell in love with you when we were teenagers and that I would like to make you my mate in the future and you accepted.”

Natsu waits again, just to see if Gray will say anything at all before he uses his last-ditch effort. “How am I going to make you my mate if you’re not there for the future?”

Gray makes a sound as if Natsu has just kicked all the air out of his chest. They have fought and sparred enough times for Natsu to know what that actually sounds like so when Gray wheezes, he sits up quickly. He reaches out and takes Gray’s hands, biting his lip as the man who is his opposite in almost everything finally begins to cry.

Natsu moves closer until he can wrap his arms around Gray, tucking his head under Natsu’s chin as he shakes. His breath hitches but Natsu only clutches him tighter, holding him securely in his arms even as Gray somehow migrates to his lap. Natsu doesn’t mind that, he just holds on and waits.

Eventually, Gray’s sobs begin to make sense. Most of what he is saying is a mantra of “I’m sorry”s and half-aborted “I didn’t mean to do that”s, but Natsu gets the gist. He shushes and rocks Gray in his arms, focusing on their scents instead of the urge to cry with his mate.

When the worst of Gray’s tears have dried up, Natsu kisses the side of his head and pulls back far enough for their gazes to meet. Gray’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy but he isn’t avoiding Natsu’s gaze anymore and that’s definitely a start.

“I think what happened with Ur was only dragged back up at Galuna Island and you never really healed from it,” Natsu ponders aloud, tilting his head in silent question and continuing when Gray nods tiredly. “She raised you like Igneel raised me and we’ve never gotten over suddenly losing them. Have we?”

Gray has to clear his throat twice before he says, “I don’t think we’ll ever be over that.”

“No,” Natsu agrees. “We won’t.”

“I should talk to someone,” Gray murmurs, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement when Natsu raises an unimpressed brow at him. “A professional. Mirajane has been saying I should talk to the Good Doctor who helped Elfman after…”

Natsu smiles bitterly in response. Elfman was not the only one who had to talk to the Good Doctor after Lisanna died after all. Gray knows about this, of course, but Natsu had never strived to convince him of talking to the Good Doctor until now.

“I can let them know at my next session to expect an inquiry from you?” Natsu suggests.

Gray nods, leaning in quickly to press a kiss to Natsu’s cheek. “I’m still sorry. I just didn’t know how to fix things back on Galuna Island.”

Natsu nods but knows without seeing that his smile is not as bright anymore. “I think you just have to remember that you’re not alone anymore. Neither of us is and I’ll always have your back. We’re Fairy Tail members and you’re the one who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want us both to have long futures ahead of us.”

Gray’s cheeks flush a light pink, his scent curling with both embarrassment and quiet joy. “It will be hard, but I’ll try. If not for me or for you, then for Ur. For the life she gave me by giving up her own.”

“For Ur and Igneel,” Natsu agrees. “May they look upon us and see us happy. Together.”

“Together,” Gray assures him before he leans in and their lips meet in a soft kiss.

a/n: i forgot to post this when i first posted it on ao3, but i hope you all like this! this was written for icewhisper as part of the secret snipers exchange 2020!

[namariea]

Devil’s Advocate | I

“So for argument’s sake... let’s just say Do Kyungsoo really is the boring square you say he is..” 

“Don’t you want to find out what makes him tick?”

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 4.4k

Genre: Romance, Slowburn, Smut

It started with a knock on your door.

“Jongin is coming over tonight, that cool?”

Looking up from your laptop screen, you stared at your roommate who was leaning against your doorway. Blinking slowly, you processed her words.

“Jongin is coming over.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“And will Mr. Kim be staying over?”

“That would be a correct assumption, yes.”

“Sleeping in your room.”

“Why, did you want him to sleep here with you? Not what I was expecting, but I’m all down for polygamy.”

With a sigh, you saved the document you were working on and began to close your laptop. Collecting the various papers and books scattered around you, you began to tuck them away neatly into your backpack. Sliding off of the bed, you walked the length of the room and began to rifle through your drawers, pulling out some clothes.

Frowning, Jennie walked over to you and looked over your shoulder as you began refolding them and putting them in a gym bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a paper I need to finish proofing for tomorrow and I highly doubt I will get any work done with the two of you going at it like animals.”

Jennie didn’t even look fazed at the comment, shrugging non committedly while throwing some pajama shorts your way. Rolling your eyes you passed through the joined bathroom and threw in your toiletries. As you were zipping up your bag a knock came at the door causing you to pause.

Well, that was fast.

Turning around, you looked at the brunette behind you with raised eyebrows, and only then she had the decency to look the slightest bit sheepish.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

With your roommate trailing at your heels blabbering about how you are the greatest roommate ever and how she owes you a life debt, you opened the front door and were greeted with Jongin holding what appeared to be a party sized bucket of KFC. Before he could open his mouth you stuck out your hand, waiting.

Blinking down at your outstretched palm, he gave you a confused look.

“Keys. Since you are kicking me out of my bed I’m taking yours”

Jennie snorted behind you as Jongin’s face split into a wide grin.

“You know, I always knew you were a great person.” fishing out his keys from his pocket he handed them to you.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you gave the couple a wave of your hand and began to make your way down the hall. You were halfway to the elevators when Jongin's loud voice stopped you.

“Oh by the way, Kyungsoo isn’t around tonight, so feel free to raid the fridge before he gets back.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jongin’s presence at your apartment wasn’t a new occurrence.

In the beginning, it was just him coming over during the day to help Jennie with her design assignments. Which was ok, amazing actually, since it helped her out a lot and saved you dealing with her stress meltdowns.

Then it progressed to Jongin appearing at your dinner table every Friday to partake in Chinese takeout nights. Which was fine, again, since he picked it up on his way over and pitched in. He also somehow was able to sweet talk the old woman who owned the store and managed to get extra egg rolls. Can’t go wrong with that.

It wasn’t until Jennie gave you the look while the older boy excused himself to use the bathroom after one said dinner that you took the hint.

Now, Jongin occasionally stays over during the weekends, where you would find him in the living room at ungodly hours watching the Pirates of the Carribean all the while eating a family sized package of oreo’s. Which was mildly perturbing on two counts. First, was the fact that this was probably the 5th time you’ve seen him watch that movie, and second, those were your oreos.

The final straw was not until the weekend that just past where you were woken up a loud banging. It was not until you were  halfway to Jennie’s door in a frantic scramble that your sleep deprived brain caught up with you and realized it was very much not a violent murder taking place in the room over.

Animals.

It was then you all agreed to establish some sort of door-sock system.

Which in essence was - if Jongin was coming over, it was probably best to just find somewhere else to crash.

You didn’t actually mind leaving as much as you thought you would. Jennie was one of your closests friends and it was clear as day that Jongin made her happy. You didn’t even mind hanging out with the guy, he was fun and always brought snacks in return for practically living at your place. Even if his tastes in movies were highly questionable.

It was just sometimes - like right now where you had a Business Ethics paper due at 7AM - where you needed all the quiet you could get.

Reaching the apartment, you slotted the key into the lock, you pushed open the door to Jongin and Kyungsoo’s apartment. Stepping through the threshold you were greeted by darkness.

Flicking on the lights you took in the apartment. You had been in the apartment a handful of times when Chanyeol threw parties, but this was the first time you had been there on your own, literally.

From the neatly organized coffee table to the dust-less surfaces as far as the eye can see, the state of the apartment very much reflected that of the other owner - there was no way anyone would believe the human tornado that was Kim Jongin lived here otherwise.

Speaking of the other owner -

“Kyungsoo?”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

Do Kyungsoo, best friend of Jongin and probably the biggest enigma you've ever met. Not only was he more reserved and mild tempered in comparison to his flatmate, but he was the only one in your mutual friend group that you couldn’t bring yourself to get close to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, mind you. And to Kyungsoo’s credit he has never been rude to you, though you wouldn’t necessarily call it friendly either. Cordial at best...maybe. His deposition towards you, and apparently anyone who didn’t know him before the year 2015 was polite but distant. He was so different from the rest of his friends that one day Jennie had asked Jongin how he and Kyungsoo even lived together.

“We met freshman year-”  Jongin said while spooning a mountain of orange chicken onto his plate.

“We were paired up as roommates and we just clicked - Kyungsoo is a great guy, he’s actually pretty hilarious”

“Really?” Jennie leaned in, abandoning her lo mein to gape at the man next to her.

“Its true!” Jongin said defensively at her expression, “how do I explain it-"

"You kind of have to approach him first, and then see how he responds. He just needs time to warm up to you, you'll see."

Now, you weren’t sure if Kyungsoo had ‘warmed up to you’ yet, but you definitely saw the man’s look of disgust as he caught you making kraft dinner in the microwave that one time during finals last semester.

Hot tip - never make microwave kraft dinner in front of a Culinary Arts major.

Checking your watch and noting it was half past ten, you settled down cross-legged at the coffee table in the living room. Pulling out your laptop and notes, you organized it all in front of you before rolling your neck and flexing your fingers.

“Now, where was I-”

After what seems like the hundredth time going over the same words over and over again, desperately making sure you didn’t have any spelling mistakes and that your citations were all correct, you finally hit save for the last time. Tapping the screen of your phone you brought it up to your face as you leant back against the couch, squinting as the time appeared.

2:35 AM

Stretching, you lifted yourself from your sitting position and began packing your laptop and papers away.

Exhausted, you crawled your way up onto the couch, pulled the Captain America themed throw blanket over your tired body, and closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to take you.

Which should have been an easy task.

Except Jongin apparently decided to buy the cheapest couch in Ikea.

No wonder the man lived on your sofa, he has never known true comfort.

Huffing, you sat up begrudgingly, groaning as your body objected to the movement. You glanced down the darkened hallway and pursed your lips.

Taking your bags you began shuffling down the hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors that was ajar. Slowly pushing it open you hesitantly stuck your head in. The sight of the various Mangas scattered on the floor confirmed that you had found the right bedroom.

I mean, there are worse places to sleep.

Making your way further into the room, you kicked the door closed as you made quick work of stripping out of your clothes and changing into your pajamas. You all but dove into the bed, not caring that it was unmade or that you probably should have changed the sheets. A content sigh escaped you as you sank into the mattress, sleep taking over.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Waking with a start, you were momentarily disoriented as you took in your surroundings. Blinking blearily around, it took a few seconds to remember where you were and why your bed smelled like Old Spice.

Ah, right.

Groaning, you glanced at the window and took in the darkness still.

You tried to close your eyes in hopes that you would be able to catch a few more minutes of sleep. However, instead of slipping into blissful sleep you found yourself tossing and turning, body restless in any position you put it in.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes you lay there for a few moments. Blindly reaching towards the side table you fumbled with your phone, squinting as the screen illuminated your vision.

5:50 am

There is no God.

Finally accepting that you were not going to get any more sleep, you begrudgingly slid out of bed. Stretching, you began to make your way to the door, stifling a yawn as you opened it.

And immediately screamed.

“WHAT THE F- Kyungsoo?”

Standing in front of you was a hooded figure, looking just as startled as you were. Hand grasping the handle leading to the room directly across the hall, Kyungsoo had turned at the sound of Jongin’s door opening and his eyes widened almost comically at your presence.

As the fuzziness of sleep was lifted you realized that it must have been the sound Kyungsoo entering the apartment that woke you up. And judging from the incredulous look he was giving you, Jongin must not have told him you were there. Taking in his baseball cap and casual attire, you felt your eyebrows furrow.

Did he just get back?

You watched as his eyes slid down and you were suddenly very much aware of the lopsided bun that had come half undone in your sleep and the thin material of your pajamas. His eyes then darted from your own to the bedroom and back, eyebrows furrowing.

Your eyes widened at the silent question glinting in those dark eyes. Your hands immediately flew up as you began sputtering.

“It's not what it looks like!“ you began frantically and he only lifted a dark brow higher in a silent bid for you to continue. “Jongin was staying over at our place last night and I came here to give them privacy, you know how they are, it’s like National Geographic except nobody asked for it”

He shot you a bemused look.

You felt yourself flush and looked at the space of the wall next to his head “And well, I didn't get kicked out of my own bed to sleep on a couch… So I slept... in here" gesturing to the bedroom behind you awkwardly.

There was another beat of silence.

Great. Fantastic. Realll smooth. It seemed that without fail, every time you are in the immediate presence of the man across from you, you feel yourself suddenly tense up. Which is stupid, considering the fact that you are friends (distant acquaintances), and have been around each other for months now and got along great (cordial at best), surely by now you can have a normal conversation at the very least.

Speaking of conversation, you also become hyperaware of the fact that the other person in the hallway has yet to say a single word to you. Palms beginning to sweat, you began to scramble to think of something - anything - to cut the silence. As if your insane ramblings weren’t bad enough. He probably thinks you’re even more of a raging lunatic, compounded with what happened last semester. Why, why, of all things why did you have to crave Kraft Dinner for fucks sake-

“I see.”

Your inner monologue was cut short by a low reply. it seemed Kyungsoo deemed your answer acceptable, nodding slowly to himself.

You almost felt your body sag in relief, shifting your weight on the balls of your feet.

As another beat of silence passed, you fidgeted again as you were regarded by the dark haired man. Kyungsoo had yet to make any move towards his own room and you suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands.

Someone kill me.

You cleared your throat, “Umm...so now that that's cleared up… I’m just going to... go over...there” gesturing to the bathroom. You didn’t even wait for him to answer you as you powered your way past him and slipped into the bathroom, pressing your back against the door as it closed behind you.

You waited with baited breath as you heard silence from the hallway. Eventually after what felt like an eternity, there was a shuffling of feet, and the clicking of a door closing from down the hall.

Silently making the motion of bashing your head against the door, you let out a deep breath. Shaking your head you flicked on the light and picked up Jongin’s papaya face wash.

I mean, that could have been worse.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Making your way across campus, you faltered slightly as a yawn made its way through you. After submitting your paper to your professor's dropbox you had spent the day catching up on the never ending tasks you had on your to-do list. You had holed yourself up at the campus library and it wasn’t until your stomach decided to do its best impression of a Harley Davidson that you decided it was probably best to call it a day.

Pulling out your phone you pulled out a delivery app and started browsing the menu for the greek place a block down from your apartment. Flicking through the menu, you contemplated between the Pork Souvlaki or the Chicken gyro...maybe Jennie would be willing to go half and ha-.

You halted on the sidewalk.

Right.

Jennie.

Jennie who is currently still at your apartment.

With Jongin.

Well, shit.

Switching to your messages you sent a text to Jennie.

You: All clear?

You watched with bated breath as the three dots appeared at the bottom.

A sock emoji.

Lovely.

Sitting down at a nearby bench, you began sending out a barrage of texts.

After about 20 minutes of asking around you found out that Jisoo was out of town seeing her parents, Rose’s apartment building was apparently being fumigated for the second time this month and Seulgi was having Irene and Wendy over and you didn’t think you wanted to be part of whatever freaky party those three were going to have.

With every text that came in you felt yourself slowly deflate more and more. Placing your hand in your jacket, you grasped the keys that were in your pocket. They felt heavier than they should be.

There was one other option.

Grimacing, you flushed as you remembered the painfully awkward conversation you exchanged with a particular dark haired man this morning. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be home if you went over now, and you didn’t even want to begin imagining how this interaction will go.

You bit down on your bottom lip in worry as you brain tried playing out the various scenarios in your head. All in all, Kyungsoo didn’t seem to care all that much this morning, but then again when have you ever seen Kyungsoo care about anything.

Come on, think. Well, what do we know...

He is a mutual friend (questionable), for starters. If you both are able to get along with the dumperfire that is your friend group you have to have something in common.. Right?

You stopped fiddling with the keys in your pocket as the realization hit you.

Pulling up your contacts you scanned down the list before pressing ‘call’.

“Oi, Jongin. Does Kyungsoo like Greek?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Turns out no, Kyungsoo does not, in fact, like Greek.

According to Jongin, Kyungsoo is obsessed with this weird hole-in-the-wall Italian place that had handmade pasta. What was supposed to be a 10 minute walk ended up taking 45 minutes as you got lost 3 times, and once you finally found the store the doors were locked. What restaurant shuts down from 3 to 5 on a Friday?

Hipster pasta makers, apparently.

It was lost to you what the appeal was, but if there was anything that you learned in the years as a young adult living on their own, it was that there were two sure-fire ways to bond with someone:

Get drunk

Eat good food while drunk

The latter was not necessarily limited to ‘good’ food - after a few shots to you a McNugget is like a Michelen meal. However you had a gut feeling that Kyungsoo wouldn’t be too welcoming if you showed up with tacos and tequila.

So did you wait around for an hour and a half just to order something you could have bought as Lean Cuisine?

You bet your ass you did.

Because nothing says I’m sorry I know we barely know each other but our friends are banging so were kind of stuck together quite like overpriced spaghetti and meatballs.

Adjusting the paper bag in your arms you walked up to the familiar door. Fumbling with the key you finally managed to wedge it open and stepped through the threshold.

Unlike the last time you entered the apartment, this time you weren’t met with silence. The lights were already on and the sound of the TV filtered throughout the apartment. Toeing off your shoes and arranging them neatly next to the pair by the door.

Arms full of take out you were all of a sudden nervous to turn the corner.

You are once again reminded of the fact that you are very much not close with this man and this will probably be the first time you ever said more than 4 sentences to him in one sitting. And now you are about to have dinner together, alone.

"You kind of have to approach him first, and then see how he responds. He just needs time to warm up to you, you'll see"

Kim Jongin don’t you fail me now.  

Kyungsoo was sitting on the couch looking at his phone when you entered the living room. He immediately looked up and you watched his eyes widen marginally at your presence, clearly not expecting you back.

“I…” The mini speech you had been preparing during the 12 minute walk to the apartment died in your throat as you made eye contact with the dark haired man in front of you. The look he gave you left you momentarily thrown, it was a look that instantly made you think that he was annoyed with you with the way his eyebrows were drawn and the slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t until you saw Kyungsoo’s eyes slide to the bag in your arms briefly, and the slightest flicker of curiosity gave you the courage to push on.

“Jongin is still my place,” you offered, and watched as his eyes flit back to meet your own.

“So,” you continued, shifting the bag in your arms, “I brought some dinner, as a peace offering of sorts, I guess. I hope you’re hungry, because they gave us enough garlic bread to feed a small Italian village.” you let out an awkward laugh.

Kyungsoo looked at you as if you had grown a second head. You didn’t blame him, but you were too far gone to back down now, even if the man was giving you a shoulder so cold it could freeze Sahara.

Making your way into the kitchen you placed the bag on the counter and began taking plates out of the cabinets, trying to keep your trembling hands busy.

Stupid, stupid, this whole idea was stupid.

As you were transferring the food from the containers you heard a slight rustling behind you.

You almost turned around when you didn’t hear anything else, but then a deep voice spoke up, albeit hesitantly.

“Is that from Giulietta’s?”

Stiffening a smile you did not respond to the man immediately when he materialized at your side.

Humming in affirmation you handed him his plate, which he took slowly, eyeing the food suspiciously.

I swear, this guy.

It wasn’t until you had dished out your own plate that you turned to him finally and gave him what you hoped was a friendly smile.

“So, have you watched the new season of Great British Bakeoff?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Have a nice weekend? Actually don’t answer that, I really don’t want to know.” You didn’t even look up from your laptop as Jennie slid into the seat next to you at your morning lecture.

“Jongin has been doing ballet for years, I swear I never knew a body could bend like-”

“Ew. Gross Jennie, it’s 9AM”

“I have no concept of time anymore, the man wouldn’t let me sleep-”

“Jennifer, please, this is a sacred place.”

“This is Introduction to Environmental Science, most of the people here are too worried about cleaning baby ducks with Dawn soap than to eavesdrop”

Groaning you buried your head in your hands and took a deep breath. You really should have stopped by the Cafe next door and got some coffee, you aren’t nearly coherent enough to deal with this.

“Hey,” Jennie started, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Thanks again for stepping out and giving us the apartment for the weekend, I really appreciate it”

“You’re lucky I like you.

“Oh please-”

“-I barely got out of there alive.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

It wasn’t, actually.

Last night you and Kyungoo had sat in their living room and watched the Great British Bakeoff while you ate your dinner. You thanked whatever higher power there was that Kyungsoo was not a stickler for eating at the dinner table. Or maybe he was, but also thought this situation was incredibly awkward and also wanted some sort of distraction to avoid having to make small talk.

It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, you actually found yourself mildly enjoying yourself. He was a man of a few words but every now and again he would sprinkle in some choice commentary here and there, making noncommittal noises when a contestant added a new ingredient.

Odd fellow, this one.

He was polite enough to stick around for a couple of episodes before standing and offering to take your plate.

“Would you like something else? Jongin keeps ice cream sandwiches in the fridge”

“Oh...no, I’m ok thanks”

You were absolutely going to have one later.

Giving a curt nod, he walked back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. After a few minutes he returned to the living room, shifting uneasily on his feet. He had this thoughtful, intense expression, almost searching. For what, you had no idea but it made you fidget nonetheless, breaking eye contact and pick at imaginary lint on your sweater.

You were about to make some excuse about needing to go back to the library - because you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around here -  when he mumbled something about having papers to grade before disappearing down the hall to his room without another word.

A few more moments passed before you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Well, that’s that I guess.

“It went fine. He was...nice”

“Nice.”

“As nice as you can be with a stranger invading your space unnanounced.”

“So dramatic, it’s not like you two are strangers.”

“I don’t even think he knows my name.”  

“We have all hung out loads of times before-”

“I have spoken to him more in the last 12 hours than I have in the last 12 months”

“And who’s fault is that? If anything, that's progress, you should be thanking me. Kyungsoo’s a hoot”

You leveled her with a look.

“...have I told you how much I love you today?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Had this in my drafts for over 2 years. Hoping by posting I’ll be motivated to actually finish it~

[maeve-writes]

Like a Stone

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+; Minors DNI

Warnings: Moderate Dom/sub, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex.

Summary: When he no longer had control, he sought you out.

a/n: I’m new to writing the whole Dom/sub thing, so please forgive me. This is also unbeta’d.

This was my submission for another SPN challenge. This is for the prompt: Please? Submitted as the account: @plaided-ani

Inspired by Like a Stone by Audioslave.

-

Dean Winchester drifted in and out of your life over the last nine years. He’d never call, never texted, just showed up when he wanted at all hours of the day and you’d let him in, gave him everything he needed and he was gone with the sun. Never once had you complained, never questioned him, just accepted him as a fleeting part of your life, something you were able to enjoy from time to time.

Then he stopped coming, told you it would be the last time, that it needed to stop. And in the last two years, he kept his word until you found him in your kitchen, sitting at the small table, staring at his hands. He silently watched you as you walked in with your bags, not bothering to help because he knew you wouldn’t accept it, especially in the shape that he was in. Dark circles were thick under bloodshot eyes that sat above hollowed cheeks and pouty lips.

There was something wrong, there always was when he came to you. You knew little of his life, just of his brother Sam and a friend he called Castiel, and that he would often travel for work, but you never prodded. If Dean wanted to tell you, he would, but it seemed best for him to keep you separate from whatever he did and that was fine with you.

You moved through your kitchen, putting away your groceries, feeling his eyes watch every move you made, but you paid no mind to him, spared no glance until you put the last box of pasta away. When you finished, he shifted in his seat, his mouth opening for a moment, but shut shortly after when you lifted one neatly trimmed brow.

You leaned against the island in the kitchen, arms crossed and feet slightly apart. You were still in your work clothes, a simple white blouse and fitted gray slacks, your heels still on your feet and hair pulled into a neat ponytail. You stood there, watching Dean squirm in the chair, jaw clenching and fingers twitching.

Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, he didn’t dare look up from his hands now that he had your attention, but the quiet was getting to him. “Why are you here, Dean,” you finally broke the silence causing him to flinch.

He hesitated, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. His mouth opened and a strangled rasp came out. Pink flushed his cheeks and he cleared his throat to try again. “I need…” he searched for the words, eyes darting back and forth across the table as if it would help him. You waited patiently for him to find the words that he needed to say, the permission he needed to give. “I need you.”

You snorted and shook your head, the sound sent a shiver through his body. “You don’t need me, Dean,” you told him, “you want me. What you need is something else, so say it.”

His head ticked to the left, fingers tightening around one another as he let out a shaky breath. “I need to be in control,” he admitted. “I need to know my place and how I should feel and you…” His hesitant gaze flickered over to you, “you’re the only one who can give me that.”

Whatever was going on in his life must have been bad because he would never give an answer so quickly, not without further coaxing. You let his words simmer between you, his gaze averted back to his hands that were still clenched tight. “The rules,” you asked.

“Speak when permitted, touch only when told, no cumming without permission,” he shot back immediately, his shoulders relaxing almost instantly.

“Safeword?”

“Sangria,” he puffed, cheeks flushing darker.

You pushed off the counter and took your time walking over to where he sat, the click of your heels echoed in your tiny kitchen. Each step had him blinking, his nostrils flaring. “I want you in my room, stripped to your boxers, hands behind your back and seated on the bed,” you ordered, a hand reaching up to lightly graze along his jaw. His head tilted slightly into the touch, but when you pulled away, he sat up quickly. “Go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, pushing away from the table, but you caught him by the jacket collar. Instantly, he froze, staring straight ahead, wondering what he did wrong already.

“I need to hear you, Dean,” you whispered back.

He exhaled slowly and nodded once, his voice stronger, “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s my boy,” you praised and released him. His lips flashed a hint of a smile before he scrambled off to your room to follow your instructions.

You gave him ample time to get ready and then some, taking the time to answer your emails and check on your stocks. A full half hour had passed when you finally made your way to your room, stopping at the threshold.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed in just his briefs, hands in position and eyes forward. It had been at least two years since you had seen him last, his muscles had softened, but only slightly, and there were a few more scars. He was a beautiful man, all hard lines and a harder soul, but you broke all of that down.

You let him stew under your wandering gaze, your eyes lingering on the mysterious tattoo on his chest down to the tent in his underwear. All you had him do was sit and he was already straining. “I can never get over how gorgeous you are,” you sighed, strolling to the far side of the room to grab the chair at your vanity.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dean replied.

You pulled the chair to sit in front of him, crossing your legs, still fully clothed, and you smiled at him. “And always so obedient,” you chuckled. “Whoever trained you did a very good job.” He made no indication of whether he was pleased by the compliment, just dropped his gaze to your feet.

“Do you remember the last time you were here,” you asked, toeing off your shoes and kicking them aside. Dean flinched but nodded. “Rule one, Dean,” you reminded him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded.

“That will be your first and only warning,” you informed and stood from the chair. “You told me you’d never come back, but here you are.” You moved just within his reach, staring down at him as his face was at your chest level. “I’ll admit that I’m a little shocked, but somehow I feel compelled to help you. I don’t know if it’s because some part of me cares about you when I barely even know you or it’s the universe that pulls me towards you.”

He didn’t respond and his expression remained stone straight, ever the obedient little soldier. You lifted a hand and dug it into the short crop of his hair, tilting his head back so that he could look up at you, a silent show of permission. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re a dream,” you whispered, the fingers of your free hand running down the bridge of his nose, your eyes darting from freckle to freckle while he stared straight into your soul. “If you are,” you leaned down, your nose brushing against his, “you’re one that I don’t want to wake up from.”

When you pressed your lips against his, he melted into your touch. You gave him no leave to make any sound, but it was there in his throat, you could feel it in the tense of his jaw. Your tongue licked into his willingly parted lips, coaxing his to dance with yours, which he did so eagerly. “Drowning your sorrows in whiskey,” you murmured against his open mouth when you parted for air, “when we both know there’s something better in this life for you.”

He looked at you with an unblinking stare, chest heaving slightly. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but he fought against it. You ran your thumb across his bottom lip until your nail stopped and dug into the side of his cheek. “You always end up here,” you frowned. “My sweet boy, will I ever deserve you?”

His gaze faltered, jumping from the wall behind you and back again, the sting of tears pricked at his eyes and he sputtered, but remained silent. “Undress me,” you instructed and released your hold. “You may use your hands.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied evenly, “thank you, ma’am.” His thick fingers fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, his hands shaking as he tried to concentrate on his task and not the overwhelming sensation of your watchful eyes. When he unclasped the last button, he reached up and carefully pushed the fabric from your shoulders, careful not to graze any part of your skin.

His attention turned to your slacks, his effort doubling as tight as they were, but he managed to get them down and off your legs for you to kick aside as you did your shoes, leaving you in your white lacy underwear. He licked his lips and reached up for your bra, but you stepped back with a click of your tongue. “Not now, Dean. Hands behind your back.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, his arms moved behind him, eyes falling back across the room. “Look at you,” you cooed as you climbed onto the bed and kneeled behind him. Your hands raked through his hair and down his neck, dug into his skin at his shoulders and down his arms, scraping over a new scar, oddly shaped. When you touched it, he tensed and flinched away.

You removed your hands from him and watched the raising of his shoulders from his uneven breathing. Whatever reason he had for being there, it had to do with his scar. He was here to forget about it and it was your job to make sure he did. “Color?”

He was silent for a beat before answering with a soft, “Green.”

“Lose the boxers. Lay down,” you tell him, “on your back, hands at your sides.” He nodded and dropped his boxers when he stood before he turned and crawled up the bed at your command. He settled in the middle, head rested on your largest pillow, hands flat against the mattress, body still stiff from your accidental touch.

His body was glorious when it was laid out, waiting. You wanted him all for yourself at that moment, to use him like you wanted, but this wasn’t for you, it was for him. “Spread your legs, Dean.” He instantly complied, parting his bowed legs wide enough for you to settle between. “Rule three?”

“No cumming without permission,” he answered automatically, watching as you crawled up to him, your hands hovering just above his thighs. His hard cock, leaking since the moment you walked in the room, twitched at the thought of what was to come.

“Not a sound from you, do you understand,” you narrowed your gaze and he nodded once. “Good boy.” Your nails dug into the skin above his knee and clawed up to the juncture of his hips causing goosebumps to blossom over his body. “I’ve dreamed about this cock,” you said, leaning down to puff a sigh against the swollen tip, “so long and thick. Fills me up so good, Dean. It gets in so deep that I can feel you days after.”

You snuck a glance up at Dean’s face to see his jaw clenched tightly and his hands twisted into the fabric of your comforter. “And your taste,” you whispered, wrapping a hand around the base to keep the length steady, “like the sweetest ambrosia. If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you cum in my mouth later. Would you like that, Dean?”

His voice was strained, but he answered with an obedient, “Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled against his tip and watched him as you opened your mouth to let the entire thing slip past your lips, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat. His eyes slammed shut and his shoulders lifted off of the bed, his face twisted in an euphoric, silent sob. With each of your head, the head reached the back of your throat and beyond as his cock was sucked tightly with your hot mouth and praised with your wet tongue. His head jerked involuntarily, hips doing their best to keep still.

His thighs tensed around you, the muscles of his stomach rippled with effort to hold himself back. You released him with a pop, removing yourself completely to sit back on your hunches. His chest heaved, eyes still clamped closed, but he was silent and as still as his will allowed.

“You did so good, Dean,” you praised and crawled up to straddle his hips, your hands coming to rest along his ribs. Your lacy core trapped his cock between your bodies, still slick with your spit and hot from his arousal. Slowly you rolled your body, grinding your sex against his, eliciting a moan from you.

“I’m not sure how I want you.” He dared to open his eyes, lust blown pupils zeroing in on you as you once again pushed your soaked white lace against his aching cock. “It’s been years since I’ve ridden you,” you recalled, nails digging into his skin and you rocked painfully slowly against him. “I know you love watching yourself slowly sink into me over and over again while I tell you how amazing it feels, how you’re such a good boy, so sweet and wonderful when you fuck me so, so good.”

His knuckles were white from his grip on your sheets, but his body continued to still and his voice was absent. He wanted to be good for you, he wanted to please you, to make you happy. “But I love having you on top,” you continued, “covering me with your weight, pushing your hips against mine, looking up at your beautiful, perfect face lost in bliss. So many options.”

Your hips stalled and you tilted your head in thought. “I could have both,” you considered, sitting up slightly to tug aside your ruined panties, exposing your glistening folds. You sat back down, running your bare core against his hard cock, leaving a trail of your slick behind. “Or I could just have you bend me over, I know how much you like that. Love curling around me from behind, fucking into me like the animals we are.”

Dean’s chest was heaving, short, hot breaths puffed out of him steadily through tightly clenched teeth.

“Do you want to say something, Dean?”

He stared at you, eyes wide and desperate. “Ma’am, please,” he ground out, voice cracking.

A smile slowly graced your face and you leaned down to hover your lips inches from his, “What is it, sweetheart? Tell me.”

He hissed, not breaking away from your amused stare. “I need you so bad, ma’am. Please?”

Your hands left his sides and snaked up his body, nails scratching over two perky nubs, one resting on his shoulder, the other locked its hand around his jaw, your thumb hooking into his mouth. “Polite as ever, darling,” you laughed quietly. “Your cock is begging,” your hand on his shoulders slid back down between you two and wrapped around the thick, throbbing shaft, guiding it towards your own aching center, “and you ask so sweetly.”

You sank down on him, slowly, deliberately, feeling every inch fill and stretch you. You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back as your body took him. “Fuck,” you whimpered when you finally seated yourself completely, feeling him throb inside of you.

His skin was flushed with restraint and you could see the veins protrude in his neck as he adjusted to your warm, wet heat. “Look at you,” you panted, holding yourself up with your hands on his chest, “so good, so patient.” You lifted yourself up, dragging slowly along his cock until head was barely inside and sank down with a raspy moan.

Dean’s jaw clenched tighter, you could hear the grinding of his teeth as his face scrunched with effort to keep quiet and still. “That’s my sweet boy,” you whispered, your hips once again rising and falling carefully on his length, feeling every bump of veins and twitch of him inside of you, “keep it up.” You set the pace, a slow, grinding fuck as you pushed him inside of you again and again.

Large, calloused hands squeezed and relaxed against the mattress, yearning to touch you, to feel all of you, but he wouldn’t dare, not without permission. As much as he was submitting tonight, punishment was not what he wanted. He sought to give into you, to have you show him that his place in the world was not at the end of a blade or gun, but beneath you and your touch.

“My lovely dream,” you groaned, squeezing tightly around him causing his body to tense, “am I not giving you enough?” Dean opened his mouth to reply, but his voice was caught in his throat, eyes squeezed as tightly as they could. You slowed your pace so he could gather his thoughts, but it only seemed to lose him more. “Touch me, darling,” you whispered.

He immediately complied, warm, thick fingers splayed across your flushed skin, seeking and searching every inch of you with your permission. His hand cupped you over your bra and a frown pulled at his lips. “Take it off,” you told him, stilling for the moment so he could focus on his task of popping open your bra and tugging it off in one smooth motion. Then his hands were back on you again, squeezing greedily at your breasts when you continued to ride him.

His hands slid from your chest to your back, rubbing up and down your spine as you began to pick up speed. Ever so casually his hips began to meet yours. Normally, this would result in punishment, but you were getting so lost in the feeling, you allowed it. “That’s it,” you encouraged, leaning down to capture his lips with yours, tongues sliding against one another in time with your hips, “fuck me, Dean. Let me hear you.”

You released a flood gate. His arms wrapped tightly around your middle and his legs bent to get a good hold before pistoning up into you with fervor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers digging back into his hair to tug on the strands and he hid his face away in your chest, biting and licking at your skin. Each thrust tore a deep, rumbling groan from his throat that vibrated through you and straight to your core.

Dean fucked up into you like his life depended on it, his hands digging into your sides hard enough to leave marks that’d you feel for days. The slapping of your skin echoed through the room, drowned out only when one of you managed to find the air to get out a moan or whimper.

From his erratic thrusts, you knew he was close and so were you. With your tight grip in his hair, you pulled back his head and shoved your tongue down his throat and slid the other hand down between you to desperately rub at your clit. “Cum for me,” you breathed into him, forcing your eyes open. “Fill me up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whined, staring up at you with those gorgeous eyes, so desperate to please you.

You tumbled over the edge then, the coil he had twisted so tight within you sprung free. You crashed into him with breathless praises as your warmth clamped and spasmed around him. He wasn’t far behind, a few deep, hard thrusts and he spilled into you with a choked sob, mouth parted and eyes rolled into his head.

“So good,” you whispered to him as you both started to come down from your highs, still wrapped around each other, connected in the most intimate way possible. “You did so good, Dean. I’m so proud of you,” you praised and ran both of your hands through his hair, down his face, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he returned breathlessly, laying down and bringing you with him. He carefully slipped out of you and you shifted to curl up against his left side, one of his arms still around you, the other was used to wipe the sweat from his brow.

When you caught your breath and remembered how to move, you sat up and kissed him properly, a slow burning kiss that curled your toes. “You alright,” you asked, slipping out of your role. Your eyes shifted to the mark on his arm.

“Better now,” he answered with a nod, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see your curious gaze. “Sorry about last time, you know? My job… It gets stressful. I thought I could deal with it on my own.”

“You don’t need to explain, Dean,” you smiled, kissing along his stubbled chin. “I’ll always be here for you.”

[eideticmemory]

GODPARENTS | SPENCER REID

Description: You’re a wonderful godmother, always have been. Nothing could distract you from that. Queue the entrance of the ultimate distraction: Godfather Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 2,757.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse.

Jennifer Jareau is the closest thing you’ve got to a big sister. Your parents had placed you in grief counseling shortly after a loss in the family. You were only nine, but it impacted greatly - you felt alone, misunderstood, lost, hurt, confused. Little did you know, a twelve-year-old JJ would be in the other room, distraught by the loss of her older sister. And once the two of you met, chatting, laughing, confessing your darkest secrets, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. Jennifer Jareau helped you heal, and you could only hope she’d say the same about you.

19 years later, with a friendship thick and strong as stone, she gave birth to your godson - Henry. She had asked you be his godmother long before her due date, insisting that there was no woman she trusted as much. You cried. You hugged her. You talked to her stomach. It was a good day.

The day Henry was born was even better. You met him just hours after his birth, and fell in love instantly. You kissed JJ on top of her head, told her she did such a good job, leaned in to hug Will and held your godson. He was the spitting image of his mother, and you cared for both of them immensely. However, with you living nearly an hour away at the time, your reunion with them was cut short.

By the time Henry turned one, you had a cozy Virginia apartment and went to see JJ as offen as possible. Even visiting Will and Henry when JJ was off on a case.

It wasn’t until Henry’s first birthday party that you met Spencer Reid. And everything began to fall apart.

JJ went all out. Balloons, bouncy houses, tons of food, tons of people, all gathered to celebrate little Henry. You, being the ditiful godmother, showed up with a bunch of presents in tow, ready to help JJ in any way you could.

Before having Henry blow out the candles on his birthday cake, Will and her took a family photo. “Okay!” She exclaimed. “[y/n], Spencer, come here! I want Henry to get a quick picture with both his godparents.”

You happily complied, skipping over to Henry with a great big smile on your face. Spencer was the first to introduce himself, “Hi,” he said, posing at Henry’s side with his vision focused on you. “I’m Spencer.”

“[y/n],” you smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard good things.”

“Same here,” he nodded.

You both crouched down to Henry’s level, smiling wide for the picture as JJ counted down, “Three, two, one!” She shouted, followed by the shutter of the camera. “Perfect! I’m getting that framed!”

You giggled at your friend’s excitement, looked at little Henry and gave him quick pecks all over his face. When you looked up at Spencer, he was watching you - a look of adoration on his face, a smile gracing his lips. You smiled back. And that’s how it started.

Later that night - when the lights had gone down, most of the guests had left, and the baby was asleep, - you were up in the guest room. Unpacking your bag, you listened to the distinct coversation between JJ and her coworkers - their laughs, the inside jokes, the bond.

Since it was adult time, you figured, one drink wouldn’t hurt. You pulled a small flask from your bag, checking the door before you stepped onto the balcony. You took in the view, and gulped down a considerable amount of alcohol, your nerves loosening by the second.

“Ah,” a voice called. “Holding out on us?”

You turned your body quickly, coming face to face with Spencer, who had his hands in his pockets and his shoulder leaned against the balcony threshold. You giggled, “Well, I didn’t really think this was a perfect first-birthday-party activity, y’know?”

“Oh, no, I know,” he nodded, closing the sliding door behind him as he stepped outside. Even under the moonlight, he was utterly beautiful. “Got enough to share?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Why, Spencer, I would’ve never taken you for the drinking type.”

“Only on special occasions,” he shrugged, taking the flask you handed him. He swallowed it down, with minimal reaction, and you felt your heartbeat between your legs. The breeze flew under your dress, making you shiver. “You cold?”

“Yeah, damn. It was just 80 degrees out. Now it’s freezing.”

“Here,” he said. “Take my sweater.”

You watched as he stripped the article of clothing from his shoulders, holding eye contact with you until your eyes trailed to his body. Stop that, you told yourself, stop looking at him like that, [y/n]. But you couldn’t. He was irresistible, and he knew it. When he’d completely removed the sweater, he was only left in a white button up, tucked into his belt buckle.

He didn’t even try to hand you the sweater. He dropped it to the ground, along with the flask, as you moved in to kiss him. His arms wrapped around your waist, and your hands held onto his face as you shoved your tongue into his mouth, moaning at the taste of him.

You excitedly began to fidget with his belt buckle, undoing his pants with phenomenal speed. He pushed you back against the wall, and you followed, so ready to go all the way with this man, the wait was unbearable. He kissed your neck as you freed his cock from his briefs, stroking him into a set erection.

Neither of you spoke a word.

He just picked you up, held you against the wall by your thighs, and kissed you as you pulled your dress up. You pulled your panties to the side and allowed him to put himself inside you. He buried his face in your shoulder, with you going cross-eyed from the intense feeling. You just barely remembered to stay quiet, whining into your mouth as he thrusted into you, hard.

You held onto his shirt for dear life, wrapping your legs around his waist and moving your hips against his. “Fuck,” you whispered. He grinned against your skin, using all his strength to pound you into the wall. Slowly, though, as to not alert his friends downstairs.

You reached down and rubbed your clit, your mouth instantly forming an ‘o’ shape and your head rolling back. Combine that with Spencer’s cock striking all the right places, and you were a puddle. Your legs trembled, but he held onto them, his hands big enough to nearly wrap around your entire thigh. The rush started in the pit of your stomach, then it spread through your clit, and then your entire body. And you came, weakly, almost violently against Spencer’s body.

He stopped after that, pulling out of you and placing your feet back on the concrete gently. Despite being in a daze, you grabbed onto his cock and jerked him off quickly, staring at him as you did it.

“[y/n]—“ he moaned. “I’m—I’m—“

He did. He exploded all over you. Your thigh, your dress. All while falling apart into a fit of groans, having to hold himself up on the wall just to keep from crumbling to the ground. You smirked at the sight of him, glad to have gotten him off.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry about your dress.”

You shook your head, “I needed to shower anyway,” you shrugged. “Go on, everyone’s probably wondering where you went.” You smiled.

He kissed you. Once before he fixed his pants. And twice before he actually left the room. He left his sweater. You wore it to bed that night, sipping happily on the forgotten flask.

In the morning, JJ made breakfast. Enough pancakes and eggs to feed you, the baby, and her. You kissed her cheek before taking a seat at the table, tickling Henry and earning a cute, little giggle from him.

“Where’s Will?” You asked.

“Where else? Work. He couldn’t get out of his shift today, but believe me, he tried.”

“Aw, poor, poor William. I hope he atleast had fun yesterday.”

“He did. We were both tired afterwards, but we had a good time. Thank you for being here.”

“Oh, c’mon, JJ, you know I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world. Godmommy duties!”

“And I’m so glad you got to meet Spencer,” she said. You gulped. “I told you if anything ever happens to me and Will—“

“Then, it’s up to Spencer and I to make sure Henry gets into Yale. I remember.” You giggled.

“Exactly. Did you get to talk to him last night?”

You thought for a moment. You could tell her. But the baby was right there. And you clearly remembered her mentioning a date between her and Spencer years ago. Was it a can of worms you should open? You decided it wasn’t.

“Oh, no,” you shook your head. “Not as much as I wanted. I kind of went to bed early.”

“Ah, well, one day, I want you to meet the whole team. I think it’s about time. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Over a month later, there was no word from Spencer. You thought about him often though. Where was he, what was he doing, was he thinking of you. Sappy shit. Then, you remembered, you knew exactly where he was. And you chose to visit the bullpen for the very first time.

You put on your tightest pair of jeans - the ones that made your butt look perky - and a spaghetti strap blouse that highlighted your chest. JJ told you that you looked beautiful and embraced you in a warm hug.

“This is such a surprise!” She exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you! See where you worked, who you worked with, all that jazz.”

“Oh,” she giggled, rising from her seat. “Then let me give you the grand tour.”

You followed her aimlessly, only partially listening to his guidance, as you were primarily concerned with seeing Spencer. “That’s Derek, Emily, Penelope is in her office, and you remember Spencer.” She said.

Your eyes instantly found Spencer at his desk, the profiler already eyeing you with a knowing smile. You smiled back, “Of course. Hi, everyone.”

“Back there is our break room. Coffee, doughnuts. Want some?” JJ asked.

“Oh, yeah, coffee sounds great.” You nodded.

“I’ll get you some,” Spencer suddenly offered, rising from his seat and heading off before you could object.

“A nice little place you run here, J,” you whispered.

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t run it.”

“Well, you should.”

Spencer strolled up to you, a small styrofoam cup in his hand, and a great smile on his face. “Here you go. I put in cream and sugar. Hope that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect,” you told him. “Thank you.”

“Spence, you remember [y/n] from Henry’s birthday party? She’s his godmother.”

“Ah, so the one that’s going to help Henry get into Yale?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, “Me? No, no. I could barely get into community college. That’s all on you.”

The three of you laughed, and JJ shook her head at you. “Are you free for a quick lunch?” She asked.

“Of course! You ready?”

Your friend nodded and swung her arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked away. Spencer watched you as you stepped onto the elevator, taking a sip of your coffee. Only then, did you notice the slip of paper tucked into the lid. It contained a string of numbers, signed - Spencer :). You looked up at him, just as the elevator doors were closing.

The night, you called him. He came over. You had sex in a bed for the first time. And it was just as good as you remembered it. If not better. His hands pressed into your thighs, your legs bent over your head as he drilled into you, the sweat from his body dripping onto yours. Your tongues tangled with one another’s, your hands gripped at anything they could. It was hot. It was satisfying. You came twice, and Spencer came with his cock in your mouth.

As the two of you laid there afterwards, cuddled up and out of breath, Spencer kissed your forehead. “Missed you.” He said.

You hid your face as you grinned. “Uh, do you want your sweater back?”

“No. You keep it. Think of me when you see it.”

Little did he know that you thought about him all the time.

2 months later, his number was on speed dial in your phone. The job kept him busy most days, but weekends belonged to you. You’d be at his apartment friday to sunday, miss him for a week, and then fall into the same routine. It was bliss.

You’d be laying beside each other, completely fucked out and attempting to calm your breathing. “Do you—“ Spencer huffed. “Do you want kids some day?”

You furrowed your eyebrows together, sat up slowly and looked down at him. “Where the hell did that come from, Spencer?”

He shrugged, “I see how you are with Henry. Why don’t you have any of your own?”

You laughed, “Is that your way of saying you want to impregnate me?”

“Oh, don’t think that I haven’t thought about it,” he whispered, reaching over to hug you. “Go on a date with me, [y/n].”

You watched him say the words out loud, processing what it meant, waiting for your response. “A date?” You replied.

“A real date. Let me pick you at your place, and take you dancing, a movie, dinner, something. No sex involved.”

“No sex involved?”

“I mean,” he smirked. “Unless you want?”

“Hm, no, Spencer Reid, I’m not that kind of girl. You’re gonna have to wait until the fifth date for that.”

You made it to the fourth date before having sex again. But to be fair, those four dates were spectacular. Movies, dancing, dinner, some coffee dates sprinkled in. You were happy. And JJ could tell.

“Tell me who he is, [y/n].” JJ ordered, chuckling as she fixed you a cup of tea.

“Who? I told you, there’s no one. There’s no guy.”

“I call bullshit,” she shook her head. “You have been walking around way too happy and way too cocky to not be having sex with someone.”

“J—“

“And not to mention how many times you’ve blown me off to see him.”

“I did not blow you off.”

“Sorry, J,” she mocked your voice. “‘I’ve got an early day tomorrow.’ You? An early day on a Saturday?”

“I wanted to run some errands!”

She turned to you, “Errands? Now I know you’re seeing someone!”

“You’re crazy, J.”

You hated to lie to JJ. But it wasn’t the right time. Besides, at that point, 6 complete months had passed since Henry’s birthday party and you worried the lapse in time would upset her. There would be a time and place to announce the relationship.

4 months later - when you told JJ you were moving - she asked where to, and you still didn’t say ‘oh, Spencer’s place.’ Instead, you just told her it was close to her work.

Another 2 months passed and Henry was turning two. JJ insisted you come over to help her set up decorations the night before. You stepped on a ladder, hanging up Henry’s name in big, floppy letters.

“Hey, [y/n], did you pick up some wall tacks on your way over? I want to start putting up the other decorations.” JJ said.

“Yeah, they’re in my car. My keys are on the couch.”

JJ nodded, grabbed your keys and stepped out of the house to retrieve the items. You finally put up the letter ‘Y’ and stepped down to admire your handy work. You began to clean up the trash off the floor, packing into a large grocery bag and laying it to the side. You heard the door close, signaling JJ’s return.

“Hey, J,” you said, rummaging through the bag of decor. “Did you find the wall tacks? My car’s a little junky. And if you think that’s bad, you should see my room.” You laughed.

When you didn’t get a response after a few seconds, you turned around to look at JJ. She was standing here, holding a small item in her hand. Her face had lost its color and her breathing was still. She couldn’t - wouldn’t - look you in the eye.

“Why...” she started. “Is Spencer’s badge in your car?”

[backtobackbakubabe]

Leaving my Love Behind Part 2

Bakugo x Reader

Words : 2031

Reader hasn’t seen Bakugo in almost ten years but when her boyfriend goes missing she all but begs him to help her find him and get him back from a notorious gang leader.

************************************************************************

You had insisted you could get an uber back to your place and meet Bakugo somewhere afterwards. You honestly just didn’t want him seeing where you lived. It wasn’t in the nicest neighborhood and you knew he would probably think less of you for living in such a shabby place.

“No that doesn’t make any sense. It just waists time. Just let me give you a ride and we can leave from there.” He had his arms crossed now and his feet set. You knew this stance well. It was his ‘I’m a stubborn ass who isn’t going to budge or compromise in way’ stance. You had seen it many times before, whether it be in training or even on one of the many nights you hung out after class.

“We’re not in high school anymore Bakugo. You can’t just stomp your foot and get your way. I told you I’m fine with meeting up later. I need to shower and pack and you’ll just slow me down by nagging me every 5 minutes about how long I’m taking.” You mirrored his stance, looking him dead in the eye.

He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. You both stood there in awkward silence just staring at each other. Neither of you planning to give in.

Out of nowhere he let off a small controlled explosion off of his palm. The sudden loud noise startling you and making you blink.

“HAH! You blinked! I win, I’m driving. Let’s go.” Bakugo was grabbing his keys as he slipped his shoes on.

Your mouth gaped as your eyebrows knit together, “You CHEATER!”

He just shrugged as he held the door open waiting for you to follow him out of the apartment, “Look at who’s stomping their foot now? Stop being such a brat and let’s get moving. You’re burning daylight.”

You made your way to the door, stopping just before you crossed the threshold looking at his feet. “Fine… Just… Just don’t judge me okay? Not all of us get paid an obscene amount of money to play hero.”

You could feel him tense up a little before giving you a light shove through the door. “Joke’s on you because I’d make fun of you regardless.” He turned to lock the door behind him. “But because you asked so nicely, I’ll call a temporary truce until after we’ve left your house.”

He followed your directions back to your place. His grip on the steering wheel getting tighter the closer he got. He had promised to not say anything, but he also hadn’t expected it to be this bad. The thought of you living here made his skin crawl. But what really got to him was the overwhelming guilt churning in his stomach knowing that this was somewhat his fault. What you did for him all those years ago allowed him to live his dream as a hero, but it had also condemned you to this life. When you said he owed you yesterday in the rain, you were right. He did owe you, and it wasn’t until now that he realized just how much.

He finally pulled into a visitor spot outside your apartment building. Your fingers nervously fidgeted with the edge of your shirt, “Uh, you can just wait here. I won’t be too long. Fifteen minutes tops.”

He gulped. On one hand he didn’t want to leave his car here unattended, but on the other hand he didn’t really want to leave you unattended either. Knowing you’d never let him in if he was being overprotective, he told a white lie. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come inside. I need to use the bathroom.”

You hovered with one foot out of the car. “Sure. I guess that’s fine. Just like I said before, try not to judge me. I know that goes against every cell in your body, but please try.”

He followed closely behind you and you could almost feel the disapproval rolling off of him in waves. You had to walk up 3 flights of stairs before reaching your floor and the whole time you were trying to remember what state you had left you place in? Had you remembered to wash the dishes in the sink? Or were they still ‘soaking’? Had you put your clean laundry away or were they still in a pile on your couch? Did you even remember to take the trash out? You were in an absolute spiral.

You took a deep breath while giving him one last pleading look before unlocking your door. You tried to hold the door close to you as you peaked in, in an awkward attempt to check the status of your living space while hiding it from Bakugo’s view.

Impatient as ever he huffed as he pushed the door all the way open. “Tch. Let’s just get this over with.” You glared at him but all he did was shrug, “What? I told you I needed to take a piss.”

You rolled your eyes before pointing in the direction of your bathroom. “It’s that door there. I’ll pack first, and I’ll shower when you’re done.” Without waiting for a response, you sprinted to your room and started packing. You didn’t know what you would need but you tried to stay practical and pack light. The only thing you packed that wasn’t an absolute necessity was your switch so you could kill time while on the road. It didn’t take up much space so it should be fine.

You took one last glance around your room. You made a silent promise that the next time you were here, it would be with Kiyo back home and safe.

You rejoined Bakugo who was being busy being nosy. “Does Bilbo live here with you?” He picked up a picture of you as a child and studied it.

You groaned as you took the picture back from him and put it back in its place. “Yes. KIYO does live here as well. Why?”

He didn’t seem to like that answer. But he just shrugged, “No reason. Just found it odd that there’s no pictures of him. Or like any evidence at all that a guy even lives here.”

You pushed past him on the way to the bathroom, “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but he does live here. In fact, he paid for most of the furniture.” You slammed the bathroom door a little harder than necessary. What was he trying to imply? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it made you uncomfortable anyways.

Your shower was quick. You were in a hurry to get on the road. You braided your wet hair before once again rejoining Bakugo who this time was rummaging through your refrigerator. “What are you looking for?”

His head had been so deep in the fridge he hadn’t heard you coming and he jumped slightly at the sound of your voice making his bump his head on the door. “Shit! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

You leaned on the kitchen counter putting your head in your hand. “I thought you were supposed to have some crazy bionic hearing now or something.”

He looked at you like you had two heads, “That’s not how hearing aids work dumbass. I hear better with them then I do normally, but I can’t hear shit normally so…” You could feel a blush hint at the tips of your ears. You didn’t mean to upset him. “I was looking for anything we could take with us as road snacks but… you have like no food here that’s not microwavable.”

“What did I say about judging me?”

He raised his hands in defense. “I wasn’t judging, just making an observation. I personally could never live on such a disgusting diet. But then again you never really did care what you put in your mouth.”

You picked up the closest thing to you which happened to be a bag of chips. This teasing wasn’t anything new. This is how you used to be in high school. The two of you had been best friends, practically inseparable at one point in your lives. He was a hot head and you were sassy. You fed off each other’s toxic energy and were always either fighting or joking with each other, and if you were being honest there was rarely a difference between the two.

He caught the chips without a problem, “I’m sorry y/n. I was wrong… you do have something that’s not microwavable.”

You just glared at him. “I refuse to stoop to your level, you immature porcupine. Can we just get going already? You were the one crying about burning daylight earlier.”

You could see he was trying to hide the smirk on his face, “Oh yeah, for sure. We can get gong as soon as you tell me where it is we’re going.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then you realized you actually didn’t know. “Uh… I was kind of hoping you would have a lead. I mean you told me you were already investigating Big Shadow right? Where do you think we should start?”

He rolled his eyes as he pulled the map function on his phone. “Okay so there’s five known places that he and his men operate out of. A casino, a restaurant, an auto shop, a bar, and a strip club. I say we check them out one by one and see what we find out.”

You nodded as you looked all the locations he had marked on the map and pointed to the restaurant. “I think this one is probably the closest to his last known location.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, “That also happens to be the furthest one from us. By like a lot. That’s half a day’s drive from here. What the hell was he doing all the way out there?”

“He works for some security company. He installs security systems. Sometimes he has to travel really far to do it.” You shrugged as if that wasn’t suspicious.

The more Bakugo learned about your boyfriend the more his suspicions grew. Cheeto probably had a secret side job that wasn’t exactly legal and Bakugo think’s he pissed off the wrong guy. You would be lucky if you even found him alive, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. You needed the closure.

So that’s how you found yourself back in his car playing 20 questions. He had said it would help pass time while also catching up on what you guys had missed out on the past few years. You were hesitant at first because the Bakugo you knew was never the talkative or sharing type. So, the fact that not only was he willing to play this stupid game but was his idea., well that really freaked you out.

Little did you know he was using this game to basically integrate you to learn more about your shady boyfriend. It grated on his nerves how happy you guy while talking about him. How your eyes lit up as you said his name. He tried to convince himself it was because you were his friend and he didn’t want to see you get hurt by some asshole. But deep down he had to admit there was a more logical source for this irritation. There was a chance he was jealous.

Bakugo had had a crush on you almost all through high school up until the day you were forced to drop out. He didn’t see or talk to you after that. The guilt ate him alive that he never even tried. Part of him wondered what would have happened if he had. Would your life be any different now? Would you still be living on the shitty end of town with a dead-beat boyfriend and an empty fridge?

He’d be true to his word. He was going to help you find your boyfriend. But he was also going to help you realize all the ways you don’t need him. He was going to use this time to remind you who you are. A strong ass independent women.

**********************************

Tags : @spicy-therapist-mom @runrabbitrun3