#Anyways I haven’t been on here in a bit just wanted to pop by and say I hope y’all have a lovely day!! ✨

[msschemmenti]

sing with me please

emily prentiss x singer!reader

prompt: reader and emily are dating and she’s a rising artist on her first small tour. she’s been gone for weeks but is back in dc for a show. obviously emily is there and reader begs for emily to come on stage and sing their song with her to close out the show.

a/n: au inspired by this picture of paget and this series i’ve been writing for myself about a singing reader/oc. also this is not proofread at all. let me know what you think— and if you’re interested in more stuff like this :)

song featured : juna - clairo

“God, i can’t wait to see you.” y/n breathed down the phone quietly.

“Oh trust me, I’m right there with you. I’m starting to think I should’ve just taken the time off and gone with you.” Emily groaned into the phone from her desk.

“Oh I don’t want to hear it, I tried everything I could to get you to come along. And I mean everything. But you’re married to the job.” y/n replied with a tease.

“Aw, come on. I feel like I haven’t been here long enough to take three months off to follow my pop star girlfriend on her first-ever tour. Plus, it’s not like the world knows who you write all those love songs about anyway. And stop saying I’m married to the job, you know I hate that.” Emily all but whined.

“Right right right. Well, none of that matters now, because in just a few hours you’ll be front-row being serenaded for a good two hours.”

Emily grinned at the thought of having her girlfriend’s attention in a room full of fans. “Having my favorite singer’s attention in a room full of her adoring fans, sounds like a dream come true. What time should I get there?”

“Looks like this shoot is going to run over, so I might not be able to see you before the show. Either way, DeeDee has your name on the list already so you’ll be taken to your seat as soon as you’re there. Are you bringing anyone with you? I can give DeeDee their names too.” y/n rambled in thought.

Emily eyed the bullpen curiously, she hadn’t exactly thought to ask if anyone wanted to go with her. It felt a little too personal and after all this time on the team, she feared Garcia’s reaction to her having a serious girlfriend without her knowledge. “No, it’ll just be me. I’m sure everyone has plans. It is Friday after all.”

y/n chuckled softly at her girlfriend’s words, “Okay, make sure you text me when you get to the venue so I can let everyone know.”

“Yes ma’am. And after the show?” Emily asked hopefully. She really missed having her girlfriend home.

“I’m DC based for the next three months.” y/n grinned.

“Oh thank God.” Emily sighed in relief causing y/n to giggle softly.

“You can thank DeeDee for convincing the label to let me write and record here.”

“Well DeeDee has a very expensive bottle of wine with her name on it.”

There was a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone and Emily knew the signs all too well, “Listen Em, I’ve got to go. They’re ready for the next outfit. Remember to text me.”

“Okay, I will. I’ll see you later.” Emily smiled.

“Yes, see you later. Love you.” y/n whispered before ending the call and handing her phone back to her manager.

-

“Hi DC.” y/n spoke into the microphone with a bright smile. The room filled with cheers almost instantly as she spoke and her cheeks grew red under the praise. “Oh you all are too sweet. How are we feeling tonight?”

y/n scanned the audience waving happily until her eyes fell on the VIP area she’d requested for Emily. Her eyes lighting up instantly as she caught Emily with her hands cupped around her mouth cheering with the other fans in the room. Sending a wink in her direction y/n spoke in the mic, “You all look so beautiful tonight. Thank you so much for coming out to my final show on my first tour. It’s been so fun meeting and talking to everyone but I’m very happy to be home. With that being said, let make this the best show yet!”

-

Emily was on cloud nine. She was absolutely beaming with pride and she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be. When y/n said she’d be serenading her all night, she really hadn’t been kidding. As much as she could without making it too obvious, she practically spent the last two hours gazing lovingly into Emily’s eyes. And Emily felt mighty special. Her favorite voice, just for her.

“DC you’ve been so amazing tonight. I don’t think I’ve felt this happy in a long time. My favorite city, in a room full of my favorite people. It’s so so good to be home.” y/n spoke as the band set up for the last song of the night. “As you all know, we’re on our very last song and as much as I hate to end this night– I’m so excited to sleep in my own bed.”

y/n sat on the stool center stage and shuffled some papers on her music stand with a smile. She looked over to Emily with a mischievous smile that had her heart trying to beat out of her chest.

“This last one is very very special to me. It’s my biggest song and the reason I’m even on this tour. But more importantly, it’s about the most important person in my life. My love, my light, my muse.” y/n spoke eyes trained on Emily the entire time. The room awed and cheered happily at the mention of their favorite artist’s secret girlfriend. “I’m lucky to have her here with me tonight and I know she’s going to hate me for this but I wanna do something a lil different for my last show. Em, will you sing with me?”

Emily’s face was beyond red. She was staring at her girlfriend in shock and awe. Not only had she just told this room of people she was the muse for most of her discography but now she wanted her to get up on the stage to sing with her. She was shaking her head in disbelief and fear before she could even think about it. And she looked at her girlfriend like she’d grown a second head.

This only made y/n smile more, “Please Em. You’re my favorite duet partner and I’ve missed singing with you more than anything.”

Emily was cracking. Between y/n’s words and the adorable pout she was sporting there was only so much more she could take from the woman she loved before giving in.

“Everyone, let’s give her some encouragement. Can we chant ‘Emily!’? y/n asked the audience and like the loyal fans they are, their screams filled the room. And there was really nothing Emily could do at that point. Throwing her hands up in surrender, she walked toward the stage looking extremely nervous as the room cheered.

y/n moved to help Emily up the stairs and onto the stage with a blinding smile. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Emily grumbled softly as she rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s.

“Kinda surprised you came up.” y/n grinned so hard her cheeks hurt.

“Well, you unfortunately know that i will do anything for you baby. and you sure know how to milk it.” Emily replied and smiled as y/n pulled her toward the stool. She sat Emily down and turned toward the crowd.

“Alright everybody, this is the last one. If you know it sing along.” y/n placed the microphone on the mic stand. She could practically feel Emily’s nerves radiating off of her but knew once this moment would live with them for as long as they lived. y/n stood between her legs and placed a kiss on her nose lovingly before cueing the band to start the song. “Just you and me, like at home.” She coaxed before she started singing the opening line of the song.

“Come to me slowly. It's when you talk close enough that I feel it on my skin, breathe it in.”

The room buzzed in anticipation when y/n nudged Emily softly and stroked her cheek in encouragement. Emily was nervous but she truly felt like she could do anything with her girlfriend’s eyes trained on her. “Most of these days I don’t get too intimate. Why would I let you in? But I think again.”

y/n smiled instantly, throwing in some of the background vocals while Emily sang. She started timidly but with the love shining in y/n’s eyes, she grew more confident with the words. Plus the cheers from the audience helped quite a bit. They joined together sweetly, Emily taking the melody and y/n harmonizing with her as they went. “I don’t even try. I don’t have to think. With you, there’s no pretending.”

When they got to the chorus y/n smiled and turned her head to the crowd, “Come on everyone, You know me, you know me. And I just might know you too.”

The smiles on both women’s faces were permanent as y/n pulled Emily up to dance with her across the stage. In a room surrounded by people who loved her girlfriend, she knew without a doubt that none of them could compete with her. They finished the song with the help of the crowd and when the music came to an end, everyone screamed their appreciation. y/n grabbed Emily’s hand and pulled her into center stage with a laugh.

“DC, give it up for the love of my life!” And despite y/n’s hand on the small of her back, Emily timidly tried to hide from the praise. The applause died down a bit and they wished everyone a farewell before heading backstage.

Finally in the quiet of her dressing room, y/n pulled Emily into a bruising kiss. Pulling away was not a priority, but when it became a necessity their foreheads rested together.

“DC give it up for the love of my life?” Emily teased.

“Yeah. That’s you.” y/n shrugged with a smile.

“Mmhmm, is that so?” Emily asked, squeezing her waist.

“It better be so. I’m sure it’s all over the internet by now babe.”

Emily groaned, “Of course it is. You are so lucky I love you.”

y/n shrugged with a smile and reached up to pinch Emily’s cheek, “Oh I know baby, and I wake up every morning so grateful. And lucky me, I get to wake up in your arms for the next three months.”

Emily sighed happily, pulling the singer into a hug. She mentally prayed for the serial killers of the world to chill out for the foreseeable future and kissed y/n’s head. “Welcome home my love.”

-

y/n

liked by prentissemily, and 9,000 others

dc, i love you. but not as much as i love em.

thank you for an amazing first tour. my heart is so full and i can’t wait for the next one. y/n 2 loading…

ps. whoever took that second picture— i owe you my LIFE

pennythegreat @prentissemily — rue when was this?

prentissemily literally what does this mean?

prentissemily my superstar xx

y/n my muse xx

[hyaciiintho]

🌸｡*ﾟ+.-giggles cutely as he adds, not one, but 3 ace attorney muses to his list- (◕‿◕✿)

[minisugakoobies]

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

 It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown. 

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate. 

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop. 

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far. 

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo. 

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything. 

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say. 

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question. 

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited? 

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone. 

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips. 

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again. 

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace. 

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?” 

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!” 

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over. 

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going? 

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous. 

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks. 

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity. 

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away. 

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo. 

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic. 

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck. 

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself. 

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now. 

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors. 

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say. 

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.” 

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache. 

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly. 

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock? 

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg. 

“Oh no, that was just for you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?” 

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence. 

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf. 

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric. 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?” 

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you. 

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all. 

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!” 

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.” 

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip. 

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”  

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs. 

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin. 

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.  

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.” 

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake. 

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind. 

“Just think about it.” 

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing. 

And oh, god, do you think about it. 

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name. 

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall). 

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs. 

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment. 

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.” 

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.” 

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority. 

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape. 

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear. 

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod. 

“And what did you decide?” 

“I - I don’t know.” 

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?” 

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage. 

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir. 

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.” 

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list. 

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs. 

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.” 

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.” 

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely. 

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?” 

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin. 

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?” 

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes. 

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger. 

Fine, then. You’re a fool. 

“One.” 

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable. 

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?” 

“Um, yeah, sure.” 

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. 

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.” 

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.” 

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice. 

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.” 

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?” 

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking. 

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.” 

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.” 

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath. 

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.” 

“No shit. Everyone knows that.” 

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again. 

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.” 

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?” 

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right. 

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?” 

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.” 

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.  

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it. 

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek. 

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move. 

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply. 

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open. 

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him. 

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.” 

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go. 

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need. 

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed. 

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated. 

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants. 

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water. 

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.” 

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience. 

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.” 

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body. 

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it. 

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him. 

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.” 

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue. 

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.” 

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?” 

“I will.” 

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing. 

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.” 

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens. 

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little. 

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps. 

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands. 

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.” 

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.” 

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you. 

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life. 

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze. 

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso. 

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves. 

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between. 

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!” 

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.” 

And just like that, you feel that spark again. 

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash. 

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite. 

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation. 

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer. 

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.  

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his. 

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!” 

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.” 

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls. 

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!” 

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.” 

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.” 

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you. 

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you. 

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts  your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.” 

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.” 

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.” 

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.” 

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?” 

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl. 

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it. 

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip. 

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises. 

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire. 

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.” 

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs. 

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!” 

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him. 

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.” 

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush. 

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace. 

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content. 

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and - 

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.” 

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.” 

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?” 

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.” 

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.” 

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss. 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my works.

Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

[reigningqueenofwords]

Pinky Promise

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,409

Read on AO3

“I have to go to my aunt’s wedding this weekend. So I won’t be able to play with you alllll weekend. I’m gonna be so bored.” You sighed, lying on the floor of the tree house your father built you a couple years prior. At 10, it was still your favorite place in the world. 

Dean made a face. “That sucks!” He was your best friend in the whole world, and you spent every weekend playing together. “What am I supposed to do? Play with Sammy?” 

You giggled at that. “Guess so.” You smiled at him. “What’re we gonna do when we grow up and get married?” You pouted. “We won’t be able to play every weekend together.” 

“Well, I just won’t get married if I can’t play with you.” He said easily. 

Sitting up, you had the look on your face that told him you had an idea. “What if we make a pinky swear?” You started. “If when we’re 25, we’re not married to other people… we get married.” Why wouldn’t you want to marry your best friend? 

He thought for a minute and held up his pinky. “Alright.” He grinned when you looped your pinky finger with his. 

It had been almost 15 years since that day. You hadn’t thought of that day in ages. Dean was still your best friend, too. That never changed, and neither of you let anyone get between the pair of you. Sure, there had been girls over the years that tried to get between you, but he swiftly dumped them. Chewing on your lip, you pulled up a text to Dean. Do you remember the pinky promise we made when we were 10? You sent. You and Dean shared a birthday, meaning both of you would be turning 25 in just over a month. 

After a few minutes, he replied. Sure do! 😉 He sent, making you chuckle and roll your eyes. Why, what’s up? Meet someone and need to back out? 

Your eyebrows shot up at that. Actually, I was just asking if you remembered. I mean, our birthdays are in a month. Don’t you think you should start looking at rings, mr? 😛 You sent, sitting up and looking around your room. It was December 20th, and you’d be driving home to your parents in a few days. You’d see Dean then, too. His parents lived a block over from yours. 

Who says I haven’t been doing that already? Hmmmm? He countered. 

You highly doubted that was the case. Are you trying to tell me that you, Dean Winchester, man who has never dated anyone for more than a year…has been looking at engagement rings and actually plans to make good on this 15 year old pinky promise? Getting up, you made your way to your kitchen. It was almost dinner time, but you didn’t know if you were actually hungry. Your mind was on overdrive. As you got older, you felt Dean would laugh off your pinky promise. He’d say you were just a couple of dumb kids. 

I take pinky promises extremely seriously. Especially ones with my best friend. He sent, making you smile softly at that. 

Please just don’t propose at Christmas in front of everyone lol That’s too much attention for my liking. You knew he’d understand. Small bits of attention were fine, but you liked blending into the background. He was the more outgoing of the two of you. 

I promise 😀 He assured you. What day are you getting here, anyway? 

The idea of dinner forgotten, you leaned against the counter. On the 23rd. You?  

You watched the little bubbles pop up on your phone, hoping he would get there early, too. Guess I’m getting there on the 23rd, too. Meet me in the tree house? I’ll bring the beer, you bring the pizza? 

Grinning, you giggled. Deal. Meet me there at about 4? 

It’s a date! 

The afternoon of the 23rd, you stepped into your parents house. “Dad!” You called out, dropping your bags. It was 2pm, so you had two hours before Dean showed up. 

“There’s my girl!” He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “How was your drive?”

“Good.” You told him. “We want to hang out in the tree house, but it’s cold. Help me hang up some blankets or something so we won’t freeze?” You asked, keeping your arms around him. 

He chuckled. “I did that yesterday. Dean called and tried to offer to pay for anything I need to make it a bit warmer out there. You could sleep out there. I made it so warm.” He said proudly. 

“Oh wow!” You chuckled. “Thank you! Where’s mom?” Although you’d seen them for Thanksgiving, you missed them a lot. 

“Getting ready for our date. I’m taking her out while you and Dean act like kids in the tree house again.” He kissed the top of your head. 

You laughed, looking forward to this time with your parents, and your best friend. As far as you knew, no one but the pair of you knew of your pact. You never mentioned it to your parents, or other friends. Dean never told you he’d told anyone, and he wasn’t one to be very open with many people. However, you also knew all parents involved would be excited. Your parents loved Dean, and his parents loved you. 

Dean hadn’t been lying. He had been looking at rings for you. He’d snuck into your childhood bedroom and borrowed a ring from your jewelry box when he was there for Thanksgiving. This way, he knew what size ring to get. He didn’t want to risk getting the wrong size. 

What you didn’t know was that part of the reason he never dated anyone for too long was because he kept this pact in mind. It had always been you. He crossed his fingers that you’d both reach 25, unmarried, and not in a serious relationship. 

He pulled into your parent’s driveway, grabbing the beer from the passenger’s seat. Part of him felt like he was coming home every time he got there. Smiling to himself, he made his way to the backyard. He could see some light from inside the tree house, and got excited. You were already in there. “Honey! I’m home!” He called, making his way up. It was a bit awkward with the bag with beer, but he managed. 

“Dean!” You beamed when you saw him. As soon as he was completely in the tree house, you all but tackled him. “I’ve missed you.” You pouted as you pulled away. 

He chuckled. “Well, here I am.” He swallowed. “I have something for you.” 

“Dean, Christmas is in two days. You can’t wait two days to give me my Christmas present?” You teased. 

“This isn’t your Christmas present. That’s in my trunk.” He told you, pulling out the small ring box. “I know we were just a couple silly kids when we made that pinky promise, but you’ve remained my best friend for all these years. You know just what to say on the days where everything has gone wrong. There’s no one else I could ever picture myself being with for the rest of my life. Will you make good on that pinky promise and marry me?” 

Your eyes were wide, and you felt a tear fall down your cheek. “Yes!” You grinned, watching him slip on the ring. “How long have you been planning this?” You giggled. 

“I borrowed an old ring of yours at Thanksgiving.” He admitted. “It’s on my nightstand. Kinda didn’t wanna give it back yet. And we spent a lot of time in this tree house, where else would I propose to you?” 

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Guess we should talk about moving closer together, huh? Or moving in together?”

“Actually…” 

Furrowing your brows, you weren’t sure what he was going to say. “What?” 

He looked proud. “I put a down payment on a house. Just a couple streets over.” He told you. “Your dad already has plans to buy a treehouse in that backyard.” 

“My dad knew about all this?” 

Dean shook his head. “He knows I’m buying that house, and that I’d like a treehouse like this one, but I didn’t tell him I was proposing.” While he knew your dad would approve, your dad might have let something slip. “So, looks like we have a wedding to plan, sweetheart.” 

“Damn right we do!” 

[hockeyboistrash]

beautiful things | q.h

a surprise quinn fic by me? who would've though? not me? anyway this idea popped in my head today. it does talk briefly about body image as this is something i struggle with sometimes. i want everyone to know that you are beautiful. no matter what anyone says. if this is something you do struggle with you are not alone. i am always here to talk 😊 any way i hope you all enjoy this mini fic 💖

summary: you are feeling a little self concious. quinn is there to help make you feel better.

Coming here was a bad idea. You knew you should’ve stayed home when your gut told you so. You just didn’t want to disappoint Quinn. He was so excited to go out tonight and introduce you to his friends. The two of you have only been seeing each other for just over a month, not even at the labelling point of your relationship, so you were a little hesitant but Quinn’s comforting smile eased your worries. You walked into the bar holding Quinn’s hand and everyone’s eyes were on you, well at least that's what it felt like. It was to be expected though, what with Quinn being captain of the Canucks. 

You tried to ignore the stares and the whispers but as the night went on you could feel the shield you put up starting to crack. The final blow was delivered when you walked past the group. ‘I wonder what he sees in them’ ‘It must be because he feels sorry for them’ ‘It won’t last, mark my words’. Your eyes started to well up but you refused to let them see you cry so you held your head up high and carried on to the bathroom. Once inside the dam inside you broke. Tears spilled down your cheeks. It was futile to wipe them away as more would fall. 

You hated that you let their words affect you. You were doing so well lately, feeling good in your body. Now though, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your duvet and shut the world out for a bit. The knock on the door brought you back to reality and reminded you that you couldn't do that yet as you were still at the bar. “Just a minute.” You shouted hoping that whoever was knocking would give up and go to another stall. 

“Y/N, it’s Quinn. Are you alright in there? I noticed you were gone a while. One of the girls saw you rush off to the bathroom.” Quinn said through the door. You could hear the concern laced in his voice. This was the last thing you wanted, for Quinn to see you have a pity party in the bar bathroom over some words that some random girls said about you. 

“I’m okay.” You tried to assure him but your voice failed you. Quinn immediately perked up, knowing you had been crying.

“No offence but I don’t believe you one bit, Y/N.” He said. “Please can you let me in.” You were reluctant to let Quinn see you like this but you knew he wasn’t going to give up. Rather than continuing the conversation through the door so the whole bar can hear you unlock the door, opening it enough to let Quinn in. He immediately noticed your red eyes from crying which broke his heart. You may have only been seeing each other for about a month but seeing you upset was something Quinn wanted to never see again. “What happened?” He asked, cupping your cheeks so you looked at him.

“It's stupid.” You mumbled. 

“It’s not stupid if it makes you upset.” Quinn’s voice was soft and patient, making you feel warm inside. 

You could feel the knot inside you loosening and the words spilling out of you. You relayed everything you heard those girls say about you and how they made you feel self conscious. You opened up to Quinn in a way you haven’t done before. His presence was calming and made you feel safe. 

“Like I said, it’s stupid.” You tried to tell him but Quinn shook his head vehemently.

“You know none of that is true, right?” He told you, his gaze intently on you. “You are the most beautiful person I have laid eyes on. You are kind and funny and honestly, this past month with you has been incredible.” 

“Quinn…”

“Look, I know you might not feel it right now but I will remind you every single day if I have to.” Quinn said. “You are beautiful. No matter what anyone tells you.” 

“Thank you.” You mumbled against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. All the words those girls threw at you, replaced by Quinn’s loving ones.

[rinslutz]

Can i order uuuhhh a dose of second chance romance with satoru? You broke up with him because his ass cheated but now that you guys are starting over, you can't help but still doubt his efforts. (having massive trust issues) but he of course promised to do whatever it takes to gain your trust again. Lots of reassurance pls. We love a devoted Satoru ☹️🤞

ᥫ᭡ “AFRAID” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ fem!reader, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, mentions of cheating, gojo pleads on his knees, gojo is pathetic, reassuances

a/n: anon…you awoken something in me. this is much longer than i wanted it to be and its a bit more than you asked for, sorry.

2 weeks 4 days 15 hours 56 minutes 12 seconds. that’s how long it’s been since satoru last saw you. he wishes he hasn’t been keeping track of the time but it’s the only thing keeping him from succumbing to his sadness. he hates himself for being sad. he doesn’t deserve to feel sad. all of this is his fault.

satoru has been wallowing in his self pity for the past 2 weeks. if he didn’t have a class to teach, he’s sure he would never move from his bed. school and home. those are the only two places you’ll find satoru. so when suguru notices that he hasn’t seen his loser best friend in 2 weeks he “kidnaps” him as satoru claims.

“have you even tried talking to her?” suguru asks nonchalantly. satoru’s nose crinkles in annoyance. why would he ask such a stupid question?

“she doesn’t want to speak to me.” satoru says dryly. this conversation is already starting to frustrate him. he runs his hands down his face.

“did you try though?” satoru is convinced that suguru’s only goal right now is to annoy him. if he wanted to talk about his failing relationship with him, he would’ve called him weeks ago.

satoru sighs obnoxiously, “of course i haven’t. she probably doesn’t want me within 10 feet of her. she hates me.” saying that aloud for the first time makes his eyes burn with tears. he rubs them furiously, not wanting to cry in front of suguru.

“so,” suguru pauses to chew the chips he’s been snacking on the whole time. “you mean to tell me you cheated on your girl, she kicked your ass out, and you’re not begging on your knees for forgiveness right now?” suguru’s statement and the crinkling of his bag of chips send satoru’s annoyance into overdrive. he snatches the bag from suguru’s hands, balls it up, and throws it into a nearby trash can.

“hey, don’t get pissy with me because i’m right.” suguru holds his hands up in defense.

satoru doesn’t reply. he is right though. satoru has convinced himself that he should try to speak to you because you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. in reality, he’s afraid. afraid to face you. afraid to get confirmation that he has lost you forever. but if there’s even a slight chance that begging on his knees would work, he would do it immediately.

you hate him. you hate how even after what he did every part of him, every memory you made with him, every time he told you he loves you, still occupies your brain. the stupid smile still pops into your brain when you’re having a particularly bad day. you wish with some much in you that picturing his smile didn’t immediately make you feel better. it was that smile though. the smile that’s only reserved for you.

you wish you hated him for cheating on him. you’re just hurt. your chest hurts every day. every morning you wake up with sore red eyes from crying yourself to sleep. you hope he’s been crying himself to sleep too, though you doubt it. as desperate as satoru usually acts you expected him to try and contact you. at least once. you got nothing and somehow that hurt more than his infidelity.

the quiet night you’re having is interrupted by the loud and persistent knock at your door. you have no idea who it could be at this hour, so you don’t move immediately. maybe it’s a neighbor wanting to borrow something. if you don’t move maybe they’ll think you’re not here.

“baby?”

your head snaps to the door in surprise. almost immediately, tears spring to your eyes. it hurts hearing his voice for the first time in 2 weeks. you don’t move. you want to open the door but you know you shouldn’t.

“please…can we talk?” it's rare to hear him speak this softly. satoru’s loud knocks begin to soften. you reluctantly get up from your spot on the couch to open the door. you open the door but not all the way, only enough to see his face.

he stands there with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he stands there awkwardly. not sure what to do with his arms, they lay flat at his sides.

“can i come in?”

“leave.” you choke out. you refuse to cry in front of him.

“i can’t.” he steps closer to you. “i need to talk to you. i…i need you.”

you wish you didn’t say that. you wish he didn’t sound so broken when he said it. and because you’re weak for him you let him in. even though you let him in you don’t let him more than 3 feet inside.

you two just stare at each other for moments. his eyes rake over you, taking in every part of you. it felt like an eternity since he’s seen you, he had begun to convince himself that he forgot what you looked like. a stupid thought since he often stared at the small picture of you he kept in his wallet.

“i’m sorry.”

you laugh at that and satoru feels like everything is already falling apart. he’s already messed up. your bitter laugh makes the tip of his ears redden and burn in embarrassment.

“you’re sorry? that’s what you came here to say?”

he wants to tell you that it’s not true, but he didn’t come here to say sorry. he is sorry whether you believe him or not.

“you fucked someone else but you’re sorry so it’s okay right?” your voice is harsh and bitter. and if it weren’t for the tears streaming down your face he would assume you’re just angry. you’re hurt instead and he’s the reason why.

“no that’s not what i’m trying to say.” he shakes his head softly, “it’s not okay. i did the one thing you told me you could never forgive me for.”

if you didn’t love him you would laugh again. if you didn’t love him you would kick him out right now. but if you didn’t love him you would feel empty right and somehow that’s much worse.

“i am sorry. i wish i could explain why i did it-”

“cheated. you cheated. instead of saying “it” say the word gojo.”

he swallows that lump forming in his throat. the way you said his name burned his ears. the bitter tone and the fact that it was his last name.

“i cheated and i regret it so fucking much.”

unconsciously he reaches to grab your hand. when you don’t pull away, he grips your hand tighter. if this is the last time he ever gets to touch you, any part of you, he wants to remember the way your soft skin feels against his. he wants to memorize the way your hand fits perfectly in his and the way your hand warms his cold fingertips.

“i love you so much and i need you. i know you don’t need me but i don’t know what i’m doing. i-i can’t think straight, i can barely breathe when i’m not near you.” he has to swallow again to keep from crying.

“i hate you.”

“i know. i hate me too.”

when you don’t say anything satoru thinks he’s making progress. your eyes don’t hold the anger that they once did. then you pull your hand from his and satoru swears the earth shakes. he pulls his hand back to his side. he clenches his fists, his fingernails pierce his skin. he hopes the pain will distract him from the pain of his heart being ripped out of his chest.

“please,” he says weakly.

you don’t want to give in. he’s done nothing to deserve your forgiveness. you hate yourself for wanting to pull him against you to wipe away his tears. you hate yourself for wanting to forgive. you hate him for sounding so sincere.

“how can i ever trust you again?” satoru doesn’t know how to answer that. you shouldn’t trust him again. satoru is confident that he’d never betray your trust again because the pain of being apart from you like this again very well might kill him. and he’d rather died than hurt you again.

he knows that there’s so way for you to be certain that he won’t hurt you again. you can’t see into his brain or his heart. you can’t see the way his soul yearns to intertwine with yours again, forever.

before he can answer suguru’s stupid voice fills his head. “you mean to tell me. you cheated on your girl, she kicked your ass out, and you’re not begging on your knees for forgiveness right now?” he knows he deserves to beg on his knees. you deserve to have him pathetically beg for your forgiveness.

so, without another word, he bends down on his knees. he grabs both of your hands in his and looks up at you. his heart beats heavily in his chest.

“i will never hurt you again. i promise. i will do anything you want me to in order to prove it to you.” his knees were already beginning to hurt. this pain is nothing compared to the pain he’ll feel if you never forgive him.

“you don’t have to forgive me. you shouldn’t. i’m just asking for a chance to prove myself to you.” he grips your hands tighter, afraid you’ll pull away again.

you’re sure you're making the dumbest decision of your life. you’re weak for him and you may always be. when you left him the night you found out he cheated, you left with your heart still in his hands. tonight, you’ll let him keep it for a little while longer.

“one chance. you fuck up even a little-” before you’re able to finish your sentence, your lips are pressed against him. one of his presses against the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him. the familiar warmth of his lips against yours makes you melt against him. you slowly and reluctantly wrap your arms around his waist.

a small sob slips from his lips, making you jump slightly. tears fall from his eyes again, wetting both of your cheeks. his arms grip you tighter, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“thank you,” he whispers against your lips

he’s late. for anyone in a normal relationship, this wouldn’t be that bothersome. unfortunately for you, you don’t completely trust your boyfriend. not a hundred percent.

it’s eleven pm and he was meant to be home an hour ago. you tried reasoning with yourself. maybe he is stuck fighting a curse? maybe the higher-ups forced him into doing something? you tried thinking of anything besides the one thing that’s nagging at your brain.

he promised and you believed him. you’re starting to think you’re an idiot for trusting him, trusting that he’d stay loyal. how could you have been so dumb?

you’re staying at his apartment tonight, per his request. he promised that he’d be home in time to catch the new episode of your shared favorite show. he broke that promise so what other promises will he break tonight?

you hear the sound of a key entering the door and seconds later it opens. satoru walks in quietly. there’s a certain look on his face that you cant read. you assume the worst. before you can think critically you shoot up from your spot on the couch and storm over to him.

“how was it?” your voice is bitter and you hate the way it cracks at the end. you hate the way your eyes are already beginning to burn.

satoru look at you, confused. he’s not sure what you mean or why you’re angry. he’s tired and he’s not sure he can deal with this right now. the events of today and the fact that he needed to stay at work later than usual is taking a toll on his body.

“baby, what are you talking about?” he reaches for you and you back away from him. for a second he feels the memories of that day flood his mind. the familiar way you back away from him, the familiar look in your eyes. you can’t possibly think that right now.

“no. hey, don’t let your mind go to that.” he successfully grabs your hand in his and pulls it to his lips. immediately you feel the harsh beating in your chest slow down.

“did you cheat on me?” you ask. you just want an answer now. you need to know if you’ll be leaving tonight or falling asleep in his arms as usual.

“no. i promised you. do you want me to get on my knees for you again?” the look in his eyes is unwavering. when you don’t answer he falls to his knees in front of you.

“a curse attacked a town and killed hundreds of people. it was pretty powerful and it took me longer than usual. that’s where i was. i promise.” he stares into your eyes. there is no hint of a lie to be found.

“i know it’s going to take you a while to trust me again. i will get on my knees every day and promise not to hurt if that’s what it will take.”

you feel like a fool even though you shouldn’t. he understands that you don’t trust him completely and he’s working toward that. you’re embarrassed even though he’s the one on his knees right now. you nudge his hand and motion for him to get up.

“i’m sorry-”

“no. you have nothing to be sorry for.” once he stands he grabs your face in both of his hands. one of his thumbs brushes against you bottom lip. his eyes are soft as he looks at you.

“i promise.” he doesn’t need to say what he promises. you know what he means. he pulls your face towards his and places a sloppy kiss against your lips.

“i love you.” you don’t reply but he knows you love him too.

©rinslutz

[permanentswaps]

SwapFindr (Pt. 4)

As the days dragged on, I became accustomed to Andrew's silence. I had stopped reaching out, trying to preserve some semblance of sanity amidst the chaos he was wreaking with my body. The deadline we had set for ourselves—just five more days until we could swap back—was the only thing keeping me grounded.

So, when my phone pinged unexpectedly, I was genuinely surprised to see Andrew’s name pop up. I hadn’t heard from him in over a week and suddenly here he was.

A: Dude, I’m so fucking horny right now, I can’t even think straight. I just got out of the shower and now Jack’s in the bathroom freshening up, so I don’t have much time to chat.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. The abruptness and content of his message, after days of silence, only fueled my frustration.

L: Nice to hear from you. Where the hell have you been?

His reply came quickly.

A: Sorry, man, I’ve been busy. Jack invited me to spend the whole weekend with him at his family’s ski cabin. We were supposed to go skiing, but, well... we got distracted. You wouldn’t believe how many places there are to fuck in there.

I clenched my teeth, feeling a mixture of anger and disbelief surge through me. The casual way he talked about my body, about my life, as if it were his to enjoy without consequence, was becoming too much.

L: Great for you. But I haven’t heard from you in like 2 weeks.

A: Oh fuck really, its been 2 weeks already? Sorry about that.

He then quickly changed the subject on the next text.

A: But anyway dude, why didn’t you tell me about the nipple thing? Jack and I were fucking this weekend and he started playing with them while I was riding him. I came SO FUCKING MUCH. I swear it was the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had.

Before I could even respond he sent another message.

A: Jack loved it too. I think he gets off on dominating me because, once he saw how much he made me cum, he just bred me so fucking deep.

I felt a hot flush of embarrassment wash over me. That was deeply personal, and now Andrew was casually discussing it like he’s a pornstar. I didn't even know how to respond.

L: Why are you texting me about this?

A: Yeah, well, I just wanted to know if my body has any other secret turn ons I should know about? I’m willing to trade information – like your body, it really likes getting rimmed.

His words stung—his casual claim over my body as if he had some right to it, some entitlement to its deepest secrets. My patience snapped.

L: It's not your body, Andrew. It’s mine. We're swapping back next week. You don’t need to know these things—you shouldn’t even know what you do already.

The phone screen lit up again, and Andrew's next message sent a wave of panic through me.

A: You know, I’ve been thinking... maybe we shouldn’t swap back. I think we should just stay like this instead.

His suggestion hit me like a physical blow. My hands trembled as I read the message over and over, trying to grasp the reality of his words.

L: Dude, we had a deal!

A: But I like this body too much. I think I should keep it.

His words came in rapid succession, each message more unsettling than the last.

A: Actually, I deserve to keep it.

A: This body itself wants me in control because it knows I’m better for it. Makes it feel good. Luke, you never got this body laid—it’s a specimen and deserves better than you.

A: Why would I want to deprive Jack of his new boyfriend who he’s really starting to like?

Each text seemed to twist the knife deeper.

L: That’s not fair, Andrew. You can’t just decide to keep my body.

Andrew's messages continued to grow more assertive and defiant, each one tinged with a bit of sass that made the reality of the situation even harsher.

A: Actually, yeah, I can. We both have to say yes to swap back. So, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. I’m going to keep this body.

His audacity was shocking, his words slicing through any hope I had clung to about an easy resolution.

A: You know what? I think you like being a chubby guy. You like seeing your former body be so assertive over you, living the life you could’ve had but were never brave enough to take.

I blushed, heat flooding my face. How did he know that? My fingers flew over the keyboard, the panic and urgency palpable in each tap.

L: I’m going to reach out to the company. They can forcibly swap us back. You can’t just steal someone’s life because you’re enjoying it.

My threats seemed empty even to me, desperate grabs at regaining some semblance of control.

An hour later, I was still hunched over my computer, scrolling through customer service pages and legal stipulations about the body swap process. It was after hours, and every attempt to reach a live person ended in frustration. The company’s automated responses provided no relief, only generic instructions to "reach out during business hours."

Just as I was about to shut my laptop in defeat, my phone vibrated with another message from Andrew.

A: Hey, sorry about before. I really wasn’t thinking straight. Your body’s hormones are powerful when its horny, fuck.

I stared at the message, a mix of relief and frustration churning inside me.

A: But now that Jack got me off and I can think again… Of course we are going to swap back. But I’m not giving up this body until I absolutely have to. Talk Friday.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Cw: a little suggestive so maybe 18+only, I’m just kinda playing around to figure out his voice ygm?

Dick Grayson who’s the world’s biggest flirt and doesn’t mind one bit that you’re the feistiest thing he’s ever come across.

“You know, I could always help you spar, get your hand eye coordination up to my levels,” he’s still the dorky gymnast kid he’s always been- just older and a lot hotter.

You’d been in the league with him and went solo when he’d founded the Titans but he still pops up every now and then to tease and get under your skin like he’d done when he’d still been Robin.

“And what level would that be Grayson? Second base?” Your chest is heaving as you stand, body dripping in sweat from your latest sequence.

Dick knows you don’t really need pointers, but how else is he going to make a show of wanting to be around you.

“I’m wounded,” he places his hands on his chest and leans forward, the perfect opening for you to swipe your foot at his legs and have him falling forward.

Instead, the stupid (read:sexy, cocky, egoistic, did you say sexy yet?) man jumps over the anticipated attack and flips you onto your back.

“You wound me, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes and flip you both over, so you’re hovering over him.

“I really might,” he winks at you as you stand and you shake your head. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Dick stands, takes your towel and wipes his face and then leans on the doorframe.

“Came to check in on my girl, that so bad?” You get up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands holding your waist tight as he pulls you closer. “Spend the night with me?” He trails his nose against your jaw, his lips stamping kisses under your neck on the myriad of beauty marks you have that make your knees weak.

“Dick,” you grumble, hands sinking in his hair. “Fine,” you try to keep your voice all gruff and steady but he knows better. He feels the jump in your pulse, his ears are insanely attuned to you so he hears the little hitch in your breath too.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he pulls away with a smug smile and you know you’ve got a hickey somewhere on your neck. “Meet you by the bike in ten?”

“If you think I’m getting on that thing with you Grayson, you haven’t missed me enough.” There’s a poorly hidden smile on your face as you back out of the training room.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. I’ll be by the bike.”

You don’t protest much when you step outside, dressed all pretty with your duffel bag full of clothes and whatever else you might need and find Dick leaning on his car- a midnight blue that puzzles you on how no one figured him out to be Nightwing for so long.

“Such a liar,” he takes your bag from you, chucking it into the trunk as you reach for the door.

“Touch that handle and we’ll have issues,” your hand drops immediately. “Didn’t want you to feel all desperate having to rub up on me the entire ride back to our place.”

The way he says it, our place, warms your heart. You and Dick had the roughest time getting accustomed to each other and now that ease, that familiarity, that willingness to share something so intimate and it be easy- it makes everything you’d both undergone insignificant.

“Yeah b’cause I’m the desperate one between us,” He smiles as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

“Glad you could admit it, gorgeous.” He kisses you then closes the door before you can complain and all you hear is his laugh as he rounds the car to get in.

[zepskies]

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor. 

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you. 

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car. 

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters. 

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed. 

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down. 

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety. 

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it. 

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side. 

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can. 

He disappears before you can spit at him. 

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it. 

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel. 

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary. 

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down. 

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says. 

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash. 

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel. 

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery. 

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves. 

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.  

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously. 

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow. 

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window. 

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown. 

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker. 

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head. 

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.  

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify. 

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

 “Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state. 

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing. 

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.  

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes. 

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer. 

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile. 

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it. 

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face. 

“Are you angry?” he asks. 

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him. 

“No. Why?” 

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh. 

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence. 

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you. 

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there. 

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself. 

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.  

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency. 

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes. 

“Cas,” you breathe in content. 

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage. 

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free. 

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks. 

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

Castiel Masterlist

Supernatural Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Castiel Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev

@sanscas @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @torchbearerkyle @rominaszh @sleepyqueerenergy @melancholictearz @harleycao @tabsluvsu @jad3djay @iwishiwas-sleeping @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @chriszgirl92

[digital-domain]

Outside

Mahito x Reader // Word Count ~6k

Synopsis: Sometimes, Mahito actually tries to make you happy. This latest attempt comes closer to the mark than any other. You missed being outside, and you feel just a little bit less trapped once you’re out beneath the night sky. For a few minutes, anyways. Before it all goes wrong. If only this stranger on the street was able to keep his mouth shut – and if only Mahito wasn’t there to hear him.

Content Warnings and Tags: Dark content. Noncon, forced relationship, kidnapped reader, extreme possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, dacryphillia, throat fucking, rough sex, discussion of drinking and depiction of drunkenness (not reader), catcalling, non-gory description of physical violence, discussion of past violence and killing, off-screen murder (also not reader but boy is it traumatizing for them). In summation: the dove is dead, do not eat it.

A/N: I - don't even know how I feel about this one. Sometimes a concept pops into your head and you just have to see it through. As always, proceed with caution <3

He wakes you up with a rough grip, shaking you until your eyes flutter open. It’s an unpleasant way to be ripped from sleep, but compared to some of the other ways he’s tried in the past weeks, it’s not so bad. His hands are on your shoulders, this time, and it’s only his hands touching you – it could be worse. Still, you feel the familiar curl of despair in your stomach, the familiar urge to turn away from the face that hovers over yours, to run away from it. But you don’t do so much as close your eyes. It’s not worth it. You know he’ll only pry them back open.

“You’re cute when you wake up.” He grins broadly, giggling at the sight of your eyes struggling to remain open. “You always look a little bit confused for a second. And your voice changes when you’re sleepy. It’s adorable.” When he leans down to kiss you, you accept it, lying still and parting your mouth to allow his tongue inside. Your eyelids feel heavy. There’s no view of the sky in this wretched sewer – you haven’t seen it since the day he dragged you down here – but you can tell that it’s still the depths of night, that you were asleep for a few hours at most. This isn’t unusual. You’ve learned that when he gets a new idea, he doesn’t like to wait.

His kiss is long, and slow. It drags the breath from your mouth until at last, after what feels like an eternity, he’s satisfied. Then, he pulls you to your feet, and holds you tight in his arms, face pressed down into your neck. “I have a surprise for you.” His voice is low, but shaking, barely containing his excitement.

You stiffen involuntarily, just enough that you’re sure he notices. You can’t help it. You think you’ve spent about three weeks here, although you can’t be entirely sure, and none of the several “surprises” he’s sprung on you in that time have been anything short of horrific.

“I’ve decided…” He pulls back, and grins into your face, still far too close for any sort of comfort, his breath falling oddly cold on your cheek. “That you deserve something extra special. You’ve been so much fun, and I want to do something nice for you. Like a reward. I thought about it for a while, and I think I came up with something good.” He tilts his head, sizing up your expression. “Ask me what it is.”

You don’t want to know. But you will, soon enough, no matter what. “What is it?”

“I’ve decided…that I’m going to let you go outside!”

Your brain churns, trying to make sense of what he’s said. “Outside?”

“Mhm! Aren’t you excited?” His smile falls as you stare blankly back at him. “You should be excited,” he says petulantly. “It’s a good surprise. Humans like a change of scenery, right? You like fresh air?”

“Yes, but”- Surely, he’s not offering you what you really want. To you, outside means freedom. And there’s nothing he wants to give you less than that.

“Oh. I get it.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting you go by yourself. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your way back!”

Right. Lost. As if you wouldn’t run as fast as you could as soon as you made it to the mouth of the sewer. In any direction, to anywhere at all. If he ever gave you the chance, you would take it in an instant.

“I’ll hold your hand and everything.” As he says this, he interlocks his fingers with yours, and squeezes. “It’ll be very romantic. You’ll like it.”

His grip on your hand will be tight – even if it wasn’t, you know how quick he is, how powerful. As long as he’s beside you, you’ll never have a hope of escape. Still, as his surprises go, this is the best one so far. It’s a very low bar, to be fair, but still…

“Let’s go,” he insists, tugging at your arm.

 “Now?”

“Of course!” He laughs again, like you've said something absolutely ridiculous. “You really are cute when you wake up. You get confused…”

You pause for a beat, trying to smooth out the consternation on your face. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Mhm. And it’s nice out! Very quiet. The streets are almost all empty...no one around to get in the way of the view.”

“The streets are empty because it’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

You look down at your clothes. They’re an odd ensemble, a blue, mid-thigh pleated skirt and a large black t-shirt he brought back yesterday from who-knows-where. Only the third change of clothes he’s given you in the weeks since he found you. Certainly a step up from the tattered, indecent remains of the dress you’d had on that first night, and even from the other ensembles he’s collected in the intervening time – but still not anything you’d choose to wear in public. It’s a small detail to get hung up on, but you’ve found yourself latching onto small details quite often in the past few weeks. If you think about the big picture for too long, you start to feel like your brain is going to break.

“You should be excited,” he says stubbornly. “But if you really don’t want to… I can find something else for us to do. I’ve got other ideas!”

There’s nothing threatening about the way he says it. It’s matter of fact, almost genial. But that doesn’t matter. You know that you don’t want to experience any of his backup plans – your imagination is already going into overdrive, picturing what he might have in store if you refuse his offer. “No. I…I want to go outside.” You realize, as you say it, that it’s true, and not only because your fear the alternatives. Still, your voice comes out small, and it shrinks even more as you force out your final sentence. “Thank you.”

“Aw. You’re very welcome.” He kisses you on the forehead, and starts leading you away. As you follow, slightly behind him, you rediscover another one of those small details you latch onto when everything is too much: the sewer itself is oddly warm, but the floor is always cold on your bare feet. It doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, such minute observations are comforting distractions, but right now, this particular one is only adding to your unease.

After a few begrudging steps, you manage to spit out: “I need shoes.”

“Oh…of course! You should have said something before.” He releases your hand and darts away, faster than humanly possible, returning to your side moments later with a pair of black high heels you recognize as your own. “You were wearing these with your dress the night I found you, remember? I decided to keep them.”

Of course you remember. You’d kicked them off inside your apartment, minutes before he’d shown up. Had he really stopped to pick them up when he’d carried you away? The details of that night are…well. Most of them are hazy. A few are painfully clear.

“I kept the dress, too,” he sighs, as he places the shoes in front of you. “It’s too bad you can’t wear it anymore. I still have it, just in case you change your mind.”

You step into the heels, and reluctantly take his hand, wobbling slightly as you follow him through the tunnel. “I was wearing it for days,” you say timidly. “It smells.”

“It smells like you.” In the periphery of your vision, you can see his head turn in your direction. You keep your eyes glued to the floor. “The longer you wore it, the more like you it smelled. It got stronger.” His nails scratch at the back of your hand, long and harsh against your dry skin. “I guess human scents linger for a while, because it still smells like you.”

You stay quiet, as you usually do. How are you supposed to respond to something like that? There was a time when you thought he said things like this to upset you. Now, though, you think he’s just frightfully honest. He doesn’t say things to provoke you – he says things because they appear in his head, and he has no qualms about letting you hear them. Does he know that they make you uncomfortable? He must – but clearly, he doesn’t mind.

For several minutes, you walk through twisted passages. Although you can still feel his eyes lapping at your face, at your body, at the hem of your skirt, he’s silent for once, giving you the gift of uninterrupted time in your own head. You wonder how long it’ll be before he feels inclined to get you a new bundle of clothes. A set of underwear, at least, would be nice. Maybe if you ask, he’ll do it. He does seem to like providing for you, even to take pride in it, although he certainly doesn’t know how to do it properly. When he presented your most recent outfit to you, he stared at you like he was expecting something more than numb acceptance. Like he was expecting you to jump for joy, or to thank him for giving you the dignity of wearing clothes that didn’t stink. These little moments – where he seems to truly believe he's being kind to you - have been happening frequently in the past week or so, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. On the one hand, it probably means that he’s getting even more attached to you. That doesn’t bode well for your future. Then again, your future was more or less wiped away the moment he discovered your existence. You might as well appreciate the little comforts you’re provided.

“Do you feel the air yet?” He smiles, much more gently than you’re accustomed to – inviting, rather than forcing you, to smile in return. “It’s changing.”

As soon as he points it out, you feel it. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel – a stir in the dense, cloying air that gives you a faint sense of comfort. As you move forward, that light becomes physical – he leads you up a ladder, briefly letting go of your hand to allow you to climb. You scrabble up towards the light, almost losing your shoes in the process. As you poke your head over the street line, you can’t help but feel free, just for a moment. When you look up, you can see the stars above you. There aren’t as many as you’d like – the city lights render all but the brightest invisible – but it’s something. Despite everything, you’re grateful for it.

“You like it! I can tell…I knew you would.” He smiles broadly, and grasps your wrist, pulling you onto the street above the sewer. The assistance is unnecessary – but under the circumstances, you don’t mind. You don’t flinch, as you usually do at his touch. He grabs your hand, and you walk along the street together in strange silence. He’s watching you intently, as always, but he’s not talking, and that’s enough. If you didn’t look, you could almost pretend that you were alone, staring out at the open city streets and up at the sky above. What time is it, exactly? 3? 4? One of those times where no one is awake except for you. When you were alone in your home - your real home - you used to cherish being awake at such times, cherish the strange, powerful sense of isolation. Even now, stumbling along the sidewalk with this demon at your side, you can’t help but cherish it again. At least you’re outside. At least you have the stars to keep you company, and not just him.

“Thank you.” When you say it this time, you mean it, although it’s not really directed at him. He’s barely there, in your mind. You’re thanking the night air, and the sky, and the empty, open streets for the strange comfort they provide. Only now do you realize how claustrophobic you’ve been for all this time. The dim light of the sewer, the imposing walls trapping you inside – those little oppressive details have been adding to your misery. Now that they’re gone…you still hate everything about your situation, but it’s easier for you to ignore it. Easier for you to pretend, for a moment, that everything is going to be okay.

“I knew you’d like it,” he repeats. You’re sure his eyes are glowing, that he’s got some version of his crazed smile splattered across his face, but you don’t have to look. There are so many better things to look at right now.

Just as you have this thought, a shadow emerges from the intersection in front of you, perhaps twenty paces away. Under the streetlights, the shadow takes the form of a man. He’s tall, maybe twenty years older than you, dressed simply in jeans and a grey t-shirt. And, as he gets closer, you see that he’s stumbling. He pauses to lean against a battered storefront, right beside the mouth of a shadowy alley. He’s swaying slightly, and you think you see his mouth moving, as if he’s muttering something under his breath.

“I’ve seen ones like him before!” Mahito’s hand tightens over yours, voice full of excitement, as he pulls you to a halt. “It’s almost always at night…and their breath always smells the same way.” His free hand comes out of nowhere to turn your face toward him. His eyes fix intently on yours, and his finger strokes gently over your mouth. “Your breath smelled a little like that, the night I found you, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as theirs. And you weren’t walking so strangely, either.”

You don’t ask why he was close enough to smell their breath. You already know. The horrors you’ve witnessed in the past weeks have been enough to bring you to tears – both out of pity for the bodies beneath him, and fear for your own.

“The things you humans do to yourselves…” He tugs your forward by your hand, and kisses you on the forehead, his fingers slipping into your hair. Even when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go. “You’re lucky you’re done with all that now. You can’t do anything to yourself…and no other humans can do anything to you, either. The only one who can do anything is me!”

Desperate to shake his gaze away, you cast your eyes upwards, but the expanse of the sky does nothing to dispel the claustrophobic dread churning in your stomach. Perhaps it was never about the sewer itself, after all.

He releases your hair and grips your hand tightly. “You can keep walking now. I want to get a closer look.”

You walk slightly behind him this time, your other hand clenched at your side. Usually, you’d worry about how strange you might look to passersby, holding onto what seems to be empty air, stumbling awkwardly as if pulled by some invisible force. But you doubt that the man before you will notice. You can see Mahito’s neck crane as the pair of you approach. As you draw even with the man you think he’s about to let go of your hand, and run up close for a better view.

But before that can happen, the man grins at you, his burnt-out eyes suddenly finding their focus. He doesn’t meet your gaze. In fact, he seems to look everywhere but your face, in the space of a few seconds. His mouth falls open. And the inevitable words tumble from his mouth, their edges blurred. “Hey…sweetheart. Whatcha doin all alone?”

Your stomach churns. If you were truly alone, at this time of night, this would be more than enough to set off every alarm in your head, to send you rushing down the street. But right now – right now, the fingernails tightening against the back of your hand are screaming for all of your attention.

“I didn’t like that.” You turn, giving into the sudden sense of dread that commands you to look. Mahito has never sounded like this before. He’s never looked like this either. There’s no hint of a smile, no glow in his eyes. “I didn’t like that.” You quickly realize what’s wrong with the picture: he’s serious. Not the inquisitive kind of serious – the deathly kind. He’s squeezing your hand tight enough to leave crescent moons in your skin. His eyes latch onto yours, clinging so tightly that you can’t bear to look away. You gasp as, in two places, the skin on the back of your hand gives way, sliced open by his viselike grip. To your surprise, he lets go at the sound of your voice. He holds his hand up to the side of your face, only glancing at the smudge of blood on his nails before capturing your gaze once more. “You’re…you’re not his sweetheart. You’re mine. He doesn’t get to say that. He can’t…” In the periphery of your vision, his hand is shaking.

You stumble as he turns you aside, nearly crashing onto the sidewalk beneath your feet, scrabbling for purchase on his arm. For once, he doesn’t try to catch you – he barely seems aware of your grasp on him at all. The man against the wall is staring blearily, deeply confused, no doubt, by the nothing that appears to be tossing you around.

Mahito’s hand finds the back of your shirt and drags you across the sidewalk, practically hurling you deep into the mouth of the alley beside the storefront. He disappears for a moment – not nearly long enough for you to process your new surroundings, never mind attempt to escape them. In the split-second it takes for your eyes to adjust to the looming walls on either side of you, the dustbins gathered in shadowed clumps along the alleyway, and the crumbled brick inexplicably lying at the edges, your view is interrupted by a flash of movement, unintelligible, faster even than the one that carried you here, followed by the sharp thud of a body on pavement And beneath that, a sickening sort of crack. You think you heard a similar sound or two in the moment before this violent flurry, but you're too frightened to process it entirely. Mahito stands before you, facing the dark, indistinct end of the passageway. Several yards in front of him lies a huddled mass, flung across the alley and into the pavement beneath with a force magnitudes greater than the one that carried you into these shadows. It whimpers in pain, face down, seemingly unable to move.

Your mouth falls open – but even if you could speak, what would you say? Would you tell him to stop? From the half of his face that you can see, you know this would be a futile effort.

When he hears the rasp of your breath, Mahito turns, slowly. One of his hands is in a fist at his side, the other still raised in the aftermath of a brutal throw. This hand slowly falls.

You’ve seen him kill before. Three times, in real life, and several times in the nightmares that have haunted you nearly every night since. What disturbed you most was the way he reveled in it, the grin that spread wider across his face with every movement, with every pitiful sound that echoed into the night, with every deafening spatter of indistinct human mass that forced you to your knees in terror. And his laughter – that was the most hideous sound of all. That’s the one you always hear in your dreams, the one that still echoes in your ears when you wake up.

But somehow, seeing him without that smile, standing in complete silence, is a thousand times more terrifying. You blink rapidly, trying to fend off the wave of tears you can feel building behind your eyes.

He takes a step towards you. Another. One more. It’s a narrow alley – three steps is all it takes to pin you against the brick wall that stretches up to the sky behind you. His hand rises to stroke along the side of your face, to brush over your trembling lips. “You shouldn’t be crying.” He’s far too calm, the pitch of his voice lower than what you’ve grown to expect. “You can’t cry. Not for him.” Here, his voices quivers, enough to remind you that under this strangely cold exterior, he’s just as volatile as ever.

To your horror, a stray tear escapes from between your lashes. As soon as he sees it, he swipes it away, the ragged edge of his nail dragging threateningly along your cheek. “Don’t.”

You would choke out an apology, if you thought you could speak without releasing the rest of the flood. Instead, you find yourself staring silently, helplessly, as his hand closes around your throat. “You’re the most pretty when you cry,” he sighs, soft voice contrasting horribly with the roughness of his grip. His face falls into your hair, and he inhales deeply, fingers tightening against the sides of your neck. “And you’re mine. When you’re this pretty – it has to be for me. Not for anyone else.”

How lovely it would be to look up and see the stars just one more time. To pretend that you were alone for one more moment. You’re suffocating, in all senses of the word, the combination of a lack of oxygen and pure terror sending a violent, vision-blurring rush to your head. The kind of rush that makes you feel like your mind is being violently expelled through the top of your skull, forced to watch helplessly as it floats over the hollow body it’s left behind.

He kisses you slowly, almost tenderly, staring desperately into your deadened eyes all the while. Starving for some response, even as he drains the air from your lungs. When it ends what seems like eons later, he at last drops his hand, and the pressure on your neck disappears. You gulp at the night air, eyelids flickering with the exhaustion and relief of your sudden release. You tilt your head back for another mighty inhale, but it’s cut short by cold hands sliding down your neck, onto your shoulders, guiding you gently but firmly to the ground.

For a moment, the only thing you let yourself process is the rough scrape of pavement on your knees. It’s not smooth. It’s not comfortable. But you can make it slightly better, because there’s a bit of rubble beneath your left knee, or perhaps a small stone - with all too much effort, you manage to shift the weight of your body, to move your hand and swipe the pebble away. The motion leaves you staring at the ground, eyes sweeping desperately for some other small bit of something to latch onto. You don’t want to look up, because you’re all too aware of what lies between you and the sky. It’s been watching you adjust your posture. Watching you make your futile attempts to stave it off.

Mahito slides two fingers just beneath the line of your jaw, and digs in until you have no choice but to raise your face. “You’re doing better. You’re doing good…I didn’t see any more tears. And when they do come back…they’ll be all for me. Soon. I'll know...I'll know that they're mine.”

You think you hear a sound from back in the alley, where his victim still lies alive, and motionless. But when you turn instinctively, he catches you, pressing his thumb firmly into the skin over your molars and scrapping you hard with nails beneath your jaw. “Don’t!” He practically yelps, and the high-pitched sound yanks your eyes all the way up to his face. “He – he wanted to take you.”

You took me. The thought comes to your mind, unbidden, not for the first time. It will never leave your mouth.

His eyes are wild, and his chest heaves, his face an overflowing blend of overwrought emotion, anger and confusion and urgency. “You’re mine. Mine.” He shoves his fingers into your hair, and grips hard, nails scratching mindlessly at your scalp. “No one else can have you. Ever.”

From your mouth comes a terrified whimper, not unlike the sound you heard from the shadows moments before. You follow it with words, and they come out nearly inaudible, caked in the phlegm of tears soon to come. “I want to go back.”

“We can’t.” For a tense, still-aired moment, his eyes fall closed. Without their vengeful glow, he looks more dejected than anything else. He takes a slow breath. You’ve never known whether he needed to breathe, or whether he did it for some sort of effect, but in the moment, it’s serving him, somehow. The hand loose at his side closes into a fist as he exhales, and when his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than ever. The confusion is gone, and the anger has retreated to the background – only a hauntingly familiar hunger remains. “We can’t go back. I'm not done yet.” His voice steadies, and he stares mercilessly, ravenously, into your captive gaze. “I need to - make it better. Make it right."

He yanks you forward. The tension on your scalp becomes painful as you fall gracelessly into his thigh, but he rights you, pulling you into his crotch and holding you steady. The fist at his side unclenches, and falls heavily, almost clumsily onto the back of your head, pressing you firmly into the outline of his cock.

He’s already hard. You’re hit with a nauseating wave of revulsion as you feel the stiffness beneath the cloth against your face, as he drags your lips over the length of his shaft. He holds you there, drawing out the moment, as if daring you to pull away. When you look up, there’s the ghost of a familiar smile on his face – enough to send your gaze plummeting down. His hands drop from your hair, and stretch, in their distorted, unnatural fashion, all the down way to your wrists, dragging them up his thighs before placing them on the waistband of his trousers.

There’s a moment where you do nothing, holding your hands utterly still, inches from his cock. As if your inaction might be enough for him to change his mind. He’s used these moments to toy with you before, letting you draw out your resistance, enjoying the anticipation, enjoying the anger and despair in your eyes. But he has no patience tonight. His hands fold over yours, pressing them down into his waistband, and a third arm juts out from his stomach, rending through the cloth of his shirt to grasp your face, squeezing your cheeks and prodding harshly at your jaw until your mouth is forced open.

His cock springs free, and you let out a choked sob. He’s experimented with many shapes and sizes, and tonight, it’s clearly designed to make you struggle. His third hand retracts back from whence it came, leaving nothing between you and your fate.

Both remaining hands depart from your wrists and land firmly on the back of your head. He tugs you forward, forcing the tip of his cock into your still-open mouth.

You make the mistake of allowing your eyes to flick upwards. And, for the first time since that fateful moment minutes ago, you see his grin spread over his face. “All mine,” he sighs, hands relaxing where they rest upon your scalp. “All mine.” He presses forward slowly, but firmly, easing himself into your mouth, savoring each scrape against your tongue, each time you’re forced to breathe through your nose. He doesn’t stop at the limit of your comfort – he never does. He presses past the edge of your throat, lodging himself inside you, until he’s nearly cut off your breath for the second time tonight. Your eyelids feel heavy, and your eyes themselves water uncontrollably, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Just when you think he’s too much for you to take, he pulls back. But he lets you enjoy your freedom for just a moment before thrusting deep into your throat, pressing his palms so roughly against your head that you know you have no chance of escape. You sputter uncontrollably, and narrow trails of drool escape from the sides of your mouth. Your entire body shudders, gasping for breath, for a break, for a way out. But your suffering, as usual, does nothing to slow him down. If anything, it spurs him on. He thrusts into you again, and again, gradually working himself up, speed increasing with every indecent noise that manages to escape from around his cock. Your survival instincts take over, and you desperately try to pull away, desperate for a single deep, clean breath; he pushes you down, his hands a hundred times stronger than the force your body can muster.

“So pretty.” He sighs – not with pleasure, but with relief. Like doing this to you has finally set his mind at ease. “You can cry now.”

You couldn't stop yourself if you wanted to - tears drip down your cheek as he pulls you in close. So close that you choke disgustingly loudly – so close that even if you dared to look up, you wouldn’t get a clear picture of his face. So close that you feel the bile churning in your stomach, threatening to give way. For several seconds, he keeps you here, staring down at you, crushing your every attempt to struggle.

There’s another whimper from the recesses of the alley – louder, this time - but your empathy seems to have disappeared. You only wish you had enough freedom of body and mind to make such a sound.

He thrusts once more, revels in the way you gag and balk at his size. When he frees you, several seconds later, yanking you back by the base of your hair, you feel no relief. You barely have time to take that one deep breath you’ve been craving before a sharp shove to your shoulders sends you crashing onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs. He drops to the ground and crawls on top of you, pinning you to the ground as his swelling cock drags up your thigh.

”You’re too pretty for humans…and feel too good...” The tip of his cock presses hard at the lips of your cunt, and you use the strength you have to squirm away – until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. “They don’t deserve to have you.” He drags you towards him, and you don’t resist, if only because you don’t want to know how it feels to have your skull slam against solid brick. Your lips, recently sealed shut, part once again as his cock forces you open. For as long as you can, you keep quiet, trying to deny him the satisfaction of hearing the reaction he can already see. But you can only hold out for so long. In real time – the earthly time separate from the years that pass in your mind – it’s barely seconds. He’s molded himself to stretch you open, to stretch you beyond your limits. And he knows those limits well enough not to fail.

His entire body seems to shudder with anticipation. "Come on. I know you can sound pretty, too. Don't hold it back."

You obey, a fresh thrust of his cock forcing a sob from your mouth. His growing smile warps into a full, overbearing grin, a grin that you don’t dare shut out by closing your eyes.

He fucks into you recklessly, sloppily, again and again, and his hand falls upon your neck once more, threatening to tighten to the point of no return. “See? It’s – it’s so nice when you cry for me.” He squeezes – whether it’s intentional or a sign of his failing control, you truly don’t know. “Isn’t it? Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes.” It’s a rasp, hissing out between sobs, and it’s the most painful lie you’ve ever told – but between his hand at your throat and his cock buried deep inside you, what choice do you have? Your mind floats fuzzily above your head once more, abandoning your body to hang on for dear life.

“Good.” He exhales blissfully, innocently, his pure, all-consuming pleasure at odds with the cries of pain and despair you hear emanate from your mouth. “I knew it…still like to hear you say it…”

He’s babbling – and, you realize, with a fresh wave of despair, so are you. “I can’t…please…”

“Soon.” His hand inexplicably releases your throat, and furls into the shadows, arm extending far longer than it should, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his fingers, even if you dared to look away from his face to watch them. “Almost…”

When you finally allow your eyes to close, he doesn’t notice – his head is already thrown back, and somewhere in the alley, yards away, his fist tightens. Hard.

The bile rises in your stomach all over again. For just a moment, you’re lucid enough to realize what he’s doing. And you can’t stop him.

He falls over you and gasps heavily in your ear. His cock pulses, and your eyes snap open against your will, mouth parting instinctually as you feel the all-too familiar shock of his release.

It aligns cleanly with a sickening splatter, exactly where his hand fell into the shadows.

“There.” He buries his face in your neck, and his arm retracts back into view. His hand, oddly slick, brushes up your forehead and through your hair. “All done. All better.” He doesn’t seem to notice the dry heaving of your breath, the uncontrollable shaking of your arms and legs. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he’s enjoying it. Perhaps he thinks it’s a good thing. “A happy ending…you humans love those, don’t you?”

You’re beyond words. Lacking the strength to speak, the will to move. The only thing that’s working is your mind, and you wish it wasn’t. You wish it would abandon you again, instead of shoving its way back into your head. You don’t dare look back into the depths of the alley, but you know what you’d see if you did. Something transfigured, ruined, mangled – dead. It’s not your fault. It’s Mahito. All him, all him, all this suffering at his hands…and yet, you’re the only one who’s falling apart. Of the three who came into this alley, he’s the only one who hasn’t been destroyed.

“Don’t worry.” He raises his face, smiling gently into the ravages of your expression, carefully wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re never gonna do this again. We’ll never hear anyone talk like that again." He laughs - laughs. "Not him...but not anyone else, either. I’ll keep you…I’ll keep you away from it all. Keep you all to myself.”

Your back is still pressed to the ground, skull resting uncomfortably upon the hard surface below you. There are still stars in the sky – just a few bright ones, strong enough to penetrate the city lights around you, but they blur before your eyes. Far away, they fade into nothing, pinpricks compared to the blinding glow of the manic gaze bearing down upon you.

Mahito rolls you onto your side, and you stare numbly into the street as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Your arm is trapped beneath you, pressing harshly into the asphalt, but it doesn’t matter. You barely notice at all. All you can feel is him. All you can hear is his breath, unsettlingly even and quiet, and his occasional hums and sighs in your ear.  

You know this won’t last long. That once he decides he’s done, you’ll be dragged back to his home, perhaps never to emerge. It’s horrifying, but you’re too numb to feel that horror just yet. You can’t bring yourself to mourn for the outside, the world you’re about to be torn away from. Not yet. Not now. And perhaps not ever. Perhaps it’s best if you never see the stars again. Best for Mahito, best for you – and best for anyone who stumbles into your path.

[houseofripley]

HEYY

Can you do a rhea x fem!reader story where rhea and reader are in Highschool and have both had feeling for eachother for the longest time and both haven’t confessed but all that changes because rhea ask reader to prom and they end up kissing and it leads to something else (ifykyk😏) (smut n a lil bit of fluff too🙏)

Starry Prom Night

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Scissoring, Praise, Cheek Cupping & Kissing Galore, INSANE PLOT BUILDING FOR NO REASON LOL SORRYYYYYY IM A YEARNER (im serious this is like 67% plot building)

WORD COUNT: 3,731

A/N: this is just pure sapphic yearning on my end LMAO anyways anon i had so much fun writing this even though its all over the place!!!

also can you tell where i got impatient with all the plot building lol

“Rhea, I seriously don’t know how many more of these cheesy signs I can’t take. I think I’m gonna go insane.” You grunted, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. 

Prom season was in full swing. It was third period and you had just witnessed what had to have been the seventh promposal of the day. This year would be the mark of your and your best friend, Rhea’s senior prom. Senior prom was a date thousands of dreamed about, wanting to show up and show out one last time before waving goodbye to their highschool years. 

Every girl except you and Rhea. You both despised the thought of prom. Why would any sane person spend hundreds of dollars on an outfit just to spend their night drenched in sweat in the school gymnasium? 

Fuck that!

“Romeo O Romeo! Will thou spend your Saturday night with I, drinking punch next to the locker rooms?” Rhea mocked, elbowing your arm. 

You shook your head, pressing your lips together trying to keep your laughter silent. The commotion of classmates was soon drowned out by thoughts as your eyes met Rhea’s, causing your tightened lips to curl into a small smile.

Rhea’s blue eyes never failed to warm you. Everytime you gazed into those beachy eyes you were brought back to the day you first met the girl. Seventh grade, first period, language arts. A quiet blonde girl sporting a Pierce The Veil shirt was assigned to sit next to you. Nobody knew anything about the girl besides the fact she had just moved basically across the globe. You spent the entire period thinking of what you could possibly say to her, because what do you even say to a kid that was just relocated from South Australia all the way to some shitty suburban town? 

“Cool shirt.” 

And it fucking worked somehow. You were immediately attached to her hip. The two of you grew closer with each day that passed. You were inseparable. She was everything to you. Sleepovers every weekend. ‘Study’ sessions that were spent play fighting with each other. Singing pop-punk songs at the top of your lungs till your throats were raw. Dying your hair the same shade of blue at three in the morning. She was even at your side while your parents scolded you the morning after for said blue hair. 

Jesus Christ. Lost in her eyes again? Snap out of it already! 

“Yo, Alice in Wonderland, you okay?” Rhea playfully questioned, breaking your trance by poking at your thigh.

“Just…thinking. That’s all.” You softly chuckled. You were telling the truth, you were just thinking. Just thinking about her. Thinking about her touch, her hands, her pierced nose, her lips, her stupid cool shirts. 

══════⋆☆⋆══════

“Jesus, someone’s eager to get out of here.” You laughed, trailing behind Rhea who was booking it over to her small black Lexus.

“Dude, can you blame me? It’s like everyone has some sort of prom fever. I am not letting it catch me.” Rhea complained, ducking into the vehicle. 

You made your way to the passenger side of the car before hopping into the seat next to Rhea. “I counted eighteen of those damn signs today.” You babbled, resting your arm on the center console before trailing on, diffusing the topic, “Anyways, let’s go thrifting or something. I don’t wanna go home.”

Rhea shrugged in agreeance before pulling out of her parking spot. She knew things were tough for you at home. You had recently come out as lesbian to your parents. They weren't unsupportive but they weren't exactly supportive at the same time which had built quite a bit of tension in the household. You came out to Rhea just about two years ago, who was more than supportive. She was your number one defender, always there to threaten whichever classmate that dared to ridicule you.

You knew absolutely nothing about Rhea’s sexuality. Hell, even Rhea knew nothing about her sexuality. She only knew one thing, that she liked you. She didn’t even know when she caught feelings for you, it was like the sentiments were there since the moment you first spoke to her. She hoped as time went on the flutters she’d feel for you would pass on but recently she couldn’t seem to even push the mere thought of you out of her head, it was killing her.

The drive to the nearest thrift shop was comfortably silent…silent if you ignored the Black Veil Brides cd Rhea had blaring…

Entering the store the pair of you let out scoffed laughs as the first thing catching your attention was a large display of second hand dresses. Shaking it out of your heads and ignoring it at first you carried on to wander the isles, grabbing whatever caught your eye to try on later although you’d inevitably end back up to the racks of long dresses. You weren't a big fan of dresses but you wanted to waste as much time as you possibly could, so you decided to browse the gowns with Rhea. 

She pulled a deep maroon dress, the form fitting glittered bodice was paired with a looser, more freeing skirt. “Try it on!” Rhea pushed, shoving the dress into your arms.

“I’d look so stupid in this.” You gave Rhea a bewildered look.

“Oh c’mon just try it!”

“Rhe’ when have you ever given a shit about this stuff?”

“Dude you’re the one that wanted to waste time here…” Rhea playfully scorned, diverting your question.

“Urgh, I hate when you’re right.” You huffed, shuffling towards the dressing room. 

“How ridiculous do I look?” You pouted, opening the door of the changing room before shuffling to the closest mirror.

Rhea stood behind you, peering over your shoulder as you silently studied yourself in the mirror. You looked at Rhea through the mirror as she opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself in her tracks. “I mean it’s cute but where in the world would I wear this?” You shrugged, adjusting the straps as Rhea chewed on her cheeks.

“Wear it to prom.” Rhea timidly broke her silence.

“Why would I go to prom, Rhe’? First of all it would be so lame and second of all I’d have nobody to go with. I’m just gonna put this back.” You mumbled, turning to make your way back into the changing room.

 A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Go with me…” Rhea blurted out, sounding scared of her own words. Her statement caused you to turn to face her with a puzzled expression, Rhea herself even looked surprised at what she just said. Fearing your rejection she quickly added on, “Ya know, like as a joke and stuff. We can make it not lame…”

“As a joke?” Your heart that was skipping beats just seconds ago was immediately let down. 

“Yeah. It’s just a stupid idea we don’t hav-”

“No, let's go…as a joke.” You interrupted Rhea’s nervous deflection. “We’ve got nothing better to do.” You shrugged on watching Rhea’s anxieties fade into the distance as her classic cheeky smile crept upon her face.

After you swapped out of your dress you returned to Rhea who was holding up a silky black dress with a deep slit in the skirt. “This’ll work. I’m too lazy to try anything on.” She chuckled while shrugging.

“That's ballsy Rhe-Rhe.”

══════⋆☆⋆══════

Tonight was the night, you were sat atop Rhea’s bathroom counter, finishing up your makeup while Rhea was shuffling around her closet searching for a pair of shoes. It had been four weeks since Rhea ‘asked’ you to prom and you simply couldn’t keep your mind off it. Although you two planned this whole thing as a joke, something shifted ever so slightly between the two of you, maybe it wasn’t a joke, who knows. Rhea had your heart in your throat at every moment and you were the topic of every thought that popped into Rhea’s head. More than ever the both of you were head over heels for each other, just terrified the other wouldn’t reciprocate those shared feelings.

Your parents were completely unaware you’d be attending prom. You had informed them you were staying with a friend before immediately storming off to Rhea’s house. Rhea’s parents hadn’t a clue either, they were under the impression tonight would be just another night of the two of you doing nothing for hours then sneaking out to go for a drive at three in the morning. There truly wasn’t much reasoning behind this secret, you guys just wanted to have this night for yourselves without pestering parents. 

“Urgh! At this point I’m gonna go barefoot!” You could hear yet another pair of shoes be tossed to the floor. You slid off Rhea’s counter, stepped out of her bathroom and over to her closet. She was already in her dress tearing through a pile of shoes on the floor. “What has gotten into you Rhe’?” You leaned against the doorframe laughing at the fact that Rhea of all people was stressing over shoes. 

 Rhea rolled her eyes ignoring your banter. “Would it make me a hipster if I wore converse?”

“Oh absolutely, I dare you!” 

“You know I will,” Rhea retorted, picking up a black pair of the canvas shoes.

You chuckled before turning to return to the bathroom, letting Rhea know you were gonna change. You got into your dress with ease up until you came to the zipper on the back. You groaned in annoyance, reaching behind to your back attempting to wiggle the zipper to no avail.

“Rhe’, can you help me real quick?” You asked while popping your head out the door.

“Hm? What’s up?” Rhea turned around and questioned before making her way up to you, trying to keep her gaze from falling down to the hand placed on your chest, keeping the dress from completely slipping from your body.

“Zippers stuck,” You pouted, turning around. Rhea’s hand swept across the base of your neck, sweeping your hair to the side. You watched her through the mirror as she began fumbling with the metal, ultimately getting it to slide up your back.

After an awkward exchange of bashful looks the two of you finished getting ready in each other's company. You sat next to Rhea slipping into your shoes while she tied off her converse, took a handful of polaroid pictures together, then eventually snuck out Rhea’s window to begin your hike to the school.

══════⋆☆⋆══════

“Ouu! Ripley’s got a date!” Was whistled out by a classmate as you and Rhea made your way down the congested hallway, making Rhes roll her eyes.

“Shut up dickhead! We’re here as a joke.” Rhea rebutted, flipping the guy off as she carried on down the hall. 

Here as a joke but her flushed cheeks and sweaty hand gripping yours told a slightly different story.

“Dickheads always running their mo-” Rhea muttered, stepping into the crowded gymnasium.

“Shh. It’s fine, you shouldn’t worry about them.” You cut off Rhea, giving her hand a squeeze as you examined the starry night themed room. The area was dimly lit by blue leds and strings of fairy lights. Blue curtains decorated with paper stars draped over the majority of the walls while an array of tables adorned with bottles of fairy lights surrounded a dance floor full of teenagers.

You both seated yourselves near the stage where a live band was playing. Your legs pressed against one another as you fell into an array of conversations. Thirty minutes had managed to sneak by before your meaningless conversation was cut short by your biology teacher.

“You girls gonna sit here and chat all night? Go dance!” 

“But dancing is lame, Mr. Brown.” Rhea groaned while you both turned to face the man.

“I promise you that in ten years you’ll regret not doing anything at your senior prom. Seriously, go dance!” Your teacher stood behind you giving his words of advice. Rhea peeked over to you looking for your opinion. You gave her a ‘why not’ shrug before rising from your seat.

“But I don't even know how to slow dance.” Rhea whined to herself under her breath as she stood up. “If we have to dance, we’re dancing in the corner cause I’m gonna look stupid.” She stipulated.

You guided Rhea over to a secluded section of the dance floor near a wall, reassuring her that you also had no clue on what you were doing. 

“We’ll just do what everyone else is doing, Rhe’.” 

“I think this right,” Rhea unassuredly giggled with a racing heart, taking a hold of your left hand while wrapping her free hand around your waist. You shook your hair to cover your flushing cheeks as you brought your right hand to rest on her shoulder. The pair of you began swaying to the music while trying to hold back laughter, both in slight disbelief at your current situation. Prom was the last place either of you ever expected to be attending.

You were already trailing back into the pit of those sapphire eyes, drowning out all external noise you missed Rhea humming about how beautiful you looked. You were too occupied taking in the essence of your childlike crush to take notice of the grip Rhea had on your waist tightening. You were fully prepared to stare into those eyes all night, but Rhea was eager to run a risk.

A set of warm lips fell onto you abruptly, pulling you by the waist into a desperate kiss. All five senses rushed over your body, sending a rush of adrenaline through your bloodstream, placing you in awe too shocked to move.

Rhea forced herself to pull away, letting a sigh of relief out before the panic settled in, “Shit. I, god I’m so-”

Your thoughts had just now grasped what just happened.

This was a kiss that spent years in the making…you were not just gonna let it end like that.

Your hand slipped to the back of Rhea’s head, pushing Rhea back into the kiss, forcibly putting an end to her apology. She immediately fell back into your lips, closing her dilated eyes. While her tongue slid across your bottom lip begging to deepen the kiss, her hands slid up to cup your cheeks. Time slid away as the two of you fell into each other in your isolated corner of the gymnasium.

Rhea pulled herself from your lips breathless, her parted lips forming an open smile. She wanted more. You attempted to collect your thoughts while catching your breath. Both of you were attempting to draft a response while gazing into each other, because what do you say after tasting your best friend of five years?

“Cool.” You nodded

Rhea shook her head scoffing out a laugh, still making an attempt to regulate her breath. She took grip of your hand, giving it a squeeze before beginning to pull you into the hall without speaking a word.

“Wher-”

“Just follow me!” Rhea cut you off, rushing through the halls as she dragged you behind herself, both of you trying not to stumble over your dresses. 

She halted in front of the nurses office before fiddling with the keypad on the door, “God bless modern technology,” She muttered, managing to get the door open as you watched in disbelief. “Don’t even ask.” She chuckled, scanning the hall to make sure you were in the clear before tugging you into the room.

Once Rhea’s foot forced the door shut her lips directly got to work pinning themselves to your neck, nipping at the delicate skin. 

“Shit Rhe’, there might be cameras.” You pushed through a stunned whine. 

“There's none…” Rhea couldn't even pull her lips away from your skin as she spoke, “Wouldn't stop me either way, I’ve waited too long for this.” She grunted, dragging her kisses to your collarbone. “Now please tell me I can keep going.”

“I don’t think I could ever tell you to stop.” You pulled Rhea’s face to meet your eyes, whispering your confession. There was no need for Rhea to open her mouth, the look on her face alone told you that was exactly what she needed to hear.

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited for this.” Rhea growled, grasping your cheeks as she pulled you over to the nurses twin sized treatment bed. 

She brought her legs to straddle over you, lowering her chest to hover over you. Rhea was attached to you like a dog, her lips were sloppy against yours as her hands snuck to pull up the skirt of your dress. 

Rhea brought herself between your legs, in a rush to finally get a taste of your core.

“Please…I’m begging you, please don't make me wait more than I already have.” Rhea looked up at you pleading.

Your heart was in your throat as you fervently nodded. “I wanna hear your voice,” Rhea begged, whispering out your name.

“Rhea, please just do anything, I need, I need you.”

With that said she hurriedly slid your panties down your legs, tossing them to the foot of the bed. Rhea was making it clear that tonight was her time to shine.

“Fuck, you’re perfect…” Rhea murmured, awed at the sight of your soaked cunt. Her arms tangled themselves around your legs. After years her tongue finally made contact with your delicacy, she preached a string of curses, finally getting what she was after. You propped yourself on your elbows to catch the sight of Rhea exploring your brand new world. You could feel a smirk between your legs as her eyes met yours, thirstily watching you watch.

“Tastes so good.” Rhea praised, sweeping her tongue through your folds before bringing herself to round your clit. You chewed on your cheeks to hush the moans escaping your throat as Rhea wrapped her lips around your sensitivity, allowing her to lightly suck at your skin. Your legs made an unsuccessful attempt at wrapping around Rhea’s head only to be overtaken by her hands, prying them open, giving her full access to devour your aching heat. 

The stealthy addition of two fingers into your emptiness was only amplifying the wobbly knees her mouth alone had created. Her fingers began steadily massaging into you, causing an arch to form over your back. The mixture of Rhea’s roaming tongue and grinding digits already had a knot forming in your stomach.

“Fucking Christ Rhe’, where the fuck did you learn all this.” You struggled out through moans. Rhea let out a soft chuckle as she continued to take your clit into her mouth, rolling her tongue piercing over your sensitivity.

Rhea gave your cunt one last kiss before she brought herself to face you. Now that Rhea had finally gotten a taste of your mouth she couldn't get enough, she had to return for more. Your lips once again blended together, your moans now slipping into Rhea’s mouth as her fingers curled inside your core. 

“God, you sound so beautiful.” Rhea admired, pressing her warmed forehead against yours while her digits continued toying with your clenching walls. Her thumb was soon added to the mixture of pleasure as it rubbed rhythmic circles over your bud. 

“Rhe’, I want to feel you against me,” You opened your eyes, pulling from her kiss while your hips rolled against her working digits. “Please.”

Rhea nodded, her eyes full of adoration, she’d do whatever it took to please you no matter if it took minutes or hours. She let her fingers come to a declined pace before withdrawing from your warmth. She stood up, licking her fingers clean before riding her dress up her legs and dropping her panties. She rushed to return to the bed pulling your leg into the air before propping a leg of hers next to your hip.

Rhea settled her heat against yours, letting out a heavy breath. She gradually started rocking her hips against you, mixing your slick together. You watched as the new sensation of pleasure washed over her, causing her jaw to drop open and her eyes to roll to the back of her head. 

“Just…just like that.” You whimpered as you began to grind your hips at a matching pace, chasing towards your climax. Rhea’s arm clung to your leg that was situated in the air for support as the sound of quiet moans and the rustling of dress fabric bounced around the room. 

“Feels so good, fuck.” Rhea quickened her motions, moaning out the nickname she created for you through heavy breaths.Rhea pushed herself further against you chasing her own high as you squirmed beneath her grinds. 

“Rhe’, I’m gonna cum.” You whined out, reaching for a hand to cling to. Her hand met you halfway, instantly taking you into her grip she pulled you up to meet her face. She was back to those oh-so passionate kisses she could now never get enough of. “Please, Rhe’!” You cried against her, her movements bucking against your cunt.

Rhea nodded into your kiss signaling for your release, her own climax just seconds away. Your series of moans brushed against Rhea’s lips as your orgasm washed over you, hers quickly following. Muffled whines echoed around the room as Rhea’s thrusts against you faltered.

After riding out your highs together, Rhea squeezed herself next to you on the tiny bed and rested her hand on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. “I swear to god if you say cool.” Rhea looked over at you giggling. 

“Unfair!” You joked, resting your head against Rhea’s chest. You both fell into silence simply taking in the moment, reflecting on everything that had just happened. Rhea peppered small kisses to the top of your head as you toyed with the fabric of her dress.

“We should probably get outta here before somebody finds us.” Rhea suggested, breaking the silence.

“Wanna go dance again?” You teased as you turned to face her.

Rhea quickly shook her head, “I’m never gonna dance again. I was so bad.” She laughed, “How about we go find a parking lot and makeout under the stars, hm?”

“I seriously would have never expected you to be all smoochy, Rhe’.”

“Look, I have like five years of kisses to make up for!”

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀わかさ // BABY SITTER'S CLUB ⠀ ༝ ༝ wakasa imaushi [ft. cousin!sano's/black dragons] ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.2k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ some drinking ! ⠀ — shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after.

you think you might’ve been doomed from the start. 

shinichiro didn’t specify what you’d need to babysit your younger cousins for, just that he was desperate because his grandpa was out of town and none of his friends could be trusted to actually watch them. you could almost hear him falling to his knees to beg over the phone. 

you like to think you’re a nice person. generous and caring, and you haven’t seen mikey or emma in a while anyways, so there was no real harm in saying yes. taking every penny from his wallet was a plus, too.

you get to their house right when he tells you, almost tackled by emma who is saying something about having a sleepover in the living room with a pillowfort in the mix the second you’ve finished slipping off your shoes, and you catch a glance of mikey pouting to his older brother while emma drags you further into the house. 

“(y/n)’s gonna take good care of you guys, don’t sweat it.” shinichiro pats mikey’s head with a hum, then turns to you, “left some money on the counter for pizza or something if you want, but there’s food in the fridge too if you wanna cook. ‘m gonna be in my room for a bit before i have to leave, but i’ll prob’ly be home way after you guys are asleep.” 

you offer a nod, setting your overnight bag in a corner of the living room, “s’okay, i’ll probably need a ride home tomorrow though, if that’s alright.” 

“not a problem - thanks for coming, i really appreciate it-” 

he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open, a man with a long scar going over one of his eyes coming in like he owns the place, with two kids running past his legs to greet your younger cousins. he drops their bags by yours, stretching and popping his back as if carrying them was the worst thing in the world before his eyes find your own wide ones, unlit cigarette between his teeth while he takes you in. 

“you’re the babysitter, right? sanzu, senju, come introduce yourselves. ‘m takeomi.” he offers his hand, and he must be confused by your bewildered stare, because he takes his hand back and looks to your older cousin, “they okay shin?” 

you whirl around to glare at him, completely appalled by his apologetic stare. “surprise?” 

“you did not tell me i’d be watching four kids!” 

shinichiro is quick for damage control, gesturing towards takeomi, “he’s gonna pay what i am, promise!” 

takeomi looks surprised at this news, opening his mouth to argue, but deciding against it from the look shinichiro gives. he fishes out his wallet, counting out some money and offering it to you. you eye it, then him, then shinichiro. your cousin clears his throat, jutting his thumbs upwards as a sign for more. takeomi sputters, pulling out all the cash he has and placing it in your open hand. 

“i am not a daycare.” your eyes narrow between them, pointed look enough to have shinichiro humming nervously. you shove the cash in your wallet, finally acknowledging the two new additions to your entourage. 

“i’m senju! this is my brother sanzu.” the girl says, hands on her brother's shoulders as she pushes him forward.

“i’m (y/n).” you smile, and sanzu looks away from you before escaping his sister’s hold and scurrying back to mikey. 

shinichiro and takeomi whisper between themselves while you and emma start gathering blankets from around the house, before shinichiro calls out, “okay, we’ll be out here for a bit! you’ll probably hear us leaving soon!”

“see ya.” you call back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you help senju put blankets on to chairs and set pillows over them to keep them in place. the door shuts, and you’re left alone with no one over the age of 10. 

⠀  ⠀  ༝⠀  ⠀  ༝

shinichiro honestly expected you to come barrelling into his room far sooner than you did. 

takeomi sat to his right on the couch, benkei to his left, and wakasa sat on the table in front of them. your soft knock was barely audible, but it made shinichiro pause in his talk about black dragon, turning to face it when you open it slowly and peek into the room. 

“what’s up?” he asks, standing when you make your way further in. 

“i just wanted to make sure sanzu and senju weren’t allergic to anything.” you look past him, to takeomi, who takes a long drag of his cigarette before shaking his head. 

“not that i know of.” 

“emma and mikey?” you’re looking at him now, head tilted slightly. 

“nothin’.” he confirms, “you gonna make somethin’?” 

“mhm.” you scan the room, eyes glossing over each of his friends, before they settle on one person for a second, then you’re turning on your heel to go back to the kids, “i’ll put some leftovers in the fridge if you want.” 

he snickers, despite having no idea what could’ve had you leaving so quickly, “sounds good, thank you!” 

the click of the door fills the air as you leave, and silence washes over the group before wakasa sighs. 

“okay, i’ll bite. who was that.” 

shinichiro turns slowly, acknowledging his friend for a second, and takeomi answers before he has a chance to open his mouth, “(y/n). babysitter of the night and thief of all the cash in my wallet.” 

“they stole from you?” benkei laughs, the idea almost comedic. 

“not directly,” takeomi’s eyes narrow to shinichiro, “but they are definitely making a pretty penny tonight.” 

“and dealing with your monsters of siblings,” wakasa sighs out a puff of smoke, “it’s easy money well-earned.” 

“think i could pay enough for ‘em to babysit me-”

takeomi gets hit in the back of the head by a shoe, jolting forward while shinichiro gathers the matching pair to slide onto his foot. “that’s enough of that, you guys ready to go or you wanna fantasize ‘bout my cousin all night?” 

“cousin?” takeomi scoffs, throwing the shoe back to him. he slides it on then goes for his bike keys, “thought the attractive gene skipped over your generation.” 

“more like skipped over you. we leavin’ or what?” 

⠀  ⠀  ༝⠀  ⠀  ༝

you heard their bikes take off about two hours ago, finished feeding the kids right after that, and got everyone changed into their pjs in record time. babysitters around the world wish they had your skillset. it takes a bit to get them to quiet down into the fort you’ve created, but with the promise of tv and a snack before bed, they’re hooked. 

it’s a surprise when the guys stumble in through the front door with the smell of alcohol following them, benkei supporting most of shinichiro’s weight with a nasty bruise on his cheek. wakasa follows behind the two of them, remnants of a bloody nose still flaked lightly under his nostril, and . . . you look between the three, making sure your headcount is accurate. 

“aren’t you guys missing one?” 

the men look between each other, then out the door as if he was waiting outside, then back to each other. 

“oh.” 

“oh?” you parrot, “the hell happened to you guys?” 

“oniichan’s face is messed up.” one by one, the kids pop out from the blankets to see their siblings and friends alike. emma pouts, tugging on your arm, “he promised no more fighting (y/n), can you believe it.” 

mikey almost laughs at his brother, “like he ever could, you know how he likes to pick fights.” 

“where’s ‘omi?” senju rubs her eyes as a yawn slips past her lips, and sanzu nudges her shoulder. 

“maybe he got arrested.” 

she stiffens at the thought, suddenly very awake and pulling on your other arm, “he isn’t really is he? he’s just sayin’ that?” 

your eyes narrow at the three men for riling up the kids right when you were getting them ready to sleep. 

“out.” you point towards the garage door, gently pulling your arms from emma and senju and shoving wakasa by the shoulders when no one moves. 

“what’d i do?” he whines out, eyes not leaving you as you grab benkei by the wrist and drag him in the same direction. 

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles, being pulled along by his friend. 

you open the door for them and push them one by one into shinichiro’s room, ignoring the complaints from each of them while benkei gives an apologetic smile. he closes the door for you, and you’re left consoling senju while trying to get everyone back into the fort as if it will help get them to sleep faster. 

and it almost works, shrek playing on the tv with sanzu’s head resting on your shoulder. 

the door swings open, and each of you startle at the sudden sound, takeomi’s voice loud while he complains about being left by his dearest friends. you climb out of the fort to glare at him, and senju lets out a small omi! before you’re grabbing him by the ear and dragging him to the garage door. you push it open and all but shove him into the room, completely ignoring the whines he gives about his poor tortured ear. 

“stay.” you threaten, glaring at each of them like they’re dogs who just won’t listen, and not one of them can find it in themselves to argue from the way you’re looking at them. 

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles again, once the door is shut and his safety is secured as you retreat. 

an hour passes and takeomi sips idly on a lukewarm beer shinichiro keeps in his room, pout still very evident, while wakasa lights a cigarette. benkei breaks any leftover silence with a grumbling stomach.

“‘m kinda hungry. we never stopped at the store like we said we would.” he scratches his cheek, looking to his friends in hopes of a solution. 

“(y/n) did say they made somethin’ for dinner, didn’t they?” takeomi sits up slightly from his slouched position, thinking dreamily about what you could’ve made. 

“you wanna risk goin’ into the house?” wakasa takes a drag from his cigarette. 

“it’s my house.” shinichiro stands, repeating that phrase for the third time in one hour. it’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself it’s okay. 

it’s decided then shinichiro would go in, grab something quick, and be back in his room before you notice he’s even there. hoping time would be on his side, since it is very late, maybe you’ll be sound asleep and he won’t really need to be as sneaky as he’s planning. the plan falls apart very quickly at the seams, realizing the door that connects his room inside the house is locked from the otherside. he silently curses you, trying to turn the lock one more time in case his first attempt just wasn’t right, then sighs. 

“gotta go through the front door.” 

his friends watch with amused grins, wondering if maybe you’ve completely cut all contact with them until the morning, as shinichiro goes out the side door that leads to the front porch. he thanks whatever god is out there that the door is unlocked, opening so, so slowly to ensure it doesn’t make a creak, and slides into the room as quietly as possible. 

quiet, until he knocks into the umbrella holder right beside the door. it falls with a clatter, and he can see you sit up slightly from your spot on the couch, hissing out a ‘shh’ while sanzu in your lap makes a noise of complaint in his sleep. he places it back as it was with a wince. 

“the hell are you doin’?” you whisper scream, barely able to turn your body in fear of waking up the boy you’ve had to constantly pat to keep asleep. 

“we just-” 

“no. no ‘we’. if you wake up these kids, i swear-”

“okay! okay, okay, okay, you win.” he grumbles something under his breath that has your eyes narrowing at him in the dark, and he inhales sharply before going back to his friends. 

attempt one : failed. 

shinichiro arrives back to the gang empty handed and dejected at losing so easily. 

and his friends have the audacity to laugh at him. 

“an umbrella holder? shouldn’t you know that house like the back of your hand?” wakasa almost snorts, holding his stomach at the fact that something so small did him in. 

“i do!” he assures, “one of the kids must’ve moved it closer to the door or something.” he explains in vain, “and i don’t see any of you guys stepping up to try.” 

takeomi claps a hand on benkei’s shoulder, shaking him slightly after, “benkei’s my vote, he’s the one that brought up food in the first place.” 

“i didn’t know we’d have to become ninjas to eat.” he argues, “besides, i’m the biggest here, what makes you think i’ll do any better?” 

he makes a good case, but the idea of you whisper-yelling at someone twice your size almost makes shinichiro laugh. “i agree with takeomi, i think you should try.” 

“i can’t believe you guys are plotting against me.” he looks to wakasa, who just shrugs and offers no help. so, with a sigh, he stands, taking the beer takeomi had been nursing, and chugs what’s left while ignoring the complaints that follow. 

he goes out the same way shinichiro did, opens the door as quietly as he can, and . . . bumps into the same. fucking. umbrella holder. with the warning in mind. you whip around to glare, curses on your tongue as you take in benkei, who looks so sorry, it has the words dying on your lips. the two of you stare at each other for all of five seconds, before he’s wordlessly picking the holder back up, placing it where it was, and closing the door behind him. 

attempt two : failed.

benkei returns to the group just as empty handed as his captain, just as dejected. 

“couldn’t even get through the door.” he sighs, waving off the laughter that follows. 

“they say anything to you?” wakasa snickers, offering benkei another beer. he takes it gratefully, chugging it easily and shaking his head. 

“i kicked the umbrella holder,” louder laughter surrounds him, “didn’t even say anything. we just stared at each other and i left.” 

“we’re never gonna eat at this rate.” shinichiro groans, “why is this so hard?”

“they aren’t even that scary,” takeomi hums, ear incident long forgotten, while putting out the remainder of his cigarette before standing, “i’ll show you guys how it’s done.” 

takeomi is so self-assured, so confident that it doesn’t matter if he fucks up. he’s a smooth-talker, through and through. surely, if you get upset, he can just talk it out. that’s what these idiots don’t understand. 

with that in mind, he takes the same route as the others. he decides, maybe their flaw is in opening the door so slowly. that must be why they keep kicking the umbrella holder. they let it sneak up on them, too worried about the wrong thing to even notice it. he pushes the door open with no regard to how loud he is, taking a step past the frame and cursing when he kicks the one thing he was meant to avoid. 

it clatters across the floor, and he hears a groan from sanzu, both from the sound and from you shifting to face him. 

“d-didn’t mean to-” he stutters out, and your glare hardens when he makes no attempt to keep his voice down. 

“so help me god, if you do not go back to the garage right now you are going to wish you never met me.” 

he audibly gulps, bowing his head while apologies fall off his lips. you throw a pillow in his direction, and he takes that as a sign to bounce, not bothering to pick up the umbrella holder like the past two attemptees. 

attempt three : failed.

takeomi comes back, head still high with nothing in his hands, and the laughter that erupts is infectious. 

“they threatened me! me!!” he explains desperately, “and it worked!” 

shinichiro really thinks they should’ve just gone to a twenty-four hour store at this point, but each attempt seems to be funnier than the last. he turns to wakasa, who sips on a beer from the couch. he catches his eye, and shakes his head. 

“nuh uh, no way am i going in there after all of that.” 

“you’re the only one that hasn’t!” shinichiro argues, “and technically, you’re the one least likely to get caught! being the smallest and all . . . “ his voice trails off, and the comment has wakasa’s eyes narrowing to slits. 

“i’m not even that hungry, it’s you guys who are so desperate.” 

“it’s only fair you try, too.” benkei grumbles, still not over the look you gave him when he first walked in. 

four of the toughest delinquents in tokyo, arguing about fairness. out of fear for their leader's younger cousin, no less. it’s laughable. wakasa grumbles profanities under his breath, almost certain this will end with you leaving shinichiro’s house with an attempted murder charge. 

“fine, but if i come outta there alive, you guys owe me.” 

“not if you come back empty handed.” takeomi opens another beer, plopping his ass back down on the couch, “careful, they have sanzu in their lap. that kid’ll be the reason they snap.”

wakasa takes the warning with a grain of salt, sure that the four of them bothering you is the real reason for your aggravation. with a sigh, he’s left walking to the front door and opening it quietly. you’re already glaring holes where he stands and he hasn’t even had a chance to do anything wrong. 

“what could you guys possibly want so badly?” you ask through clenched teeth, and wakasa’s hands come up defensively, closing the door behind him and very aware of the umbrella holder takeomi left in the middle of the floor. 

“we’re just hungry.” he assures, stepping past the couch towards the kitchen, “be in and out before you can notice.” 

he stumbles slightly in his drunken state, and it has you heaving a sigh and slowly peeling yourself from under sanzu. you carefully place a blanket over him, and follow wakasa to the kitchen, finger pressed to your lips to make sure he knows to keep quiet. 

wakasa is already shuffling through the fridge, hoping to find something quick and easy so he isn’t in your hair for any longer than he needs to be, but you’re pulling him back gently by his upper arm and grabbing something in a tupperware container. 

“i made rice with some vegetables and beef i found in the freezer,” you say softly, and wakasa wonders for a second if you’re always soft spoken or if it’s because you’re trying your best to be quiet. 

you pop the lid off and move to reheat what you made, leaning against the counter as the microwave counts down. 

“what’d you guys do for you to earn that?” you nod towards him, and despite not directly saying what, wakasa knows you’re talking about his previously bloodied nose. 

absentmindedly, he taps at his nostril, honestly having forgotten to even clean what blood was there. “fight.” he says dumbly, and the simplicity of it has you giggling. he thinks he really likes that sound. 

he watches intently when you grab a paper towel, dampening it with the sink water, then so very gently cup his cheek to tap at the blood to clean it. if he had any shame, he knows his face would be flushed right now. instead, he grins, eyes half-lidded while he absorbs your focused expression. 

“you’re awfully sweet on me, huh?” the comment has your own cheeks dusting pink, but your reply comes by you squeezing his cheek tighter. 

“quit movin’, makin’ this harder than it needs to be.” 

by the time you’re finished, the microwave is seconds away from going off, and you drop both the paper towel and his face in favor of making sure the timer doesn’t have a chance to sound, stopping it right at :01. wakasa finds himself missing your touch, but the thought is lost when the smell of food hits. maybe he was hungrier than he thought. 

he grabs a plate for himself, piling a portion onto it and groaning when it hits his tongue. 

“you made this?” he finds himself asking, despite you literally explaining the fact that you did not even five minutes ago. you hum out a reply, already in the process of getting other plates and utensils for his friends. 

“‘s very good.” he grins when he’s finished, “thanks for takin’ care of me.” he eyes you lazily, grin growing bigger when he sees that the pink dusting your cheeks spreads. 

“don’t mention it,” you mumble, pushing the plates and now warm food to him, “should probably take these to them before they starve.” 

“let ‘em.” he says with such confidence, it has a giggle passing your lips. he wants to hear that more. he pulls himself onto the counter with such ease, it makes you wonder how drunk he really is. 

“so who’d you guys fight?” you lean against the counter beside him, tapping at his knee as if his undivided attention wasn’t already fully on you. 

“some idiots,” he waves dismissively, “heard from people at the bar we're inna gang and started shit talking shinichiro.” 

you grin, “he take the first swing?” 

he mirrors your smile, and fuck does he look pretty when he does, “damn right. got socked right after,” he taps his cheek, “everyone was fightin’ after that. benkei had to drag us out ‘fore the cops came.” 

“who hit you?” you muse, head tilting slightly. 

“some random that followed us outta the bar.” his grin only widens at the memory, “shoulda seen the other guy.” 

“i can only imagine.” you push yourself from the counter when a head of pink hair peeks around the corner, eyes widening slightly when they meet yours before he scurries back to the living room.

wakasa’s eyes follow your movements when you leave him alone in the kitchen, in favor of going back to sanzu who can’t seem to stay asleep without your comforting touch. in his inebriated state, he finds himself following behind you. in the time it took him to make that decision, you’ve already gotten comfortable on the couch with sanzu’s head in your lap. you rub his back idly, and he catches the faintest whisper of you asking if he had another bad dream, sees the way sanzu’s head barely moves with a nod. 

it’s really domestic, seeing how well you’re taking care of a kid you didn’t even know about hours before, and wakasa finds himself almost jealous of the 9 year old. what a cockblock, coming in when he was reeling you into the conversation. 

instead of voicing these concerns, he finds himself clambering on the other end of the couch, feet tucked neatly under him and looking at you. 

“hi,” you whisper with a small laugh, “don’t you have a delivery to make?” 

he waves off the suggestion with a hum, “they shoulda came on their own - kept tellin’ horror stories ‘bout you being mean, but i think they’re just scaredy cats.”

“that so?” you muse, and sanzu shifts closer to you when wakasa leans over him to get a better look at your smile. 

“mhm,” half-lidded eyes scan over you, and he can honestly forget about the boy between the two of you easily with the way you’re looking back at him, “think maybe they can’t handle you like i can.” 

you offer another giggle, putting a finger against his forehead when he invades too much of sanzu’s space, “i think you should tell me this sober.” 

“i’d tell you it everyday if i could.” he whispers so seriously, it has your face flushing. 

“try again tomorrow.” you tap his forehead twice for emphasis, then pass a blanket his way since it’s very apparent he won’t be going back to his friends. 

his friends, who are mourning the loss of him the longer he takes to come back. 

shinichiro, after his dear friend wakasa hadn’t shown up in the five minutes they’d timed him for, delved into horror stories from when you were younger. how you’d been suspended from school due to your temper, picking more fights than him when someone said the wrong thing. how he’d spend some weekend nights helping you tend to bruised knuckles after you’d defended him. 

and it ends with each man giving a soft prayer for their friend, who, after an hour, still hadn’t come back yet. 

unbeknownst to them, wakasa had fallen asleep listening to you tell stories about your cousin. how you’d protected him in grade school because kids were assholes, but you were a bigger asshole who didn’t take that shit. and on the couch, the three of you fell asleep peacefully, while the men in garage hoped you gave wakasa a quick and painless death.

[dira333]

To save and be saved - Shouto Todoroki x Reader - Baby Series part 3

part 2

“Oh, you’re hiring help now?” Katsuki drawls from the doorway, one hand in his hip as he examines the office.

“Uncle Tsuki!” Shouji’s on his feet in a heartbeat, racing over. “Uncle Tsuki!”

“Hey Stinker,” he picks the kid up with ease, settling him on his shoulder. “You helping your Pop?”

“Yes!” Shouji exclaims eagerly. “I’m drawing his Logo.”

“Good idea, the old one sucks anyway. You wanna show me what you’ve got so far?”

The boy considers it for a second, sucking in his lower lip before shaking his head.

“Not yet. Wanna finish it first.”

“Good choice. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Gonna talk to your Pop for a second, okay? Ears off!”

“Okay,” Shouji giggles, pretending to shut off his ears when Katsuki lets him down, shuffling over to where he’s got paper and pens spread out.

-

“Is it taking your kid to work day?” Katsuki asks Shouto, walking closer. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Sorry,” Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shouko’s colicky. It’s been a tough week.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst. I’m so glad Kaede is over that. Want me to take Shouji for the weekend? It’s only a small help, I guess, but we like having him around.”

“That’s a nice offer.” Shouto yawns. “I’m going to play it back before giving you an answer, if that’s okay. But surely you’re not here to help me raise my kids and keep my sanity at the same time.”

“No, you’re right. I have the numbers on the new guy. Hitoshi thinks he’ll be able to trap him tonight or tomorrow at least. Thought you might want a piece of it, but I think you better sit this own out.”

“Uncle Toshi?” Shouji asks from his corner, curiosity piqued. 

“What did I say about your ears being off?” Katsuki asks, face thunderous.

Shouji giggles and turns back to drawing, not the least bit afraid.

“It’s a shame, really,” Shouto agrees. “But I don’t think it would be a safe choice to join. I’d appoint one of my Sidekicks if we need the numbers. Shatter’s doing exceptionally well.”

Katsuki huffs. “Sidekicks.” For a moment it’s quiet between the two, but then he nods. “Fine, tell her to call me. I’ll give her the details.”

He gets up, pausing for a moment, his hand on the back of his chair as he stares at the wall.

“I’m gonna send some of the guys over,” he finally adds. 

Shouto blinks up at him, confusion visible.

“You need a nap. If you can’t ask for help, that’s your bad. Eh, Stinker. You wanna hit up Kirishima?”

“Uncle Jirou?” Shouji’s jumping up and down with excitement. “Can I, Papa?”

Shouto sighs, eyeing the Couch. It does look comfy.

“Sure. But don’t eat any of the sweets Denki keeps in his pockets.”

“Okay,” Shouji grabs a paper and runs over, pushing it onto his Desk.

The Logo he’d been trying to draw has been abandoned in the corner, instead, there’s now a drawing of him, you, and the two kids. Shouji and Shouko are drawn holding hands and he has to fight back tears when Shouji clambers up his lap to press a wet kiss against his cheek.

“See you later Papa. Love you!”

-

“No way,” Denki leans forward. “You’re making that up.”

“Uhuh,” Shouji shakes his head. “I really dreamed that.”

“A dragon’s so cool. I never dreamed of dragons. I just have boring dreams. Like race cars.”

“Race cars are cool too.”

“Uff, I’m glad.” Denki chuckles, turning to his side. “Babe, did you hear that? I’m cool too.”

“Not you,” Kyoka points out. “Just the race cars.”

“You wound me.”

She snickers before winking at Shouji. “You’re going to come over to visit when the little one is born?” She points at the swell of her belly, flinches at what must be a kick. 

“He’s playing soccer right now.”

“He is?” Shouji’s amazed. “I didn’t know there was so much space in there. Shouko never played soccer!”

“Yeah, because our kid’s cool.” Denki boasts before considering it. “Shouko’s cool too though. Maybe she was planning world domination?”

“What’s that mean?” Shouji asks just as Eijirou settles heavily on the chair next to him. “Hey Big Man!”

“Uncle Jirou!” Shouji jumps into his lap with ease, eager to cash in the warm hug this uncle always gives out. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Big Man! You’re growing like a weed, Man. Soon you’re taller than Minoru.”

“Very funny,” Minoru lisps from the other end of the table. “Don’t listen to him, Shouji. You can do great things no matter your height!”

“Sure, Uncle Noru.”

“Is everyone coming by today,” Denki asks at that moment, eyeing the door. “Not like I hate impromptu get-to-gathers, but what’s the occasion?”

“Shouto needed a fiver,” Katsuki harrumphs, stepping over. “And if I just call one of you guys, the rest is gonna be jealous. Don’t lie.”

“I’d never lie,” Tenya points out, two steps behind him. “I thank you for your consideration.”

-

Shouji doesn’t seem to mind the attention, climbing from one lap to the other, always answering the same questions.

Yes, he’s grown since the last time. 

Yes, his little sister is the cutest thing on earth.

Yes, he’s progressing well in his Quirk Training.

“Look!” He shows off to Uncle Shouji - probably one of his favorites because Uncle Shouji always calls him Shouji Number One. “I can make a really big flame and a big icicle at the same time.”

“That’s amazing!” Shouji praises him.

Not soon after though, all the talking and climbing and hugging has tired him out. 

“Has anyone seen the kid?” Katsuki asks when he notices his voice missing.

“Over here,” Shouji calls out in a hushed voice, opening up his arms. Shouji’s sleeping soundly in his embrace, sucking on his thumb.

“So cute!” Mina can’t help but comment, clinging to Eijirou. “I want that too.”

“Children are not just cute,” Tenya points out. “They are also a lot of work!”

“I know that,” Mina hisses back. “Spoilsport!”

Tenya opens his mouth to retaliate, closing it with a click though when someone clears their throat pointedly behind them.

“I thought you wanted to hit up Kirishima?” Shouto asks from the doorway, voice carefully calm.

Katsuki shrugs. “You call one of them, they all come. You had a good nap?”

“Yes,” Shouto confirms stiffly. “Thank you. Where’s my son?”

All of his old classmates point in unison.

Shouto sighs. He should have known.

“I should have been home an hour ago,” he explains softly under his breathe as he makes his way over. “Sorry for the trouble, everyone.”

“No trouble at all,” Izuku points out, pressing Shouto’s shoulder with one scarred hand. “Always there to help when you need us.”

“I don’t wanna bother-”

“Dude,” Denki exclaims. “You’re not bothering us. If anything, you’re giving us an excuse to hit you up as well when the little one’s a pain in the ass.”

Kyoka hits his shoulder at that, but she still nods to show her agreement.

“Look,” Fumikage points out, startling them. “We’ve been through war together. Can it really be more difficult to ask for help in this?”

Shouto’s shoulders lower and he nods. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He bends down to scoop up Shouji, unable to stop from smiling when he notices the thumb firmly lodged in his mouth.

“Let’s get you home.”

“No, no...” Shouji whines low under his breath, waking up just enough to realize what’s going on. “Wanna play!”

“Yes, yes. Momma’s waiting.”

Shouji sniffles at that, falling silent, his face hidden against his father’s neck.

With a last smile at his friends, Shouto leaves.

-

“Fuyumi asked if we’d leave Shouko with her for the weekend,” you explain that night, curled into his hold.

“That’s pretty brave to offer in this state,” Shouto comments dryly, enjoying the chuckle it draws from you.

“It is. But she’s gone through this before, she knows what to do. Besides, Rei’s going to help out.”

“You think we should do it?”

“You don’t think so?” You ask back, leaning back to catch the look in his eyes. “What are your thoughts?”

“I’m just… Shouldn’t we be able to do this on our own?”

“We are doing it on our own,” you disagree softly. “But no one said we have to refuse any help. Besides, I think we’re over the worst. And one weekend of uninterrupted sleep would do wonders for us. You can’t be a good father if you’re running on fumes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, considering it. “So… Shouko with Fuyumi and Shouji with Katsuki?”

“He offered,” You remind him. “Besides, your parents are always eager to get Shouji for the weekend, you know that.”

“Yes.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I know. I think…” He takes a deep breath. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good,” you kiss him, let your love and care for him drop like honey from your tongue. “Now close your eyes and rest, love. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe he could have laughed at that. That a civilian could keep a Hero safe.

But he knows it’s true. His heart has never been safer than with you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next part? - Baby Series - part 4

[jumexju]

NUREBAIRO

Pairing !! : Sasuke / Fem Reader

Fic Type !! : One-Shot, Angst to Fluff

CW !! : Mentions of anxiety

Summary !! : You lose a hairpin he gave you.

Note !! : Inspired by the Sasuke figurine that somebody stole from me, I havent gotten it back to this day <////3

✦ MASTERLIST

A cold sweat ran down your back after not feeling it there.

You turned and inspected the floor. ‘Had it fallen?’ You bit your bottom lip anxiously as you looked around. Setting your tote bag down, you retraced your steps with hopeful eyes glancing over every blade of grass. You couldn’t have lost it, he just gave it to you three hours ago! 

“Hn..” You groaned under your breath worriedly as you inspected every step you’d taken before coming home, not finding it anywhere. Maybe tomorrow you’d go back to the shop and ask if they’d seen something like it before you left? You hoped that they did.. 

“No, I’m sorry, _____. I haven’t come across anything like it, if i saw it I would’ve told you..” Ino frowned slightly, empathizing with your situation. 

“Damn.. Alright, thanks anyway, Ino ..!” You waved her goodbye and left her flower shop, biting your bottom lip anxiously. Sasuke would probably get irritated that you lost it so quickly.. But it wasn’t like you wanted that to happen! You were so sure you’d had it on.. As you walked back to your home you thought of the events of yesterday. You had it on when you walked into her shop but it wasn’t in your hair when you came home.. And it couldn’t have fallen since you would’ve found it when you retraced your steps last night. 

You felt a pit settle in your stomach, disappointed in how easily you’d lost it. Especially after getting it on the same day! Sighing, you decided to bake some cookies to take some of the stress off. You’d felt incredibly guilty, especially since you knew that it was a gift that he had given to you with much thought. You couldn’t believe that you’d lost it and frankly, you were worried that he’d be upset if he found out. 

You let out a small sigh as you mixed the cookie batter in the bowl, “Could someone have swiped it off of me? Did it fall ..?” All these questions filled your mind, ruining the calm environment you were seeking through baking cookies. Soon enough, the sun started to go down and the evening greeted the sky. Sasuke was off on a mission so you didn’t know how long he’d be away, you just hoped you could find it before he came home. 

As you popped the cookies in the oven to bake, you decided to pick up that book that Kakashi sensei had recommended to you. You’d been trying to read it but it seemed like whenever you found it, it went missing as soon as you turned away.. 

Sasuke let out a sigh of relief once he stepped into the Uchiha Compound, he was glad he was home now and wondered if you were there yet — It was quite late after all. When your husband opened the door, he was met with the pleasing aroma of sweet, chocolate chip cookies. Sasuke wasn’t a fan of sweet things but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t smell good. 

“I’m home,” He announced, wondering where you were since usually you would greet him at the door. 

After he took off his shoes at the genkan, he wandered into the living room to find you sleeping soundly on the couch and a batch of freshly baked cookies on the kitchen table. Were you tired? It was late so maybe you just decided to sleep here? Though.. The way you were mumbling things and knitting your brows in your sleep didn’t seem good. 

Sasuke came close to you and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, your expression seemed to relax after his simple gesture. Your lover glanced down, seeing one of Kakashi’s books in your hand. ‘Were you trying to read Icha-Icha again?’ he sighed as he took the book from your hands. ‘I thought I'd hidden it..’ Sasuke thought to himself, freezing in his tracks once you began to shift in your sleep. 

“Sa..suke?” your eyebrows furrowed a little as you rubbed your eyes from the sleep. “You’re home?” Your husband nodded and sat next to you after you sat up and greeted him with a hug. “When did you come home?” 

“Not too long ago,” he answered you as he softly smiled, hiding the book within his cloak. “You made cookies?”

You nodded, reminded of why  you’d started baking cookies…. Now you were face to face with him, you could only hope he wouldn’t notice that it was gone. You shifted nervously, “Uhm.. So, do you want me to run you a bath-?” 

“You were talking in your sleep.” Sasuke cut you off, abruptly changing the conversation. This made you even more anxious than you had been in the entire day. 

“Was I? I Didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?” You sheepishly brought a finger to your lower lip — A gesture you usually did when you were nervous — This, Sasuke took notice of. It was both a blessing and a curse that you had married one of the most observant shinobi to exist, because there was no way that Sasuke wouldn’t notice that the hairpin he had given you yesterday was missing. You haven't been wearing it since you were sleeping.. And it wasn’t on the table.. So the only conclusion he could come up with was that it was missing. 

Sasuke shook his head, “You didn’t.. Although, you were mumbling my name.” You could feel the heat rise up to your cheeks and avoided his gaze. Sasuke was the only one who could make you feel so bashful under his tender gaze. 

The night wasn’t too eventful, you were just glad to be spending time with him after about two weeks of him being gone. ‘Maybe the hairpin conversation could wait..’ you thought to yourself as you laid in bed beside him. Your lover had been tired, so he fell asleep pretty fast, but all your worries had kept you up. You sighed as you shifted and looked up at the ceiling, you knew you’d have to tell him soon.. But..

“Stop worrying.” Sasuke mumbled, his eyes closed and his black hair in his face. 

“..I’m not..” 

Your husband chuckled, “you bite your lip any more and you’ll draw blood,” he warned. You turned to face him, an unamused and slightly sheepish expression on your face. 

“I hate that you know me so well.” 

“If only that were true,” He chimed as he welcomed you when you snuggled up to his side. “Now go to sleep..” You reluctantly complied after giving him a kiss on the cheek and let yourself succumb to slumber. You slept the rest of the night like a baby, Sasuke made sure not to wake you up when he got up early in the morning to search for the pin. 

Needless to say, when you got up, there was a certain book missing, but the hairpin was on your bedside table. 

Along with a small note, 

‘Try not to lose it again, okay?’

[steddielations]

“Evening, sir.”

It’s the Harrington boy. Again.

“I told you, son, it’s Wayne,” he manages a smile, harder to do these days, like chipping it out of cement and dusting it off. But he gets it done.

Steve doesn’t have the Henderson boy with him today, that’s a first.

“Where’s the curly one?” He steps aside, letting Steve into the trailer door, more rickety than before. No money left to fix it after repairing the bulk of the earthquake damage.

“Dustin? He doesn’t wanna watch the game, and trust me, you don’t wanna listen to that kid complaining the whole time,” Steve walks by, sorta chuckling to himself, “I always miss the replay ‘cause he makes me change the channel to those D&D cartoons during the commercials, just like—”

He stops in front of the couch, looking over his shoulder at Wayne like he’s afraid he messed up somehow. Wayne noticed that look often from him, less and less, but still often. All that confidence he carries can drop on a dime, sorta reminded him of—

“Like Ed?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind talking about him if you want,” Wayne manages another concrete smile, but he means it. Steve always waits for him to bring up Eddie first, like he doesn’t want to remind him if it ain’t on his mind, but Wayne likes to be reminded. It’s nice to feel like he’s not the only one missing him. “But the game was yesterday and y’know the cable’s out.”

“Yep, got it covered. I uh, I taped it,” Steve fishes a VHS tape from his back pocket. Fancy. Wayne would worry about him using that for his sake, but he has a feeling Steve’s folks aren’t around enough to notice.

“The Colts win?”

Steve flips the tape around, “Haven’t watched it, so we can bet on it if you’re feeling lucky.”

It doesn’t feel so dry and heavy when Wayne laughs a bit then, waving Steve to go ahead and start up the TV. He already caught the game on the radio, but he bets on the Colts anyway. Loser’s supposed to do the dishes after they scrounge together some soup, but Steve does them anyway.

Wayne would make a stink about it but he can tell Steve just wants to help, to feel like he’s helping. Same thing when the Henderson boy comes around to see him, wanting to hear all the stories, even the scary ones. So Wayne doesn’t mind letting Eddie’s friends feel like they’re helping him.

His nephew didn’t have many friends. Real, cover-your-six kinda friends. The boys he played his music with, they’ve come by a couple times, Wayne always liked Jeff despite the racket. That older fella that’s doing time now, Wayne wasn’t too fond of. And some of Eddie’s dungeon buddies he talked about were the only few.

Now, casual acquaintances? Anybody who didn’t have anywhere else to sit when he had an empty spot at his table? Sure, Eddie had those in spades.

His boy was good at that, putting on a good old show for his crowd, on a stage to keep his distance. That damn Al did him in good, never could trust easily, having his old man pop up and drag him into his mess before he took off again. And Eddie’s poor momma would’ve done right by him, if she hadn’t gotten sick so young.

Took Wayne a long time to get Eddie to depend on him, to trust this was his place to stay and he didn’t have to earn it, Wayne wasn’t just filling his head to scheme something out of him.

Love ain’t a transaction that way. He wasn’t ever any good at saying it, but he tried to show Eddie the best he could.

His boy though, always carried a debt with him. Like he owed Wayne something for taking him in, had to graduate quick and make it outta here, do something with the better life he gave him. Al dug him in so deep, Eddie stayed roped into whatever his latest scheme was (the cars, the dealing, the gambling, thank God Eddie wasn’t there when the goddamn robbery went wrong, 25 to life) like maybe it’d be enough to keep him from running off again.

The odds have never been in favor of people like them, poor folk in a town that’s stuck in its ways, where everybody’s just like their old man, but Al made his choices and Wayne made his. Rest their mother’s soul, she did her best. Part of Wayne was relieved when Al got locked up, at least Wayne had a better chance of keeping Eddie from going down the same path, try to raise him right.

Being a Munson wasn’t a crime. He didn’t owe a darn thing to anybody. Eddie could graduate at his own pace, play whatever games and music he wanted, dress however, that didn’t mean he was up to no good. And a lot of boys get into dealing for a little easy extra money around here, he was gonna grow out of that just like Wayne did.

It worked until all this mess.

That’s why Eddie ran off after what happened to the poor Cunningham girl. He gets spooked when something goes wrong, like it’ll be the last straw he can’t make up for so he runs off. Like the first time he didn’t make senior year, went and hid out with that Rick fella that Wayne never did like, got Eddie deep into that business he tried to keep a secret.

‘Course Wayne knew. He knows exactly what and where his boy hides. If those damn cops weren’t tailing him, he would’ve gone straight to get him.

That was before he knew it would turn into all of this. Now he wishes he would’ve done it anyway. Gone right to Eddie, told him it wasn’t his fault that everything got all turned upside down. Told him he knew he was innocent right from the get-go, and got him away from this rotten old town.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t go get his boy.

So now he’s just trying to be there for Eddie’s boys, since he can’t.

“You have a night shift tonight right? Gonna put on a pot of coffee,” Steve says once he’s finished up the dishes.

Wayne hums. There’s usually more noise going on during these visits. Steve’s still alright at carrying on, even without the Henderson boy’s chatter to fill any gaps.

It was strange, the first time the two of them showed up. Wayne knew Eddie was close with Dustin, but he didn’t have a clue that he was chumming it up with the Harrington boy. Just don’t seem like the same type of company. He might not believe it if it weren’t so obvious that Steve cared about his boy. He suspected before, but now with Steve showing up here alone, he knows.

Steve misses Eddie in a different sorta way than Dustin.

“No cream or sugar, right?” Steve looks humored by that as he passes the mug of black coffee to him, “How are you related to Eddie again?”

Wayne’s mouth turns upward, remembering his nephew’s god awful sweet tooth. He picked up a box of Honeycombs the other day in the store out of habit. “Just happened to be standin’ there when they beamed him down.”

That gets a good chuckle out of Steve. Nothing wistful weighing it down and Wayne’s glad, watching Steve pour himself a cup of coffee too.

Then bitter-sweetness swirls in his chest, seeing the mug that Steve chose for himself. Must’ve dug it out from one of the boxes Wayne hadn’t hung back on the walls yet. The earthquake did a number on his collection. That Garfield one was the only one he’d gotten around to gluing back together.

“What is it?” Steve asks, cup paused at his mouth.

“Ah nothin’ just,” Wayne waves it off, “That’s the mug Ed always used.”

“Oh, I can use a diff—”

“Nah, nah go ‘head. It’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Steve takes a wary sip.

Mostly these days, Wayne just feels like a watch without a ticker, a chest with nothing beating inside it. He can’t name the feeling he has at seeing Eddie’s old mug being used by someone else, but at least it’s something.

“Y’know, he used to put everything in that sucker. Soda pop, soup, cereal, you name it,” Wayne shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile, “I’d have to wrestle it away from him just to give it a good washing. It’s well loved, alright. Leaks now.”

As if on cue, Steve has to grab a napkin to sit underneath it.

Wayne lets out an amused hum, “He uh— Didn’t have much stability ‘fore he came to live with me, so he’d get real attached to things like that.”

Carried around a stuffed dragon they picked up at a garage sale ‘til Wayne couldn’t sew the wings back on anymore. Never wanted to throw anything away. Got real anxious about Wayne going to work sometimes, even when he was too old for a sitter. Held onto him saying “Stay home just today, Dad, please.” Which, he didn’t mind Eddie calling him that. It always softened him up, made him give in. Wishes now that he’d told Eddie upfront. Maybe he never would’ve stopped.

“Thought for sure he’d marry that damn guitar one day.”

Steve nearly sputters his coffee, laughing at that, “Yeah, those two are made for each other.”

It’s nice, seeing the way that story lit Steve up. Sorta like his boy can still make someone happy. Hurts like hell that he ain’t here to do it himself, but Wayne was always good at telling stories. That’s where Eddie learned it from.

“I’m uh,” Steve deflates after a minute, looking down at the mug, “God, I’m just really sorry, Wayne.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, Steve,” he says, because, well.

Wayne gets the feeling that his boy was Steve’s boy too.

Read the rest on Ao3

[know-its-for-the-better]

taking care of a sick schlatt hcs

since the big guy is sick, but still streaming, here are some of the thoughts i’ve been having about what it would be like to take care of him as a partner (being extra parasocial today)

-he would be reluctant in accepting your care at first. a. he doesn’t want to get you sick bc then you will just both be miserable and he would rather take care of you b. he would hate to be the reason you start feeling bad c. he’s super protective over you and doesn’t want to see you sick it would make him sad

-however, after some compromising to make sure you don’t get yourself sick with his cold, he lets you begin to baby him

-in the morning, you wake up in the guest room, so the two of you don’t share too much of the same air (as much as it kills you to not be near him)but you go and make him breakfast before he wakes up

-as much as he bitches about not liking the taste of honey, you make him a special warm drink you think he will like containing whiskey, lemon, cinnamon, and just enough honey to help him, but not enough for him to notice. (a hot toddy, also known as the south’s cough syrup) this should help with his sore throat even though his morning voice combined with his sick voice and rasp makes him very hard not to kiss. it’s very sexy.

-once you know he’s awake you bring him his breakfast in bed with a smile on your face and a kiss on the napkin in your red lipstick that he loves so much. the two of you were usually very affectionate and the necessary distance has you losing it a little bit.

-once he’s awake he’s already back to work bc “the grind doesn’t stop baby” he says. but you are popping in every hour to make sure he doesn’t need any medicine, tissues, or water

-throughout his work day you are bringing him mandatory visits from jambo and [redacted] for snuggles that you can’t give him. you say “this cuddle is from me except it’s jambo bc you refuse to give me your sickness”

-you had the great idea of using the throat numbing spray(chloraseptic) you’d bought for other reasons… for it’s actual intended use. grabbing it from the bedside drawer you bring it to his office. “woah toots i appreciate you wanting to make me feel better, but i think that breaks our agreement on not getting you sick” he says. “nice try but i was thinking more about its medicinal use. open up and say ah.” you tell him as you spray it down his throat. “feel any better?” you ask. “no wonder you like this stuff so much! i can’t feel a thing and plus it tastes like cherries!” he says as he pokes at you

-you tell him if he refers to blowing his nose as “blowing a load” on stream again there will be hell to pay. ofc he doesn’t care and does it anyway and you make him pay for it later on in the bedroom

end note: hello!! hope you enjoyed!! most of this is inspired by stuff he’s said on stream today and yesterday and the little interaction i had with him on todays stream (still freaking the fuck out over it btw. if you haven’t seen the clip i posted it on here. not to brag but i made the mf cackle)