#then i had a brain blast of making the little legs on these types of clock FOUR i BEASTIFIED HIM

[battlefordreamdiner]

13. Clock

[starryeyedjanai]

bet.

steddie | 2.8k

read on ao3

Happy Birthday @wynnyfryd 🥰🥰🥰 I've had this idea floating around in my brain for a while now and seeing it was your birthday prompted me to finish it 💕

---

It's his first time in Indianapolis as an out bisexual, so of course Robin takes him to a gay club - to experience the drag queens and to see other queer people having fun, she says.

It's a little overwhelming, the bright lights and the music and the people. But he's having a great time, people watching and drinking virgin daiquiris and talking with Robin.

She's been here before - she came with Vickie when they were still together one weekend and they had a blast. So when Steve figured his sexuality shit out and came out to her, this was the first place she wanted to take him.

Now, he can see why. It's a haven of sorts. Gay men dancing together and kissing each other, gay women getting cozy in the booths, drag queen and drag kings about. He hasn't felt like he's belonged somewhere in a long time, but it kind of feels like he belongs here. The atmosphere is welcoming and kind.

They dance a little before everything gets overwhelming and then they find an empty booth to sit down and sip at their drinks in.

Robin keeps trying to encourage him to find someone to kiss so that they can call this night a success, but he keeps telling her that no one has caught his eye. And it's kind of true. He's seen some men that he thinks might be his type, but they're all paired up with men who look nothing like Steve. Even then, the few people that have caught his eye weren't right, somehow.

He keeps holding out, hoping to find someone that makes his heart skip a beat, or whatever the appropriate cliche for a gay club is.

And it. It happens.

He glances over at the bar as he's taking the last few sips of his drink, thinking about if he wants to brave the crowd at the bar, when he sees him.

His heart doesn't skip a beat, but he knows as soon as he lays eyes on him that he wants him. He's beautiful - and intimidating.

He's sitting facing away from the bar with his legs splayed open, ripped jeans revealing what looks like fishnet stockings underneath them. He's wearing a tank top that's showing off his many tattoos and Steve is struck with the urge to know what they taste like. His combat boots are clunky and could seriously kick someone's ass if they messed with him. His wavy hair is half tied up, a messy ponytail holding his hair out of his face, but the bottom half is freely falling past his shoulders.

He kind of feels like he's been bit by the love bug - he can't take his eyes off him.

He knows Robin is saying something to him, but he can't even hear it. It's all just background noise. He doesn't think he's ever been so captivated by someone before. He wants to put his mouth on him.

"Steve? Oh my god, stop ignoring me!" Robin says and snaps her fingers in front of his face, pulling him from his reverie. He looks over at her sheepishly.

"Sorry, Robbie," he says, looking back over at the guy briefly and yep, he's still just as hot as the first time he looked.

"What was that? Did you see someone you like? You looked like you blacked out for a minute there," she says, a smirk pulling at her lips.

He rolls his eyes. Of course she already knows - his type is people that look like they could stomp on him and he'd say thanks. "Black tank top, ripped jeans, at the bar. I think I'm in love," he says with a sigh. He's way too intimidated to go over there.

She squeals in his ear and says, "This is so exciting! You have to go kiss him now."

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not just gonna go up to a stranger and ask if he'll be my first gay kiss."

"And why not?" she asks, stirring her drink.

"Because that's insane," he says. "He's probably already got someone. He's, he's gorgeous. There's no way he's here alone." It's a shame, but it's probably true - he's way too good looking to be here alone.

"There's only one way to find out," Robin says. She leans forward and whispers in his ear, a challenge of sorts.

"You can't be serious," he says to her, questioning his own sanity for even entertaining her for one second.

She leans back in and whispers more into his ear and he groans.

"You're diabolical," he tells her, pulling back to smack a kiss on her forehead. He stands up and takes a deep breath before marching over to the bar. He can't believe he's doing this.

He marches right up to the guy and immediately every word in his vocabulary is gone. He's so fucking pretty.

"Um. Uh, hi," he says, stupidly.

The guy bites his lip and grins at him. He says, "Hi," back to him and Steve is literally going to die, he thinks. He couldn't see it from across the club before, but this guy has a lip piercing, and Steve wants to know what it feels like against his mouth so fucking bad.

"I need you to kiss me," he blurts out, trying not to cringe.

"You need me to, to kiss you?" the guy asks, and this was a bad idea, the worst idea Robin's ever had. There's no way he's going to agree to this.

"So, my friend-" he stops, looking back at Robin - she waves at them. He's trying so hard not to blush as he turns back to the guy and says, "She bet me that I couldn't get a guy to kiss me since it's my first time here. So I was wondering if you would kiss me, so I can win the bet." He's steeling himself for rejection, for this guy to tell him to fuck off or maybe have mercy and let him down gently by telling him he's taken.

But he just smiles, tilting his head at Steve. "Why me?"

"Hmm?" Steve asks.

"Why me?" the guy asks again. "Out of all the guys here, you picked me. Why?"

Steve sputters for a second. "You, I mean. You have to know how you look, right? Like, you're gorgeous."

He grins again, tonguing at his lip ring and Steve is so down bad for him, it's actually insane. "Okay," he says. "I'll accept that answer. Now, if you get your kiss, you win your bet, but what's in it for me?"

Steve is hoping that if he's still talking to him, that means he actually has a shot. He's feeling dizzy with how much he wants to kiss him. He really fucking hopes he can kiss him.

He says, "A kiss?" with what he hopes is a charming - and not at all maniacal - grin.

The guy snorts. Rude. He snorts at Steve and says, "I think I'll need a little more that that, don't you think, sweetheart?"

Steve nods dumbly, says, "I'll split my winnings with you. Would that work?"

He's not expecting it to work, is the thing. He doesn't expect him to say yes.

Which is why he's so surprised when he reaches out and tugs Steve closer by the collar of his shirt. He did not know being yanked around was his thing, but apparently it is because good god.

"That works for me," the guy says, eyes going molten as he looks at Steve.

He can't believe that worked. Holy shit.

He's. He's nervous, he realizes. He's had a lot of first kisses, been on many first dates that ended in him kissing someone unfamiliar. But this is nerve-wracking for him in a way it hasn't been before.

He lets the guy pull him in further by his collar, lets him control when the kiss happens.

The first press of their lips has Steve sighing and opening his mouth slightly, wanting more, wanting to taste him. He kisses him, lets himself be kissed really. He opens his mouth more when a tongue snakes out and presses into his mouth.

Steve's hands come up to pull him closer, to pull - fuck, he doesn't even know his name, yet. He's doing this all wrong. He meant to get his name before shoving his tongue down his throat.

But it's good, the feeling of soft lips pressed against his, the cold metal of his piercing pressing against his mouth, his tongue stroking over Steve's in a way that makes him wish they were alone, wish they weren't here surrounding by all these people. He wants to kiss him and keep kissing him until the breath runs out of his lungs. He wants to put his hands on him, to dip his fingers into the rips in his jeans and feel the rough fishnets against his fingertips.

He pulls his mouth away to gasp out, "What's your name?" because he needs to know, needs to have some connection, some thread to hold onto, to grasp as they're kissing.

"Eddie," he whispers against Steve's mouth. "What's yours?" Eddie asks. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

"Steve," he says before pressing his mouth against Eddie's again. He wants to kiss him forever. He never wants to stop. He wants Eddie to keep licking into his mouth like he owns it until the bartender yells out that it's last call. He wants Eddie to keep holding him like this until Robin drags him away as they turn the lights on in the club to kick everyone out. He wants, he wants, he wants.

He gets a hand tangled in Eddie's hair and gets their heads tilted right so that they can lick deeper into each other's mouths. It's burning him up inside, the way their tongues are sliding together, the way Eddie's licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue like he's trying to taste the daiquiri he was drinking earlier.

Eddie tastes like tobacco and something sweet, like he was drinking something sweet before Steve came up to him too. God, Steve wants to know everything about him - what's his go-to drink order, does he smoke, does he prefer beer over mixed drinks, is he seeing anyone, please don't be seeing anyone, god.

He feels desperate, he feels out of control. He wants Eddie to take him apart like he's never wanted anything else in his life. He wants those hands on him, wants to feel the rings on his fingers pressing marks into his skin. He want his hands gripping his hips, sliding down and touching him. He doesn't think he's ever wanted like this.

The only reason they break apart is because someone's elbow ends up in Steve's back and he ends up pushed further into the crease of Eddie's thigh. He feels him hard against him and he knows Eddie can feel how hard he is too. Fuck, it's like everything else faded away when Eddie's mouth was on his, but now that they're not kissing, he's suddenly achingly aware that he's hard in his incredibly tight pants after making out with Eddie for god knows how long.

His face is probably red and sweaty, but Eddie's still looking at him like he wants him and god, does he want him back.

But he pulls back a little, puts some space between their hips because he quite literally can't ditch Robin here go hook up with Eddie, no matter how much he wants to.

He bites his lip and pulls his hand back, the one that was tangled in Eddie's long hair. He puts it on Eddie's chest and asks, "Was that okay?" because he thinks he knows the answer, but it never hurts to hear it.

Eddie huffs out a laugh and says, "Was that okay, he asks. Sweetheart, I think you and I both know that was something on a completely different realm from just okay."

If Steve wasn't blushing before, he definitely is now. He says, "Good, good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

Eddie leans close like he's going to kiss him again. He brushes his lips against Steve's in a dry press - barely a kiss, but it has Steve aching all the same anyway. He drags his mouth along his jaw, just mouthing at it, and it's the hottest thing Steve's ever felt.

He whispers in Steve's ear, "Your friend is trying really hard to get your attention right now," and that pulls Steve right back down to earth.

He pulls away again and turns around to see Robin waving her arms at him. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows at her. She waves her hand at him, beckoning him back to their table so he holds up a finger to tell her to hold the fuck on.

He turns back around and says, "I think I'm being summoned. As much as I want to stay and as much as I, like, desperately want to keep kissing you, I should get back to my friend."

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the bar and Steve can't help the way his eyes sweep over him again. Eddie's smirking when he looks back up at him.

"That's fair," Eddie says. "So, what did we win?"

Steve makes a questioning sound, before he remembers what Eddie's talking about. He sheepishly brings a hand up to swipe his hair out of his face where its begun to stick to his forehead. "Oh, uh, about that. There never really was a bet."

"Really?" Eddie asks, leaning forward again into Steve space, like that's the most interesting thing he's heard all night.

Steve shakes his head. "I promised half of the winnings, but the winnings are zero, so half of zero is still zero, you know?"

Eddie grins at him and says, "You're kind of devious, you know that? Here I was, thinking I'd get a prize at the end of that kiss."

"Sorry for getting your hopes up, but I mean, it was a good kiss, right?" Steve asks, boldly leaning forward to press his mouth against Eddie's again. Eddie lets him, lets Steve kiss him, softer than before. Before it was all new and exciting and hot, and it still is, but this kiss is tender, pulling a gasp from Steve's lips when they separate.

"It was a good kiss," Eddie agrees, pecking him on the lips again, soft and sweet.

"Can I have your number?" Steve asks, trying to be brave for once. He got Eddie to kiss him, even if it was under less than truthful circumstances, but he hopes it was good enough to warrant a call back.

"Your friend, is she seeing anyone?" Eddie asks, and Steve's head is kind of spinning at the redirection there.

"She and her girlfriend broke up a couple months ago. Why?" he asks, wondering where this is going. If this guy is actually somehow straight and only kissed him to get with Robin, Steve's gonna lose it.

"I'll tell you what, if you can convince your friend to kiss my friend, you can have my number," Eddie says, gesturing to the girl that's been sitting next to him at the bar this entire time.

And- oh. Oh god, he's embarrassed.

Has she just been awkwardly sitting there while Eddie made out with him? He was half a second away from dry humping Eddie and his friend was sitting there patiently waiting for them to stop. That's embarrassing.

She's cute - she's got this whole cheery, bubblegum vibe to her that didn't make Steve glance twice at her once he had his eyes set on Eddie because the two of them are kind of polar opposites. He didn't think they were here together.

His eyes shift back and forth between them and she waggles her fingers at him in a wave, smirking at his caught out look.

"Chrissy," she says, sticking out her hand to shake Steve's. He's kind of intimidated by her too, but he's got to hand it to her - he doesn't think even Robin would sit through him making out with someone right next to her. He guesses he does kind of owe it to both her and Robin. He and Eddie were making out for a while.

"Steve," he says, lamely. "Sorry for making out with your friend right next to you. Um, I'm gonna go grab Robin now."

They both watch him as he leaves, which makes his skin prickle and his heartbeat speed up. He makes a beeline back to Robin and lets her coo at him for a minute about having his first gay kiss.

She's talking a mile a minute asking about how it was, if he got his number, when Steve interrupts her.

"Bobbin, you are not gonna believe this," he says, and when he's got her attention, he continues, "I think I just found you a girlfriend?"

[morganbritton132]

would steve ever insist that eddie comes to basketball games with him just so they have an excuse to get those good seats right at the court that famous people and celebrities usually get?

Eddie is not Steve’s go-to person if he wants basketball tickets.

He goes to Lucas because every doctor knows a doctor that knows someone with season tickets they never use. And also, Steve kinda wants to go to the game with someone who, you know, will actually enjoy being there.

Eddie’s undying hatred of all things sports is, well…undying.

But Steve’s been a Pacers’ fan since the first time his dad shoved a basketball in his hands and taught him how to shoot. He has watched them lose in the playoffs every year that they make it to it, but he’s convinced. 2014 was going to be different.

He just can’t get tickets. He spent all day trying to buy them online and failed, and all the resale tickets are for seats that suck or way over his paygrade. Him and Eddie pay for their own hobbies out of their separate bank accounts, and Steve can’t afford the absolutely ridiculous price that’s being asked so…

“Please?” Steve asked, big puppy eyes and adorable little pout. He knew what he was doing and so did Eddie. “Pretty please? I never ask you for anything, Ed…Okay, fine, except for all the stuff I ask you for, but this is different. It’s a small price to pay to see my team win.”

“Your team that has literally never won in the history of all time?”

“How many championships does Leg-less the loser elf have?” Steve asked.

“…It’s Legolas,” Eddie said. “And he was a part of the fellowship that kinda saved the world.”

“So was I,” Steve pointed out. “And I deserve this.”

Steve didn’t ask for courtside seats. He didn’t ask to be sat among the rich and famous. Hell, he didn’t even ask Eddie to go with him. He just wanted to see if Eddie had a connection that could get him a ticket for a seat that wasn’t in the nosebleeds.

Steve doesn’t really believe that the tickets Eddie showed him are real until they are sitting in their seats – their seats that are courtside and five feet away from Paul George warming up. Steve is so excited to be there that he pretty much misses Eddie shaking someone’s hand right in front of him until he’s nudged in the shoulder, “Babe, you know, Sandy, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says absently, sparing a glance in the direction Eddie was gesturing before looking back out at the court. It takes him a second for his brain to register who he was just looking at and then, “Holy shit, you’re Sandra Bullock.”

She is just as beautiful and as nice as Steve has always thought she was, and she’s amused by him which makes Steve blush. She holds out her hand to him, “And you are…”

“I’m…” Steve trails off, only picking back up his train of thought when Eddie laughs loudly beside him. “Steve. I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington. Eddie’s – I’m – we’re together, by law.”

“We’re married,” Eddie grinned, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulder, and wiggling his wedding ring at her. “Still working on how to tell people, obviously.”

She congratulates them and talks to them a bit about the game (bring Steve out of his starstruck stupor), and even buys them champagne as a late little wedding gift. It’s a blast.

Eddie spends half the game flinching every time the ball bounces a little too close or a player nearly ends up in their lap, but Steve is loving all of it. The other half of the time, Eddie is having Steve explain what’s going on and who the players are, or he’s talking to the guy next to him.

It’s some square jawed model type that Steve doesn’t recognize and also, doesn’t like. He’s a little too friendly with his husband, especially when he curled a piece of Eddie’s hair around his finger. When the two of them end up on the kiss cam together, Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to register it before Steve pulls him nearly out of the camera frame and kisses him.

Later, fans will make jokes about the pictures of that night because it’s very clear that Steve and Eddie switched seats.

[rubykgrant]

Finally finished touching my picture of a re-design for one of my super hero characters! On paper, I used white paint to blend the colors of the markers, and it looked very vibrant... until I scanned it, and the colors were muted. It took a while to fix it in MS Paint, but it is done!

This is one of the character I've had since 8th grade, and has thusly gone through SEVERAL changes; initially I had a character with wind powers and feathered wings as their whole theme. First it was a crow, but then I decided to go with golden eagle feathers. The character evolved as well, and eventually, I thought it was just too type-cast-y to have a Native American character with nature/animals powers... but I didn't want him to NOT be Native American anymore, that wasn't what needed to change. I shuffled around powers between other characters, and finally had something better! Now with energy abilities that projects as physical forms of colorful light, the character became Vivid! The light can change into shapes that work as force-fields for defense, stairs for climbing up high, or simply as energy blasts for attacking (I gave the wings/wind powers to a different character, still golden feathers, but with more of an "angelic" theme for the whole look)

Who the character is, just as himself, is mostly the same, because I love this kid; Rodney is an easy-going friendly guy, a little bit socially awkward, but with an open and kind attitude that makes him easy to relax around. He's sensitive and considerate, and really smart as well. He previously went to a school for gifted kids, but the atmosphere there was too competitive and harsh. He finally convinced his family to let him go to a regular school with the friends he has (a handful of them become super heroes as well), and it is a relief to chill academically, and grow more into who he is. Sometimes Rodney worries too much about being annoying, and tries too hard to be helpful or avoid confrontation by keeping his comments to himself... his friends help reassure him- he doesn't need to be perfect, he deserves to speak-up, and they aren't going to stop liking him over disagreements or because he's "weird". They're ALL weird!

Rodney has the chance to get into different types of art, and he appreciates many things that are surreal, both whimsical and horror. While he was good at memorizing facts for school, he's also incredibly creative, able to figure out complicated puzzles and recognize patterns other people don't notice (he's got a whole galaxy-brain mandala-universe going on in there). In his every-day life, he wears his hair down, but pulls it back for the hero look (during formal occasions, he braids it). Some elements from his super hero outfit comes from different sci-fi sources, but I wanted to keep it simple and easy. I like to imagine the kids made their first outfits from clothes they had, and up-graded to to proper hero clothing later, but it still isn't too complicated. The undershirt and leggings are bright colors- orange/yellow, teal/green, blue/aqua, purple/pink. He has a large short-sleeved shirt with a high collar (but it's loose, not tight around his neck). The shirt is dark, but not quite true-black, and specifically doesn't have too many details with the wrinkles or creases (like an optical illusion, it seems almost like a solid object even where it over-laps). He has matching boots as well. He also has a visor that works as his mask to hide his secret identity (and it's a bit inspired by Garnet's cool look~). Rodney's a bit of a string-bean, but he's not "scrawny", and he has soft shapes to his features

[jungle-angel]

(My wifi went out when I was originally was sending this so I hope it’s not a repeat)

FRIEND!!! I reread all your work and it never gets old. Like *chefs kiss* lemme get seconds and thirds type vibe.

Love and smut prompts? You are too good to us 😭. So if I say…. Coyote and 18.Babe, please? Just this once? I’m horny….

Go as wild as you want friend

-🫡

YES!!!!!! My dear, thank you so much, I love when people love my work!!!! I'd be more than happy to bring out the Coyote content no matter what (lol)

Another obscenely hot night at the Hard Deck and the place was packed. Every window in the place had been opened, the air conditioning going full blast, but there was still the lingering heat that just wouldn't leave. You left the cooler in the back, hoping to get back to the bar as quick as possible until you crossed paths with your husband.

"Babes you ok?" he asked, noticing the pained expression on your face.

"It's so fucking hot," you groaned.

"Ok you know what you need?" Coyote asked. "Here, follow me."

He took you to the back and led you to the unisex bathroom, carefully looking behind him to make sure nobody had spotted or followed you. He turned on the water, taking an old bandana from his back pocket and soaked it under the cold water before putting it on the back of your neck.

"Feels so good," you sighed.

"Feel better baby?" he asked.

"Hell yeah I do," you said before you leaned in and kissed him.

It was nice and cool in there, albeit, not the greatest place in the world, but cool enough to keep the heat away. The kissing soon got a little more intense as you and Coyote backed against the wall, your hands pawing across each other. Your hand instinctively tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, running up the bare skin of his side and up to his ribs before you suddenly broke away.

"Babes you ok?" Coyote asked.

"We shouldn't be doing this here."

"Shit," Coyote said. "Please? Just this once?"

"Javy....."

"Babes I've been thinkin about you non-stop all week," he explained. "Every time I get up in that plane and I look at that sexy photo of you on my dash, all I can think about is the dirty shit we do at home."

Something clicked in the back of your brain. You and Javy had been married for a year and a half and had been experimenting with new ways to spice things up in the bedroom. The thought of doing it in a place like this thought, that was a bit out of the ordinary.

"Well......."

"Babe please just this once? I'm so fuckin horny!"

You pushed in a bit closer, moving one leg flush against his hip. "Just remember that we have to shower afterwards."

The laugh that escaped Javy's throat was as devilish as the grin that crawled across his face. He pushed you against the wall, your hands roaming as you moved to undo his belt.

You nipped and bit at each other's necks, your movements frantic, needy and urgent as one article of clothing after another dropped to the floor. Hastily, you pressed the lock on the door handle before your hands moved back to your husband.

Everything became a blurry whirlwind of gasping, moaning and breathless words that, thankfully, nobody else could hear. You became completely oblivious as Javy's thrusting became more frantic by the second, the heat between the two of you as unreal as even the most intense fever dreams. You didn't even realize it was over until you were both gasping for breath.

"Holy, fucking shit," Javy groaned, leaning his face into your neck.

"You know," you said. "If you're up for round two, there's always the Toyota."

"Deal!" Javy said. "Just gimme a minute thought."

You laughed as you kissed the side of his head. "Take as long as you need."

[madaboutmunson]

Hell Raiser - Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Links to the song Eddie is singing if you wish to listen along 🙂

Spotify 

YouTube Music

YouTube Video (put your shades on to watch this. It’s Glam Rock)

Apple Music

Deezer

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

LOOK OUUUUUUT!

As Steve rushed into the tent, he felt like he charged headlong into an invisible wall, something stopping him in his tracks. He put his hands out in the dimly red-lit room to apologise to whoever or whatever he had bumped into, but his hand met air. 

He stood there confused for a second or two. Robin, that's why I'm back in here, and he tried to step forward again. This time it felt like he was being pulled back, he turned around to swat at the culprit, but there was no one. The crowd in the tent started surging towards the stage, and Steve attempted to fight his way through to get to Robin, who he could just make out the light from her light-up bracelet. She'd brought them matching ones earlier. Steve's head became full of the music blasting out of the speakers. He swore it wasn't this loud earlier. The floor vibrated so intensely that he felt it travelling up his legs. 

Mama let me out on a Saturday night, she said now

Go out and get her go and hold her tight

Steve's head snapped towards the stage. On it was a wiry-looking guy. Long dark shaggy hair, dressed in that layered rocker-type style that Steve didn't necessarily understand, but at that moment, he appreciated, for the first time, that maybe some people could pull it off and make it look good. He wondered if that guy was the source of the screaming. Steve shakes his head. Robin. Find Robin. Make sure she's ok, just in case.

The crowd surged again, but this time, Steve, despite his height and strength, got swept up by them. For a moment, his feet were no longer touching the floor, and they unceremoniously dumped him on his ass on the ground. Steve leapt to his feet and tried to fight his way back, but the crowd didn't budge. It was like they were one organism or something. They pushed him back no matter what gap he spotted to try and squeeze through.

I said now Mama, you don't understand

Every time I touch her hand

Steve heard being sung out right behind him, and he spun around and locked eyes with the wild man on stage, who currently had his hand outstretched directly in front of Steve's face making him go a little cross-eyed. 

Big dark eyes bore into his own.

Steve no longer wanted to find Robin. He didn't want to move. No, that was wrong. He couldn't move, his feet felt like they'd taken root into the floor, and Steve couldn't take his eyes off the lively performance on stage.

It's like I'm burning in the fires of hell

And if I hold her too long

You never can tell what will happen to me

I wouldn't want you to see

The guy leant back, almost like he'd bent himself in half, as he screamed another "Look out!" And Steve's dazzled brain put the pieces together. It was him. Everything's fine. I'm fine. Robin's fine, he told himself over and over. He felt unusual. All his insides felt out of place. His outside felt no less weird like a fuzziness or static was building around him. He checked and quickly pushed back his sleeve to see that, indeed, the hairs on his arms were standing on end. He felt jostled but realised no one was touching him. He looked down at his body, and unbelievably, he was dancing.

She's a hell raiser, star chaser, trail blazer

Natural born raver, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

She's a hell raiser, star chaser, trail blazer

Natural born raver, yeah, yeah, yeah

Look out!

The man on stage banged his head like Steve had seen on some of those live concert videos (when he'd been checking the tapes at the store) as he sang with everything he's got. The pulsing vein crawling up the side of his neck got highlighted when he threw his head back, and the lights hit it just right, and Steve reached for his own and found a thin film of perspiration. He supposed it was warm in here, surrounded by all these people who were still engrossed in the performer who didn't leave an inch of the stage unused. Occasionally air guitaring where there were no words to sing, thrusting his hips and beckoning the crowd closer, drawing them in. And it worked. He called for them. Lured them in. They moved closer as he curled his fingers at them. To Steve, they seemed to dance in unison, like how seaweed moves underwater. He wondered if they would all flop to the ground when the song was over like the water plant when their version of the tide disappeared.

The artiste stood on the very edge of the stage right above him, towering over him like a titan, and he outstretched his upturned hand above their heads like he was holding some invisible power source.

Hell Raiser

His hand raised a little more towards the tent canopy above.

Hell Raiser

Higher, his hand raised whilst he Intensely stared at the floor and then at the crowd like he was summoning something. Steve wondered if, like the lyrics said, he was indeed trying to raise hell itself. That perhaps should have worried Steve more than it did, but despite knowing they could be in danger, for the first time in years, Steve didn't give a damn.

Hell Raiser

He raised his tense hand higher again, but this time something peeled Steve’s eyes away. The smoke on stage that had been like a thin rug covering was now almost a foot thick and spilling out over the crowd, like a rolling fog that disappeared as soon as it was too far away from the man on stage. Like it was an extension of himself.

Hell Raiser

His hand was above his head now. His voice was louder and more urgent. The lights seemed to pulse in and out like they were breathing fast and hard. Steve felt the electricity saturate the air.

Hell Raiserrrrr!!

The singer screamed out as he punched his now-clenched fist to the floor beneath him and dropped to his knees directly in front of Steve. Simultaneously, a white-hot bolt of lightning struck the stage.

For the second time, their eyes locked, they looked ablaze, and Steve's brain wiped. Everything slowed down for a second like there was no one else in the whole place apart from one another, and Steve felt nervous with the man's eyes gorging on all the secrets of his soul. He gulped, and the spell broke. The singer sprung to his feet from his knees in a jump and took off again around the stage for the remainder of the song. Steve gasped for a breath. He didn't realise he was holding and wondered if anyone saw them, but no one was looking at him, thankfully. He looked to the canvas roof to avoid looking at the singer again, and it appeared to be undulating, like something was creeping between the fabric layers, scuttling along, maybe. Then Steve felt that pull again. His eyes were drawn to the stage, and he noticed how underneath the platform appeared to glow a vibrant red. Pulsating.

Steve didn't know much about stage lighting or effects, but he couldn't seem to marry up this dusty old tent with the technologies that appeared to be at play but were nowhere to be seen. Then as the song ended, the singer threw the mic to the ground with fury, a scowl on his face a million miles away from the expressions he was just performing for the crowd with, and stomped into the darkness. Steve feels a jolt, almost like he'd been stuck to the ground with magnets and they had just been switched off, and he's finally free to move again.

He decided to check in on Robin, but when he finally pushed through the crowd and glanced over, he could see she was still very much entranced by the woman next to her. Steve smiled and decided it was time to head home. Maybe, stop worrying so much, Robin could take care of herself. He spun his car keys around his fingers and started walking towards the parking lot. 

Steve wondered who the singer was. He looked familiar, but Hawkins wasn't that big. He must have seen him in passing before. Maybe he was in a band or something. Perhaps he was a really famous artist in town for the night and decided to grace this tiny local carnival with a performance he usually saved for sold-out stadiums. That quirks the corner of Steve's mouth up. 

Ridiculous. He shook his head. 

But just to be sure, he'd ask Robin tomorrow if she knew who he was, and then he'd be sure to get front-row tickets at his next show. 

Steve stopped walking and frowned. Was he a fan? Was this what Robin always talked about, how music makes her feel…moved? Steve liked music. He liked it to fill the background so there were no true silences. He liked it for dancing at parties because it was something fun to do, and sometimes he'd sing along to ones he heard often. Learning the words by osmosis or something. But Steve had never felt that magical thing that made people look a certain way in the eyes when they described their favourite song. Well, not until tonight, at least. When he thinks of the song, his insides flip, and it's not entirely unpleasant, but it is strange.

He finally got to the car and shut the door. He paused again, confused by his own actions. Wasn't he hoping to find a love match tonight? Surely he needed to go back to the tent and wait it out, but something had told him to get in his car. He laughed, shook his head at the absurdity of all of this, and put his hand on the door handle to open it again but received a static shock. 

"Fucking, Ow! Jesus!" He exclaimed to no one as he rubbed his hand.

Something is urging him home. Steve remembered other times his gut reactions had been right, at the Byers' house, in the tunnels, in the underground base. So he put the keys in the ignition and followed his intuition.

Nothing struck him as a sign as he slowly crawled the car out of the carnival, making sure not to miss a single detail, nothing jumped out at him, as anything weirder than the tent itself, but everything was telling him not to go back there. Like he was being pulled by invisible puppet strings. Another thing that hadn't jumped out at him was this supposed love match. This may be the point where Robin and Steve's twinned path would finally split. He’d be more jealous, but it was Robin, and he just smiled fondly out at the dark road in front of him.

Something glinted in the darkness in the trees to his right, and just in time, Steve slammed on the brakes, and as he got thrust back into his chair by his seatbelt, something struck the car. He thought he had hit something for a second, but as the shock faded from him, he saw two fists pounding on the hood. Then, as they moved back into darkness, the person they were attached to comes into view via the car’s headlights.

The guy that had been singing on stage.

Steve quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

“Hey! HEY! Are you ok, man?” Steve called out to him, but he’s already stomped away, grumbling to himself. Steve jogged after him and put his hand out to pull him back, “Dude, Are you ok? I almost hit you with my car! Look, you're hand is bleeding. Do you need a ride?” “Get your fucking hands off me, man!” The singer shoved him away roughly, but Steve could see plainly he was shaking and looked like he had been crying, “I’m fine! Don’t need you. Don't need anyone.”

Steve almost laughed. “You’re obviously not ok. It's not a problem. I can take you back to the carnival, or home or just to somewhere that isn’t these creepy fucking woods.” Steve looked around, and they did seem horror-movie-level creepy, “Come on. It’s not safe out here on your own.”

The man rounded on him, “I’m not getting in a random man’s car in the middle of a road in the dark. Do you think I’m an idiot? I’ve read all about freaks like you, man. I’m not like you, OK?! No matter what fucking Donna says!” he turned and trudged into the tree line.

“Wait, Wait. You know Donna? I know her too. Is she your friend? I can take you to her. She’s…er…friends with my friend.” Steve was determined for this not to go down this way. The man stopped in his tracks, turned on his heel, rolled up his sleeves and started walking back toward Steve.

“Oh, you've been having a nice little chit-chat with our mutual friend Donna, have you?” He seethed angrily through his teeth as he brought his fists up. Steve immediately put his hands up in a submissive gesture. He wanted to help this guy but didn't want another head injury to add to his list for the sake of it.

“Look, forget Donna, ok, I just….” Steve locked eyes with him again. In the moonlight, he could see his eyes were swollen, his body was tensed, and he was shaking with anger. He looked a million miles from the man on stage, “You know what, never mind. I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong, asshole! So go find your next target someplace else, huh creep?” He barked back at him before he could even try to explain. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes for a second and walked away. It was all crazy. The whole night. This guy. Steve didn't need this shit. He offered him help. He didn't want it. He’d be fine. Steve dropped back into the driver's seat, started up the car again, and began driving home. Fuck this.

Steve must have gotten not even five minutes down the road when the churning started in his stomach. This was so stupid. He sighed and turned the car around. If the guy didn't want his help, Steve could at least go and tell the cops at the carnival that he was wandering around the woods on his own. He’d lie, tell them it looked suspicious, and they’d haul him in.

As the headlights of the BMW straighten up on the road, something stops in the middle of it. It looked like it might be a deer or something. Steve beeped the horn to get it to move along, but it seemed preoccupied with sniffing the air. So he tried again, and this time it did move to the tree line, and Steve slowly drove past as to not frighten it any more than he already had, but as he went to take a glance at the majestic creature in the night, his stomach plummeted, as it raised its head to the sky and its face split open emitting a noise that Steve had hoped to never hear again and went galloping into the trees.

Steve bootlegger's turned his car in the road and raced off into the trees after it.

[sonyadance]

Travels and Dancing 20

I like writing these.  They calm my nervous system down, help me figure out what the heck happened, because, damn life happens!  Some people tell me that that’s what my next book should be about: travels and dancing.  I agree, I want it also, but it’s not there.  I’ve tried many times to write a book and the only one that actually came out all the way to publishing is the one that had a clear structure, direction and just basically got vomited through my fingers.  A bit like when I write these texts… but these are like a glorified journal, not interesting enough to publish for the world to see.  Actually… for the world to buy.

I’m so happy with where I’ve come from in the last year and where I’m going, but, as always, I have to pace myself better: the new year barely started and I’m exhausted.  I have one day off in two months.  I don’t think that’s healthy… so reorganization is on the table.  Everything I hated before, I now understand how it serves me.  Having a routine allows me to spend less time finding where everything is and just going; having structure gives me the freedom to move, build and create.  There is definitely more work to do in those areas, but going from feeling the ick in my body just hearing those words (routine, daily, structure, authority, Québec, family) to wanting them.  Wow.  Path in my own back.

We did another iteration of Le Chalet wcs with Phil and Flore in August of last year.  I love these two so much.  As always, I was really slow in understanding that they wanted my friendship, they reached out so many times before my brain actually went: oh, ok, they want to be friends, they are friends.  They are amazing people, aligned in their values, hardworking, a beautiful example to have around.  And I know things are probably not always pink and fluffy for them, but if you read this: you inspire me to be a better person, and that having a family, being stable and dancing can all go hand in hand.  I love you.

Le Chalet was amazing as always: 35 people sleeping in the same house, eating together, training, dancing, playing games, sharing.  It’s definitely one of my favorite weekend of the year.  I love seeing how the community grows stronger by people having time to share more intimately, play and just sharing the same space.  This is definitely something that we’ll keep holding as long as possible!

Then it was the Country Festival of St-Michel-des-Saints.  Me and two of my best friend in this world drove there, rented a little cottage, cooked, ate, drank, danced into the night and partied at the Festival.  An honorable mention for your host who won the title of Mechanical Bull Queen of the festival!  What did I win?  Pride.  Lots of it.  Bruises.  Even more of it.  A bit of bleeding and shaky leg (where not going there).  Was it worth it?  100% would recommend.  100% won’t do it again.  We found the party with the line dancer and I don’t know if it was the euphoria of the whole thing, but I got carried into it for the first time in my life.  If you’ve seen me at events, I’ve been mostly on the side of the dancefloor for all line dance type things…  I has a blast there!  Maybe it was the weekend I had spent at the Calgary Dance Stampede in April, seeing videos of my then roommate Mackenzie Keister, who made it look really cool, but it made me want to do country.  Something might be brewing on that front. ;-)

September was for training and resetting.  Anybody knows Noah Kahan?  I discovered him when he released the Stick Season single and fell in love.  I had just bought my first car ever and listened to that tune non-stop while driving in BC.  I would go for cold dips in the morning as the sun would rise and blast it.  I honestly think this whole album helped me re-acclimate to Québec, which wasn’t my first choice of place to settle, but has so many of the people I love.  The melancholy of it.  Making winter, slowness and boredom feel attractive through the poetry of it all.  Sincerely, thank you Noah.  So last summer, as I was driving to Halifax for a contract with a student and friend of mine, I played Noah’s album over and over and mentioned that this is the one artist I would love to go see live.  My student found tickets for Toronto and there we were screaming our heads off at the Budweiser Stage in Toronto a couple months later.  Probably the best concert I’ve been to in my life (ok, I really have been to like 5 concerts ever, but still…)  I’m so happy for that memory before the tickets became 400$+.

I then drove to Sherbrooke to give a teacher’s training and a couple workshops.  Gosh, I love my job.  I love teaching so much.  Some dancers I know do it because it’s the part that pays the most, but, for me, it’s the best part!  Anything I do, I do it in the frame of mind of teaching it, if I don’t, I lose interest real fast.  Teacher’s training are the summit: passionate people who are interested in details and want to ingest as much information as possible to then share it with their world?  Gold.

I had a weekend home so I invited my new dancer partner to practice and actually meet.  Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you.  One day, I saw a video of a baby novice dancer and said to myself: I don’t know who that is, but he’s mine before he gets to All-Star and people finally realize that he’s as good as I know he is.  I then proceeded to stalk him (in a totally legal and respectful manner) and ask him if he was available for a call.  I told him what I saw in him, he told me his story and he planned to come up for two days.  Then in a fun turn of events, I happened to have to move that weekend.  So hi Aaron, nice to meet you, here’s half my family and thanks for moving my mattress and underwear and sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a half empty apartment with me.  Great introduction.  We had a blast anyway, sharing, constructing plans and trying liftwork for a potential routine.  The weekend after, I was in Austin to choreograph for us with Glenn Ball.  I love choreographing and I am always drawn to share a story I’ve created or seem important to share, and we needed a leader that knew more about swing.  It was a whirlwind of a weekend with awesome people having me over, a few games of laser tag, riding in my dream car (black mustang) and being dragged to a country evening… which also re-kindled/re-confirmed the country love affair!

Then came, one of the craziest thing I’ve ever done: registering for a pole competition after being grounded (literally, not flying… with apparatus, I still took the plane) because of a shoulder injury, having health problem that got me bedridden for a couple of months, basically being in the worse shape of my life.  I registered mid-august, so I had two months to choreograph, train, get in pole shape, create the music, and order costumes.  At the time, I also thought that I didn’t have a partner for The Open so it was going to give me the motivation to train for something else, but I ended up having two partners and creating two dance routines at the same time, finding and cutting music, getting costumes for that and trying to find travel time to meet my partners.

To my surprise, I won.  I didn’t even have a competitive goal in mind.  What I wanted to do was present something that was so clear that it gave me a business cards to get gigs with other polers.  I don’t need to become world pole champion, I want to help people who have so much more abilities and/or fire than me, create a routine that resembles them, has smooth transition and is sound.  I didn’t manage to run my full until the day before.  I rented an extra studio hour in Toronto and succeeded once.  Perfect, ready to go.  I told myself that a lot of things could go wrong with a pole routine (dealing with different poles, slipping, speed of rotation, angles, height, distance between poles, angles on static), but that I knew my routine, my song, my theme and myself enough, that I could make it work and present a show that I’d be proud of.  After 2m on stage to rehearse… which means you don’t have your music, you don’t get to run the whole thing, there are 3 other people on stage with you… I went on to do make-up, watch other performance, wait and finally get on stage.  It felt so good.  Pole audiences are normally very loud, but during half of my performance there was not a sound to be heard.  Which can be a really good or really bad thing.  I was so proud.  People came to me after to tell me I’ve touched them and that they heard my story and that’s all I needed.

For those who haven’t seen that routine:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PFKdHvSUKU&t=14s

Montreal Westie Fest came around.  The hometown event where I always felt welcomed, loved and seen no matter where I was coming from at the time.  Stephen came in town so we could choreograph and we won the pro strictly.  I hadn’t felt that good dancing in a competition in a long time.  That also felt like home.  We know each other so well, it just flows.  I had an awesome lumber jack and jill where you are randomly paired with different levels and performing battle style.  I drew Alex Glover who reminded me he did his first pro-am jack and jill (actually the winner of novices got to dance with a pro) at Montreal Westie Fest a few years back and now we were dancing together and we were sitting side by side as he was competing in the pro strictly as well.  I love full circle moments like that, they feel so warm and fulfilling.

Vidéo of Stephen and I:

Calgary was next and what a freaking weekend!  I got there a couple of days early to meet my best friend Kim who moved to BC a couple years ago.  We rented a hotel, roamed around, bought cowboy hats, and went totally berserk in the hotel pool.  Then I met Nelson at the event hotel and some of the shenanigans we got up to that weekend are definitely not shareable through this media.  All I can tell you is that there are videos of it and that most people thought I was drunk off my ass, but I actually had two glasses of wine in the entire weekend.  One of my great idea was to get inflatable costumes to do a two-steps before the real presentation.  I forgot to mention, it was Halloween weekend.  So Nelson and I got into these giant pig costumes, blew them up and went down for the show.  As we started, I realized that we hadn’t tried dancing at all in them and that every time my arm was lifted for a turn (and it is often in a two-steps) I couldn’t see anything; that every time a wrap happened (and it happens often in a two-step) it would squish my whole body and bounce me back out.  Then my costume started to deflate, the pomp dangling down my leg and… let me tell you it was the worse or the best demo you’ve ever seen.  It all depends on perspective.

I was home for a weekend after that (halleluiah!)  So I decided to do a house warming party in my new apartment: after all, one of the reasons to have a home is to be able to have people over, no?  I invited my closest friends and family with all their kids… and this stranger I had talked to online a few months ago.  I’ll explain.  I created an account on Hinge to show guys profile to my brother as I was talking from a woman perspective what I found interesting and might catch my eyes.  I kept it to swipe left on everybody when I was bored at night and feel better about myself with all the likes coming in.  For some unknown reason to this day, I swiped right on this guy’s profile, then forgot about it because I was never going to talk to him, but then he wrote again.  We talked for three weeks (I was always out of Montreal), it was easy and nice, but after some thoughts, I realized I still wasn’t ready to meet anybody after the disaster of my last relationship.  I told him so and expected to be told off.  Instead he sent me a really nice message with his number for if I wanted to contact him in the future.  Long story short, I meet him by chance in September, we talk for 5m, and I tell him it was really nice to meet him, that I’d like to meet again in a couple months.  Fast forward to October, we’ve texted a bit, I finally have my own apartment, my life is getting settled, I feel ready, so yeah, I invited him to my house warming party with a bunch of strangers (to him).  He came.  The rest will have to go inside of another story book, but we’ve now met most of each other’s family and friends, spent the holidays together and he’s coming on a dance cruise with me in May.

Back to our initial topic: dance.  As a last minute decision to get some time to rehearse with Stephen before The Open, I flew to Seattle to spend a few days at his place, meet his lovely life partner, rehearse like maniacs, chill and head to Sea to Sky.  Sea to Sky was a really relaxed event for me, which I’m not really use to: I didn’t have workshops to teach, no judging, just a few privates, rehearsals with Stephen, floor trial and performance after a grand total of a few hours over 5 days of training for that routine.  I’d say it went pretty well for the context.  It gave us the information we needed to know what to adjust before the big day… in our head because we could only meet on the Thursday of The Open. Loll.  You got to love the rush!

I went home for 36h (had a glass of wine with mystery Hinge man) and left for Philadelphia to train with Aaron.  We had a few hours between workshops I gave, private lessons we both had, leaving for DCSX where we had some coaching down, I taught some more, judged a few comps, competed and finaled in Champion JnJ and Strictly.  We also had the opportunity to see a basketball match live in the VIP section.  Freaking loved it (also sent tons of videos to mystery man who loves basketball)!

And there it was, the most expected weekend of the year for most of us: The Open.  After consulting with friends I trust and having hard discussions, we decided to scratch the showcase routine with Aaron.  My friends basically told me: you were right he’s extremely talented, you could run it, but your routine is not quite ready yet and it’d be better to leave a great first impression than an ok one.  Aaron was glad to also have a first year at The Open to be an observer soak in the vibe and feel more ready for when the moment will be right.  Stephen and I performed in Classic on Saturday.  I say performed and not competed because our intention was wildly different.  Not only we knew that a total of maybe 14 hours (with many curve balls thrown at us), was not quite enough to do something highly competitive, but also because we wanted to present something that was us.  A feel good routine.  Something you want to watch with a hot cocoa, wrapped in a big blanket.  A window into some other people’s inner world.  And we did just that.  I’m really proud of the results and especially proud of the fact that it inspired other artists around us and, for me, that’s one of the highest compliment… along with people writing me that it was their young kids’ favorite routine!!!

Stephen and I’s routine:

We rented a huge Airbnb by the beach with Stephen, Jacinda, Aaron, Brad, Jerome, Alyssa and Sean to get some rest and reset before TAP.  How did I rest?  By going to a silks` class, copying cabaret liftwork with Aaron and partying for Alyssa’s birthday.  It started all nice and fun until a party bus was called at 11pm and we got taken to a random karaoke bar and… the next day was hard.  Just thinking about it, I’m getting tired.  Another honorable mention for me who traumatized the young adult boy partying next door.

TAP came along and I did the classic mistake I often do: party like an animal and stay on the dancefloor until 6am on the Friday because I’m so excited to be there and then be completely trash for the Saturday night. A classic, loll.  I have to admit I was really sad about not making finals and being able to dance with my peers in strictly.  I don’t know why, but TAP is the only event that gives me that feeling: it’s like being left out.  I did have the chance to do a smooth demo with Joel Torgeson for the Invitational.  I also took a few privates which triggered some fire and interest in me that I hadn’t felt in a while.

I came back to Montreal on the 5th of December and got my wisdom teeth removed the next day.  Never too old to get wise!  NO, but seriously, the entire month of November, while I was in the States and gearing towards The Open, I had a tooth infection, got some antibiotics that knocked me out and was just in pain the whole time.  The extraction went really poorly, I had to take two sets of antibiotics, my jaw was so locked I couldn’t open my mouth, I couldn’t eat, I’m allergic to all anti-inflammatories so I was in pain, I couldn’t eat for a week, couldn’t work for two… it was a mess.  All the while mystery man came over (there is a specific reason I manage to swallow my pride and let him see me like this so early on, but I won’t get into it now) petted my hair while holding an ice pack in my face and talking to me for two hours since I couldn’t speak.  That’ll accelerate the bonding process…

Besides that mess to end 2023 kind of how it started, I had a great holiday season, got to see my friends and my family in Montreal, went to a fun chalet for the New Year (first year in a long time that I’m not working an event at that time, it felt kind of nice!) and spend quality time with everybody before my crazy winter schedule started.  I am now teaching every evening between pole dancing, aerial art, yoga, wcs group and private lessons of different levels at different locations, and I am gone most every weekends for different gigs.  I already miss seeing my people.  Once everything is settled and my life has a bit more of a rebuilt, I will free at least a weekend a month and an evening a week so I can have a social life with “normal” people. ;-)

I’m excited for what’s to come, but I also need a solid nap and some healthy food.  Help!

[pink-booty-butts]

English Muffins (Jamie Winton x Reader)

(sorry for the repost, i got worried this was horrible and deleted it. but it’s back now!)

Pairing: Jamie Winton x Reader

Word Count: 1,337

Summary: you eat too many english muffins and jamie intervenes

Warnings: mentions of reader having anxiety and being a workaholic, but that’s about it. comfort/fluff, i think? not proof-read.

A/N: i went to eat my comfort food and i thought of this lol. as far as im aware english muffins aren’t very popular in the uk, but this is my fic so that’s what we’re doing haha. so sorry if jamie is ooc! but i hope you enjoy!!

---

The first thing Jamie noticed when he walked into the kitchen after work was the suspiciously half-empty bag of english muffins next to the toaster oven. Perhaps to anyone else this would not be noteworthy, but Jamie is much more aware of your emotional dependance on this form of bread than you yourself are.

Back when the two of you were dating, he noticed that you always had a bag of them in your kitchen, right next to the toaster. When he first spent the night, he assumed that due to seeing them so frequently you ate in them in the morning for breakfast. He was wrong, of course, and later learned that you eat them at random intervals throughout the day, most often at night since that is when you seem to be the most alert. A few times, he even caught you partaking in your little routine of making them. You’d separate the muffin with your thumbs, and typically frown when the sides are uneven due to your lack of using a knife. Then you would lightly toast them—checking them frequently due to lack of trust of your toaster—slather a light amount of butter on each one, and pop them back in the toaster for a second or two to make sure the butter melts. You’d eat them almost immediately, and on days when you didn’t outright smile after eating them, at the very least your mood seemed to improve considerably.

Your ritual only ever took a few minutes, and normally it was nothing to worry about. Jamie understood a thing or two about the anxieties of every day life, and if anything he was glad you had something that brought you comfort so reliably. He was actually so on board with it, in fact, that sometimes he’d buy them for you when he came to visit you at your place, knowing you tend to forget things easily. Since the two of you began living together, he made sure to always buy them whenever he goes grocery shopping for the two of you. You don’t even eat them every day, of course, but Jamie always thought it was best to have them around just in case. It was only problematic when you began eating more than one a day.

The half-empty bag raises alarms because he just bought that bag yesterday, and he remembered seeing one muffin remaining from the previous bag when he put the groceries away. That means that you had eaten at least four english muffins since then, causing a look of worry to pass over Jamie’s face. He takes his jacket off and loosens his tie, intent on finding you and figuring out what’s wrong.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, seeing as you’re currently hunched over your laptop in your office. You are typing furiously, your eyes darting back and forth trying to get your brain to keep up with the words flowing into your head. You didn’t notice Jamie open the door due being so engrossed in your work and blasting music into your eardrums. Jamie hated interrupting you while you were working, knowing it messed with your flow, but you look like you’ve been overworking yourself so he thinks it’s best to intervene. He walks up to you slowly, kneeling down to be at eye level with you in the chair that you are currently cross-legged in. You glance at him, and he pulls one of your earbuds out.

“Hey,” he smiles. He looks at you lovingly, placing a hand on your forearm in an attempt to comfort you. He then turns his head slightly to look at your computer screen, before looking back at you. “What are you working on?”

You bite your lip, looking at him with nervous eyes. “Um, my new book,” you get out, before berating yourself. He already knows that! “Uhh, it’s the second to last chapter of the second act. When the aliens show up,” you explain. Assuming Jamie will want to continue your usual after-work conversation, you lean back in your chair and start massaging your hands while awaiting his response. You flinch slightly while doing so, not having realized how sore your hands are from typing non-stop. You continue, knowing that if you keep massaging them the pain will die down and you will be able to start typing again.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, eyebrows raised in concern. You tense briefly, and that’s enough for Jamie to know that the answer to his question is a resounding no. Well, technically you have eaten, but english muffins don’t provide anywhere near enough nutritional value for them to be considered. He grabs one of your hands, and stands up. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” he grins, “We haven’t gone out in a while, both of us being busy with work and all.”

Your eyes widen in excitement, wanting to say yes, but then you see your calendar out of the corner of your eye. You deflate, seeing the big red circle around the due date for your rough draft. “I can’t,” you sigh, not wanting to look at his—most likely—disappointed face. “I need to finish this part by tonight, or I’ll never finish this rough draft on time.”  

Jamie frowns, not enjoying the sight of you being so stressed out. He wants nothing more than to fix all of your problems, but he’d never want to get in between you and your work. No matter how much it ails you, you love writing and he would never dream of taking that away from you. However, he will not under any circumstances allow you to drive yourself into the ground like this. As such, he decides to speak up. “I know how much this means to you,” he says, gesturing to the laptop. “But don’t you think you deserve a break? You’ve been working yourself too hard these past few days.” He kneels down in front of you, taking your tired hands in his. “I love you so much, and I hate seeing you like this. Can’t you ask for an extension?” Jamie sees you are about to protest, and quickly cuts you off by resuming speaking. “I know you’re worried about it. But you’ve never asked for one the whole time I’ve known you. Your last three books all did great, so it’s not like we need the money. Surely that gives you some leeway to take a little longer,” he explains, nervous that you might be upset at him for his request.

You don’t say anything for a moment, mulling over his words. You frown slightly at the truth of them. “…Never? Really?” you question, slightly embarrassed with yourself. “Am I really that bad?” you chuckle.

He laughs with you, relieved you aren’t upset with him. “Yes, really,” he teases. “Remember when you had that fever? I had to hide your laptop so you could rest, and even then you kept insisting on looking for it.”

You snort at this, recalling the memory. You look back at your laptop, and then back down at your hands. Jamie is rubbing soft circles into them, but you can still feel the ache from your obsessive typing over the past few days. “Yeah, you’re right,” you admit. Jamie can practically see the weight lift off your shoulders when you say this, and he almost tears up knowing you haven’t allowed yourself to relax for a while now. “I’ll email my editor and then we can go.”

Jamie gives you a quick kiss on the lips, excited about going out to dinner with you. “Perfect,” he grins. He stands up and lets go of your hands, but not before giving you another kiss on the forehead. “I’ll get changed,” he announces, while walking backwards into the hallway.

“I better not see you in there still typing when I’m done!” he loudly shouts from your shared bedroom.

You let out a loud laugh, and shake your head. “You won’t!”

[bangtangalicious]

fuck me forever | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: smut fuckboy!jungkook bestfriend!jungkook fwb!au college!au

summary: You’re busy studying but kookie wants to play. Really bad. 

warnings: sexual coercion, whiny jungkook...like really whiny. he is OBSESSED with reader’s tits, toxic behavior, manipulation, begging, body worship. a lot of body worship, praise kink, dirty talk, potentially dubcon(?) idk jungkook is being super problematic in this but its subtle, unprotected sex, lots of cursing 

word count: 2k

It had been a busy weekend, filled with late night study sessions, numerous coffee runs, and barely any time to breathe. You reclined on the living room couch of your apartment, typing away busily on your laptop, back against the armrest and legs out in front of you. Your feet rested comfortably in the lap of your best friend, Jeon Jungkook, who absentmindedly was caressing up and down your calves. You didn’t mind. Jungkook and you were quite touchy with one another when it was just the two of you. He was like that though. The campus fuckboy. You knew that neither of you were in a place to be in a proper relationship, and that was perfectly okay with you.  

Jungkook sighed, placing his own computer away. “Let’s take a break” He whined. You ignored him, too engrossed in finishing your assignment. If you had looked up you would have seen him pouting like a baby. He slowly slid under your arms so that he was laying on top of you as you continued to work, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly as he nuzzled his face into you and then turned to see what you were working on.

“Take a break y/n”

You chuckled.

“I’m on a roll right now Kook. Don’t interrupt me” Jungkook sighed. He knew there was no convincing you. He continued to remain cuddled up against you as more time passed. He began getting impatient, eager for your attention to fall on him.

“You’ve been working so hard” He mumbled into you softly. “I’m really proud of you” This made you smile. It wasn’t something you heard often, so you couldn’t help but feel elated at his words. You stopped typing so that your hand could gently run through Jungkook’s hair as you stared at the screen in front of you.

“Thanks Kook” You took a deep breath before returning to your grind.

Jungkook pressed his lips ever so slightly against your collar, barely leaving a kiss. It tickled, sending almost a shock through your body. His lips were soft and wet, and felt scorching against your exposed skin.

“I know you’re busy, but can I play with your tits?”

You weren’t sure you had heard him right.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me” You felt him smirk against you. “Please, I won’t do anything I just wanna squeeze them”

You sighed. You reasoned that it wouldn’t pose as too much of a distraction for you, and if it would keep him occupied until you finished, you were willing to indulge him.

“Okay” Not a second was waisted before Jungkook’s hand left your waist and harshly groped your breast, the fabric of your shirt crumpling with his touch. He moans softly, so softly that he didn’t think you heard him. But you did. You definitely did.

He props himself up so that he can use both his hands to massage your breasts, laying across you. You peer over his shoulder, attempting to continue focusing. He drags the collar of your shirt down the center of your neck with his finger, watching as the fabric reveals your cleavage slowly, before allowing him access to your bra. He keeps your shirt pulled down as he traces the lacey detail. His hands become softer now, as he uses his thumbs to rub circles on your nipples. He wants nothing more than to suck them. He wants you to suffocate him with them. He wants to feel them squashed around his dick as he pounds into you.

He instead slips his hands under the bra to feel the hot plump skin beneath them. He lets out much louder moan, not even caring that you heard it. He began playing with them roughly again, squeezing them tight, allowing his fingers to stretch and really get a handful of you. He moved them around, wanting to feel something more. His movements were almost painful, but you tried not to pay attention. What broke you was when you glanced down to see his big doe eyes peering up at you from between them, hands tight around your chest like he was holding on for his life, his eyes blasted with lust and yearning.

“Having fun?” You choked slightly as you spoke as his ministrations continued, trying to appear unaffected. He chuckled.

“I love them so much, fuck you have the best tits y/n. I think about them all the time”

“I always took you for more of an ass guy”

Jungkook finally stopped, getting up to put your laptop away. You didn’t try to stop him. You knew you weren’t going to be able to work now. He then dove back into you, this time his hands finding their way behind you and harshly kneading your ass, pushing you up into him slightly. You felt his hardening length press into your stomach ever so slightly, making your heart race. He began licking the top of your chest.

“I love them both.” He groaned, the vibration of his voice in your chest making your legs twitch.  “You’re so perfect. You’re so fucking perfect oh my god” He latched his mouth onto your breast over the fabric of your bra, using his teeth and tongue to get around the fabric so he could suckle you directly.

Now it was your turn to moan, heat pooling between your legs as you unconsciously bucked your hips. His tongue was running rampant against you, the hot sensation driving you insane. He opened his mouth even wider, pulling more of you into his mouth and sucking harshly. His other hand snaked down your body to find your shorts, beginning to pull them down.

With a pop, he left your breast, making you whine at the sudden hit of cold air on your nipples. He helped you undress quickly, then sat upright for a moment, just staring down at you, his eyes moving over your naked body like a vulture. He licked his lips.

“I wanna fuck you” He exhaled.

“Really, I couldn’t tell” Your sarcasm wasn’t cute to him. Not right now. And that only made you want to tease him more. Still fully clothed, he lowers himself back onto you and looks you straight in the eye, face hovering barely inches fro yours.

“Please y/n. Please. Fuck. This is all I want. I don’t want to do anything else. Fuck studying, fuck everything, I just wanna fuck you. Over and over and over again until I can’t anymore. I want to die buried in your sweet sweet pussy. I want you to ride my cock forever” He was panting almost feverishly. His words, while turning you on, were somewhat concerning, but you knew he was probably just really horny.

“Jungkook…not now…I really need to finish my paper. You said you would just play with my tits” You did want to fuck him. But the logical part of your brain was telling you to save rewards for when you deserved them, and right now, you had other things you needed to take care of that were more important than Jungkook’s raging hormones.

Jungkook looked like he was either about to start crying or punch something. His jaw clenched at your refusal, knowing that he had to listen but wanting you so incredibly bad.

“Okay” He exhaled backing away. “Yeah, um” His chest was heaving and you could see sweat forming at his forehead. He tried to look anywhere but at you. He swallowed, trying to get his heart rate to calm down.

But he just couldn’t do it. He pulled his shirt off and wrapped his arms around you again. “Please. Can I just…I’ll be super fast, can I just…a little?” His sentences were incoherent. It was turning you on how bad he wanted you. “Five minutes? Pleaseeee” He whined. You sighed, looking at the boy in front of you. His toned muscles not helping your decision making.

“Y/n I might actually die. Like I will explode if I don’t get to shove myself inside of you right now. Please please please”

You say nothing, moaning slightly as Jungkook kicks off his sweats so you can feel the direct contact of his tip against your wet folds.

“Baby…fuck…you’re so wet baby, I know you want to. I…I’ll be quick okay. Just let me get off this one time”

“Jungkook” You moan again as his hand guides his tip to make circles in your clit.

Something in him snaps, and the next thing you know his hand is around your neck and his dick is entering you.

“Jungkook! What the fuck!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Jungkook was panting. He filled you up completely until he was flush against you. He stilled for a moment, fearfully looking in your eyes for a reaction.

“I’m not a fucking toy you can’t just put your dick inside me because you’re feeling horny” You snapped at him.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry…I just…” He really didn’t have anything to say. You realized then that you were wrong. To him, you were like a toy. Someone there to pound into when he felt the need.

And somehow.

You kinda liked that.

You pushed his hair behind his ear and cupped his cheek softly. His eyes widened as you kissed him softly.

“It’s okay. Take your time. Fuck me as long as you want to”

“A…are you sure?”

You nodded, and to make sure he believed you, you pulled his face down in between your breasts. He groaned, gripping your ass again and starting to move in and out of you slowly. He made sure to savor every second he was in your dripping cunt.

“Do you know” He exhales, “do you even know how fucking HOT you are? Do you know what you do to me?” The obscene sounds of his slow grinding filled the room, harmonizing with both of your soft moans. Your nails scratched against his back as you tilted your head back, basking in the feeling of the way his cock goes in and out and in and out. Jungkook reaches back up to cover your  mouth with his. Kissing you tenderly, like he had all the time in the world.

He breaks away just to gaze at you, stilling his movements. You furrow your brows in confusion. His thumb traces the side of your face as his eyes gleam with adoration.

“I love seeing you like this y/n” He carefully slides out to sit up, kneeling above your body, gazing at your every crevice. “How did I get so lucky” He whispered more to himself than anything.

He stokes himself with one hand while the other finds your clit, driving you to your edge. “I’m gonna cum on your tits. I’m gonna cum all over you because you’re mine. Fucking goddess, you’re the hottest girl in the world. I could just” He lets out an aggressive moan, his hands moving faster, “So fucking pretty. So fucking hot holy shit” He’s going as fast as he can now, words falling apart as he whines towards his release, “So fuck pretty fuck all mine” Just when you think he’s about to cum all over you he shoves himself back into you thrusting furiously.

“Jungkook!” You scream. You weren’t on the pill, and he very much did not have a condom on. “Stop”

“No…no…fuck…you’re so hot. You’re so hot y/n please please. I…I love you…please I need you so bad. Let me please…say it…tell me its okay. tell me you want my cum”

You were so shocked and confused, but his thrusting was preventing you from thinking clearly.

Just give in You think to yourself. You’ll like it more if you stop fucking thinking so much

As if he hears your thoughts, he slows down to a stop and looks at you. “If you really want me to pull out I will” His eyes looked so sincere that you couldn’t possibly deny him. You shook your head.

“You’re right…it’s okay…it’s probably fine”

Jungkook paused, as if a realization just hit him and his demeanor shifted entirely.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

“Do you like it? Do you feel good?”

You nod. He strokes your face again, tracing your lips before biting him with his own. “Mmm” He moans into your mouth loudly as he hands push your legs up around his waist. “So fucking sweet. I can’t get enough of you” He starts making small thrusts, but forceful ones. It hurt but it felt so good at the same time. He doesn’t leave your lips for a second, as he continued to moan dirty things straight into you.

“You feel so good. So damn good. You don’t even know how many guys would kill for this. Best.” His thrusts get harsher with every word, “Pussy. I’ve. Ever. Fucked. My. Sexy. Little. Whore. All. Mine. Could. Fuck you. Forever.” His words speed up hectically, his body losing control as both of you arrive at your peaks, “FUCK, baby baby baby” He kisses your lips with a smack, “Say it’s mine baby. Say it’s only for me. Only I can fuck you like this.” He cries out in ecstasy. Seeing him so fucked out and gone turns you on and you feel your orgasm wash over you, pussy clenching down tightly, causing him to yelp. “Oh my godddd” You finally notice the way your bead is creaking loudly under Jungkook’s loud moans. His cum shoots inside you, filling you up in a way you had never experienced before. He drops down onto you, his arms on either side of your head and his face in your neck, softly nibbling.

“That was so good” He can barely even get his words out through his heavy breaths. His cock is still inside you, “You’re incredible” He kisses you again, softly, adoringly.

“Kook?”

“Mmhm” He answers between kisses.

“Do you like me?”

“Of course I do baby” He murmurs, clearly not taking much mind to your questions.

“No like, you kept saying I’m yours and things like that” He pauses to look at you.

“You are mine” He kisses your forehead, “I care about you. You know that. But I’m not proud of who I am. And I can’t drag you down with me. God, I would fuck you forever and ever if I could y/n. I would love you, I...I do...but I can’t. I’m pathetic. You deserve better” He sighed. Your heart wrenched. Looking at the boy in front of you now, those comforting eyes who were always there. Your heart swelled with emotion as you realized that maybe there was something more here.

“Do it” You barely whispered, causing Jungkook to tremble at the tone of your voice.

“What..?”

“Fuck me again. And again. Until we can’t stand”

masterlist

[princess-of-riviaa]

Punishment

Kinktober Day 5 Prompt: Facesitting/eating out

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve decides to give you a surprising type of punishment, but it’s just as effective.

Author’s Note: As promised in this post, I am writing all the kinktober prompts that I didn't have time to finish for October.

Warning(s): overstimulation, facesitting, riding, multiple orgasms, dominant Steve, spanking, bratty reader, aftercare, fluffy ending (who knew I could write fluff?), quick story that wasn’t beta’d, forgive any grammatical errors

Word Count: 1236

You’d been bad. Running your mouth all morning. Curious about how long it would take to get a rise out of him. The answer: 13 hours. As soon as he gave you his third warning and you disobeyed it, he forced you into the bedroom.

You’d been expecting something a little more… painful. Denied orgasms for a week maybe? Or watching him jerk off while you can’t touch him? Ohh. That would have been a hard one to endure—and a perfect punishment. But instead, he had chosen to have you sit on his face. You hadn’t understood it at first. Why would pleasing you be a punishment? But after the second orgasm, you figured it out.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cried out as he continued to move his tongue against your core in an unrelenting pace. Your vision still blurred from the intense orgasm you’d just experienced.

He loosened his grip on your thighs for just a second. The loud slap of the spank he brought down on your ass echoed throughout the room. It was hard enough that you whimpered. You knew why he had done that instantly. Pointing out your mistake.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you rushed out breathlessly.

His hand returned to your thigh, pressing you as tight against his face as you could possibly be. You had no idea how he managed to breathe with the way he was suffocating himself between your legs. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the physics of it all, especially when he moved his tongue like—

Fuck.

You were going to cum again, you could feel it in your belly. That heat continued to rise. Pleasure made your entire body tingle and your brain go foggy until all you could think about was the way his tongue perfectly swirled around your clit—

You moaned as you came for the third time in less than ten minutes. This orgasm made your entire body shake. You swear you felt time stop for a second as your vision went white. All that existed was this heat burning through you and the way you struggled to breathe as your toes curled with so much pleasure that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

And still, Steve’s pace never slowed.

“I can’t, sir,” you whimpered. “I can’t take anymore. Please.”

He mumbled something against your core that sounded like you should have thought of that before you mouthed off to me. The rumble of his voice vibrated against your core, making your back arch as you clutched onto those blonde locks.

He’d grown his beard out in the last few months. You’d thought it handsome, that it made the star-spangled man look more rustic. It revealed a hint of his darker side. And it was a weapon in the bedroom that he used as much as he possibly could. It scrapped against your thighs now, burning them and no doubt turning them a bright pink. Your skin had grown sensitive to it about thirty seconds in, but now it just added to your pleasure somehow.

“Please, sir,” you begged as you rode his face in an way that you couldn’t control. Your body responded to the overstimulus in a way you couldn’t control. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I’ll be perfect for you.” Tears ran down your cheeks now. You were so overwhelmed by the relentless strokes of his tongue that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

He hummed against your folds, only sending another blast of heat through you.

“Please—I can’t take anymore.” But it was like he couldn’t hear you. He was as relentless with your pussy as he was with any criminal that he faced off with.

He pushed his tongue inside you, twirling it in such a way that it put all of your toys to shame. It was too much, too good too soon—

“Oh!” you cried out as your hips moved against his face. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you came for the fourth time. God, this was such a terrible, blissful torture. You were past the point of words; you couldn’t remember how to speak.

He squeezed your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your ass so tightly it verged on painful. That, mixed with the pleasurable burn of his beard between your thighs, and the everlasting strokes of his tongue against you threw you into a fifth orgasm just a few seconds later.

When you remembered how to breathe, you realized that your cheeks were soaking with tears. This will never end, you thought, and it was as terrifying as it was tempting. The pleasure was good yet so bad. You were desperate for him to ease up on you yet never wanted him to stop.

“I-I’m sorry, s-sir,” you whimpered, struggling to get the words out.

And then, just like that, he stopped. The moment he released your legs you fell to the side; the comforting bedsheets cool against your back. Tears soaked your face as you continued to release quiet sobs and whimpers.

Within the span of a second, he switched from angry to soothing. He turned on his side to look at you, gently wiping your tears away. “I’ll be right back,” he assured you before disappearing from your line of vision. You curled up on yourself as your body continued to shudder from your endless pleasure. You’d never cum more than twice at one time, and now he had just made you cum four times in less than ten minutes.

As promised, he returned a minute later with a warm, wet towel. His hands were gentle as he spread your thighs just enough to clean your soaked pussy. You shrunk back from his touch. It was involuntary; you were too sensitive to be touched right now.

“Just let me clean you up and then I’ll be done,” he promised in that soft, soothing voice that made you absolutely melt.

You relaxed long enough for him to clean your thighs and between your sensitive folds. He brought the towel back to the bathroom before returning to the bed, lying on his side beside you.

“What do you need?” he asked calmly. “I can give you space if you want that.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to hold me.”

So he did. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. Your whimpers slowed as his warmth wrapped around you. He rubbed your back in light strokes. Your eyes felt heavy as you relaxed against him more and more with each passing moment.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked out.

“I needed to show you why you shouldn’t talk back to me.” He released a heavy sigh. “You know what I always say.”

“’Bad girls get punished,’” you quoted. He said it so often you were certain that it was his favorite thing to say.

As he continued to rub your back, he brought his other hand to your head, rubbing his fingers through your hair. You closed your eyes as you basked in his soothing comfort.

“You’re normally so good for me,” he pointed out. “What changed?”

You mumbled sleepily, “I missed you. You’ve been gone so long with your new movie. I just… wanted some attention.”

He said something assuring and apologetic, but his words faded into the distance as you fell asleep in his arms.

[mizunetzu]

can I request bakugou x male reader where femboyreader is smol, pretty quite and nice, and suprisingly are really ruthless on the battlefield and bakugou is just wondering where he got it from. Until next week bakugou meets his father's and brothers and all of them are tall and very manly men. But civil and nice. Hope you have a nice day,😊

LMAO THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

——————

Bakugou x reader - My Cute Boyfriend and His Tough-Ass Family

⚠️warnings - femboy reader, if that’s a trigger?

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Bakugou didn’t know where it came from.

One minute he was small and weak, wearing a new, girly hair pin everyday and complimenting one of the girls on their newly painted nails. The next thing he knew, he was just as batshit crazy as him during hero practice.

“Eat shit and die!” Bakugou flung across the air, sending a big blast over to (Y/n’s) location. (Y/n) sped away, dodging it with his quirk. He growled.

“Go to fucking hell!”

“Like hell I would, shit-for-brains! Suck my dick!” Bakugou landed on the ground, softening the impact with a blast pointed towards the floor. He stood there, a few good feet away from (Y/n). They were both breathing heavily, glaring down each other like they wanted to absolutely murder the other.

(Y/n) let out a piercing battle cry, before charging head first towards Bakugou and bringing his arms out to tackle him. Bakugou followed suite, charging towards him like a bull with his arm outstretched to deck him in the face.

They got closer and closer, Bakugou’s flashy explosions igniting in the air while (Y/n’s) quirk began to power up. Closer, closer, until-

“Times up!”

All might yelled over the intercom, and both students skidded awkwardly to a stop. Bakugou tumbled over with an angry shout, and (Y/n) sputtered, tripping over Bakugou’s torso making him fall to the ground as well.

“Get offa’ me, crossdresser!”

“I’m not a crossdresser, spiky bitch!”

“Your hero costume is literally a fucking skirt-!”

“Alright alright, young men! The battle is over, no need to keep fighting!” All Might awkwardly chuckled from the intercom. (Y/n) pouted, and swept himself off of Bakugou. Bakugou scoffed aswell, not even looking at (Y/n) as they both walked towards the observation building.

——

“Aaah! Katsuki! I’m sorry for yelling at you during hero training today!”

(Y/n) jogged up to Bakugou, gently clutching his backpack straps and slowing down to a walk. Bakugou huffed. There he went again, that totally insane side of him that came from absolutely nowhere was gone.

“Like I care, shit-for-brains.”

“A-anyways,” (Y/n) cleared his throat. “Do you wanna study at my house today? Or just...y’know, hangout?”

(Y/n) blushed as he ended his question. Bakugou stared down at him. If he told someone this was the same person yelling insults and profanities on the battlefield while fucking shit up, they’d think he was lying.

“(Y/n’s) house?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there before...”

“Sorry, did you say something? You’re not really the type to mumb-“

“I didn’t say shit, shittyass! Go die!” Bakugou yelled. (Y/n) chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house either.” (Y/n) sighed. Bakugou scoffed and shoved his hands further down his pockets. “You better make a good impression on my family, or they probably won’t let me hang out with you anymore.”

His family was probably just as fragile and dainty as him, was what Bakugou thought. He already saw the hugs and kisses and the “Hello, Mrs. and Mr. (L/n)” he’d have to choke out. He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

——

“I’m home!”

A woman’s voice echoed through the house as (Y/n) and Bakugou both took off their shoes.

“Welcome back!”

“I brought my boyfriend over mom! Bakugou Katsuki-the one I was telling you about!”

He heard his mom gasp and timper into the entrance of the house, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon. Bakugou was right. Dainty, fragile mother; dainty, fragile (Y/n).

Bakugou cleared his throat, suppressing the gag that was about to come out.

“P-pardon the intrusion.”

“...Ehhhh? (Y/n), don’t tell me you brought one of your little dress-up friends over.” A different voice came from behind both (Y/n) and Bakugou. A young, male voice. Bakugou whipped his head around.

“Haaah?!”

“Ooooh! Feisty!”

The boy, who couldn’t be older than a middle schooler, cracked his knuckles. There was something so familiar about the way he talked.

“What’d you say to me, you extra?!”

“K-katsuki...” (Y/n) whisper-yelled, wrapping his arms around Bakugou in attempts to hold him back. The boy laughed in his face.

Just as the boy was about to say something, an older boy chopped him in the back of the neck, effectively subduing the smaller one.

“Shut up! (Y/n) said he was bringing his boyfriend over! Don’t scare him away like we do all of his other friends.”

Bakugou looked up at the older one. He looked about his age, but damn was he tall. And muscular too. The boy from before may have been at least athletic-looking, but this guy just...

“W-who the hell-?!”

“Now, now boys. Don’t need to get so physical.” A deeper, throaty voice came from down the hallway, it’s heavy footsteps growing louder and louder as it came closer. A tall, well built man came through the hall, crossing his arms. You could clearly see his muscles bulge through his office shirt. “Did you all come back from school? Welcome back.”

All three boys chorused out a string of hellos. Bakugou looked from who he assumed was the dad, then the two boys, than (Y/n).

There was no way in hell they were related.

“Are-“ Bakugou croaked. “Are you adopted or something?!”

“Katsuki!”

His mother laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. (Y/n’s) mother was the only one who Bakugou would assume was, well, his mother. But these...men?

“You’re probably the only person who didn’t go running once they saw these boys in our house, Katsuki. A lot of (Y/n’s) little friends go running because Natsu teases them too much or Kaito and his father scares them off.”

“This one’s different, mom!” (Y/n) intertwined his hands with Bakugou’s. “Sometimes I yell and get all bwaaah during training-but he doesn’t mind!”

“Oh, well that’s good,” (Y/n’s) father ran a hand through his hair. “That explains why he hasn’t ran off the moment we walked in.”

Bakugou blinked. (Y/n) leaned in close. “Trust me, it happened before.”

(Y/n) timpered off to greet his brothers. Bakugou looked between all 3 boys. Despite how built and tall these testosterone-soaked males were, the way they talked and carried themselves gave off the same energy (Y/n) did during hero training. Was that where he got it? From these...men?

(Y/n) was forced into a headlock, his brother laughing scrubbing at his forehead as (Y/n) groaned. He thrashed around, albeit laughing, and tried to pry off his brothers hands.

“Come on-I thought you were training to be a hero! Where’s your muscles, huh?”

“I could easily throw you into the sun, don’t start. You’re just jealous I look better in skirt than you do.”

“Bullshit! I’m sexy as fuck!” His grip was temporarily loosened, giving (Y/n) the opportunity to slip out. “It’s not my fault none of your skirts fit me!”

“...But you know who it would fit?” (Y/n’s) other brother, the middle schooler, turned mischievously towards Bakugou.

“Hell no.”

——

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Hey, now. That’s not very hero-like.”

“Yeah Katsuki! Not very heroic of you.”

“Murder is no good. You’ll get (Y/n)-nii’s dress dirty.”

Bakugou shook with anger as he stood in (Y/n’s) room. He sported a pink, frilly, strawberry-pink dress, that had small strawberries littered around it and stopped below his knees. His muscles peeked through the soft thin material of the dress, and the way he stood with his legs spread apart angrily was hidden under the layers of pink.

“Oh! Oh! Wait!” (Y/n) stepped into his closet with an excited smile. After a few seconds of rustling and shoving away hangers, (Y/n) popped back out with a matching dress on. His dress, however, had a baby blue tint with small blueberries scattered across the fabric.

(Y/n) did a little twirl. “Don’t I look pretty, Katsuki?”

Bakugou, crossed his arms, doing whatever it took to suppress the blush growing on his face. “Sure...whatever.”

(Y/n) happily stood next to Bakugou, smoothing out the crinkles in his blueberry dress and grabbing hold of Bakugou’s hand. “Tada~! We match~”

“You guys look like the strawberry and blueberry milk boxes I buy from vending machines at school.”

“Haah?!” (Y/n) gripped Bakugou’s hand harder. “What’d you say?!”

Bakugou stole a glance at (Y/n’s) angry face. Not gonna lie, he thought it was a bit attractive when he looked like he was gonna beat up his own brother in a frilly blue dress. He pursed his lips.

These guys taught (Y/n) well. If (Y/n) wasn’t as intense as he was during hero work, he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love with him, not the same way he is right now, at least. He felt sorta glad his family wasn’t a soft, fragile family of extras. Bakugou closed his eyes, and smirked.

“Yeah! The fuck’d you say to us, you lil punks?!”

——————

[reidyoulikeabook]

the battery was dead

Ship: GN! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mention of case-typical violence (more specifically, a bomb), told from Spencer's perspective and he experiences anxiety about reader having been harmed (they're okay though!), Spencer's self-deprecating thoughts, general mood of anxiety throughout, stressful team situation, big feelings of guilt, very much hurt/comfort.

Word count: 1.6k (i did not intend for this to be this long but it's basically a whole thing)

A/N: This is not what I intended to write today but my brain's on a whole hurt/comfort vibe apparently so here we are: something I wrote all in one go in about half an hour. Oops.

Everybody was in different places when the bomb went off. Spencer was with Derek, in an SUV headed uptown. The explosion was downtown. Where you'd been headed. Alone.

The geographical profile had indicated he wouldn't strike downtown. The geographical profile that he had made. The geographical profile that the team had trusted, that the team had based their assignments off, that had led Hotch to conclude it was safe to send you downtown alone.

"Garcia," Derek answers, putting her on loudspeaker and glancing at Spencer who could be pictured and pasted into the DSM-V as the definition of anxiety right now, "Garcia tell me you can patch everybody through."

"I'm trying," She rambles, her voice pitching upwards, "I'm patching ___ through now I'm trying their cell."

Spencer's leg bounces. It bounces so hard it's a miracle the velocity of it doesn't send Derek veering right across the road. He scratches at his neck. There are no words to be said. No words in any language in the world can describe the fear coursing through his body as he hears Garcia scramble, pressing keys and typing and he's only vaguely aware of Derek's hand coming to rest reassuringly on his bouncing knee, managing to still it just a little bit.

"___ will be fine," He reassures him, "Just fine. I promise. It's not your fault kid, you couldn't have known, how would you have known?"

"It's my job to know."

His tone is bitter, angry, and he feels even worse for it because it's not Derek's fault. Derek is trying to help. Derek is trying to be kind and somehow that's worse because he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anybody's kindness right now and he can't get your face out of his mind. How you'd smiled at him before walking out of the door of that precinct and how it might be the last time he ever got to see you smile and it was all his fault. All his fault.

His stomach is in knots. Garcia's practically smacking her precious equipment in her hurry and then the line goes mute.

"Garcia?" Derek asks again, "Garcia are you still there?"

There's a beat of silence and then the background noise returns, "I'm just trying ____'s cell."

What's taking so long? She could have tried by now. He's never known Garcia to be slow at her job and even though it feels like time has stopped. Fractured like a mirror, throwing off pieces, and he's trapped inside a piece that has all of the horror and guilt he's ever felt in his life staring him in the face. But she can work faster than that. Why isn't she working faster than that?

It all becomes clear as he hears her clack again. Then your voice floods the line.

"You've reached SSA ____ ____ of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Please leave a voicemail, or if you're calling regarding an urgent matter then please direct your calls to SSA Aaron Hotcher at the following number-"

"Maybe she's already on the phone," Derek suggests, cutting over your recital of his number, "Maybe her line's already busy. Right Garcia, is her line already busy?"

"I can't tell."

She's lying. Spencer knows she's lying and it knocks him sick. He practically wrenches the handle to the window off in his quest to get it open. The cold air pours in and he feels worse. He can't allow himself to bask in any feeling of comfort when you're God knows where.

He can't let himself think like that. He blinks hard, shaking his head as if he can physically remove the images from his brain. They flash through, his neurons defying him as they keep picturing you in worse and worse scenarios, and he can't breathe.

"Pull over," He directs Derek, wrenching off his seatbelt before Derek even manages to get the car in park.

Somewhere amidst all of it, Hotch has been patched through.

"We're convening downtown. Our presence has been requested at the crime scene."

Derek is saying something to pacify him. Or he's telling him something. He can't tell because his head is swimming and then Derek is squeezing his shoulder, physically pulling him back into reality.

"Kid. Listen to me. You're not helping anybody getting yourself all worked up like this. We need to focus. We've got to work this through."

He nods. He nods because Derek is right. They do have to work this through. Even though they would be better working this through without him because he's the one who made the profile that was wrong and his contributions clearly can't be trusted and-

"Put your seatbelt on. Talk to me. Let's talk through how it could have gone wrong."

Derek's voice strikes just the right balance between commanding and reassuring. It always does. So he does it. He clips in the seatbelt and starts to ramble, discussing avenues they haven't explored before, suggesting why he could have been wrong. He's never doubted himself like this before, and it's an uncomfortable feeling. What's more uncomfortable is the realisation he's never failed you like this before.

They pull up to the crime scene. Derek scrambles out of the car, but he pauses for a beat. It's only when Emily opens the door, that he's pulled back into reality again.

"Spencer," She says, "Spencer, come on."

There are SUV'S everywhere. They've tried to contain the scene as much as they could but they needed the bomb squad, needed paramedics, needed FBI.

She's walking him somewhere and he's frantically searching around him, frantically trying to orient himself. It doesn't help that it's dark, gone midnight by now, and the street lights were taken out in the initial explosion. Most of the lights come from torches, or headlamps that people are wearing. It's not enough, he can barely make out Emily let alone find your face in the crowd.

And then he hears it. His name. Your voice.

You found him.

"Spencer," You call, and he can't possibly turn around fast enough.

He barely has before you come crashing into his arms, cinching them tightly around him. He practically scoops you off of the ground, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he can possibly get you to his body, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo and there's tears coming out of his eyes, tears of relief and fear and-

"Spencer," You tell him, sniffling, "Spencer you're kind of crushing me."

You let out a little laugh, and he lets out one too. But it's puffy, practically just air. He releases his grip a bit and you lean up, your arms looping around his neck and playing with the baby hairs situated at the nape of it.

"Spence I'm okay, I'm right here," You reassure him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm right here."

You are right here. He can hear the pound of your heart, he can smell your perfume, he can feel you playing with his hair in a way that tickles but is so comforting, so domestic, so reassuring that you still love him despite his fuck up, that he couldn't bring himself to tell you to stop even if he wanted you to.

He doesn't even know he's still crying until he speaks, his voice wavering as it manoveurs past the lump in his throat, "I-Garcia tried calling you. You didn't answer your phone."

"The battery was dead," You tell him, "I plugged it in in the car and next thing I know I'm getting pulled over. I got brought straight here when I told them I was FBI and I tried to borrow somebody's phone to call but they cut off cell reception here in case there was a second bomb."

He swallows. He can't say anything else, can't do anything else. He manages to open his eyes, and you lean up, apparaising him. You thumb at the tears on his cheeks, a kind of softness and love entirely exclusive to you filling your eyes along with a couple of tears. You don't look at him like you're angry. You don't look at him like you're disappointed. You look at him with a kindness he's entirely undeserving of at this moment in time and the thought spurs two more tears out of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, "Spence what's wrong?"

"It was my fault," He chokes, his head dipping a bit, too ashamed to make eye contact, "I made the profile. I was wrong. I sent you here, I-I sent you directly into danger."

"It was a copycat," You tell him, "It was a copycat, he didn't get away in time and got caught up in the blast. Our guy is smarter than that, so they think this guy tried to imitate it. It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known, you can't profile a person you don't know exists."

The revelation is like foam on a petrol fire. It quells the pain in his chest, the one that had maliciously licked at him, igniting all his own wounds and insecurities.

It wasn't his fault.

He holds onto you even tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "Thank you. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being okay."

"I'm always okay," You tell him, your voice nothing but sincere, "I'm always okay because I always have you."

With that, the fire is out. You reluctantly wiggle out of his arms, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He's not okay yet. Not entirely. It all still feels surreal, and he knows it'll take a long time for his heart to settle down. But you're here. By his side. And that's enough for now.

In fact, with you? That's enough for always.

-

Permanent Spencer tagslist:

@ssa-m-187 @reidingmelodies @cyanide-mustard @shesalatesh

@sapphic-prentiss @geostarr @kathrynisadogperson @rem-ariiana @spoonielivingfree @starsandshit90 @spencerreidat3am @takeyourleap-of-faith @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @reidsnose @wheelsup @ellesgreenaway @sunlitspence @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reiding-recs @bauemily @cmily @retrxbarnes @jhillio @txmhoelland @spenxerslut @amoeebaa @veridianluv @sad-bitch-h0ur @reidtome @converse-spence @randomfavtingswall @bethc54 @sebstan-is-the-man @justanothercrazyfangirl @eli-side-blog @vntgreid @reidmeastory @reidemandweep @ggublerss @s1lverhand @cigarette-day-dread @newtmyheart @i-understood-that-reference @willowrose99 @v-is-obsessive @awesomebooklover17 @youarethereasonimsmiling @xhopingthis-worksx @agentdilf @spencerreidsconverse @nomajdetective @brown-eyedshell @randomficsandshit @bvttercupbby @thatsonezesty13 @spookydrreid @kurtuinna @loverboyspence @jswessie187 @sammicabrera @idontwantyourcookiesthanks @sweetandsunny @reidstulips @midnightstan @stylesstreet @iamhowieson @reichelhache @screennamealreadyused @joyclubie @mrs-dr-reid @measure-in-pain @slaytherinthoughts @inlovewprentiss @citlalireedus @love-you-to-saturn @drayshadow @makailaa @idonotexiste @hercleverboy @disasterwriter @kuolonsyoja @thosecriminalminds @sun-flower-seed @singularityjc @adanae91 @uwu-queen-420 @broken-stardust

Link to join tagslist!

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #1

Prompts: 

19. Elegant

12. “I gotta admit I’m a little surprised”

(Mafia AU) Vil x Reader

Summery: Vil takes you with him on a “business trip” and you talk to Cater Diamond about the names of alcohol. Specifically, the drink you ordered.

TW: Alcohol; suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 2,508

A note from Fel:  I don’t speak a lick of French, so I apologize if the French translations are wrong (I used Google Translate)! So, I hope you can forgive me and that you’ll still have a good time reading it! Enjoy!

“I gotta admit, I’m a little surprised. I never thought someone like Vil would bring… someone like you.” 

Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing into an angry v. Your gaze shot from your drink to the man sitting across from you, a lazy smirk on his face as he widened the spread of his legs in front of him. He took a sip from his drink (a beautiful electric blue drink where a slice of lemon was wedged on the lip of the cup). “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

His eyebrows raised and a chuckle shook his chest. “No offense meant-” he leaned his elbows on his knees- “I just meant you’re much more of…” he nodded his head back and forth, seemingly trying to find the word he was looking for. “Of the innocent sort I suppose? Though, I don’t think innocent fits you properly. Not with what you're drinking.”

“Drinking? What’s wrong with my drink?” You look down at the whip cream topped drink that you had ordered after Vil and Rook went inside a VIP room with a man (you honestly thought he was a child at first, he had such a cute baby face and the way his red hair framed his face made him almost look angelic- though your view of him was shattered when he had opened his mouth to reveal quite the no-nonsense tone dripping off of each of his words). You had a feeling that the meeting wasn’t going to end anytime soon and Vil had, afterall, given you free reign to enjoy yourself at the fancy club that this meeting was taking place at; so you got the first drink you saw another patron had that caught your interest. It just happened to be the one that you thought might have something sweet in it. 

The man- Cater, you recall- tilted his head to the side, his green eyes shining under the bright lights of the club. “You know what it’s called don’t you?”

You looked at it and back at him, your eyes squinting at him.

“Oh, dear, maybe you are more innocent than I thought.” Cater placed a finger against his lips, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “It’s called a Blow Job, darling.”

Your startled expression throws him into a fit of laughter. You feel your cheeks flush as you grip your drink closer to your chest, eyes darting around the room. “I- it still tastes good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” His shoulders are still shaking from chuckles and he wipes a tear from his eye before that annoying smirk crosses his face and he picks up the drink he placed on the table somewhere in the midst of your conversation. You frown when he stands up and makes his way around the table to sit next to you. “You know what this drink is called, Sweetie?”

You lean back from how close his face is- you can smell his cologne, something mellow yet expensive. You shake your head.

You realize too late that you have no more couch to scoot away on when your back hits the arm of the couch. You feel sweat pool at the small of your back when his smooth lips brush against your ear. “Sex in the Driveway.”

The tips of your ears burn in a blush. “Oh, fuck off.”

Cater throws his head back and another round of laughter leaves him.  

“Why do drinks have to have such weird names,” you mumble. Looking away from him and taking a sip from your drink.

“I don’t know-” he throws an arm over the back of the couch where you’re squished against the arm of it- “but they’re good conversation starters, no?”

You sigh. “I guess.”

Cater hums, drinking from his Sex in the Driveway before asking: “so, why did Vil bring you, anyway?”

I don’t know either. You scowled, tapping your nails against the side of the glass. “Didn’t have a babysitter, I guess.”

“Babysitter?”

“Yeah, Vil usually has these two guys watch over me for whatever reason- probably because I’m friends with him or something-” you suddenly stopped talking when you realized where you were and who you were talking with: a really fancy club, that had velvet red seats and a corner for rich old white men to play croquet, that was owned by one of the seven most influential mob bosses in Twisted Wonderland- Riddle Rosehearts- and you were currently sitting with one of said mob bosses cronies. You glared at him, scowling. 

He raised his hands shaking his head. “Hey, now, I’m not gonna go snooping for any dirt on Vil- they’re talking about a pseudo-partnership in there currently-” he nods his head to the heart-shaped doors that the three disappeared to earlier- “I don’t want to do anything to- ah- jeopardize that. Riddle’ll have my head, you know?”

“Good.” You say, taking another drink before continuing, “I don’t know anything anyway.”

“Oh? Aren’t you part of the Pomefior group though? They don’t let just anyone in without some sort of knowledge, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that. Might be because I’m one of the only people he trusts with helping him get ready.”

“Oh,” Cater’s eyes shined at that, leaning against your side. “So, you’re like his personal stylist?”

“Something like that. He always comes to my shop when he has time.”

“You have a shop?”

“Yeah, I own a boutique,” you smile. “Vil usually comes and commissions me for his clothes- always so elegant, you know? Really fun to work on and they just fit him. One of my favorite ones to work on was-” you blink, realization hitting you- “the one he’s wearing tonight, actually.”

Cater gasps, he places his drink down on the table, grabbing both of your hands and shuffling so close to you that your chests almost touch. “You’re telling me that you made that suit he’s wearing today?”

You nod, your cheeks warming once again. 

“He’s worn that suit more than once you know? I would do anything to get my hands on a suit like that- it complements his waist so well and the colors-” an almost squeal slips from Cater’s throat as he squeezes your hands- “divine. No one can take their eyes off of him when he wears that thing- well, even without the suit people don’t really take their eyes off of him, but- you get what I mean, don’t you?”

A small drop of pride blossomed in your chest, happy that convincing Vil to let you alter the color pallet had paid off. You nod, “yeah.” There’s a brief moment where you tug your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth before you say, “you know I do take commissions- I can always make you one for the right price.”

“Really?” He reminded you of a puppy in that moment he was practically vibrating with excitement as he half situates himself in your lap. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Well- again- for the right price-”

“No, they wouldn’t. This suit is one of a kind and I do hope it will stay one of a kind. Isn’t that right, my Sweet Potato?”

“I- Vil! I- the meeting! How’d it go?” You feel the blush creep down your neck and over your chest- Cater whining and pressing against you, lamenting the fact that he’d have to commission you something else. 

“Incroyable!” Rook declared from behind Vil (who was still glaring down at you and Cater). “Roi des Roses and Roi du Poison have settled upon an agreement-” Rook wiped an invisible tear away with one hand while he placed the other on his chest- “Belle harmonie.”

“That’s great!” You smile at the small group of men. “That means you guys’ll be friends for a bit, huh? How neat!”

Vil’s brow creased and his lips tugged into a frown- expression caught between concern and frustration. “Who told you-”

“Ah, you’re so cute, (Y/N)-chan!” Cater suddenly wrapped his arms around you causing you to yelp, your face flushing a deeper shade of red. His cheek pressed against yours as he began to chatter: “Did you guys know that they didn’t realize they ordered a Blow Job? I thought they were going to be all hardcore and sexy, but no- they’re so innocent- look at them! Blushing because of a hug!” He laughed squeezing you tighter. “You should really try a Sex in the Driveway next! It’s super yummy, also it’s so aesthetic for pictures.” Cater's voice dropped to a whisper when he added: “even special types of pictures- I have a really nice driveway we can take those pictures at, you know?”

You can feel a scream build in your throat when Vil’s voice- too even, too calm- suddenly cuts in: “I do believe it’s time for us to go. I would appreciate it if you would let my Potato go, Mr. Diamond.”

Cater looks up at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Ah, yes, apologies, Don Schoenhiet.” He lets you go but not before leaving a kiss on your cheek as he grabs his drink and skips away with a wave. “Bye-bye, (Y/N)-chan! See you later!”

You sputtered, feeling like you were going to overheat as you stood on wobbly legs and staggered to Vil’s side. Rook’s fighting the urge to giggle at the situation as the two Dons talk between themselves to wrap up a few loose ends before they nod at one another and Vil is dragging you out the door by your elbow. 

The blast of cool air that blasted against your face as the doors opened pulled a quiet gasp from you. Vil still dragging you by the elbow, his expression fixed on the sleek, black limo that waited in front, a boy with purple hair leaning against the side of it. Rook waves to Epel and he nods, opening the door for the three of you. Well, you thought it was going to be for the three of you, instead you watched as Rook waved at you through the tinted window once the door shut and followed Epel up to the front of the car. 

You chewed on your lip, patting your lap as silence took up the space between you and Vil. He had his legs cross as well as his arms, glaring down at you. You looked up, with a sheepish smile. “So, the meeting went good, right?”

“It went amazing.”

“That’s good.”

The silence was beginning to seep back in again and you went back to chewing on your lip when you heard Vil click his tongue. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” You felt your face flush.

“What were you and Diamond talking about?”

“I- huh?”

“My Sweet Potato, you know I don’t like repeating myself.” His eyes were unwavering and the sound of wind blowing across the frame of the limo seemed to be so much louder with the way the blood rushed to your ears.

You shrugged. “Nothing too interesting, honestly. He told me what my drink was called- which, I will have you know, was a complete accident that I ordered that thing, ok? I saw some guy had one and it had whip cream, that is it.” You rested your chin in your hand as you slouched to lean against your knee, a happy smile on your face, “and then I got to talk about my shop, so that was really nice.” You blink sitting straight again and looking at him: your eyebrows slightly knitted together and an honest shine in your eyes. “If you're worried that he tried to get some info from me about you guys, I didn’t tell him anything! It wouldn’t have worked anyway-” you look almost proud of yourself as you cross your arms over your chest- “I don’t know anything about what you guys do and I told him that to his face.”

“Anything else?”

You looked at Vil, tilting your head. He didn’t seem angry, more like… mildly annoyed? You weren’t completely positive, but the loosening of his eyebrows said that he was at least calming down from whatever set him off. “He… he asked me why you brought me if I didn’t know anything.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“I- I said I didn’t know either, probably because I’m your friend and that you couldn’t find my babysitters,” You chuckle to yourself, patting at your lap again. 

Vil blinks at you, before leaning back and covering his eyes with an arm. He sighs. 

You look up at Vil, concern suddenly tickling the bottom of your heart. “Vil?”

“What a silly potato you are.” You feel your face burst into flames as Vil shows you his face once again: his expression is raw- pure adoration and something that you never expected him to show you; the smile on his face is not one that is beautiful and perfectly maintained- it didn’t have a purpose- instead, it was soft, something so vulnerable that you could feel your breath catching in your throat. He leaned towards you, his hands finding your cheeks, he gently rested his forehead against yours. You feel your eyes flutter as you smell his perfume: apples and cinnamon. “I brought you with me because I remember you mentioning you wanted to go there.”

You gasp, an excited glint in your eyes. “I did, didn’t I?”

The smile stayed on his face as he leaned back. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod. “It was just as pretty as I thought it was going to be- but I like your club a lot more. It’s just so much more…” you scrunch your nose and giggle when you feel him begin to play with your hair. “More you.” You nod, proud that you finally found the words you wanted to say. 

He pauses in twirling your hair, he breaths a laugh. “‘More me’, hm?”

“Yeah! It makes me feel safe,” you laugh, “It’s like being surrounded by your muse you know?” You smile at him. 

Vil pulls you into his arms. You feel him shivering and you wrap your arms around, being mindful not to rumple his suit too much. “Never change, my Sweet Potato.”

“I’m not planning to!”

Another breathy laugh as he brushes his nose against the skin of your neck. Your skin warm with a building blush. You two stay like that: happy, content in each other's arms before he speaks again: “you’re not allowed to converse with Diamond ever again, do you understand me?”

“He’s a potential customer though! I have to talk to him! Also, he seemed like an alright guy-”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

You pull away from the hug crossing your arms, forcing your cheeks to cool down as Vil stares at you with sweet eyes. “That’s not fair. You’re not even my boyfriend.”

“I can change that very easily, Sweet Potato.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as you let out the most pitiful yet happy noise out of your throat. 

<The Next Chosen Characters>

Thank you for reading!

[altagraye]

Big Big Love pt 2

Quote:

"In her place one hundred candles burning

As salty sweat drips from her breast

Her hips move and I can feel what they're saying, swaying

They say the beast inside of me's gonna get ya, get ya, get…"

-'Love you to Death',- Type-O Negative.

Chapter 2: Heat of the moment.

Maia:

Day 1:

Even in the middle of the night, with the a/c blasting full on, my body felt like it was standing in the middle of  a heat wave. Sticking with thick humidity in the middle of June. My brain told me I was dying. I'd tried to stifle the heat by masterbating, the result being only a few minutes of relief. And when the relief had subsided the heat came back stronger than ever, snapping back at me like a drawn rubber band. Dean's scent on the sheets and his clothes was starting to wear off and that was killing me. I needed lasting relief and release. It had been a few hours, Dean giving me some time alone. I had heard arguments from below me, between all three of them. I couldn't make out what they'd been saying but guaranteed it had been about me and about claiming.

The shirts and jackets that had lost their whiskey, I'd tossed them on the floor. My ears picked up heavy footsteps again. The door opened, and Dean came in, with a plate full of classic spaghetti and meatballs. Near the light-switch he flipped on the ceiling fan. I was very hungry for more than just the food, he'd presented me with. He closed the door with the sole of his boot and came over to me, giving me the plate.

I graciously accepted, it had been about a week since I'd eaten anything, if you could call the slop my dealer gave us edible. The first stages of Heat makes you have a glutton period, or gorging stage. It's meant to fatten you up a little, to prepare yourself for a pup. He sat himself on the empty space of the bed near me. His torso aligned against the headboard, his long bowed legs crossed at the ankles, taking up most of the space on the bed.  To prevent myself from puking I ate slow. I thought, having him this close to me, would have exacerbated my heat, but it was starting to cool it down.  To break the silence I figured I could initiate in small talk. Anything was better than focusing on my heat.

In between gulps of red-sauced noodles I asked him, "introduce me to your pack, Galahad."

Claiming, in this kind of particular predicament, was going to be nothing short of an arranged marriage. So I'd better get acquainted with my whiskey-man. Maybe it was always like this and I'd just never noticed? He chuckled under his breath at my name calling and stared at the ceiling.

"'kay, first things first, my name is Dean not some not some dumbass white knight. The tall one is my brother, and Bobby is kinda like my father. And there's one you haven't met, he's a little different than us. Alright fuck it,  I'm just gonna say it, he's an angel." he explained.

I nearly choked on my food. Angels? That was a thing? I mean it's already hard enough living with the whole Alpha, Beta, Omega bullshit, but if "angels" are real then just how much is out there? Wow, I'm starting to sound like an X-files episode. The truth is out there.

"Excuse me?" I asked looking at him now, my focus distracted from eating, as I finished chewing and swallowed the delicious fork-full. A smiled formed on his Adonis-face.

"Yeah, I know. But he's real. He's searching for God or something, as we speak. Jesus freak. He hasn't been around as long as the others but, he's family, whether he knows it or not."

"hmm seems like I'm really outnumbered, huh? Thanks for this. It's really good." I praised him, shoveling another portion into my mouth before setting the plate down on the nightstand to my right.  I shifted my weight, and turned to my left, facing him crossing my legs like preschoolers' do.  Sucking in a breath, as I finished my mouthful of food, I asked him, "okay serious question. Favorites game, band, go."  A bright white smile formed on his face again, turning in the bed, propping his head on his hand, elbow against the mattress.

"All time? Or decade?" he questioned trying to refine his answer. My face scrunched up, trying to make up mind on which I wanted first.

"Let's start with all time." I said folding my hands in my lap eager to hear his response.

"Too easy. Led Zeppelin. What's yours?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the same giddiness as a schoolboy. My eyes wandered taking in his beauty, making my heart skip a beat but not from Heat this time. I was taking too long with my answer and got embarrassed watching him, watching me.

"My all time. Hands down, gotta be Fleetwood Mac. Legends." I said genuinely despite butterflies forming in the pit of my stomach. He seemed surprised not expecting that kind of answer. Sure it was pretty odd for me to like such an outdated band. That's a two way street. I could have easily said the same about him. Today's music with few exceptions had lost the finesse it used to hold. He must have been thinking I liked some hole-in-the-wall coffee shop band, that would have been typical of an Omega. But I'm just not average.  He leaned in a little.

"Really? Interesting. Into classic stuff. That's a pleasant surprise." he smiled gleefully.

The night went on and we continued to talk about sweet nothings. Things that didn't really matter but were icebreakers nonetheless. We talked about food and movies and sports, and things I've missed in the past two years of isolation. We laughed like crazy at sarcastic jokes, reciprocating genuine happiness. I needed this and so did he. It's like we were long lost best friends we never knew we needed. I hadn't laughed like that in years, the kind of gut busting laugh you can't get rid of. He too was content with my company. I got the feeling that he craved the momentary optimism we gave each other just as much as I needed it, like oxygen.

In that moment, I got bold and closed in on him. His lips being my target. His green gaze not leaving my face as I leaned forward, my knees making slight indents in the bed, my hips arching just enough. My lips met his, sweet Whiskey, I could taste it on him.  I felt my insides burn again and slick started to flow, dampening my underwear just a bit. The heatwave was back, all from a kiss. His low husked voice hummed against my lips, there was no doubt he had smelled my slick. Did I just send him into rut? Point one, Maia. I held on to his kiss as long as possible until detached from me, and I gasped catching my breath, panting.

I didn't have a whole lot of practice in the kissing department, so I'd have to learn to breathe through my nose, to make the kiss last longer. I could feel the smoldering, spreading through my core and into my cheeks, flushing them. His orbs glazed over my face and body, lingering on my knees and to my center which I left open, I desperately wanted to feel his calloused fingertips on my bare core. I wonder what it would feel like? His hand rested on my knee and the other clasping the base of my neck, thumb behind my ear dragging me in for another taste of my lips. Everything tiny moment of it was pure, raw, bliss. I wanted it to last forever.

However as quickly as it had been initiated, his lips had been raked away, he did not face me. He rubbed a hand across his face. Did he feel guilty? From my injuries? The weight of his body left the bed and my heart started to sink. His boots making heavy, guilt-stricken plods across the room to the door.

"Dean, please don't go." I begged. I didn't want him to feel horrible for the way his body felt. For they way his heart had fallen for me, so easily, so simply. Because I felt the same. He paused hand gripping the door-knob.

"I'm sorry," he spoke in the direction of the door, unable to glance back. It opened and closed, leaving the echoes of footsteps down the hallway and away from me. At first I was sad, and then anger festered from within. If I hadn't been weak enough to get myself beat, if I hadn't been an Omega, then he'd still be sitting next to me. I hate what I am. Lying in bed, without him, was so, so lonely.

Day 5:

The nights were the worst. All I could think about was his company and lack thereof. My heat had been unquenched. He would only come back to give me food and re-scent his clothes. My own had become so drenched in sweat, I'd took it upon myself to clothe myself in his red and black flannels. My bruises faded from bluish purple to yellow and were near dissolved. One morning I woke to see him leaning against the dresser, his legs sprawled out on the hardwood, he'd been sipping from a bottle of Jim Beam. How long had he been there? Not gonna lie, it's kinda creepy. I propped myself up against the headboard.

"Hi, stranger." I said trying to break the awkward silence. He took another swig and set the bottle down with a glassy clank. I rubbed the gunk off my eyes and raked a hand through my messy locks. He waved a hand in my direction,

"Mornin' Sunshine." I hopped my body to the footboard and criss-crossed my legs underneath the covers. A gasp escaped my throat.

"What happened?" I asked, concern clear in my voice. His lip was busted, among other bruises present on his face and forearms. I'm sure there were other injuries disguised from his clothing. His shirt and jean-pants had been ripped and what looked like slashed. Claw marks?  I closed my eyes and hung my head realizing what happened. This was my fault.

"Alphas." I concluded. I raised my head and looked at him for confirmation.

"Bingo, Stevie Nicks." he said through another stinging gulp of liquor.

"How many attacked?" I asked wanting to know just how bad it was. His eyes met mine for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Eight."

"Eight?! You fought off eight rut-ridden Alphas! You could've died!" I threw a pillow at him, expressing my concern, only to realize that was a stupid and almost funny outcome. He looked at me with piercing eyes and for the first time I'd felt afraid, like I'd been dangerously toeing the borderline with him. He growled at me, a primal warning. I sat back down on the mattress, in the burst of my emotion I'd gotten to my knees, nearly hanging off the edge of the footboard.

"What can I say? Guess it's love after all." he shrugged finishing the contents of the bottle with a loud gulp. I never thought he'd say that. Hearing him admit it was completely different from just touch and gawking gazes. He got up from the floor, the boards creaking under his weight. He stalked over to me. Cradling a cheek in his hand, admiring my face. Even in this short time together, the fact that Dean was willing to kill for me, was confirmation enough that, the feelings we'd shared earlier were real and not just rut and heat induced. I stretched my neck up to meet his lips again, tasting the liquor on his lips.

A breath escaped my windpipe, and I began to fumble with the button of his jeans. His hand quickly grabbed mine, possessively and with intent. He ended the kiss.

"Not yet, I want to wait 'till your next heat wave hits. Tonight." he vowed.

I tsked at his answer. "We might not have time 'till tonight. What if more Alpha's come?" I pondered worryingly, looking at his expression. He gulped.

"I'll claim you before that happens. They'll know not to step on this porch." he promised. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to my forehead. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you, again."

He walked over to the dresser and removed his shirt, his back was to me and I blushed from they way his body looked. It was nothing short of eye-candy. "I'll be back." he rolled his neck to break at the bones, relieving it's tension. He exited the room and I was left to mull over the situation. I plopped myself back onto the mattress like a trust fall, locks of my brunette hair falling gracefully onto my face. After all the heat I was nervous now that I knew tonight would be the night.

I'm not a virgin, so it wasn't like this was my first time with a man. I knew enough about anatomy to know that it was going to be enjoyable, judging from the test run earlier, it's gonna be seventh-heaven. The nervousness and the butterflies all came back to me. This was, however, the first time I would be doing it with someone whom I had a mutual connection with. With the sexual tension looming over me, over us, and the fact that we were Alpha and Omega. There is a high likelihood I'd end up pregnant. After all, that's how the system, the biology worked. Oddly I considered myself one of the lucky ones. Most 'Megas don't end up with a lover, and with my past, there was a darker side that I'd kept from everyone. I'm not ready to face that. Not right now. Tears started to well in my eyes. And I brushed them off quick, not knowing when Dean'll return. I'd have to tell him eventually, yes.  But I'm a one-thing-at-a-time kind of gal.

It's not like I was going to lie to him, not that I could effectively, but that scar. It's too deep to tell over bedsheets and moonlight. I let my mind race and escape as I turned on the TV, which perched on the dresser. I channel surfed until I found something I liked, King of Queens being a nostalgic program. I needed a laugh. The door flung open and Dean was drenched in shower water, covered by a towel.  He closed the door and trudged over to the dresser, grabbing a change of clothes. He let the towel fall to the floor.

Reflexively I turned my head, even though I wanted to sneak a peek, it was out of privacy, respect, and dignity. Why was I getting shy now? I could hear him shuffle on some clothes as he chuckled. Trying to hide my timid-ness while still keeping my head turned I asked him, "What's so funny?"

"Ah. It's just that I smell you, coy and modest now. But in a little while that'll go away. I think it's cute, is all." being done with dressing himself I didn't hear him come over to the bed, he touched my face turning it towards his, planting a firm peck on my cheek.

"And who told you, you could borrow my shirt? That's my favorite flannel, you know?" he said changing the subject, hopping into bed with me. He was pulling my leg. Being playfully 'angry'.  I laughed sensing his sarcasm, "I'm going for the Paul Bunyan look." my answer made a smile spread on his face.

Dean:

I stayed with her, spending hours, watching TV. Talking more about life, about hunting. Watching her fall asleep curled up into my chest on my bed. I was perfectly content. I kept my ears peeled for any Alphas looking to knot her. With the fiery orange of the sunset streaming through my bedroom windows, the time came. It was her fifth day like this, I'd been keeping track, if she went over seven I'd have to take her to the Omega E.R. 30 miles south of Bobby's place.

I let her head rest against my pillow as I got up to lock my door. I raked my wrist against the surface of it as an extra scented layer of protection. Meant as a warning to other Alphas, even against Sammy. I'd sensed that he had some kind of feelings for her. It'd been a long time since he'd been with anyone, so when he got the tingly feeling, he usually took it. But not with this. He knew Maia and I had more of a connection. I'd been with plenty of other girls before, mostly one-nighters I'd hooked up with. I'd never felt the kind of spark that Maia gave me. Not even with Lisa, it wasn't this strong, no where near. To me she was the one. And I really didn't want her to turn into the one that got away.

The fighting from last night, solidified my already existing feelings. If I was willing to kill for her, then I was more than willing to spend the rest of my life with her. I felt bad, looking at her from a distance. She was suffering, looking like she was going through a bad case of withdrawals. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her breathing  jagged. I wanted to give her relief. And it was most likely going to feel better for me than her. But I've got more than enough tricks up my sleeve to pleasure a woman.

I took my shirt off and stalked over to the bed, casting the comforter to the floor. My heart was pounding, in more than just my chest. I'd been waiting patiently for this, from the first time her heat hit, I'd wanted to claim her as my own. But battling with my own morality of the situation I couldn't bring myself to. Now that her body'd healed, she was mine for the taking. It's not like I wouldn't give her plenty of opportunities to turn me down. She still had that choice, I wanted this situation to be mutual, consensual reciprocity being of utmost importance.

I hovered over her 'Mega frame, the mattress buckling inward from my weight. Her body sunk in with the mattress. I kissed her, God, I couldn't get enough of that strawberry scent that she seemed to emanate.  My nostrils inhaled her and it was like I'd been taken over by her spell. It was pure magic, intoxicating- the sweetened sting of poison. I moved down to suck on her neck at the juncture of her jaw and her jugular, letting her catch her breath.

She whimpered from my touch, I let my hand slide under my flannel, my calloused hands finding her bare breast, kneading it good and slow. I wasn't gonna make this easy for her. I wanted to savor her as best as possible. Her hand raked through my hair, keeping my lips latched on her nape, where the scent was stronger. This is where I'd be claiming her.

A breathy moan escaped her throat.  I let my jeaned knee, coax her core, spreading her legs just slightly. After I nibbled on her neck a little longer, lingering, she bucked against my knee. She was starting to get agitated at my teasing. I hummed into her flesh.

"Patience is a virtue, sweetheart." I dismounted her to take my pants and boxers off.

"Fuck that Bible-thumper, bullshit." she replied.

Noticing this as an opportunity to remove her/my shirt from her body, exposing her beautiful bare breasts in a layer of sweat. She took me in, her chest heaving for oxygen, she stared at my throbbing erectness. Her chocolate irises were flooded with heat and the haze of lust. I smiled at her, " like what you see, Baby?" I returned to the bed. Her thumbs hooked around her lacy onyx underwear, " Hell, yeah." she managed to reply biting her bottom lip.

I growled at her actions.

"That's mine to take off, thunder stealer." I commanded, landing a kiss between the valley of her breasts, I took my time trailing kisses down to her middle, knowing this would make her frustrated. I kept my eyes on hers, watching her facial expressions and the rosiness burning into her cheeks.

I kissed and sucked at the skin where her underwear began, pausing to raise my head up, " you sure you want me? Last call darling." I loved teasing her, the thrill of the chase is the best. Pausing now was hard for me, smelling her slick soaked panties.

"Yes I'm sure, please fuck me." she plead. Feeling extra naughty I decided to tease her just little more.

"What's that? I didn't hear that last part." Her face immediately scrunched up in annoyance.

"God, dammit, Dean! Screw me. Knot me for fuck's sake--".  Yes, Ma'am, I thought to myself as I knelt at her altar. Letting my tongue lap at her slicked underwear, the action made her gasp and moan, stopping her mid-sentence. My member twitched when she mentioned knotting. God I wanted that so bad. I paused my oral work and took the elastic of the underwear into my teeth, removing it  slow and steady down her thighs, revealing her best parts to me. A string of slick followed. I noticed a scar between her belly button and her entrance, horizontal. A claw slice? I didn't think much of it and proceeded to pleasure my girl.

I threw the undergarment to the floor and opened her legs for my mouth. I nibbled, sucked and kissed her inner thighs, being sure to switch from left to right before propping her legs on my shoulders dragging her body close. Her strawberry scent, man that was strong enough to make me feral. I entered my tongue into her folds letting my mouth encompass her slick slit and she bit down on her index finger muffling a strong moan.

I backed off, licking my lips to speak, " Fuck, I could drink you by the gallon. Maia, there's no point in being bashful. So what if they hear you screaming?" I'm sure she was embarrassed, knowing there were others in the house. But fuck that, she's mine. I set her down on the bed, kneeling again catching her clit in my teeth, scraping my tongue against the nub as I inserted two digits into her slick ridden vagina.  She moaned with every thrust of my fingers. I made sure to curl them into her finding her sweet spot, making her moan louder and grasping for the sheets below her. She was tight, around my fingers, making my member leak from the thought of entering her.

Just when I felt her walls clasp down on my fingers, about to cum, I snatched them away from her center, making her whimper disappointedly. I positioned myself at her entrance, sliding myself into her to the hilt. I grunted against her breast as I let her adjust to my size.

"Fuck! you're so tight and wet for me, Baby." I could drown in this forever and not get tired of it.

Maia:

A moan exited me as he nearly removed all of himself from me, I felt every inch of him scraping against my walls so blissfully. He thrusted in his head bumping against my cervix, making my eyes roll into the back of my head. Ugh, it's so good! Better than any drug. His face was aligned with mine and I clasped my hand to the back of his neck dragging him into my lips. Crashing. Tasting myself on him. He returned to a rhythm, skin slamming against skin. The bed creaking loudly underneath our love making. I was far beyond controlling my noises, and following his earlier commands, I'd let it rip from my throat without caring about it anymore.  After a while of mind-numbing thrusts I felt myself clench down on him. Fuck yes. Just a little more. My hands gripped at his back muscles bracing myself for my climax. My dulled claws dug into the flesh of his back as I screamed out through my peak.

Sparks flew through my body in places I never thought possible. And the best part was that I knew it wasn't over because he hadn't released himself inside me yet. Boy did I want that, I needed to feel his seed inside me, his knot.  He prepared his teeth at my nape, ready to claim me, waiting for his own climax. When I felt his knot expand into my base, I wrapped my legs around his keeping him there. Burning into my deepest parts, he'd came and grunted into my nape. More sparks flew and I thought that my brain was broken from the electricity flowing through my brain. A jagged moan escaped me as I felt his fangs sink into my neck, drawing blood and releasing his intense, toxic Whiskey into my veins. This was it, no going back now. Mates for life. It felt so God-damn good. This was no doubt the best decision of my life. My mind flew to other worlds as he retracted his teeth and collapsed his weight onto mine, still being connected inside my core.

This is what passionate loving was supposed to be, I reminded myself, nearly thinking of my time in the Hole. A secret I had not yet been ready to reveal. Dean truly loved me, and I him. The day became night and he removed his length from me, his knot de-swelled. Round one complete. We were awake most of the night. Round one became round three before we'd fully exhausted ourselves, leaving his bed a mess with sweat and our juices. With our urges satisfied, we'd embraced the other nude, a sheet being the only cover from prying eyes. I'd fallen asleep against his chest, tucked between his arm and his side, wrapping my legs in his. This was the best and deepest sleep I'd had in years.

I could have reveled in that moment forever. I could have died and gone to paradise in that moment and thought my life would be complete.

*end pt 2

[shoutogepi]

Jealousy Has Its Perks

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 10.4K holy shit im tired

[  ✘ (nsfw!), ☀︎ ]  sin with a cute ending

themes : jealous,dom!shouto, brat,sub!reader, friends with benefits, degradation, quirk use, edging, overstimulation, general bdsm things, & a sweet lil confession

bio : Even though you’re not his, Shouto can’t help but turn green with envy when he sees you dancing on another man at the club.

author’s note : uhhhh can i get a hell yeahhHHH for jealous fwb trope? lmao my basic ass loves these. hope y’all do too <3

also available on AO3 here

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅂hinsou’s hands land on your waist, cold fingertips pressing into your exposed midriff and guiding your hips along with his. The circular motion has your head spinning, and you let your skull fall back onto his sturdy chest at the feeling of his semi brushing against your ass. Shinsou’s purple locks tickle your neck as he bends and presses his lips to your skin, sucking on the skin just hard enough to leave a ghost of a bruise. His hands cup your hips, squeezing the flesh there softly while his thumbs trace the crest of the bones.

The song blasting through the club changes, a novel and heavy bass causing your throat to vibrate. The sudden need to quench your thirst emerges, and you pull away from the handsome man regretfully. His lavender irises regard you with understanding as you point to the bar, holding up a finger to signal you won’t be long.

Your heels stick to the dancefloor slightly as you cut through the throngs of club-goers, and unsurprisingly a handful of guys attempt to stop you on your travels. Finding a familiar pink head of hair, you slip into the empty spot next to Ashido and let out a sigh of relief as your elbows land on the wooden counter. Perspiration makes the hairs at the back of your neck stick to your skin, and you fan yourself with a cocktail napkin as you attempt to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Not doing so bad for yourself, Y/N,” Ashido grins at you coyly, her words a tad slurred as her black eyes give you a once-over.

You let out a chuckle, painted lips curving knowingly. “Yeah, well… he used to have a crush on me back in the day,” you explain with a nonchalant shrug, finally giving your order to the woman behind the bar. You look at Shinsou over your shoulder, who has returned to his table of friends and is currently being shoved, high-fived, and noogied animatedly.

Ashido gasps exaggeratedly, her mouth turning from an ‘o’ of shock to a grin of delight. “Two heroes wrapped around your finger at once? I can’t believe you,” she laughs, perhaps too hard, because you have to hold her arm tightly to keep her from falling off her stool.

“Hey now, I’m a free woman!” You reason, thanking the bartender as they hand you an icy glass. “I can fool around with whoever I want, thank you very much.”

“Can’t argue with sound logic,” Ashido taps your glass with hers, throwing back the remaining contents of her drink. “You know, you should tap Bakugou, too. Last night, he Lord-Explosion-Murdered this pussy.”

You snort, the alcohol burning your nostrils as it leaks into your nose from the abrupt reaction to Mina’s words. All the pink-haired woman does is laugh with you, the both of you maybe a step past tipsy but not nearly blackout drunk. Not yet, anyway.

“Shinsou though, really? I’m surprised… I thought you were too in love with IcyHot’s dick to tap anybody else,” Ashido teases, poking your shoulder as a frown forms on your face. Her words are playful, but they send irritation surging through your veins. That asshole had cancelled your weekly appointment tonight, which is why you’re here at the club, prowling for a suitable replacement.  

You shrug again, allowing the bitter liquid to drift past your lips before you speak again. “What can I say? He knows how to get the job done, and he’s sexy as hell.”

“You sound a little smitten. He must be pretty damn good,” Ashido wiggles her brows at you, a devious smile making its way to her face.

You disregard her comment, looking away from your friend with an eye roll. Smitten? Your relationship with Shouto is strictly physical. But maybe you had been a bit too disappointed when he’d sent you that text earlier. Shaking your head, you take a gulp of your drink, willing the intrusive thought to disappear.

Ashido’s phone vibrates and you watch her face light up at the message. After a brief moment, she stands, collecting her jacket and purse. “Hmm, seems like Bakugou is calling for an emergency meeting,” she winks at you, flashing you a rather lewd photo of the blonde that was clearly not meant for you to see as she walks away. “Give my regards to Shinsou! I wanna hear about all the nasty stuff he does to you with that mind control quirk of his.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that, sighing as you cross your arms. Would Shinsou really be enough to satisfy your cravings? His quirk does interest you sexually, but it’s unclear if he’d be willing to dominate you like that. He always seemed like the type to go with the flow… and tonight, you really need someone to force you to swim against the current, so to speak.

“Shinsou, huh?”

Speak of the icy devil. The voice behind you makes your body still, your eyes widening at his deep tone. The scent of his encaptivating cologne infiltrates the air around you, and a hand slides around your waist, pushing you backwards against his firm chest. You swallow, your tongue poking out to wet your lips in anticipation. What’s he doing here?

“Already forgetting about me, angel?” Lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his hand gliding across your torso until it reaches the other side of your waist, grabbing there and spinning you around. He catches you as you turn, snatching your wrist with his other hand to steady your half-finished drink.

You look up into his heterochromatic eyes, noticing a new emotion simmering there. Is that… jealousy? His cold breath fans over your flushed face, and you bask in the cool relief it provides in contrast to the stuffy club air. “It was you who cancelled our appointment,” you murmur, feigning innocence as you look to the side in a faux-bashful manner, “I needed to find a substitute. A girl has needs, you know.”

Shouto grins down at you, but it seems like more of a snarl as his eyes glare down at you with hostility. One eyebrow raised in mockery, he chuckles lowly. “And Shinsou Hitoshi is gonna do that for you? Are you sure he’s big enough to fill my shoes, angel?”

Your eyes wander back to the intimidating man before you, lingering on the ridges of his muscular form hidden underneath his button-up and slacks. Feeling brave, you down the rest of your drink, tongue rolling out and over the lip of the emptied glass. Shouto’s eyes burn as they follow the movement, his lips parting slightly while his grip tightens on your waist. Shooting him a playful smile, you tug your wrist free, placing the vacant glass on the bar. “What are you even doing here, Shouto?” You change the subject, hand reaching up to tug on his slim tie as a cheeky grin splits your lips. “You don’t like to have fun.”

The action causes him to lean closer to you, his face next to yours. “I was dragged here against my own will, of course— boy’s night. But would you believe my surprise when I saw my little minx walk in, all eyes on her in her skimpiest dress?” His baritone voice loud and clear despite the blaring music, his lips hover dangerously close. The hand you’d freed strikes your ass abruptly, causing you to jump closer to him in shock. His fingers hold the reddened cheek through the thin material of your dress, gathering you into his chest. No one seems bothered by the blatantly sexual action in the club, everyone distracted with their drinks and their own sensual pursuits. “And then, can you imagine how I felt watching her grind up against mind-control, watching him put his filthy fucking hands on what’s mine?”

You let out a heavy breath, delighted at how responsive he is. How possessive he is. “What’s yours?” You challenge, hands landing on his broad chest. His expression makes you press your legs together eagerly, your body starting to bend to his will.

Shouto’s hand leaves your waist to cradle the back of your neck, forcing you to bend your gaze to meet his. “Mine,” he whispers, his lips inching closer to yours by the second. Your pulse pounding, your fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt, your eyes flutter closed. His lips brush over yours, and then he pulls away.

A whine of protest escapes you, and you shove your palms against his chest in annoyance. But he doesn’t even budge, his fingers slipping into your hair and pulling your defiant face to look at him.

“Let’s get outta here, angel,” he nods toward the exit, releasing you and lightly smacking your ass again before his fingers settle at the small of your back, “I think I need to remind you who you belong to.” Shivers shoot down your spine at his choice of words, effectively drowning the bratty response you were so ready to quip at him. Without even a glance at Shinsou, you allow Shouto to guide you out of the establishment and into the crisp night air.

The brisk walk to his luxurious apartment is silent, but laden with anticipation. Your brain begins to ponder if his words had a deeper meaning. The two of you had been engaging in this affair for months now— you aren’t quite sure how it came to be. Your relationship had remained stringently physical, but you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach when he held you through the night, when his hands would rub your exhausted body tenderly, and when he would kiss you for hours before you’d slip into a satiated, peaceful slumber. And you did not dare to acknowledge the warmth that would blossom in your chest when you’d drowsily awake, still swaddled against his muscular chest with his arms around you as sunlight peeked through the blinds. Physical, yes— your relationship is only physical… regardless of the fuzzy feelings that ebb through you when you’re next to him.

And when he had proposed to have you come over twice in one weekend, you’d nearly panicked at the raw excitement that coursed through you at the premise. After much consideration you had denied his request, fearful that if you allowed yourself even a shred of further indulgence you’d be entirely consumed by the captivating man. He hadn’t overstepped that boundary since, and you weren’t sure if you felt appreciative or disappointed.

Your train of thought is interrupted as you reach the tall doors of his apartment building. The complex is perhaps one of the most expensive in the city— the lobby boasts flat leather sofas and sleek wooden tables. Lush tropical plants with leaves as wide as tennis rackets break up the space, magnificent orchids dotting the area just sparingly enough, and to top it off, an entire wall with running water rushing over the flat surface, creating a sheet of liquid that trickles quietly as you wait for the elevator.

Next to you, Shouto has his hands in his pockets, a blank expression on his face as usual. But after months of getting to know him, you can easily recognize the irritation lingering on his handsome mug. You are not able to think of any words that could possibly calm Shouto’s crackling, brooding intensity, but honestly, a large part of you desperately wants to find out what exactly he has in store for you. It’s clear that he has no intention of forgetting you were about to leave with another man, and his blatant acrimony brings a sliver of joy to you while jealousy oozes out of his every pore— you know you’re in for a wild night.

When the door closes with a deafening click behind you, your body freezes as you wait with bated breath. Sure enough, two large hands curl around your stomach, coasting down your pelvis in a V shape. His long fingers nearly graze your clothed slit, but he changes direction at the last moment, instead securing his palms on your inner upper thighs. He rubs the flesh there roughly, making your head fall back against his shoulder as you gaze up at him. His smoky eyes are already on you, a smirk decorating his pretty lips as his fingers work on your sensitive muscles. Thumbs brushing against the sides of your panties, his movements push the hem of your short dress up along your hips.

“You need to be fucked pretty bad, huh, angel?” He taunts, analyzing how your ass rubs zealously against his crotch. His smirk only grows as you nod, your hand flying up to grapple onto his bicep. “Bad enough to drop your standards so embarrassingly low?”

You snort at his words, turning your head so your eyes catch his. This asshole has some nerve getting jealous after he was the one who cancelled on you.  “Shinsou is just as hot as you, Shouto,” you reply boldly, wondering what exactly the price of your words will be. How far can you push this envious beast? Will you be able to take his punishment?

Shouto’s expression darkens, allowing his hair to fall over his eyes as his stare falls to the floorboards. His hands leave your skin, and you whirl around ready to dish out another line, but he’s already a step ahead of you. He lashes out, yanking your body against his by swooping his hand underneath your thigh and cupping your bare ass. He lifts your body so your heels leave the floor, rushing to press your back flat against the drywall. He’s hoisted you up high enough to set your ass against the thin, tall table next to the door which usually holds his keys.

Your legs parted with him standing between them, he places his hands on the tops of your thighs. A low chuckle rumbles out of him, his tidy fingernails trailing up your flesh. “Just as hot as me, hmm? Is he really, Y/N?” His left hand jumps from your thigh to your cunt, the only barrier between you two your skimpy panties. The heat emanating off his palm catches you off guard, a moan tearing out of you as he easily cups your covered sex, sending a searing fever through your body.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips bucking instinctively against his palm, your body hoping for some kind of friction. The heat makes your pussy twitch, stirring as a cat slowly pulled from a deep slumber.

He tilts his head, as if he doesn’t understand why you’re breathless. “Huh? What was that?” He wiggles his fingertips a bit, enjoying how you whine as the ends of his blistering fingers dig into your core through the material of your panties. Your wetness drips through the thin cloth to coat his hot digits, making it easier to glide them against you.

“More, Shouto,” you squeak, panting heavily as his fingers rub along your slit at an infuriatingly slow pace.

Shouto lets out a low purr of satisfaction at your plea, savoring how your smooth leg tenses up underneath his other palm. Your sweet whimpers are music to his ears, his right hand moving around your thigh to meander toward your ass. “No, baby. Not until my angel answers me,” he murmurs, ducking his head down and placing his lips against the delicate skin on your neck.

A wayward moan evades your gasping lungs as his tongue ravishes your flesh, his teeth scraping over the wet skin. Your legs wrap around his waist, wiggling your body forward so your soft breasts press up against his hard chest, your cunt inching closer to his crotch. “Ugh— nooo,” you gasp as a fingertip presses harshly against your core, just barely pushing your panties into your pussy.

“No? No what?” He laughs darkly, his breath tickling your sensitive collarbone. He draws back from you, his intense gaze focusing on the other side of your neck before he looks directly at you, a sinister glint in his eyes.

Your lip trembling, the brat you’d been so ready to let free is for once taciturn at his dominance. Your submissive nature leaking out in desperation, you whine when his fingertip recedes slightly, leaving your panties barely inside of you without the pressure you really want. “No— Shinsou’s not nearly as hot as you, Shouto!” You rush out, heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall swiftly, restless for his touch to return to you.

But Shouto does not seem appeased by your admission. In fact, his gaze becomes a glare, his mouth curling into a snarl as he grabs your hips, crushing your body against his. “I hate hearing another man’s name come out of your pretty little mouth, Y/N,” he growls.

You’re shocked by his possessiveness, your eyes widening like saucers as his teeth skim your pouting lips. His proclamation makes a cocktail of doubt and lust unfurl in the corners of your body, but you’re torn as you wonder if he really thinks of you as his. Before you can ponder the meaning behind his statement, his eyelids shut and he smashes his lips onto yours.

Your arms are around his neck in less than a second, all thoughts vanishing as your nails scratch his scalp through the short, buzzed hair at the base of his undercut. He groans against your mouth, eliciting a moan from you in response. He takes the opportunity in stride, his hot tongue thrusting into your mouth as hot steam puffs out his nose, his calloused hands squeezing your body carnally. Your lips dance with his clumsily, your other hand cupping the corner of his sharp jawline and pulling his lips closer to yours.  

He pulls away from you as your hips begin to grind against his, his eyes still closed with his lips pulling back into a snarky smile. Your needy mewl of disappointment makes his eyes slit open, regarding you with a predatory gaze. He takes in your desirous expression, his stare cold yet sizzling with passion. “You let him defile your perfect skin, angel?”

The hickey Shinsou had left is barely even that— nearly indistinguishable from your skin tone— yet Shouto’s eyes make the flesh on your neck blister with his scalding intensity. Your cheeks flush red, his words fanning the fire inside of you as you bite your lip. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice, but now you realize it was foolish of you to even allow yourself to think his perceptive gaze would skip over something so blatant.

“This heavenly body is mine to mark,” he hisses, a hand fisting your hair and pulling your neck back roughly to reveal the hidden skin from the shadows.  The vaguely purple mark now on display in the dim mood lighting of his entryway, more steam billows from the man as he sneers in contempt. “And only mine. Got it, baby?” He does not allow you to answer— his mouth attacks the bruise, harshly sucking the skin while he washes away any recollection of the other man with ferocious swipes from his strong tongue.

Your back bows, your body wriggling in his grasp at the surge of devastating arousal that pulses through you. You shriek his name, hands clawing hysterically into his shoulder and the soft hair atop his head. Your pussy clenches around nothing, making you very aware of the aching need for him to claim you building in your core. Your legs snag his hips closer to yours, his body crashing into you as he grunts, lips finally releasing your battered skin. Without a doubt, the once indistinct mark is now more akin to the remnants of a punch to the throat, the colors already eclipsing into a deep shade of violet.

The lust crackles in the air between you two like thunder, your body a savannah ready to receive the generous relief of the first deluge in months. God, it’d only been a week since you last saw the man, but the unmitigated yearning for him to ravage you is the only emotion you can process.

“Please, Shouto, I need you to fuck me,” you beg, the words slipping out of you like a wet bar of soap from your desperate clutches. You’re mortified at your shamefully wanton admission, your cheeks still red and your body flushed, nearly shaking. You are not accustomed to this submissive side of yourself, but the brat inside of you only watches on in avid curiosity. If he doesn’t escalate this tryst fast enough, you’re afraid your body will fold like a limp noodle in his strong arms.

Shouto seems just as affected as you, his pupils dilated and his erection painfully straining against the confines of his slacks. His hands leave your frame, going to loosen the collar of his shirt by yanking his tie loose and then beginning to unbuckle his belt. You lean forward, your lips meeting his again as your fingers eagerly land on his cheeks, beckoning him closer to you. He moans into your mouth, fist nearly ripping the leather belt from the loops on his slacks, the metal of the snake-shaped buckle klinking loudly as he discards it carelessly onto the tabletop. Hands trailing up your spine, he tugs the zipper of your dress down your back, effortlessly lifting your hips in one hand to slip the garment under your ass and off your legs.

The inferno of jealousy ignites once again as he appraises your figure, clad in a matching set of white silky lace adorned with satin ribbons on each hip and one beneath the valley of your breasts. You’d worn this and Shinsou had almost seen such a marvel? Seen your delectable body in this gorgeous lingerie that he himself had never feasted his starved eyes upon?

Unaware of his change in mood, your lips move along his, begging for him to kiss you back as your tongue swipes his full bottom lip. His palms slide along your back, moving to cup your ass cheeks as he picks you up. You nibble on his earlobe as he swiftly carries you to his bedroom, his fingers jabbing into your behind in response. He kicks open the ajar door forcefully, unflinching as the doorknob nearly cracks the wall. Sliding onto the edge of the mattress, he sits with you on his lap, your legs still secure around his torso. His rough palms glide over your hips, rounding your waist and seizing your breasts, lifting the flesh to sit more perkily on your chest in perfectly round spheres.  

“Why are you so fucking gorgeous, Y/N?” He groans, eyes closing in pleasure as you feel his cock twitch beneath you. He presses his mouth to the supple skin just above the cusp of the bra, slurping and nipping and leaving a trail of pretty pink marks. “You’re damn ethereal, angel.”

You’re gasping for air, hips unabashedly rolling against his, the feeling of his strained length making your desire for him to fuck you senseless multiply. Your hands latch onto his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your mind spinning dizzily with desire and the prolonged buzz from your earlier drinks.

“Take off my tie.”

The command rouses you from your far-away state, your fingers slightly trembling as you work on the silky material of the tie. After what seems like an eternity, the knot loosens and the tie slides off his neck into your hands. Shouto’s lips cover yours again, instantly enchanting you so that you don’t notice the sleek item slip through your fingers.

All of a sudden your front meets the cool sheets, your lips ripped away from his. Instead your face meets his pillow, engulfing your senses in the sexy, virile smell of him. You moan into the pillow, ass pushing into the air as your cunt throbs between your legs, ready to be taken in whatever manner he decides. His knees land on either side of your hips, his bulge rubbing into your ass teasingly as his hands close around your wrists. Tugging them behind your back carefully, he loops the tie around the both of them and fastens the knot with a firm pull, jerking once more for good measure.

You swallow into the pillow, teeth poking out to capture your bottom lip when he trails a sole finger along your spine. He’d never tied you up like this before, and the concept excites you to the point that your arousal visibly permeates your white panties.

“Do you feel that?” Shouto inquires, rutting his hips against your bottom so his clothed cock rubs between your ass cheeks. He’s panting lightly, his palms groping your ass and pinching the skin torturously. “Can you feel how much I want you, Y/N?”

“Fuck yes,” you answer, your head turning to lay against the pillow so he can see half your face and hear your voice. “I want you too, Shouto— I need you.”

He sighs at your saccharine words, almost swayed by your submissive antics. If he gives in now, his cock could be in your tight hole in just seconds… But then he wouldn’t get to have his way with you.

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re desperate, baby,” he remarks, grasping your hips and pulling you down the sheets. He maneuvers you over his lap, and your eyes bug out of your skull as you assume position, knowing what comes next— he’d only done this once before but the memories of that night makes your pussy twinge excitedly. Your arms tied behind your back, your face dangles perilously beside his ankle, your forehead almost skimming the wooden floor. Your body is stiff, and Shouto hums as his hands drift along every inch of your back, ass, and the backs of your thighs.

“I wanna give you what you want, angel, but I promised I would remind you who you belong to, didn’t I?” His words are phrased like a question, but his tone implies them as a statement. Unsure what he wants, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

Apparently, that’s the wrong move, because his freezing hand slaps down hard onto your ass. A mix between a shout and a whine falls out of your lips, your fingers clutching onto themselves in apprehension. Your breathing picks up, ascending into a pant as his other hand caresses the reddened skin with a soothing heat exuding from his palm.

“Did you know I was going to be at the club tonight?”

His question catches you off guard, and you think for a moment before replying with a simple, honest “No.”

Shouto lets out a long sigh, his warm hand leaving your ass and making you tense in preparation.

“So you wore this little number thinking you would just show it to whomever you went home with?” Oh, that’s where he’s going with this.

Again, you’re not sure how to answer. Either way will be unsatisfactory— either you say yes and that would certainly result in a jealous smack, or you say no and he’d spank you for lying to him. You cannot come to a decision fast enough, and the next frigid slap across your other ass cheek steals your breath away as you whimper, your pussy clenching in sadistic delight.

“Answer me, angel. Or I’ll turn this flawless little ass of yours scarlet.”

“I bought it for you!” You blurt out meekly, your cheeks flushing with mortification. It’s not a direct answer to his question, but it’s more than enough to amuse him.

The warmth of his left hand feels hotter this time as it curves around your irritated skin. “Oh?” Shouto all but purrs, his brow raised in interest. “For me, angel?”

You nod, even though your head is below his eye level. “I was gonna wear it tonight, just for you,” you whisper sincerely, blush bright red as your thumbs rub over your knuckles in a self-soothing manner. Deciding you’re already deep enough into your embarrassing confession, you finish your thought with your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what you know will come next. “But you rainchecked, so I… thought Shinsou might enjoy it instead.”

Shouto remains eerily quiet for a moment, your heartbeat accelerating wildly as he leaves you waiting, questioning just how he will react. Your body jumps as his left hand swirls around your hips, his arm resting on your back to gather your ass higher across his lap. The neat bows on your panties unravel at your hips, the cool air hitting your swollen cunt as the material is snatched away and discarded. He forces you to wait for another dizzying pause, the urge to squirm in his grasp tempting but you force yourself to stay motionless.

Tears spring into your eyes as his palm crashes against you, his arctic hand causing your body to thrash in recoil, and a strong gust of chilled wind slapping against your dripping folds. A shaky breath escapes you, morphing into a distraught cry when his hot thumb plunges into your aching core, rubbing and curling against your shuddering walls with spite.

“I thought I told you not to say his fucking name,” Shouto jeers, taking his thumb out of you to rub mercilessly betwen your petals, spreading your abundant slick with ease. Coasting down to your clit, he smirks as you sob, your legs quaking.

Your hips jut backwards on their own accord, forcing his thumb to penetrate your cunt again. You moan at the stimulation, squeezing the digit and grinding so it presses against your velvet walls.

He chuckles, pressing the finger as deep as he can and savoring the shameless wails the action induces. “How can you look so pure and act so naughty?” He wonders aloud, his frosty hand trailing along your thigh as he works his thumb inside of you. “You’re really just a little slut, aren’t you? Fucking yourself with my finger so brazenly.” He sighs as he feels your core clenching around his thumb, grinning as you whine at the loss of the digit.

“Please, just fuck me,” you exclaim, turning your face to look at his haughty gaze above you,  “Make me forget about anyone else!”  

Shouto pinches your inflamed ass cheek, forcing another whimper to croak out of your throat. “Aha, is that your game, angel? Want me to fuck you so hard I’m the only man you see? Fuck this little pussy so good no other cock can satisfy you, hmm?” He maneuvers your body effortlessly, positioning you to face him as you sit on his lap. The smooth material of his slacks irritates your sore ass slightly, but all you can bring yourself to do is nod, your arms shuffling behind you with the want to reach out and touch him.

His hands settle on the apex of your thighs, rugged fingertips soothing the skin there before he lifts your body, standing and placing you neatly on the floor before him. Casting an innocent look up at him, you shuffle to your knees, arching your back to your breasts and ass pop out for his aerial vantage point.

“You know what to do, don’t you baby?” Shouto snickers as he untucks his shirt and begins to snap open the buttons down the center of his chest, revealing his creamy skin to your lustful eyes. Leaving the shirt on with his abs on display, he undoes the clasp and zip at the front of his hips, slowly unveiling the delicious V tapering south below his slacks. You squirm in impatience, eyes glued to the trail of fine, bicolored hair he uncovers as his slacks sag tantalizingly slow. His thumbs slither underneath the elastic band across his pelvis, lowering the hem just enough to show you the base of his thick, hard cock. “Alright, angel,” he rumbles, and you feel a stray bead of arousal drip down your thigh at his gruff tone, “Convince me you deserve to have this cock in you.”

As soon as he shoves his briefs low enough for his length to spring free, your lips drown his cockhead with haste, your tongue welcoming his hot, heavy tip with eager flicks. Shouto groans when you suck abruptly, your cheeks hollowing as you allow his member to drive deeper into your mouth. His hand landing on the back of your head, you take that as your cue to leap forward, slamming the entirety of his impressive cock into your open throat as your nose brushes into his abdomen.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Shouto gasps, his hips bucking into your face and shoving the tip of his dick into the depths of your throat.

Tears beading in your eyes, you refuse to let up, releasing a loud moan that makes his cock vibrate. Shouto throws his head back, his fingers curling in your hair as his hips recede, leaving only the tip inside your mouth and you gratefully take in a breath of air before he shoves back in.

“You take my cock so well, angel— fuuuuck, just like that,” he grumbles, pistoning into your face at a slow, deep tempo, the back of your throat caressing his tip delectably as a fat tear races down your cheek. Your cheeks flush pink and your chest tightens from the lack of air, but Shouto’s low grunts falling on your greedy ears has your cunt pulsing with need, your spit trickling down your chin. Shouto’s rabid gaze locks with yours, monitoring your wet eyes and your pleading pout as he speaks, “You look so beautiful slobbering on me like this, my little slut.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, humming on his length as you continue to bob back and forth. Your tongue lathering the veiny underside of his length, the promiscuous flavor of salty pre blooms on your tastebuds. Your head recedes back, keeping just the swollen head inside your mouth as you twirl your tongue in circles around him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth, and send him a closed-lip, coy smile as you smear the slick tip against your mouth. Shouto sighs when your half-lidded gaze meets his, your tongue poking out and curving to dawdle up and down his length.

“That’s enough, baby. Come here.” Shouto bends and picks you up from the floor, kneeling on the mattress and crawling toward the center with you in his arms. Your back collides with the silky sheets, your arms awkwardly stuck behind you with the tie rubbing your wrists. Shouto opens your legs, hovering over your body and making you suddenly feel small in comparison to him. Your cunt parts at the motion, exposing your twitching, saturated hole to him and sending a fresh blush to your cheeks. One hand propping himself up, the other stroking your cheek gingerly, he ushers you to look at him. He whispers to you, his voice calm yet enticing, “You want me to make you feel good, angel?”

“Please,” you implore, your voice hoarse and quiet from his abuse on your throat, “Please touch me, Shouto.” Your mind hazy with a lascivious fog clouding your senses, you can barely find the words to beg.

Even just his hands floating down to your breasts makes you shiver. Your lip between your teeth again, Shouto smirks at you as his fingers pinch the ribbon holding your bra together. Deliberately taking his time, he unravels the neat bow, examining how the silky fabric falls apart so smoothly. The bra cups fall to the side, exposing the smooth skin of your breasts to his feasting eyes. You release a string of mewls as his lips graze the marks he’d left behind earlier, darkening the blemishes with gentle bites. Tongue tracing around your areola, your thighs squeeze around his waist when the warm muscle brushes along a pebbled nipple. Pressing your lips together harshly as he sucks the pert bud into his mouth, your hips jolt against his. His hand kneads your other breast expertly, tweaking your nipple between his skilled fingers. The rough pads of his fingertips only make your nipples stand out more, scraping against you and sending your head spinning.

“You like that, Y/N? Want all my attention on you, don’t you, greedy girl?” Shouto purrs, your breast falling from his lips as he grins at your cheekily.

Swallowing another moan, your breath comes out ragged as you retort, “I could say the same for you, baby.” His fingers on your nipple press together in a pinch, eliciting a strained whimper from you.

Shouto chuckles, poking his tongue out to rove over your other breast, flicking the nub playfully before he speaks a single word. “Touché.” Drifting lower between your legs, his lips leave a wet path down your torso, nibbling and slickening your skin. His mouth littering your body with kisses, an artist eager to make a fresh blank canvas his own. Hot breath colliding with your glistening sex, he groans at the sight of you spread before him. “But damn, angel, can you really blame me?”

Without any warning, he thrusts his tongue into your folds, swiping vertically along your slit and dipping into your entrance with a moan, eyes closed as he relishes your sweet nectar. Your hips dig into the mattress as you struggle to handle the instant relief his touch provides, unfiltered noises of pleasure escaping you. One of his hands slides underneath your thigh to cup your ass and bring your body closer to his face.  

Every time Shouto’s mouth is on you, you’re reminded of just how good he is at pleasuring you. He alternates between rubbing his tongue along your silky inner walls and curling the muscle around your clit, sucking the nerve into his mouth and applying just enough suction to steal your breath away. Your body reacts to his touch naturally, with each moan summoned true and raw.

His fingers prod your sex gently, coating the digits in your essence before they slide into your body at a snail’s pace. The friction of his touch inside of you makes your legs clamp around his head, eliciting a deep laugh from the man that reverberates against your clit. Your eyes roll backwards as he begins to pump the digits at a reasonable pace, knuckles curling deeply in search of that plush spot that makes you fall apart underneath him. Saliva mixing with your arousal, Shouto’s chin is drenched in the sinful concoction as he continues his hunt with determination.

“S-Shit,” you choke as his fingertips push into just the right place, your thighs gripping his head so tight you think you’ll crush him. But Shouto doesn’t seem to care, angling his wrist to gain better access, lithe fingers speeding up as his teeth graze your clit. His vigilant eyes fix on your face twisted in ecstasy, minding how your pussy begins to clench onto his digits in desperation, trying their best to suck them back inside. Your heels dig into his broad back as your body begins to squirm, preparing for your first orgasm of the night.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Shouto pulls back. Your eyes fly open to look at him in distress, your lips parting with a gasp as your climax flees without a trace. “Shouto!” You hiss, regarding his sultry smirk in shock. This man has some audacity. “I was about to-”

He interrupts you, his fingers gliding back into your core without resistance, lips wrapping around your clit again. The sudden pleasure of the intensity stokes the mere embers of your previous orgasm with fervor, your head flinging backwards onto the pillow as your spine bows.

Your palms behind your back are slick with sweat, your hardened nipples cutting into the still air of the room as your body writhes on its own accord. Your thighs tremble ever-so-slightly on top of his shoulders, your eyes shutting again as you try your best to hold in your whimpers.

But Shouto doesn’t like that, his mouth abandoning your pearl to snarl, “If you wanna cum I’ve gotta hear your voice. I wanna hear you beg for me, baby.”

His dirty words send a new wave of humiliation crashing over you, your mind horrified at your body’s betrayal. Your submissive demeanor is by no means akin to your usual behavior during your weekly rendezvous, and you’re honestly impressed and shocked that Shouto had coaxed it out with such ease. Already you can feel the tension building in your core, your body happily receptive of his generous caress. Your chest heaves as you attempt to even your frazzled breaths, but once your focus switches to that, the pleasure increases exponentially between your legs. Your cunt quivers obviously, Shouto’s eyebrow raising as he shoots you a taunting look.

“I’m the only one who can get you so close so quick, angel. Aren’t I?” His mouth leaves your clit to speak but his teeth capture the nerve instead as he speaks, his hot breath steaming against your throbbing cunt.

Your chin against your chest, you nod vigorously, your hips inching closer to close the distance between your cunt and his mouth. Your fingers curled into fists against the sheets, your back sticks to the sheets with perspiration.

Shouto shakes his head, teeth releasing your aching clit as he clicks his tongue at you. “I said, let me hear you, Y/N.” His fingers pull out, the fingertips just barely inside as he rims your entrance, just enough to keep your pussy throbbing. He exhales, an icy breath rushing over your sopping sex.

“N-No!” You wail, your voice nearly breaking as your orgasm fades away once again. You were so fucking close! You let out another sob, tossing your head to the side in humiliating agony.

“There’s that divine voice of yours,” Shouto chuckles, nipping your inner thigh playfully. Taking his fingers away, his thumb replaces them as it glides over your soaked slit, dipping into your clenched core amusedly before tearing it away again. Your destitute whine only feeds his dominance, and he rolls his thumb over your puffy nerve gently, enjoying how your hips buck weakly in response. “Come on now, angel. Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Your chest jolts as his thumb presses down just a pinch, cruising down to rub your entrance brusquely. “You’re the only one that can make me so breathless, Shouto. Please,” your voice wavers as you grovel, eyes locking with his, “Please, make me cum! I need your touch, I need your cock, I— I need you!”

Shouto’s gaze flickers for a moment before he smirks, ducking down to kiss your clit softly. “See, baby? Was that so hard?” He murmurs, his words rumbling on your shivering pussy before his tongue parts your folds, driving deep inside you.

You scream at the intense bliss as his thumb works quickly over your clit, his tongue assaulting your velvet insides. Your thighs weakly tighten around his head, your body unable to stay still as the pleasure wracks through you. Lewd moans and swears tumble out of you as you grind against his face, thrilled by the way his tongue never tires. The pressure between your legs is back and faster heightening, your eyes flying open in shock at how astonishingly fast your climax is approaching.

“S-Shouto, I— I’m—,” is all that you can get out before you seize in his arms, your entire body spasming in ecstasy. Shouto only pins your hips down against the mattress with his free hand, forcing your legs to stay open as he continues to assault your cunt, tongue pummeling your tender core and thumb abusing your clit. You can’t even let out a moan because your lungs are empty— all that slithers out of you a string of shrill and broken cries. The pleasure thrums through your body from head to toe, your fingers and toes curling and splaying as sweat runs down your skin.

Shouto diligently continues to lap at your cunt, slurping up the fresh essence dripping out of you onto the sheets. When he pulls back all he can see is your blissed-out, flustered expression, and your nipples standing upright in arousal. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he tears the shirt off his shoulders in one swift motion. His slacks shed just as quick, he grabs your hips and throws you onto your front, your face once again in his pillow. “You came without my permission, angel. You wanna be a slut? I’ll treat you like a fucking slut,” he snarls, rugged palms coiling around your hips and forcing them into the air, bending your spine so your body transforms into a delicious arch.

Your heart slams against your ribs in apprehension, your mind still too woozy to make a complaint as his cock plunges inside of you. Your walls spread for his length welcomingly, your arousal and your cum lubricating your cunt. Your eyes roll back at the fullness— the stretch of him stuffing your cunt with his thick cock so delectably euphoric. You’re so wet that it doesn’t even hurt as he impales you, pleasure the only feeling coursing through you.

Shouto growls, your pussy hugging his length so snugly he has to take a moment for his head to stop spinning. “Fuuuck,” he utters huskily, sliding out halfway and inspecting how your cunt grips his slippery cock so desperately.

You cry out as he thrusts back in, the angle already perfectly locating your g-spot and making stars flash across your vision. Your body shakes as a palm cracks against your ass, more tears collecting on your lower lashes at the pain that hurts so good.

Shouto grabs the tie around your wrists with the other hand, yanking your body backwards to slap against his hard torso. Hands flying to your hips, he drills into you as he holds you upright against him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches, cunt trembling at the familiar tension building deep inside of you.

“You wanna fuckin’ cum already, don’t you, slut?” Shouto barks, a hand leaving your hip to hold your breast, trapping your nipple between his long fingers. The friction he provides is exquisite, and long, unabashed moans float out of your parted lips.

“Yes! Yes! Please— Make me cum, Shouto!” You howl, your toes curling at the sacred pleasure so close to peaking within you. Lips latched onto the claim he had laid on your neck, his teeth pinch your skin. His ragged grunts in your ear make your core clench around him, about to reach salvation for the second time.

“Do it, Y/N. I want my slutty angel pussy to cum all over this cock,” he commands, forcing your hips to crash down onto his so his tip jabs your g-spot harshly.

Your body collapses at his approval, cunt squeezing and fluttering and leaking onto him as you release a lewd scream. White hot bliss shoots through you as sinful tides of delirium pull you under. Your body trembles as the ecstasy pulses in your veins, your jaw unhinged and your eyes rolled into your skull.

Shouto pushes you forward so your torso falls flat against the mattress limply. His hips do not stall, continuing to push into your tightened cunt with determination as he drags out your orgasm. “Where’s my nasty little brat now?” He laughs crudely, slapping your ass gently and grabbing the reddened flesh, pulling your hips back against his. “Nothing to say, hmm?”

As if your brain is functional enough to form words. Your limbs feel like jello, wiggling with pleasure and shock as he advances his plight. Your throat is dry from all the panting, your ass sore underneath Shouto’s oppressive grip. But it feels so fucking good, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

Shouto sucks a breath in between his grinding teeth, watching how your ass bounces against his pelvis as his cock slides into your depths. Sweat dripping down his chest and along your back, his hold on you is tight enough to cut off circulation. His lip twitches as he recognizes his orgasm creeping up inside, and he groans as he pulls out of you abruptly.

You whine at the loss, but you’re silenced immediately as he flips your body and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is pleasantly soft, a harsh contrast to his rough hands which slide around your back and fumble with the tie around your wrists. His tongue pushes inside your mouth, searching for yours and caressing it at first touch. Once the silky material slips off you, his hands rove over your breasts, massaging the heavy flesh tenderly as his cock brushes along your slit. A string of saliva stretches between you as his lips leave yours, a hot, breathy sigh fanning over your face. “This beautiful body is all mine, Y/N,” he whispers, tip slipping between your folds and entering your cunt with ease.

Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of your aching hole being filled once again, but the pain makes the pleasure so much more enjoyable. His lips wander along your neck as he begins to thrust into you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses along your clavicle and down your breast, tongue washing over your nipple as his cock brushes along your velvet walls so perfectly.

The friction has your eyes nearly crossed, and the pleasure only intensifies when Shouto guides your legs to rest against his chest, your ankles by his ears. The angle allows greater access, his thick member reaching new depths that elicit a sharp gasp from you. His left hand pushes your abdomen down slightly, his thumb travelling south to flick along your clit lazily.

“Shit, Shouto, I— s-so sensitive,” you whimper, your hand timidly reaching out to rest on his flexing abdominal muscles. The sensation of him dragging against your g-spot so sensually causes your bottom lip to tremble, a tear sneaking down your cheek to land in your hair.

Shouto’s large hand guides yours to land on your thigh, and he tucks his arm so his own hand covers yours as he pulls your thighs closer to him. “One more, baby,” he moans, the thumb on your clit speeding up.

The extra attention summons that familiar build up in your core, a long whine falling from your lips. “I can’t, I can’t,” you mewl but your body says otherwise, pussy tightening slightly as your ankles cross behind his neck.

“I thought you wanted to cum, angel?” He uses your words against you as he sighs, hips picking up to ram into yours. He holds his breath as you clamp down on him, your sinful expression fueling his impending orgasm. “You gonna make me finish on my own?”

The thought of him blowing his load into you has you biting your lip, your hips shuffling against his. Shouto moans, thumb circling your puffy nerve even faster as he continues to pound into you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, the only noise to interrupt that your huffs and moans.

Steam billows from Shouto’s nose as his eyes nearly close, his abs flexing out of his torso as he fights to keep his orgasm at bay. His heavy breath and visible restraint convince your body to give in, and you weep as you sink into euphoria for the third time tonight. Shouto’s right there with you, a strangled growl mixed with a moan ripping from his lungs as his seed spurts into you, his cock twitching and balls draining as he falls to his elbows above you.

Your body feels sluggish as your limbs tremble slightly, the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain as your arms wrap around Shouto’s shoulders. His cold breath refreshes the moist, flushed skin on your neck, long eyelashes tickling your jaw as your nails scrape carefully down his spine.

When he pulls out your body feels incomplete, but Shouto nuzzles into your jaw affectionately, his hands sliding between the damp sheets and your skin to hold you close. He scatters sluggish, persistent kisses along your throat and up your jaw. And when he moves to your face, they only become longer and more intimate, gently guiding you back to reality.

You sigh in content as you lean in to capture his lips, moving sweet and slow against each other. Your digits amble into his hair, combing back the soft tresses so you can see more of his charming face. He moans at your touch, pleased by the soothing sensation of your fingers feathering along his scalp. His own hand follows your lead, fingers steering a stray hair off your forehead and gliding into your tresses to hold your head in his palm.

The pair of you continue to kiss for who knows how long, touching each other tenderly and savoring the feeling of skin against skin. Your lips melding into one, cradling one another fragilely as if you mutually fear the other will break without your embrace. You could spend eternity like this, high off his ambrosial, tender care.

You are the one to pull away first, knowing Shouto would keep this going until morning if he didn’t think you’d come back down from your high. Not that you would mind that, but you should probably clean up the mess that your passionate session had created— his release beginning to trickle out of you onto the sheets. As he pulls back, the emotions swirling in his striking two-toned gaze shock you. His brow is slightly creased as he nibbles at the corner of his lip, eyes darting around your face.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, sitting up and scooting off the mattress, disappearing around the corner of the bathroom door. The sound of water splashing in the sink fills the silence as you sit still, closing your eyes as the cogs in your brain begin to turn.

Oh god, you’d been so shameless tonight— you’d taunted him and he had made you fall apart and beg in return, bending to his every command. Sure, he had always been the dominant one in your rendezvous before, but tonight was different. He had been jealous, when he had no right to be. But is that why your heart is beating so quickly in your chest? Suddenly you’re anxious, overthinking as usual. This is just sex, right?

But then, why did you leave Shinsou’s side so quickly at the bar when Shouto had been the one to cancel on you? And then there was that, too— why had he just ditched his friends in the middle of boys’ night when it was the reason he cancelled on you in the first place? And he had clearly been furious at the thought of you spending the night with another man. Was it because he knew Shinsou? Or was it because he wanted to be exclusive with you?

Well, if he wanted to be exclusive friends with benefits, isn’t that the same thing as dating? Would he ever date someone like you? Wait, would you even be willing to date him? Do you want him to be your… boyfriend? Your eyes widen and a pink girlish blush emerges on your cheeks at the label. What are you, eight years old? Why do you feel so giddy at the possibility of him wanting you, for more than your body?

Shouto strolls out of the bathroom just in time to catch that embarrassing look on your face, but he only smiles sincerely at you and it makes you blush even harder. What the hell? You’re extra submissive for one night and now you’re thinking about your feelings for him? Wait, did you just admit you have feelings for him?

He clambers over to you in the middle of the bed, a washcloth draped on his slender finger. He leans down and pecks you like it’s no big deal, humming as his lips linger on yours just long enough to make you want more. Your body jumps at the feeling of the damp warmth the towel provides, but you relax as the feeling soothes your aching core.

“Was that okay? How do you feel, baby?” Shouto asks softly, watchful eyes gauging your expression as you look at him. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself, but, I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You let out a breathless, mirthful chuckle at his concern, reaching out to put your hand on his strong arm. “No, I’m fine. And it was… great. Mind-blowing, actually,” you smile at him bashfully, hoping it was just as good for him.

Shouto’s eyes twinkle as he smiles back, nodding slowly. “It was, wasn’t it?” He helps you sit up, maneuvering you carefully off the bed and gesturing for you to use the bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you look at yourself in the mirror that hangs above the sink, vision falling on the massive bruise blossoming on your neck. You sigh when you inspect the purple mark, but when your gaze floats back to your face, you’re dumbstruck to find yourself grinning like a fool. Terror and thrill floods through you at the realization that if any other guy had left a mark this nasty on you, you’d be furious. And yet, having Shouto’s claim on you makes you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.

Shit. Looks like you do want him to be your boyfriend.

You’re half expecting the reflection to show a stupid cartoon character with the way that your heart feels like it’s thumping out of your chest. Taking in a deep breath, you determinedly point at yourself in the mirror and breath out shakily, “You can do this.”

Exiting the bathroom, you return to find Shouto leaning against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to his waist and his fingers rubbing together awkwardly. His eyes on his lap, he almost looks anxious. But he notices your presence right away, peeling back the corner of the blanket and beckoning you to slide in.

Placing yourself stiffly on the side of the bed, you take in his confused expression. “I need to tell you something,” you say as steadily as possible. Man, that’s a scary sentence, even if you’re not on the receiving end.

Shouto’s lips part and he looks like he wants to say something, but he swallows whatever it was down and nods, his expression guarded. “I’m all ears,” he replies, placing his hand on the pillow in front of you.

With the spotlight on you, your throat feels dry as dirt, and you nervously shuffle, suddenly very conscious of your nakedness. “Um,” falls out of your mouth, anything to split the suffocating silence. Your palms are clammy, and your fingers delve into the folds of the sheets to hide your nerves. “I know this is gonna sound kind of lame, but… well, I um…” Shouto’s gaze is burning your face, your cheeks redder than ever as you will this humiliation to just end already. Sucking in another breath, the words blurt out of you. “I have feelings for you.”  

The surprise on his features is unmistakable. All you can do is stare at him, frozen in uncertainty but strangely enough it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A heavy one at that— one whose existence you refused to acknowledge until ten minutes ago.

“R-Really?” Shouto stutters, looking like he’s just seen a ghost with how wide his eyes are.

You aren’t sure how to take that response, but as soon as your gaze falls from his, his hand shoots out to latch onto your wrist. When you look back at him, a different emotion is painted over his face, one of… hope?

“I have feelings for you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, his own blush dusting over his cheeks. His eyes are soulful and hold nothing but candor and content.

Before you can process his words, his hands are rounding your waist and pulling your body toward his. A different kind of high bursts through you as his lips touch yours, joy storming through the both of you and warm, tingly static crackling between you. These kisses feel different— your heart feels like it’s about to pop, swelling with excitement and relief. Shouto begins to laugh against your lips, and the alluring sound infects you, too, as you join him with a giggle. The both of you are laughing at nothing in particular, but you don’t need a reason to let the noises of elation loose.

Once your laughter ceases, Shouto collects your chin in his hand and places a gentle kiss upon your grinning lips. When he pulls back, his eyes contain a wisp of that jealous fire that had consumed him only hours earlier, and he shoots you a mischievous smirk as he squeezes your ass playfully. “Do you think Shinsou could ever make you feel this good, angel?”

You roll your eyes, chuckling in exasperation at this man’s relentless, absurd envy. “Hmm,” you pretend to think for a moment before you lean closer to him, hands hung loosely around the back of his neck. “Shinsou? Never heard of him.”

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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you reached the end!! thanks for reading this long ass fic lmao, i know it was an investment. I hope the ending was not too cringe, I usually just end my fics after the nut but I wanted to try something new :’)  be sure to lmk if you enjoyed <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Speedy one night stand

Ok, so this is an old scene that i never posted because I never thought it was good enough, but since I wanted to post smth before ‘Tis the Damn Season, here it goes! I’m sorry for any typos, it’s 3 am and I don’t have the patience to proof read rn. There are mentions of a car accident but I swear it is not a sad or angsty scene. It’s bad and not at all a believable situation, but I hope it’s ok enough to be mildly enjoyable!

Aelin was having a spectacular day.

She had woken up around six, laying near the hottest man to ever walk on this Earth. In the previous night, she had drank enough to practically guarantee her a bitch hangover, but apparently her beautiful, silver-haired stranger had fucked it right out of her. A few times.

Not so proudly, Aelin sneaked out of his house without making a single sound. Maybe she should have stayed, maybe asked for his name. But she was also almost sure she had given him her number yesterday, and so if he wanted to continue things, he could call her. If not… Well, it had been a fun night.

Understatement of the fucking century.

And thanks to her stranger, once she got home, Aelin felt energized and inspired enough to finally give the painting a try.

The painting had become Aelin’s nightmare for the past year and a half. She had the idea, had the ability, but didn’t know how to do it, how to tackle it. She tried a few times every few days, and left the room hating it more and more. The painting started to be a mock to her abilities— she would finish other works, beautiful works, and yet the messy canvas would always stare at her from the corner of the room.

Aelin was mainly a sculptor, not a painter, and so she didn’t even know why it bothered her so much but it did. Oh, it most certainly did.

For the past eighteen months, staring at that taunting canvas was like staring at yourself on the mirror for too long. The vision started to blur, and it didn’t look real, evoked a deep panic.

For the past eighteen months, Aelin hated that fucking painting.

And yet, when she got home earlier, all she could think is that she might be able to finish it. The painting was supposed to be of Oakwald, a beautiful forest that extended for the whole expanse of the west of Terrasen. She hadn’t been at home for so long now, and all she wanted was a painting of how she remembered the forest to be. She wanted to capture its light, its life. She wanted it to look exactly how it was in her memory, but the colors never seemed right. Her fondness of the memory was becoming stained with that stupid canvas.

All she needed was the right palette.

And he had walked in a bar and sat by her side yesterday.

Her stranger was the literal embodiment of her memory, so much so that for a split second, Aelin had thought she had gone officially insane. His silver-grey hair was the exact shade of the sky on the cloudy mornings when she and her dad would go for a walk. Eyes a combination of a few shades of green and small specks of brown that reminded her of how the trees were. His demeanor was cold, and yet Aelin found him somehow so welcoming— just like she felt back at Oakwald, back home.

Her stranger had given her the thing she had needed for the past eighteen months, even if he hadn’t given her even his name.

Aelin was staring proudly at the now finished painting when the phone rang. She was glad her roommate wasn’t at home to witness her staring at the painting for that long like a crazy person, and honestly hoped it was Lysandra calling to ask if she wanted to go out and grab something to eat.

Or maybe it’s your stranger.

Aelin forced herself to shove every single spark of hope down until they were nothing more than cinders. To be honest, Aelin knew that she probably wouldn’t get a call from him. It was his first day in town, they both had been drunk, and, even though the sex had been great, her stranger didn’t seem like the dating type.

At least not the dating type with a woman who left his house unannounced at six in the morning after leaving him with no note other than her number that could potentially be wrong since said woman was already tipsy when she gave it to him.

A fucking shame.

“Hey.” Aelin said, putting the phone to her ear as she looked for her car keys. She wanted to be in the elevator by the time the word “eat” left Lys’s mouth.

“Is this Aelin?” A female voice she had never heard in her life asked, uncertainty and hesitation lacing every word.

Aelin withdrew the phone from her ear and looked at the unknown number.

Aelin rarely gave her phone number to strangers, and lately it had only been to…

Oh fucking shit.

He had a girlfriend?

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hum, yes?” Aelin sounded as uncertain as the girl. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—

“Do you know a Rowan?”

Well.

“Maybe?” Aelin wanted to bang her head against a wall. Almost seven months without touching a guy, and the first one in her way back to the land of the social people had a girlfriend. At least she knew his name now. Rowan seemed fitting, matched his appearance somehow. “Silver hair, green eyes, looks really pissed even when he’s sleeping?”

Please say no.

“Oh, yes.” The woman said, sounding… relieved? “I’m doctor Towers, and—“

“Doctor?” Aelin blurted out, all anger and nervousness being substituted for confusion. “Doctor?”

“Yes. Well, actually an intern since I’m still halfway through my first year here and—“

“I swear I mean no offense, but I am a little confused.” Aelin interrupted her after she started mumbling. “You’re Rowan’s girlfriend?”

“No!” The woman shouted loud enough that Aelin had to take the phone from her ear. “Gods, no. I thought you were his girlfriend.”

A moment of silence passed through the two women.

“What the fuck?” Was everything Aelin managed to say. She cleared her throat, mind trying to catch up with what was happening. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re the only contact on his phone.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“I— Why are you calling me?” Aelin shook her head, her grip on her keys strong enough that started to be painful. She didn’t know if this was some type of joke her friends were pulling on her, or if Rowan was just some sick asshole that was fucking with her now that he had her number but she sure as hell wasn’t enjoying the experience.

“Well, you see.” She cleared her throat, voice tone becoming more serious, more professional. “Rowan was admitted into the Torre’s hospital a few hours ago. He was involved in an accident, and all the emergency contacts we could find are not in town as of now. I know it is not protocol, and I’m breaking so many rules here, but I went through his phone to see if I could find a contact of someone who was around. We didn’t know if his injuries were serious or not, but…”

Doctor Towers didn’t finish the sentence, and dread mixing with some type of anxiety started rolling inside Aelin’s stomach. “But?”

She didn’t respond the question, instead changing the subject. “You’re the only contact, Miss Aelin.”

Aelin slowly sat down, the dead silence of the apartment mixing with the expectant silence from Doctor Towers. She didn’t know the guy, didn’t even know his name until two minutes ago, and yet the image of the painting in the other room kept flashing in her mind, the colors in the canvas mixing with the colors she saw on his face. “I— Is he alive?”

“Yes, yes. He’s in surgery, I believe.” The initial apprehension came back to the woman’s voice. “I don’t know, actually. Again, just an intern. People don’t tell me much here.”

“And I suppose hiding somewhere after stealing a patient’s phone isn’t the best way to pick up on any information they might be sharing in the halls right now.” Aelin said, some amusement for the girl showing through her voice. “Where are you? Storage room?”

“Coma patient room.” Doctor Towers laughed nervously. “I thought I was helping.”

“It’s fine.” Aelin said even though she didn’t feel it.

The line went silent once more, and after a minute, Aelin said. “Well, bye, I guess.”

“Wait.” The doctor’s apprehensive voice sounded again. “Couldn’t you… Can you still come? Even if you’re just his friend?”

Aelin sat frozen on her chair. “I’m not his friend.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Ok. Sorry. Have a great night, Miss Aelin.”

Before Aelin could respond, the call was ended.

—————

The first thing Rowan noticed when he opened his eyes was that he was not at the rented apartment he and the rest of his friends had gotten for the summer.

The lights were too white and too artificial, the bed too uncomfortable to be the same one he had slept the previous night.

And there was also the fact it felt as if he had been thrown from the top of a building, broken every single bone in the impact and, somehow, survived.

He tried opening his eyes a little bit more and acute pain shot to his brain.

Unfortunately. Unfortunately survived.

Shit, maybe he was in hell.

“I don’t know if the struggle is amusing or pathetic.” A low and sultry voice sounded from the left corner of the room. “Maybe try not staring directly into the light and then try opening your eyes.”

Rowan turned his head to where the soft voice had come from, pain burning his neck with the movement but he found himself incapable of not looking at her direction. But the woman was right, and Rowan managed to open his eyes enough to see her seating in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, legs crossed in front of her and fingers laced on top of her stomach.

Rowan mentally scratched his last thought. If he had actually died, that certainly was tilting a lot more towards heaven than hell even with the killing pain.

“Fuck, I think I died.” Rowan blurted out.

“I’ll pretend you just compared me to an angel, not to the devil.” She said, getting up and walking in his direction. Despite her hurt tone, she was smiling as she approached his bed. “It’s the least you could do after you ruined my perfectly perfect day. I was having a blast, you know?”

Hell, heaven, or Earth— it honestly didn’t fucking matter because the pain was the same, but her voice seemed to soothe his muscled, make the pain secondary to the pleasure of listening to her voice.

“Yeah?” Rowan rasped out, hoping she would continue talking.

“Oh, yeah.” She sat by the edge of the bed, straightening his sheets. The light wasn’t so blinding anymore, and he could see every detail on her face.

Heaven. Definitely heaven.

“I’m an artist, you know. Sculptor mostly, but I’m a decent painter. There’s this painting I’ve been trying to get done for over a year now, and today I did not only make progress I liked, but I also finished it. I thought today was going to be a terrible day, you know? Yesterday I found out my flight back home had been canceled and I would only be able to get another one by the end of summer, so I went to a bar and planned on getting drunk. Today was a day for tears and hangovers.”

“But?” Rowan asked automatically, all too focused on the woman sitting next to him.

She smiled, raising a hand to brush his hair from his face, fingers intertwining with the shoulder-length knots he most certainly had after whatever it was that had happened. She seemed too focused on her hand gently undoing the knots, but thankfully kept talking. “But I met this guy, you know? Definitely not from here, accent gave it away immediately. Also not from where I am from. Just that made him interesting enough. And,” she turned her eyes to him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Very, very fucking hot. That definitely made him even more interesting.”

“What a guy.” Rowan could feel some of the life coming back to his body, and even managed to weakly match the grin she had on her face.

“Oh, yes, what a guy. Fucked the hangover and artistic block right out of me. A hero, if you will.” Her grin extended into a smile, and she shook her head. “So imagine how ruined my day was when I got a call saying my amazing bar guy had been in a car accident.”

Rowan let out a broken laugh, his ribs screaming in pain when he did so. “So irresponsible of him.”

She assented solemnly. “And there I was, hoping he would have called me to go out on a date. I’m not picky but hospital is a huge downgrade from mind blowing sex in his expensive apartment.”

Rowan laughed again, not even caring about the pain.  “I’m sure the guy would have asked you if you hand’t left the expensive apartment at the crackass of dawn without telling him.”

“And instead of calling he let his car be smashed by a fucking truck to get my attention? Tsk, tsk, tsk… Maybe I didn’t dodge a bullet with this idiot.”

Rowan’s lips were taken by a grin. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“Next time try something a little less dramatic.” She said, eyes narrowing but Rowan could see how she was trying to contain a smile.

“The girl really seemed into dramatics tho. Gave it away last night when she—“

“Since I didn’t know your name until your doctor called me, Rowan, I’ll save you the embarrassment of asking mine.” She interrupted him, slender fingers going from his hair to the top of his lips. “I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin.” He said against the finger sushing him. “May I ask how you got here?”

She blushed a little, taking the finger from his mouth and straightening her spine. “I was the only contact in your list. They called me.”

“Lost my phone in the airport yesterday and had to buy a new one. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, small nose frowning. “You’re very talkative for someone who could barely open his eyes a few minutes ago.”

“Am I?” Rowan said, hoping to push some of her buttons. Consciousness had been coming back slowly, and Rowan certainly remembered every single detail. Remembered being pissed by losing his phone, impatient because he would have to wait two more days for his friends to arrive.

Remembered all the pissy and impatience leaving his body once he sat on the bar by the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had been quick-mouthed, with no filter, and absolutely hypnotizing. She wasn’t just fucking beautiful, but also funny, smart, and had the ability to make him forget every single thing that was making him irritated.

And the rest of the night… It was a shame Rowan was bedridden, he certainly wouldn’t mind reenacting last night again.

And again. And again.

And again.

Rowan had wondered earlier if she had been that amazing because he was drunk. The answer was obviously no.

Aelin pursed her lips, red coloring her cheeks. She cleared her throat, rolling her eyes. “The doctor guilty tripped me.”

“Yeah?” Rowan knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“She said you were in surgery and she didn’t know how serious.” Aelin finally looked him straight in the eyes, and Rowan noticed how beautiful hers were. “No one deserves to have no one in this situation. She said your friends were out of town, and the girl sounded desperate enough that it sounded as if you were fucking died. Again, no one deserves to die alone. Specially someone this good in bed.”

It took Rowan a second to understand everything she had just said. When the last sentence finally registered on his brain, Rowan laughed. Aelin shook her head, a small smile appearing again.

“Also, you’re the first guy I slept with in seven months. Letting you die alone seemed like bad luck.”

“I am honored you put so much consideration into coming to stay with me.”

“Shut it.”

“If it makes you feel less embarrassed—“

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“I would have come too. Make sure my best fuck wasn’t dead.”

“Awn, best fuck? You’ll make me tear up like this, Ro. So romantic.” Aelin pretended to clean fake tears the moment the doctor in darker scrubs and a few on lighter ones entered the room.

“Good to see you awake, Mr Whitethorn.” The man smiled at him, checking his charts. “It’s always good to see wives crying of happiness rather than sadness around here.”

“Of course.” Rowan agreed, turning to Aelin and raising an eyebrow.

“They wouldn’t let me stay if I wasn’t family.” She whispered low enough so that only Rowan would hear. Her face slowly broke into a grin, and she winked at him before turning to the doctor. “So he’ll be fine, right, doctor?”

Rowan had to bite his cheeks from laughing at how obviously fake she sounded, but no one other than him noticed. “Yes, yes. Other than a fracture to his right wrist, your husband is completely fine. Some bruising and soreness that painkillers can help, but nothing major. You two are free to enjoy your vacations when he’s discharged tomorrow.”

“Oh, great.” Rowan said, nodding seriously. “My wife here has just informed me that a hospital is no adequate place for a first date.”

All the people in the room laughed, thinking Rowan meant their first date in Antica.

Not their first date ever.

“I’ll leave you two. Anything you need, ask a nurse and they will page me.” The doctor in darker scrubs said, leaving the room with all the ones in lighter scrubs following.

“Where do you live?” Rowan asked the moment the doctor was out.

Aelin turned to him, fingers going back to his silver hair. “Have been living here for the past two years in an art internship. Going back to Orynth, Terrasen by the end of the summer.” She curled a strand around her finger before looking to his face. “You?”

“Have been and will continue to be a very happy resident of Orynth.” Rowan said, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Definitely happier after the summer.”

“Haven’t even asked me out and you’re already thinking about the end of the summer.” Aelin shook her head and clicked her tongue even though she was smiling. “No surprise you got into a car accident, so speedy.”

His smirk grew into a smile. “My dear wife, would you like to go on a date with me?”

She narrowed her eyes, taking her sweet, sweet time to answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“And, seeing how the doctor talked about all my grave injuries—“

“Grave.” She snorted.

“Do I get kisses to feel better?” Rowan’s tone was full of mockery and some laughter.

“If I kiss every place you’re hurting after being hit by a fucking truck, I think we’d be here for a long while.”

“You didn’t complain yesterday.”

Aelin half laughed, half snorted. Rolling her eyes, she bent forward, and even though she was trying very hard not to, Rowan could see the start of a smile just before she pressed her lips against his. They were sweeter and softer than he remembered, and despite the pain on his arms and specially on his right wrist, Rowan raised his hands and put them in her golden strawberry hair.

“One more thing.” He said against her mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask for too much?” Aelin said impatiently.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get—“

“You don’t say!” Aelin said, voice dripping with so much fake surprise Rowan couldn’t stop but smirk up at her.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get,” he repeated forcefully, eyes narrowing at her as her smile widened. “Tomorrow, when my friends arrive.”

“Yes?”

“Can you please still pretend you’re my wife?”

Aelin stared at him blankly for a moment before letting out a full, lovely laugh. The bed shook with her laughter, and Rowan joined her— a little weakly due to the pain, but joined her nonetheless. She bent down to kiss him again, nodding as she did so. “Of course. What type of person would I be if I didn’t help such injured person find some happiness in their lives?”

Rowan kissed her back, fingers playing with her hair. “So this means you’ll go out with me?”

“We’ll see.”

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