#I had the perfect fucking tag but someone interrupted me and when I went to correct the spelling mistake within the tag it somehow

[cryvelv3t]

Cody x domtop! Male Reader

Warnings: Oral, Breeding, rough fucking, Semi-public/locker room, Praise, Musk, Feminization

"So, what's next for the tag team champions?" A reporter asked you and Cody "I don't really know; all I know is that we're going to beat everyone that comes at us." Cody responded, his hand finding your shoulder. You smiled in agreement and placed your hand on his thigh, Cody's smile faltered slightly as his cheeks flushed. "Any more questions?" You asked while slowly bringing your hand down to the bulge in his pants, "Yes! Cody, why did you choose him as your tag team partner? I'm sorry but it all seems so sudden." He smiled "So, um. My friend here is-" His voice broke as you began to apply pressure on his bulge. He let out a heavy breath "Sorry, I got a little distracted, but he's really fun to work with. And he's a stronger fighter while I'm a stronger talker." You smiled at his answer before pressing a little harder, Cody's hand went up to hide his face. You could hear a low groan come out of him; his hand able to hide the sound from the mic in front of him. "We really are the perfect team." Cody took his hand off your shoulder. He looked at you for a few seconds until a reporter called you name "Yeah?" you responded quickly "It's similar as the question before what made you agree to Cody's offer?" You smiled widely "Okay, the story is pretty long both in the ring and in the dressing rooms. But long story short I hated him when he first asked but as I watched how hard he worked in those matches and how much strength he has. It changed. The man has a lot of will power and I respect it." You released the pressure off his bulge "Wha-" Cody's eyes were wide, and he had a huge smile "What? Too much admiration?" You smiled lightly. Cody shook his head quickly "No, no it was swee-"Don't ruin your moment." You cut him off applying pressure to his cock once again, his head dropped and fell against the table "You good?" He nodded and brought his head back up. Cody's face was redder than a tomato. He looked around waiting for someone to ask a question before he hears someone say something about how the conference is coming to an end.

You and Cody both walked out off the stage and into one of the locker rooms. "What the fuck was that?" He turned around quickly as you closed and locked the door. "What? You don't like the princess treatment." You leaned in to kiss his neck. Cody lets you, his hands finding his way to your biceps "That's not princess treatment, that's humiliation." "Hm, either way. You love it." Your hands make way to his waist to bring him closer. "Fuck." He groaned lightly as he felt your erection rub against his own. "Please, please." He brought his hands up to your face "Kiss me.". With no hesitation you roughly pressed your lips to his. His breath got heavy, and his moves frantic to work off his jacket. "Fuck baby, you're so beautiful." You breathed out, your hands running up and down his body. You sat him down onto a bench in the locker room. "God you're so fucking perfect." You praised. He smiled at your kind words, letting you do whatever you wanted to his "perfect" body. You kissed down his body as you got down on your knees. "Lay down on the bench." You ordered, his eyebrows furrowed "Wh-"Just trust me and do it baby." His eyebrows relaxed and laid down. "What are you going to do?" He asked as he leaned up on his elbows "Just wait, and you'll find out." You hooked your fingers under his belt and pulled them down to his ankles. "I think I have an ide-" his little comment was interrupted by a loud gasp at your warm mouth wrapping around his cock. "Fuck!" He brought a hand up to his mouth. Your cock twitched at his little whimpers; they were so high compared to his normal voice. "God, fuck." He groaned as your sucking became more enthusiastic. He tried to tell you little random things, but it came out as unintelligible babbles.

Your mouth trailed lower and lower to his surprise. "Wait, what are you doing?" He leaned up on his elbows again. Your head popped up "Why? You don't want it?" You climbed back up "No, no, it's fine but what were you doing?" Your eyes widened slightly

Your relationship was still fresh, and it was constantly interrupted by work and your storyline together. And you suspect that you might be Cody's first boyfriend. Because of this new relationship, you want to make him as happy as possible.

"I was going to eat you out. Is that okay?" You asked hoping for clear communication. Cody's eyes widened slightly; he stutters a bit obviously shocked but gives you the okay. You smile at him before kissing down his body, trying to get him to relax. You give a long lick from the base to the tip of his cock, reviling in the way he groans at the action. "Fuck, you smell so good." Cody makes a confused noise, you just got done with a match, he's covered in sweat, and he probably smells like it too. All those thoughts were wiped the moment he felt your tongue swipe his hole "Fuck!" He gasped out. You groaned into his hole as you finally pushed you tongue in, he tasted amazing. This is your new favorite food; your tongue's movements were fast and almost desperate. You were practically making out with Cody's hole, and Cody loved every second of it all. It felt filthy all of it, the sounds, your praises, the action of it, and the fact you were getting off on it too. You pulled away and let your thumb drag across the rim, tugging ever so slightly. You watched as spit dripped out of his messy hole. "Fuck, your cunts so wet." His back arched at the use of the word "cunt". "You like that? You like your hole being called a cunt? Is that right, my good girl?" You whispered the last bit into his ear before dragging your teeth along his ear lobe. He cried out pleading for you to fuck his tight cunt.

You smiled and leaned back down to lick at his hole only this time you added a few fingers. Your fingers searched for that perfect spot inside him "Fuck! Right there. Oh shit! Right there." He let out a string of curses as you abused his prostate with your fingers.

It didn't take much more for Cody to tip over the edge, all it took was one slurp and he came harder than he ever has. "Fuck, oh my god." He breathed out, his breath heavy and hot. "You okay baby?" You climbed back up to be face to face with him "I'm okay." He said quietly "Good." You gave him a small kiss before pulling away to clean him up.

Cody made a disapproving sound "Oh no, we're not done!" He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. "Baby, I don't have a condom, lube. Nothing." "I don't care, you're fucking me." His hands found their way to the sides of your face and kissed you forcefully. You felt your cock twitch at his desperate sounds he let out into your mouth. You let out a light groan as you ground your erection into his. Quickly, you unzipped your pants, eager to feel him wrapped around you. "Fuck. Please daddy." He whined at the feeling of your dick teasing around his hole. He froze up once he said that "I-" He pulled away from you with wide eyes "I'm sorry," You cut him off with a deep kiss "That's a good girl, let daddy take care of you." You whispered into his mouth. He moaned loudly, back arching once again making him pull away from your mouth. You leaned up to look down at his hole before spitting directly on it as a replacement for lube. You heard a small whimper punched out of him. You lined up your erection with his hole and pushed in slowly.

The two groaned out in sync "God, you're so tight." You said through gritted teeth. Your body bent over him, your forehead bumping against his collar bone "And you're so big. So full." He whispered out, his head thrown back. Once you bottomed out both of you completely stopped moving, no sound other than your hands rubbing his skin and the sound of heavy breathing.

"Move. Move please." Cody's voice was breathless and higher than normal. Genuinely how could you deny such a pretty boy, with a pretty voice to match. You began thrusting slowly but harsh and deep. Cody moaned out at the action. "God, your cunts taking me so well." You groaned, watching your cock disappear inside him. Cody moaned out a string of curses as he shakily leaned up on his elbows to see before immediately laying back down at the sight, crying out even louder. If you weren't so entranced by the beautiful picture Cody makes you would be more worried about the crash you heard when his head made contact with the bench. "Kiss me, kiss me, please daddy!" He moaned, reaching his arms out to grab you. You obliged, leaning down to capture his lips in a messy kiss. He could barely kiss back he was such a wreck. Drool pooled out of his pink, swollen lips, and he could not stop moaning as your thrusts became more and more harsh. The onslaught abuse to his prostate made him sensitive, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. "Close." He managed to spit out "Me too, baby." "Inside, inside please." You smiled "okay, baby. You want me to breed you full?" "Yes! Yes!" He moaned, nodding desperately. It only took a few more thrusts before he came on the two of your stomachs. "Fuck." You groaned at the tightness that made you spill your load.

"So, so fucking full. Thank you, daddy." He smiled as he worked to calm his breath. "I love you, Cody." You whispered into his neck "I love you too." He wrapped his arms around your neck and kissed the top of your head.

"Hello?" You heard someone yell outside the door. "Fuck." You whispered; both of your eyes wide. "Dammit." You two rushed to get dressed.

[demi-is-doomed]

Oh how it must be nice to have someone who loves you and can actually show it.

Oh how it must be nice to know you're in safe hands who will never harm you in anyway.

Oh how it must be nice knowing that the one you love and adore the most is the one who lays beside you.

Oh how it must be nice to know you're hearing only truths and not being told lies.

Oh how it must be just so lovely to have someone who values you instead of tarnishing your self worth.

[madwomansapologist]

lost in your fire | camille l'espanaye

Navigation | More Camille L'Espanaye | AO3

synopsis: When you survived the entire selection process to be Camille L'espanaye's new assistant, you certainly didn't expect to find this type of employment contract. You could bet your life that the worst thing that could happen to you would be a Miranda-Andrea type of employement. Good thing you didn't.

warnings: smut. strip tease. oral. fingering. degradation. praise. pussy slap. age gap. dom/sub. s&m. co workers. tw: use of 'needy pretty slut'. sugar mommy? that can tagged as abuse of power? prostituition? female!reader. gif: @azrphales

You never thought that graduating in journalism would be the answer to all your problems. It isn't an easy profession, nor is it respected or pays that much. You didn't expect your life to be perfect once you got your diploma.

But damn.

Horrible bosses, jobs that added nothing to your life, laughable salaries. Little free time, little rest, little leisure. Little of everything, except work and stress. Those were always a lot.

And all because you didn't have money. If you had been born into a wealthy family everything would be so different. So much better. Because you know you have talent and determination, what you lack is chance. Is luck. And anyone alive knows that luck is just another name for money.

So when you went to the job interview to be Camille L'espanaye's assistant, you weren't surprised that you did it well. You for sure were surprised to be chosen over someone with an established surname. Or that had a least already finished college. Someone older, experienced. But what surprised you more were the terms of contract.

You didn't know for sure if Camille L'espanaye had too much courage or just lacked the shame, but she was the one to give you the contract. Not someone from HR, not a group of lawyers that would speak for her, but the woman herself.

She did like it was just another thursday for her. Maybe for Camille it was.

You dropped the contract on her desk. "So you want a whore?"

Before that you were so polite. Even thought Camille barely looked into your face, you kept on that thankful-employer act. You said it would be a honor to work for her. But after reading that, nothing mattered anymore.

"I need an assistant," Camille didn't look up from her notebook. She was writing something, the way her fingers moved showed concern while her voice was uterly disinterest. She didn't look up from it since you entered her office. "Someone that I can trust to gather information, follow my orders, know when to speak up and when to shut up. But I also require certain things from my assistants."

"Do I look like a whore?"

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't the lack of money or a renowed surname. Maybe all your rich colleagues got into great jobs while you rot was because... they are better for you. Maybe that's the only thing you are capable of: work on horrible places because others wouldn't be stupid enough to hire you.

Camille chose you because she wants to fuck you. Not because you are talented, competent, competitive. Not because of your writing, your morals, your desire to become something more. Camille saw you as a fuckable body with a pretty face and nothing more.

"It's not my problem to give a shit about your..."

"That was the reason I made till the finish line?" Camille was the one surprised now. Not only you interrupted her, but there was something on your voice. It sounded almost dissapointed. "Because you wanted to fuck me?"

Camille looked at you for the first time.

Her platinum hair moved along when she bent over the table, her face founding a support on her open hands. Camille was something. There was a fire on her eyes, a flame that just couldn't die.

When Camille L'espanaye looked at you, it burned.

She was more than the daughter of someone important. Camille was the very next best thing.

"I read your thesis. The gatekeep theory and it's changes during the last decade," Camille didn't look bored. Not anymore. "And I read your articles. Your blog. But you know what surprised me the most?"

You found difficult to open your mouth. "What?"

"Your empty curriculum," she laughed. You would have feel ofended, but she kept on talking. "You have talent, that's for sure, but no one noticed it yet. I know you're starving for a opportunity. Now all you need to do is chose: will you grab it, or will you spend the rest of your life hating whoever made the right decision?"

You glared at the paper. "That's not safe for me," you didn't realize you're were gaving in until you opened your mouth. That shocked you. To know that just a few words from Camille turned your no into a almost.

Camille noticed that too. "Item IX."

You thought she would say something more, but at the end you had to open the document again. Item IX was about... limits. Safewords, six different spreadsheets to be filled with your answers about anything related to sex, Camille's own boundaries, NDAs that protect the both of you.

You spend a few minutes in silence. Just thinking to yourself, trying to find a answer. Yes or no? You looked at Camille, and it startled you to see that she was glaring at you. She was so blasé, but her burning eyes showed you interest, curiosity.

Hunger.

You grabbed the pen in front of Camille's smartphone and signed where it was needed. You left the contract on her table, grabbed your purse and didn't looked back.

And what a shame. Because if you had, you would've see how Camille L'espanaye observed every step you gave.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Most of your time is spend with you running from one place to another, gathering information about anything that Camille think is troublesome. Making the right questions, tooking the right photos, knowing when to get out before people get upset.

If Camille senses that something stink, your job is to show her how much of shit is involved on it.

Except by your first day of work. That was unusual. It included getting measured for your uniform and an appointment with her hairdresser. You also run a few blood tests, consulted a gynecologist and signed documents in front of a scary lawyer.

But today was a calm day, and your feet were so grateful for it. It was the first time in two weeks that you could just sit still. Organizing Camille's agenda, confirming her presence on a few events and denying any request for a interview, you took your heels off.

That's the thing about news channels and saturdays: everyone that makes things interesting are too busy enjoying their day off. Normally you are one of those people, but Camille needed you here today.

The phone rang, and she didn't even gave you the time to answer. "My office. Now."

Your heels announced your presence. White dresses, gold earrings and black heels: that was your uniform meanwhile the real one was being made.

Camille was paying attention to her phone, tipping as fast as humanly possible, when you entered her office. Everything was black and white, just like your clothes. "Open it," Camille murmured gesturing towards a golden box on her table.

You got near it, leaving your table beside the box, and opened. Inside it you found the reason why you're working today. Your uniform was there.

Camille clearly can have anything she want, all she needs to do is open her mouth. But there is no way she could speed up a sewing process. Not without getting bad clothes.

You took it from inside the box and notice how it looked just like those school's uniforms that appear on series about rich people. It was soft, warm, and beautiful. There was also a pair of new, black shoes.

She really wanted you to look young.

"And... done," Camille closed her eyes, and passed her fingers throught her hair. It must have been a really stressing conversation. "Now put it on."

"Alright," you put everything inside the box ans took it on your arms, going to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. But before you could made to the door, Camille's voice stopped you.

"Do it here."

Camille demanding you to get dresses in front of her should have make you want to vomit. You shouldn't want that, or her, or that fucking job.

But you do. Fuck, you want that.

Camille told you to grab the opportunity. She show you that it wouldn't wait for you. And it was the right choice. Not only your payment is really good, but she is also paying your college debt as a act of encoragment — her words. Working for Camille will open so many doors for you, and those that won't you can open with her money.

And all she's asking is for you to fuck her.

You fucked girls for free, and none of them were directly responsible for you buying a new car. Why not put a price on your body? Camille is willing to pay it.

It helps that she's hot as fuck.

So you put the box on a couch and gave her the show she wanted. You started just taking off your earrings and necklace. Then you opened the ziper of your dress, slow enough to make her sigh. You let it slid of your body, revealing that you wore nothing bellow it.

You twirl the dress on your fingers, then throw it at her. It feel right beside Camille's phone. Once more her facade broke a bit, her smile way closer to a laugh then to a smirk.

As you put on your new clothes, you gave her a little spin. "Come here," was all Camille said.

You licked your lips and walked towards her. Right in front of Camille, you felt her eyes analizing every single detail of you. She gave you smirk.

"Kneel for me," she ordered. You did as she wanted, your heels digging on the skin of your feet. "Now use your mouth. Prove me your worth."

Camille opened her legs, the dress went up her tights and revealed her black thong. You touched her skin, your fingertips just brushing against her knees and thights. You slid them across her covered pussy, a touch so delicate it felt like a ghost.

Looking into Camille's burning eyes, you put her thong aside and revealed herself to you.

From then on, you were nothing but a starving woman.

Camille held on by your hair. She wasn't delicate. She just grabbed you, almost like you would run away. How could you ever do that? Not with her being so sweet. Not with her lips so warm against your lips.

"Fuck," she whispered. Her incoerent words showed that you were doing a good job. "Just like that."

You looked up, and then you saw Camille looking deep into your eyes. It made you go even harder on her, totally focused on making Camille reach heaven.

"What a pretty thing you are," Camille moaned. Her hand, before pulling your hair with no regards, now carressed your cheeks. "You're such a needy pretty slut, aren't you? My fucktoy."

You moaned against her dripping pussy, drunk on her arousal, and felt Camille shaking bellow you. She's so blasé, so colected, but now you saw her breaking bit by bit.

More confident, you grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to you. Your tongue brushed against her sensitive clit, your fingers spread her pussy from inside. The sounds she made were the prettiest song you ever heard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Camille couldn't stop screaming. That all put together bussinesswoman you meet were long gone. She was just a woman in need of a helping hand. "I'm 'bout to, oh god..."

Your felt her melting against you, her legs trembling against your arms. You stopped when her body collapsed against her armchair.

"Get up," she murmured. This time not out of disinterest, but because she was lost on her own pleasure.

Standing, you turned your back to her so you could get your things and leave. But before you could walk away, two hands grabbed you by your waist.

Camille, standing before you, caressed your skin. "Where are you going?" She bit your shoulder, and her teeths dig on your skin. It wasn't delicate, but it was good. "Already running away from me?"

"I thought you were done," you whispered. Her taste was still on your mouth. So sweet it could give you toothaches.

Camille kept on bitting your neck, licking it right after, until she made to your ear. "I'm not done with you," she whispered, and you didn't knew if she was mocking you.

"Sit on my table," she slapped your ass when you moved. "Open your legs." She once slapped you, but this time on your pussy.

The moan that escaped you made Camille force herself against your mouth. She tasted herself on you, but she also felt the taste of your lipstick. Camille licked your lips, trying to get more of you, then went back to explore your mouth.

Her fingers played with your lips, so wet for her, and entered on your tight pussy. So warm, so made for her. Camille curved her fingers, and you held into her. "Just like that," you moaned. "Please, just..."

Camille went harder, so hard you knew that it would hurt the other day, but you didn't care. Camille could hurt you however she wants, as long as she keep on making you feel like that.

"Be a good bitch and cum on my fingers," Camille grabbed you by the chin. That made you open your mouth, and Camille noticed the way your lips covered on her saliva shone. "Show me your tongue."

Camille spat on it, and you gadly took it. You blinked to her.

"Fuck," Camille fingered you as she pinched your clit. You were so close. "You really have a talent for that, don't you? Thinking about making you mine. Chain you to my bed so I can use you whenever I want."

"Do it," you whimpered against her lips.

She spread her fingers inside you. You gasped, your body chocking against her. You couldn't think, you couldn't see, all you did was moan as you came.

Camille continued until you were too sensitive to take it. She licked her lips, now addicted to your taste, and stepped away from you.

She took off her thong and thrown it at you. Camille moved your body, taking her phone right behind you, and sat on her armchair. You breath as you watched her go back to work, but you also smiled when you noticed her trembling feet.

"Cover yourself," Camille started. "Clean my agenda for tomorrow, scheduled a meeting Pym and find someone that make a coffee that doesn't suck like yours."

"But you swallow," you murmured as you put on her thong. It was wet from her arousal and your spit.

"What did you just said?"

"You heard me," you took your tablet and didn't gave her time before you walked away.

Camille L'espanaye observed every step you gave. When you were gone, she throw her phone away and closed her eyes.

"I am so fucked," Camille whispered to herself.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[writingforstraykids]

Addicted to you - Chp. 7

Pairing: Minchan (mention of changlix | ot8)

Word Count: 7348

Summary: Another two months later, things seem to stabilize again, and Minho is happier than ever with Chan despite his injury slowing him down. Everything seems to be perfect until their friends confront Chan about a possible relationship, and Chan's fear of being out in the open gets the better of him. He notices too late that Minho's right there, hearing everything...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, cuddles, smut , dom!chan, sub!minho, angst, verbal fight (also minho slaps chan)

A/N: Uhm...I'm sorry, it gets sad/heavy in the end @mal-lunar-28😅😂 ~ Moon🌙

Chp. 6 | Chp. 8

Just about the time I get it right Everything's in line, I get anxious If it feels too good to be true Then it probably is, I love it but I hate it Self Sabotage ~ Ruelle

Chan hadn't been lying about needing to let off some steam. Minho was slyly teasing him in front of the others, hands wandering over his body when no one was looking. In turn, Minho found himself getting fucked stupid in the most inappropriate settings, and he was secretly starting to love it. Backstage between performances in some desolate room or Chan's studio when Jisung and Changbin were away to get snacks. One night, they found themselves alone in the house and Minho was being a tease to no end. Chan, who had enough of his antics, bent him over the kitchen counter, ravishing Minho and interrupting him making dinner. On another early morning occasion, Chan sucked him off in their shared showers, and Minho could do nothing but contain his moans and hope no one would hear them, or worse, come inside. 

Just like that, another two months passed, and Minho started getting excited about their first year together. Chan’s mood was slowly stabilizing and things were improving between the two. They still hadn't defined what they were exactly, but it felt a lot like he had a boyfriend, which was alright with him. 

Minho was in his room scrolling through his social media platforms for cute ideas on how to make their "anniversary" special and perfect. He gently rubbed his knee and contorted his face at the stinging pain. About a week ago during practice, he messed up the landing after a jump and hurt his knee. The doctors advised him to take it easy and go on walks to keep up with movement but to refrain from dancing for a couple days. It pissed him off, but he knew he'd make it worse by not listening to them. So Chan had accompanied him on his walks and ensured he wasn't overdoing it. Someone knocked at his door, and only a moment later, his favorite curly-haired boy glanced inside. "Hi there," he smiled brightly, quickly turning off his phone to give his full, undivided attention. 

Chan smiled and came over, leaning down for a quick kiss. "You think you can show me those steps again before the children join us?" 

"Sure thing, love," he told him and took his hand, walking downstairs with him. "You look really cute today," he said softly. Chan was wearing a light blue sweater and black sweatpants combined with a beanie of his, a few curls sticking out from beneath it. 

"Thank you, baby," he smiled shyly and squeezed his hand thankfully. 

Minho looked at him fondly, checked their surroundings, and gave him a quick kiss. He looked over him once more and let a passing smirk grace his lips. “Am I right to think you are looking for cuddles?” He squinted his eyes playfully at the man.

“What gave it away?” Chan asked, giggling softly.

“My sweater,” Minho chuckled knowingly and brushed his hand over Chan’s shoulder. “You usually wear my clothes when you do.”

Chan laughed softly, heart melting at how well Minho knew him. It was true; he usually wore something that belonged to Minho when he felt lonely and in need of comfort. This way, he had him wherever he went. “Stop being so sweet to me,” he said softly. 

“Stop having such a beautiful smile,” Minho said, winking at him as Chan blushed deeply, hiding his face slightly to cover a small smile. “See, you can’t change that either. Deal with it, Channie love.” He teased the man with a chuckle.

Once they got to the practice room, Minho turned on the music quietly and stepped next to Chan, taking his hand once more. He talked him through the steps again before demonstrating to him. Chan followed his directions and danced along, still holding hands. As soon as they were done, Chan pulled him into a warm embrace, making Minho giggle happily as their noses brushed together. “Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow?”

Minho’s smile widened. “Just you and me?”

“Just us,” he nodded, and his heart warmed seeing how excited Minho looked at the confirmation.

“Is this a date, Channie love?” he asked softly.

“You could call it that,” he nodded with a sweet smile. “I have something to give you,” he said, thinking of the small silver ring safely stored away in his room. He was ready to take things a step further and finally put a label on their relationship.

“Oh, really?” he asked curiously and searched his eyes. God, his lips were begging Minho to kiss him right then and here.

"Look at our hyungs flirting again!" Jeongin shouted out, and Minho flinched away from Chan, surprised. From the corner of his eye, he sees the others begin to pile into the room.

"You're just jealous," Chan grinned at him, still holding his hand. 

Minho looked down at their hands and bit back a smile. "Alright let's get ready, everyone." 

"You better take it easy," Chan warned him. 

"I know," he sighed softly and mostly supervised his friends for the rest of the afternoon. Boring. 

-

Minho later found himself sitting at his desk in his room, listening to a few new songs and humming along softly. He wrote down a few ideas for the dances and scribbled down some formations and group placements. 

"Minho hyung?" He heard a voice softly call out his name.

"Yes?" he asked, looking up at Jisung, who was glancing inside his room from the doorway. 

"Can I have the keys to the practice room? Hyunjin locked us out again," he chuckled. 

Minho opened the drawer on his left and took out the keys. "Unlock the door and bring them right back before the same thing happens again," he said, tossing him the keys. Jisung nodded and left, leaving the door cracked open. Minho went back to focusing on the songs. 

"Min?" Felix called out to him not even five minutes later. 

"Yes, Lixie?" he asked, putting down his pen and looking up at the man. 

"I just wanted to ask if you're still up for working on new stuff tomorrow?" 

"Yeah, sure thing," he nodded and flashed him a smile as he gave him a thumbs up. 

"Nice," he beamed.

“I mean, we could just work on it later today if you’d like,” Minho suggested. But his expression dropped a little as Felix contorted his face from his words. “Or not?”

“Changbinnie’s coming back from his trip today. I wanted to try and spend some time with him before the others come for him,” he apologized gently. 

“Ohh, right,” Minho chuckled and waved him off. “That’s fine. Make sure you get some cuddles for me too,” he winked at him, and Felix giggled before leaving again, still leaving the door cracked open. "I should've closed the door," he groaned to himself and glanced over, deciding he was too lazy to do so and leaving it open. Hopefully, he can continue working in pea- 

"Hyung?" Jeongin's voice interrupted his thoughts once more. Or maybe not…

Minho closed his eyes in defeat, forcing a bright smile on his lips for their maknae before looking up at him. "Yes, dear?" 

"I feel like I didn't get all the steps today and I'm nervous I'll mess them up," he confessed, genuine worry in his tone as he spoke. 

"Innie, I promise you'll be fine. I think you did a great job today and it's only going to get better," he told him patiently. "We can go through them again together tomorrow, okay?" 

"Okay," he beamed at him, relieved. He gave Minho a smile and left, with the door still open.

He continued working, and three minutes later, someone knocked gently. "Oh, for fucks sake, can't I work in peace for like ten minutes?" he groaned. Once he looked up, he met Chan's amused chocolate eyes. "Ah, it's you." 

"Wow, not the exact greeting I was hoping for," he giggled and strolled over to his lover. "What are you doing?" 

"Trying to work," he told him. "Obviously," he pointed at his desk. 

"Want to take a break?" Chan asked. 

"Not really, no," Minho shook his head. "My brain's producing good stuff right now." 

"Mhm," he hummed and glanced around his room. "Can I stay?" 

"Sure, just be quiet," he nodded and vaguely waved towards his bed. Chan hummed, agreeing, but sat down at the edge of his desk instead. That alone meant trouble, and Minho wanted to stay focused. "Channie," he tried patiently. 

"What?" he asked innocently. 

"I'm working," he said, glancing up at him. 

"I know, you just told me so," Chan nodded in agreement and blinked at him innocently. "Am I distracting you?" 

"Only a little," he said and squinted his eyes at him. Chan’s gaze didn’t waver one bit, instead locking in on Minho’s harder. And he knew exactly what that meant. "You're horny right now, aren’t you?," he asked suddenly, but he could tell the shift in his lover’s eyes once he looked in them. 

"What? No…Well, maybe a little," he shrugged sheepishly. "You know it's not fair that you're so effortlessly handsome," he complained. 

"It's not fair you're ready to have sex all the time either. Deal with it," he spoke as a warning. "Go look behind my sweaters. There's some stuff you could use to pass the time." 

Chan rolled his eyes and leaned forward, bracing himself on the armrests of his chair. "Baby." 

"Love?" he asked, slightly irritated. 

"I won't settle for anything other than you, you hear me?" he asked, and Minho's ears quickly burned blush pink. 

"But I'm working on our songs, love," he whined softly, a bit frustrated. But he couldn’t stop himself from shifting in his seat as Chan’s words went straight to his core, making him feel fuzzy and hot.

"Min-." 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jisung asked, suddenly standing in the doorway again and interrupting the two. 

"He's trying to bully me into cuddling with him when I'm supposed to be working," Minho smoothly answered and shoved Chan back to create a little distance. "What the fuck are you doing? Again?" he said back. 

"Keys," he said, holding them up proudly. 

"Oh, right," he nodded and took them. He placed them back in the drawer. "Close the door on the way out." 

"Why, need some privacy for cuddles?" he asked teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows at the two. 

"Get out right now," Minho jokingly threatened him. Jisung left giggling and closed the door. 

Minho turned his attention back to the man sitting on his desk. "Chan, what's up with you?" 

"Nothing." 

"Don't lie, you suck at it," he giggled. 

Chan sighed softly and hid his face in his hands. “Don’t make me say it, it's so embarrassing." 

"What is?" he asked, frowning softly. Was there a need to be concerned?

Chan whined and spoke in a single breath. "Ireallylikewhenyougointofullleadermodeduringdancepractice," he mumbled out. 

"You what?" Minho asked, blinking softly. 

"I really like when you go into full leader mode during dance practice," he confessed and chewed on his lower lip. “Its really hot seeing you take charge,”

"Oh, you do?" he asked with a hint of fake curiosity, remembering Felix had mentioned this before. Chan nodded and covered his cheeks, blushing in slight embarrassment. "How much, Mr. I'm always in control?" he asked, intrigued to know the answer. He kept his eyes locked onto his to see his next move

“Way too much,” he confessed shyly and dropped to his knees in front of his chair. Minho raised his eyebrows at him as Chan rested his chin on his knees, gazing up at him with soft, pleading eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that, love. You’re gonna make me hard,” he told him with a chuckle, brushing Chan’s curls back. Gosh, this man looked good with his natural curly hair and bare face. He loved the sight of Chan on his knees, practically begging for attention. The fact that he was wearing his sweater didn’t help either.

“Why don’t you continue working, and I’ll take care of it?” Chan proposed, a grin stretching his lips once Minho gave in, knowing he’d lose out on any chance of working later if he wouldn’t let him have his way now.

Minho really tried to focus on his work, he did. But with Chan beneath the table, pulling down his sweatpants enough to pull his dick out, it was a little challenging. Chan didn’t waste any time, licking up his shaft and twirling his tongue around the tip. His eyes fluttered close as Chan started taking him into his mouth, giving himself time to adjust to him and take him in deeper. Minho’s lips parted with a gasp as Chan took him in deeper, tongue massaging his dick perfectly. “Feels so good, Channie,” he let him know, panting as he felt the warm, wetness of his mouth close around him. Once Chan had gotten comfortable enough, he started bobbing his head in a steady rhythm, and Minho’s hand shot down to bury itself in his hair. “Fuck,” he sighed and dropped his pen on the desk, giving up on his work. This was so much better. He adjusted in his seat a bit more comfortably.

Chan suddenly pulled back and looked up at him with dilated pupils. He massaged his thighs, smiling up at him lovingly. “Fuck, you sound beautiful,” he told him, and Minho blushed. “You think you can keep quiet while I touch you some more, kitten?” he asked, and Minho nodded quickly, immediately melting at the pet name. Chan’s thumb brushed Minho’s lips before pushing two fingers into his mouth. Minho moaned softly and sucked at them eagerly, covering them in his spit as Chan kept on rubbing his thigh teasingly. Chan proceeded to pull Minho’s sweatpants down further and, grabbing his thighs, pulled him forward in his chair. 

Minho cursed softly as Chan took him back into his mouth and started pushing one finger into him at the same time. He gripped his curls tightly and shivered at the groan that left Chan’s throat at his action. Minho melted into his chair and relaxed fully into the feeling of Chan opening him up. Not too much time passed before Chan was buried four fingers deep into his lover. He had his legs resting on his shoulders, one hand gripping the armrest and the other one guiding Chan’s head up and down his length. Minho’s head fell back with a whiny moan as he hit the back of his throat, and he couldn’t help but moan Chan’s name loudly. 

Chan gently squeezed his thigh, signaling him to be quiet, and moaned around his dick deliciously. He was enjoying the pull on his hair and the strangled sounds he pulled from him. Chan tried to pull back, but Minho held him in place and shook his head. “Don’t stop, Channie,” he told him breathlessly. “Please don’t stop.”

Chan still pulled back and got up, lifting Minho up from the chair. He sat down in the chair with him on his lap and kissed him hungrily. “I tried my best,” he told him, and Minho giggled sweetly. “But you’re driving me crazy.”

“As usual,” Minho chuckled and kissed him hard as he reached down between them, pulling Chan’s dick from his pants. “Lube,” he told him, and Chan reached into his drawer to take the small bottle out. 

“You keep that right next to the keys to the dance room?” he laughed. 

“I have no secrets,” he shrugged with a chuckle, and took the bottle from him, flicking the cap open. Minho shifted a little, adjusting his weight on his lower body, but contorted his face at the sharp pain shooting through his knee. Chan noticed from the corner of his eye and lifted him up again, standing up with him in his arms. He pushed Minho’s notes aside and sat him down at the edge of the table. Minho looked at him and lovingly caressed his cheek as he captured his lips in a kiss. He had never felt as safe and cared for as when he’s with Chan. It was perfect. Minho grabbed a condom from the drawer and rolled it over Chan’s dick.

“Just try to relax, okay?” he mumbled into the kiss after spreading some lube over his dick. Minho hummed softly and took a couple deep breaths. Chan started pushing into him slowly. 

Once he was fully buried inside him, Minho wrapped his legs loosely around Chan’s waist. Chan grabbed his thigh, making sure to steady his injured leg, and braced himself on the table behind Minho. Minho wrapped one arm around his neck, burying his hand in his curls, and braced himself right next to him, fingertips touching. Minho moaned sweetly as soon as he started moving and kissed him passionately, trying to stifle his moans. 

It didn’t help much since Chan also started moaning at the feeling of being inside him. They moved in sync, moaning into each other’s mouths, chasing the other’s lips. Minho arched into him and moved his hand up to grip his sweater right between his shoulders. Minho pulled up the fabric between his fingers, his head falling back as Chan kissed down his neck. He pulled at his curls, making him moan against his skin, and smiled blissfully at the feeling. 

“Fuck, kitten,” Chan whispered against his skin and thrust into him deep. 

Minho stopped caring about his volume; he was already too far gone. He held Chan close as their bodies melted together in pure bliss. The two men pressed their foreheads together. Their breaths mingled as their noses brushed against each other, hair sticking to their flesh. “Channie,” he whispered sweetly in his ear.

“Min, baby,” Chan whispered back softly. He still couldn’t believe he gets to see Minho so vulnerable and open for him. He was a different kind of pretty in moments like these. It was addicting. The two were so focused on each other that they didn’t hear the small tapping on the door, followed by it opening slowly.

“Minho, do you have a moment?” Felix asked while walking in, but his eyes widened at the sight in front of him. 

“Bad moment, Lixie,” Minho breathed out, not even giving a fuck about him catching them in the act. Chan felt too damn good inside of him right now, and Felix had seen him naked before. His head fell back with a loud moan as Chan’s dick finally tapped his prostate with a particular thrust, and he gripped the sweater tightly.

“Oh fuck, sorry! “ he rambled and quickly covered his ears, closing his eyes and stumbling back outside. Felix blushed heavily as he closed the door and covered his face in his hands. 

“I should really learn how to knock,” he groaned at himself and stood still in the hallway for a moment, trying to push away the vivid images. He didn’t fully succeed, almost feeling a little jealous at how in sync and in love those two had just seemed in that moment. The way they solely focused on each other’s pleasure. Just like earlier at the practice room before the rest had joined them…and even during practice. These two just fit together perfectly. Sometimes, he longed for Binnie to look at him like that and hold him close like that without him initiating it. He shook his head at himself, pushing those thoughts away. He was happy, after all. He sighed once more and went to his room.

“Will you ever learn to -ohh fuck- lock the door?” Minho breathed out between moans.

“Has he ever heard of knocking?” Chan asked breathlessly.

“He never does,” Minho giggled, and his eyes fluttered close with a soft whimper. “Channie, I’m so close.”

Chan was about to answer before his hips suddenly stilled, and he came with a groan of his name. He bit down on Minho’s shoulder to stifle his sounds, and Minho came on the spot, spilling all over his sweater. They spent a little bit in each other’s arms, catching their breath. Once ready, Chan pulled out of him gently, took the condom off, and threw it into the bin beneath the desk. He tucked himself back into his pants before taking the sweater off and using it to clean Minho up. “Sorry,” he laughed and kissed him gently.

Minho giggled against his lips and let Chan help him out of his own sweater. Chan got some fresh clothes from his drawers and helped him get dressed. Minho’s hands gently roamed Chan’s bare chest as he kissed him afterwards. He pulled Chan with him to his closet and looked through his things. While they find time to meet for sex, Minho always takes Chan’s dirty clothes and washes them, keeping them safe in his room for times such as these. His fingertips brushed over the small box hidden behind his shirts, and he smiled, thinking of the bracelet he had bought for Chan as a surprise resting there for now. “There you go,” he smiled and handed him a shirt.

“This is mine?” he giggled, raising his eyebrow at his lover.

“I know,” he grinned.

“You’ve been stealing my clothes?” he asked, amused, and pulled the shirt over his head. 

“Maybe,” he said innocently and closed the closet again. “They smell like you, you know. It’s comforting.”

Chan’s face softened, and he took his hands. “You’re so adorable, kitten.” Minho hummed, satisfied, and Chan kissed his nose. “Kissing you all those months ago has been the best decision I’ve made in a while.”

Minho blushed a little and pulled him close. “Allowing you to do so has definitely been one of my brightest moments,” he nodded giggling. “I don’t regret it at all”.

Chan smiled sweetly, but then suddenly started laughing. The memory of Felix walking into the room still very fresh. "How could you be so unbothered by Felix walking in on us?" 

"You're pretty amazing at what you do. I wasn't really thinking about it," he shrugged his shoulders, making Chan laugh even more. "But still, Felix has seen all of me. It isn’t really a shock anymore." 

"Mhm, fair point. It's not like he hasn't caught me before as well. It's always Felix, isn't it?" he groaned softly. 

"Felix knows and has seen too much," he nodded. "I’d better go look for him and ask what he wants." 

"Leaving me already?" he pouted, not wanting to let Minho go just yet. 

"Come on, you big baby," he giggled, pulling him with him. Minho went down the hallway, knocking on Felix's door. "Sorry, Lix, toddler alert," he joked as they stepped into his space. But his face fell seeing him sitting against his headboard, hugging a pillow as tears ran down his cheeks. "Yongbokie, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, climbing onto his bed. "We didn't traumatize you, did we?" he joked. 

Felix laughed through tears and rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he groaned. "Sorry for interrupting. I should've knocked." 

"Forget about that," Chan said, sitting down on Felix's other side. "What's wrong, mate?" 

"Nothing, I'm just being stupid," he told them, sniffing softly. 

"That happens sometimes," Minho winked at him and gently squeezed Felix's hand. "But this isn’t one of those times. Come on, sunshine, what's going on?" 

"I just really missed Changbinnie these past two weeks," he told them and sniffled softly. Changbin had been back at home before being abroad for a few promotional things and advertisements. "I really hoped we could cuddle or spend time together when he comes back, but he told me he just wants to unpack and take a nap afterward. And I…I don't know. I'm feeling lonely and touch starved, but Jisung and Hyunjin are busy practicing, and Seungmin and Jeongin are already off cuddling each other somewhere." 

Chan hummed gently and wrapped his arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. "And that upset you?" 

Felix nodded, and Minho searched his eyes. "I'm sure Changbin didn't mean to upset you. We all know how tired and grumpy he gets after a flight," he calmed him. 

"I know. As I said, I'm being stupid," he sighed and messily wiped his cheeks with his sleeve. 

Minho handed him a tissue and shook his head. "You're not being stupid, Lixie." 

Chan gently ruffled through his hair. "You know you can come to us for a cuddle whenever you need it." 

"He probably wanted to," Minho pointed out, and they all started laughing. "Are you still feeling lonely and touch-starved?" 

Felix nodded timidly at him. Minho felt the tug at his heartstrings, looking at his big, teary eyes. 

"You know what? I'll share Channie with you today," he offered, making his hyung snort. "Cuddles only, of course." 

"Min," Felix protested weakly and hit his arm, giggling. 

Chan rolled his eyes softly before moving between them, lying down, and letting Minho cuddle to his side comfortably. "Come on, Felix." 

Minho gently patted Chan's chest, and Felix took the hint, making himself comfortable on top of Chan. Minho lazily wrapped his arm around him as Chan covered them all with Felix's blanket. Chan soothingly rubbed Felix's back before moving his hand up to play with his hair. His other arm was draped around Minho's waist, hands intertwined on his hip. Minho lovingly fondled Felix's cheek for a moment. "Is this better, sunshine?" 

"Yeah," Felix nodded, smiling softly. 

Chan relaxed as they soon fell asleep in his arms, and he smiled. He didn't take long to drift off as well, and his head sank against Minho's, searching for him even in his sleep. 

-

Felix woke up later, somehow cuddled between them as Chan had turned onto his side in his sleep. Minho and Chan were hugging him from both sides, their legs all intertwined. Minho had his face buried in his shirt between his shoulders whilst Chan's face was buried in his hair. Felix hadn't felt that warm and comfortable in a long while and closed his eyes again, deciding to enjoy the much-needed feeling a little longer. 

-

Minho woke up a little later, carefully letting go of him and stretching his body tiredly. Felix turned to face him and flashed him a tired smile. Minho reached for Felix's phone to check the time and saw a few messages from Changbin. "I think your boyfriend's waiting for you," he told him quietly, and Felix's eyes lit up. "I'll wake him up. You go get your cuddles." Minho whispers as he goes to wake up Chan.

"Let him sleep," he waved him off. "He needs it." Felix slowly got out of bed and made his way towards the door, opening it carefully to slip out of the room.

Minho smirked and watched him leave before slipping into Chan's arms. He buried his face in his chest, inhaling his scent, and relaxed. "I love you, Channie," he whispered into his shirt and smiled as Chan scooted closer to him in his sleep. Gosh, this man was cuddly. Minho beamed softly. He would've never thought that someone would love and appreciate him as Chan did. 

-

Chan woke up later with a yawn and chuckled softly as he looked down, seeing Minho curled up in his arms. He leaned down, brushing back his hair and kissing his head. Minho cuddled even closer in response, signaling he was somewhat awake. "Feeling comfy, kitten?" 

"Very," he answered sleepily. "You slept alright?" Chan hummed in response. "Felix went to see Changbin. We thought we'd let you get some sleep." 

"My insomnia says thank you," he snorted, and Minho giggled sweetly. 

The door opened, and Felix stepped inside, looking a lot happier than before. "Glad to see you two finally awake. Are you coming down to help with dinner?" 

"Sure thing," Chan nodded and got up with him, stretching out his limbs. 

Minho gave him a soft kiss and hugged him close for another moment. "Cuddle session this evening?" 

"Sounds perfect," Chan nodded happily and kissed his forehead.

-

Jeongin looked at Chan curiously as they were preparing dinner a bit later. "What exactly have you two been doing behind closed doors recently? It’s like you’re always disappearing." 

"Wh-What? Who?" Chan asked in shock, his eyes widening. 

"You and Minho hyung," he answered with an eyebrow raise. 

Hyunjin giggled. "Maybe they're secretly in love," he smirked. Minho had to bite back a grin at that assumption. 

Minho quickly lowered his head and continued drying the dishes. A huge kitchen like that had its perks. And sometimes, his group members completely forgot he was there too, standing in front of the stove far away from him. This way, no one realized they could be bothering him with questions too. 

"Secret lovers?" Felix laughed, and the thought made his eyes shine bright. If they only knew how close they were to the truth. He met Minho's eyes across the room for a moment and held back a laugh. Jisung desperately tried not to laugh as well and disappeared into a cabinet with his head, pretending to search for a pan and holding in his giggles.

"Can you imagine our hyungs hooking up? Would that officially make them our parents?" Seungmin threw in, and Changbin shouted in protest. 

"Married with six kids," Jeongin added and glanced over at their dinner in preparation. 

"How do you all even come up with this stuff?" Chan asked playfully, laughing and rolling his eyes. 

But Minho  couldn’t help but frown softly. It wasn't like they had been hiding it that well. Of course, their group members would notice them spending way more time together than before, and oftentimes in their rooms. Minho let Chan hug him more openly than before, and just last night, they cuddled during the movie night. Also, he doubted he and Chan had been that quiet all those times they took a little risk and had sex. Like today. Things have been going on for almost a year, after all.

"You two just seem to have gotten closer recently," Jisung explained. 

"Well, you know he's been trying to cheer me up lately," he answered. 

One way to put it, Minho thought to himself and gathered some plates. He needed more space to continue cleaning. 

"Yeah, but-." 

"Nothing happened. Have you seen Minho? I call myself lucky when I get a hug from him, or when he doesn't pull his hand away from mine," Chan said, and Minho froze in place. His ears couldn’t help but to tune into the conversation. "He's not exactly the warm boyfriend material I'd need. And no, we didn't kiss either," he tried to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that Minho was right there hearing everything. 

His heart shattered at his comment, and he began to grow pale. Was he being serious? Felix and Jisung looked over at him with concern and exchanged a short look. Minho put down the plates a little too loud, making everyone flinch and turn toward him. "Is that what you think about me when you think I'm not listening? That I'm cold? Unloving? Unaffectionate?" 

Chan's face fell, as all the color drained from his skin while simultaneously allowing a deep red to settle on his neck and cheeks. "Minho," he breathed out in shock and got a raised eyebrow in return. Fuck. 

The others looked back and forth between them anxiously, unsure of what was happening. "I can tell you what happened," Minho said, and Chan opened his mouth in protest, but the look in Minho's eyes made him stop. "We kissed quite a lot actually. At least when he wasn't busy shoving his dick in my ass." 

"Minho!" Chan burst out as the rest looked at him in amusement and pure disbelief. "We had an agreement," he whispered. 

"Listen up Chan, it's one thing to pretend that nothing is going on between the two of us and staying away from you in public. That's what I agreed to," he said, his eyes never tearing away from Chan’s. "But I won't lie to the people I call my family anymore. Especially not after what you just said." 

"I-I freaked out, okay, I didn't mean it," he tried to save himself, stomach turning painfully. Changbin stared at them in shock, slowly connecting the dots before looking at Felix, who just shook his head firmly. Not now. 

"It sure sounded like you did," Minho said sadly, and a wave of fear washed over him. Had Chan felt like this about him all this time? Had it just been the sex and the thrill of affection that kept him around? Whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it right now. "I'm done with this.”

“Baby,” Chan spoke up and calmingly held up his hands. “Come on, let’s talk this out.”

“Save it, Chan. I won't let you toy around with me like that," he said firmly and opened the cabinet above his head, putting the plates inside.

"Toy around? Is that what you think I was doing?" he asked, growing defensive. "Maybe it was you who used me. You practically threw yourself onto me when I gave you the chance. And you've been hovering since that damn night a few months ago," Chan said, trying to get himself out of the line of fire. 

Minho's face fell, and Jisung was in shock at how hurt he looked. "Threw myself - Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouted suddenly, and everyone flinched, slowly backing away from Chan to continue watching from the sidelines. 

“Oh shit,” Seungmin breathed out, and Jeongin exchanged a worried glance with him. Minho sure lost his temper a lot lately with Chan, but not like this. Especially not in front of them. 

"I risked my life to get to you that night because of your stupid message. I held you when you felt like you were falling apart. And I was the one showing you how much you're worth since you can't see that for yourself. You kissed me first, dumbass! I didn't plan on kissing you two nights after, only to have sex the next morning. And I sure as hell didn't plan on doing it again and again over the next eleven months, sneaking around behind everyone's back!" Minho aggressively slammed the cabinet closed, making Chan flinch a little.

"You didn't risk your life," Chan gave back weakly, completely overwhelmed by Minho’s sudden outburst. He fucked up big time, and he was stuck on how to fix it. 

Minho glared at him. "You, out of everyone here, should know how much I have a fear of heights. And still, I climbed over to your balcony." 

"I didn't ask you to!" Chan burst out, feeling like he was being pushed into a corner. 

"I didn't ask you to leave us all behind either, but that's what you wanted to do! You didn't just give up on yourself, you gave up on those you swore to protect. And you gave up on me! You gave up on us, Chan, and still, I stayed by your fucking side because I was too scared to lose you," he gave back just as loudly. But seeing Chan's face, he knew he said too much. Oh, shit. 

"Wait a minute, Chan did what?" Changbin spoke up, confused. Minho stared at Chan, who slowly shook his head. 

"Min, baby, please-," he begged quietly. 

"Stop calling me that," Minho said firmly. 

"Minho, don't," Chan pressed out, anxiously glancing at the others. They can’t know he had been feeling like shit lately. They can’t know he had been ready to give up and quit that night. 

"Hey! What the fuck happened?" Changbin cut them off, deciding to step in and get some answers.

"He accidentally sent his goodbye message to me. That's why I climbed out there; my fear of losing him was bigger than that stupid balcony. Turns out he was thinking about quitting on us and leaving the team behind, saying I’d do just fine as your new leader," Minho said, and his voice trembled, seeing betrayal flash in Chan's eyes. "I'm sorry, Chan, but they should know. I’ve been telling you for weeks now to be honest-."

"Fuck you," Chan said barely above a whisper. "You promised me you wouldn’t tell them," he said, clearly hurt. Now it was all out in the open. Him almost giving up. His feelings for Minho and everything that had followed those past few months. Minho let it all out, taking away his chance to tell the truth at his own pace. 

"Well, you promised you'd fight for us. So I guess we both lied," he said tiredly, hoping the conversation would finally end and he could disappear. He just wanted to hide in his room and avoid everyone. But the way Chan's eyes suddenly darkened, he knew it wasn’t over. If there was one thing he had learned about his hyung, it was that you shouldn't piss him off. Being pushed into a corner could make him snap within seconds. 

"You know what, maybe I did mean it. Maybe I meant every word I said. You are cold, Minho. You obviously don’t give a shit about my feelings and the promise you made to me. I should've known from the beginning you'd fuck me over and tell everyone about what happened because you can’t keep a secret. Stop acting like you didn't want me to fuck you so you could finally not be so fucking alone anymore and feel like you're worth something. You enjoy having someone tell you you’re not what everyone else says you are, huh? Makes you feel like a better person for once, you sassy asshole?" Chan spat out, panting heavily once the last word fell from his lips. But the moment he said it, he regretted it. He covered his mouth with his hand, unable to follow his thought process of producing such hateful words. What the fuck had he done? 

“Excuse me?” he whispered and took a step back, bringing some distance between them. Minho's eyes filled with tears, lips trembling as he tried to regain his composure. Minho could feel his heart breaking, feeling sick and disoriented. 

Chan had never seen him that hurt before and losing his composure in front of the rest. Minho never did, not wanting the younger ones to worry about him. 

"Chan, what the fuck?" Felix spoke up in pure shock and gently took Jisung's hand, which was trembling, as he stepped behind him. Jeongin and Seungmin practically hid behind Changbin and Hyunjin, who stared at their hyungs, unable to comprehend what just happened. 

“Chan, dude,” Changbin contorted his face and took a step toward Minho. “Minho hyung, he clearly didn’t mean it. There's no way any of us would think that about yo-.” he stopped as Minho held his hand up.

"So you're finally being honest with me," he chuckled and closed his eyes for a moment, putting down the towel he had been drying the dishes with. "Oh, Channie love, I'll show you just how much of an asshole I can be," he said, words dripping with disgust. Minho suddenly took a step forward and slapped Chan forcefully, making his head turn to the side. 

Chan placed his hand on his cheek in pure shock as the others gasped, surprised. "What the fuck?" Chan breathed out. 

"You're the only asshole here. I hope you had fun pretending you liked me or seen anything beyond a way to let off steam," he said shakily as tears ran down his cheeks. There was no use in hiding how hurt he was. Chan had torn his walls down and sent an arrow straight into his heart.

"Did you just hit me?" he asked in pure disbelief. 

"Yes, I fucking did!" Minho yelled at him. "You just broke my fucking heart! You'll get over it." 

Chan blinked and slowly pulled his hand off his cheek. The full weight of Minho's words slowly sunk in and he grew incredibly pale, his hands starting to shake. "Minho," he whispered timidly. "I'm so sorry." 

"Fuck you, Chan, seriously," he sobbed out and smacked his chest forcefully. Chan let him, not defending himself, as Minho lost his composure and broke down. It broke him seeing Minho like this, and the fact that he caused it feels even worse.

"Minho stop," Hyunjin said, stepping forward and pulling Chan away from him. "Come on, you're better than this." 

"Come here," Felix spoke up softly as he carefully wrapped his arms around him from behind and pulled him away from Chan, looking at his friend in shock.

Minho covered his mouth with his hand and let Felix pull him back. He didn't know if he was more hurt or angry right now. He felt betrayed on so many levels, becoming too hard to differentiate these emotions. "I believed you," he pressed out. 

"You shouldn't have," Chan whispered, tears burning in his eyes. 

He hiccuped as tears kept flowing. “You told me not to believe in all the things they said about me and bullshit rumors that were going to spread about us.”

"I'm sorry, Min," Chan pressed out weakly. "I'm an asshole, and you deserve better." 

"Stop it, just fucking stop it! Please…" Minho shook his head and felt his heart breaking apart. He should’ve never believed in a happy ending for them. He shouldn't have believed him saying he'd fight for them. He shouldn't have believed him when he said haters were lying and Minho wasn't anything like what they said. 

"Minho hyung, let's take a break and-," Seungmin started but stopped as Minho gently shook Felix off, grabbed his phone from the table, and turned around. He didn't look at his friends as he passed them. Hyunjin tried to hold him back, but he just shook him off, holding back a sob. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Felix snapped at Chan. "How could you say something like that?"

"Felix, easy now," Changbin tried to calm his boyfriend. It wasn't like Minho walked away innocently from this. 

"No, why would you defend that? We all saw it happen!" Felix asked him, highly irritated. 

"Felix," Minho cut him off sharply. "That's my mess, not yours. Leave it be."

"Minho, can we talk? Alone?" Chan asked with tears in his eyes. His breathing was uneven and shaky, trying to hold back a sob. There was an imprint of Minho's hand on his cheek, his lips quivered and for a second Minho hesitated, seeing the damage he caused him. 

He couldn't leave him there crying, could he? Not when he was the only one taking care of him whenever he did. But then again…he couldn't comfort him. Not now, not after all he’s done. "Fuck you, I won't be listening to any more of your lies," Minho said firmly before walking upstairs. 

Chan didn't dare to raise his head until Minho's door slammed closed. He could barely meet his group members' eyes as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he whispered and blinked back tears. "I'm so sorry, fuck," he buried his face in his hands as a sob shook his entire body. The moment Jeongin wrapped his arms around him, heavily shaking himself, Chan's stomach turned. He didn't deserve any comfort right now. Not after what he did to Minho, his love. A few moments later, they all were by his side, too shocked about what Minho had revealed to think of anything else. 

"You're so fucking stupid sometimes, Chan," Changbin said and shook his head at him. “What the fuck was that about?”

"I promise I can explain everything," Chan said shakily and swallowed hard. 

Felix cleared his throat and met Chan's eyes. "I love you, Channie, I really do…but what you just said to him was fucked up on so many levels. You need to fix this. And fast. I can't leave him alone like that," Chan nodded in agreement and let the others pull him to the sofa to sit down. 

"I'll join you," Jisung said, very disturbed about Chan's outburst. 

Chp. 6 | Chp. 8

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[pengychan]

[Baldur's Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 5

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** Wyll's bad luck continues as he comes looking for help and finds a headache instead. At least this one is not tadpole-related. Small mercies and all that. ***

“Oh Gods, you were right! I could kiss you - without teeth, I mean. And I will in a minute, fear not. Now keep still, I’ll be gentle…”

“... Am I interrupting something?”

Durge’s baffled words - what were the odds they’d walk into someone having a moment twice in a row? - caused two faces to lift up and look at them. One being that of a very familiar cave bear, the other being Astarion’s, his chin smeared with blood the way it usually only got when he was really enjoying the meal. He grinned.

“Love! Halsin just had a bloody brilliant idea!”

“Bloody’s the word I was thinking of, yes.”

“Don’t underestimate the brilliant part of it. You know what I told you, how the blood of thinking creatures is far more nutritious and better tasting than animal blood? But there’s only so much blood you can drain from a human - or a dragonborn, or an elf - before things go south. So I thought--”

A snort.

“Right, yes, no need to raise your hackles. Halsin thought, what about a creature that is a thinking being, but in the form of a large animal with lots of blood to part from?”

“Ah, that is a good idea. Going by the look of your face, it worked.”

“That’s why I said it’s a bloody brilliant idea, did you miss that bit? Halsin, think I can have juuust a little more? A cup’s worth, maybe?”

A huffing sound that they had learned to take for a chuckle, and Halsin simply leaned back his head to expose the neck. True to his word, Astarion only took a few more gulps before pulling away, wiping his chin. “Ah, that’s so much better. Thank you kindly,” he said, and gave Halsin a brief scratch between the ears. A soft huff, and Halsin yawned, clearly ready to rest while his ursine form recovered fully from the blood loss. Astarion stood and went to the door, a spring in his step. 

“I’ll take down more than a deer tonight, that’s for sure. I’m thinking of a couple of boars, so we can have a proper feast. Are you coming with me?”

Truth be told, Durge suspected they’d be of absolutely no use on the hunt. Since their arrival Astarion had been up in the evenings and then of course through the night; Durge had tried to spend as much time as possible with him, but between checking on Raphael, fulfilling his promise to Halsin to tell some stories to the cartloads of orphans he’d taken in, and generally spending time with old allies, they were awake much of the day too. Which made them very, very sleep deprived.

‘Maybe I should sleep’ was probably the correct thing to say, but they couldn’t bring themself to. So they took their crossbow, downed an Elixir of Darkvision, and off they went. 

With somewhat predictable results. 

“Hah! A perfect shot if I say so myself! One down, one more to-- did you just fall asleep on your feet?”

“Bwuh?”

“On second thought, no need to answer.”

Durge groaned, rubbing their forehead and blinking their eyes open. They had technically fallen asleep leaning against a tree, but didn’t remark on that. Their sleep pattern had been really fucked up lately. It was much easier when it was just the two of them, traveling at night and sleeping through the day. “Sorry,” they mumbled instead, following Astarion to the prey.

A chuckle. “For missing my absolutely flawless shot? Of course you should be, but it’s no big deal. The night is young, and you may very well get another chance to see it. I’d appreciate some cheering if that happens.” Astarion let out a hum, pulling the arrow out of the boar’s neck. As he’d boasted, it was a perfectly placed shot.

“No, not just for that.”

“For not noticing my new doublet?”

“Not, not for-- you have a new doublet?”

“Hmph. You never notice a thing, do you. Good thing I didn’t waste gold on that really nice underwear I saw the other day.”

“I still fail to see the point of it.”

“Of course you do.”

“If we get far enough for me to see it, odds are it won’t stay on much longer.”

“My dear, the finer arts of seduction are wasted on you,” Astarion declared, as though that wasn’t precisely what had thrown him off when he’d first tried to seduce them, and what he’d grown to appreciate later. He shrugged, and put the arrow back in the quiver. “So, what are you apologizing for?”

“This was supposed to be a quick visit. And instead, we’ve been quite sidetracked.”

“Well, neither of us expected a devil on the doorstep. And besides, it’s only been a week. It’s not like we'd decided on a destination yet, so there is no rush to go anywhere. Would you mind gutting this beast? I forgot to change shirts, and I rather like this one.”

Most would consider asking a bhaalspawn whether they’d mind gutting a kill was the rhetorical question to end all rhetorical questions, but Durge still appreciated being asked. A sharp enough dagger did short work of the boar’s skin and muscles and they began to remove the organs, quickly but methodically.

“Still, we shouldn’t need to remain much longer. Raphael, or the half of him that made it to the Material Plane, is a devil no longer. Once we’re sure he poses no threat, we go our way.” And maybe Gale will have news for us, they thought, but didn’t say as much. The boar’s stomach joined its intestines on the forest ground. “I promised we’d find a way to let you walk into the sun again,” they added. “I intend to keep that promise.”

“Aw, you are adorable like this.”

Durge looked over, both hands in the boar’s chest cavity. “While forearm-deep in viscera?”

“Well-- that too. But mostly when you’re making promises you absolutely do mean.” Astarion crouched across them, and looked at them in the eye. “I’m starting to think you’re getting more fixated on this quest for daylight than I am.”

A pause, a sigh. “I saw you looking outside the windows. And that conversation with Aylin--”

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle. Believe me, I’ve had worse--”

“And you can have better. You miss the sun.”

“... Yes, I do miss the sun. And I miss seeing my reflection, and being able to savor the taste of anything other than blood, and breaking into people’s homes without being invited. Most of these things are lost to me. It does make one cranky. But I’m happy. You know I mean that.”

Ah. Durge paused, and looked over. A smile. “Yes. I know.”

“Good. So leave the unnecessary fretting to Halsin, will you? I can handle life without sunlight, but not having to deal with two mother hens,” he added, and grinned. “Besides, I am really curious to see what’s going on with Raphael. And I think you are, too.”

A soft scoff as they finished gutting the boar. “He’s not in an enviable position, that’s for sure. At least Bhaal has no hold left over me. Mephistopheles may still hold half of his soul, if it hasn’t been downright destroyed.”

“And he probably didn’t exactly let this half go.” Astarion tilted his head, perceptive as always. “That’s a concern, too. That he may find out the wayward spawn survived, and send someone to end him - or worse yet, bring him back.” He did not name Cazador, but he may as well have; his gaze only darkened that way when thoughts of his former master entered his mind. ”And if they do find him, everyone else around him will be collateral damage.”

“That has also been weighing on my mind, yes. His continued presence at the inn could put people in it in danger. They have Isobel and Aylin, but they could use a few more blades if it comes to it.”

“Or we could just kill him.”

“... Or we could just kill him.”

“But you don’t want to.”

Well, no point in denying the obvious. Durge nodded and took out a length of rope to string the boar to a tree and drain some of the blood. Astarion usually took care of that quite efficiently, but he’d had his fill from Halsin for the night. “I will admit that his current standing with his esteemed father feels uncomfortably familiar.”

“Heh. I knew it. Not very surprised, either. Remember when I told you that if Cazador ever found me, he may come and butcher everyone at camp to claim me back? Well, I was half expecting you to throw me out. With the damn parasite and the Absolute and everything else to deal with, I knew no one needed to watch their back for a vampire lord, too. But you didn’t.” A pause, and he smirked, gesturing at his face. “If you’d do that for an exceedingly handsome vampire, I’m not surprised you’d do the same for a… passably good looking devil.”

Durge laughed, and headed to the nearby stream to wash off some blood. “I am not sure,” they said, “if you’re thinking of drinking his blood or trying to seduce him.”

“Gods, no! I’d gladly sample his blood, but I have no intention to seduce him. Not least because even I probably cannot compare to a personal incubus, I suspect.”

“Mh.”

“... This is the part where you tell me I am a far better lay than the incubus.”

Durge replied without looking up, getting blood off their hands and forearms. “You’re a far better anything than any incubus. And according to the incubus in question, Raphael himself is nothing to write home about.”

“Talk about giving devils a bad name,” Astarion sighed, and Durge laughed again. When they stood, wiping their hands over their shirt, they felt Astarion’s arms around them, head leaning against their back. 

“Maybe,” he said, “we can call it a night for the hunt. I got us a large beast, after all.”

“Ah, and you’d deny me the chance to see yet another flawless shot?”

A light bite through the shirt, delicate, teeth barely scraping against scales. “I have other flawless skills to put to use, if you’re so inclined.”

They were.

***

While not unheard of, becoming intoxicated on any kind of substance was highly frowned upon in Baator; few self-respecting devils would do such a thing, or at least not before witnesses. That never stopped anyone from indulging in wine, however, since no devil would ever become intoxicated with something that mild. 

Even through the pounding headache and sense of nausea, Raphael knew this. Yet another reminder that he was currently no devil. It did precisely nothing to make him feel better. 

“Uuugh.”

Squeezing his eyes shut against the light coming in through the curtains, Raphael forced himself to sit up and lean back against the bedpost. It made his head spin, but after a few deep breaths it was… better. Slightly better. Maybe he could spare himself the indignity of emptying the contents of his stomach over himself, at least. Slowly, the room ceased to spin. And there it was, right where he had thrown it the previous night - that damned book.  

Pounding head and all, he could now tell that throwing the book against the wall had been a dire mistake. The rat would walk in and they would know they had succeeded in getting under his skin. They’d found a sore spot he didn’t know he had, and he’d made as much painfully obvious.

For a moment he thought of trying to stand and pick up the ruined book, try to put it back together, but he had barely tried to move when his head swam, and he had to lean back again. He turned, and looked at the lanceboard on the nightstand. A simple thing, made of painted wood; then he blinked and before him there was a far more elaborated one, made of ivory and black marble. In the back of his mind echoed a voice he hadn’t heard in a long, long  time.

“You’re more intelligent than you know, but only half as clever as you think you are.”  

The words may have been harsh, but the voice was calm; his-- stepfather? -- mother’s widower never raised his voice, not once. Still, it did not lessen the sting of defeat as he moved a piece, and the game was over.

A Theskan Double-Counter Gambit, but Israfel would only learn the name of that move later on. For now, he just scowled at the lanceboard, at the pieces’ shadows dancing in the light of the fireplace. 

“Ugh. How did you--”

“You were too quick to get on the defense. Retreat begets regret. Remember that.”

“But I had to defend, or else you would have--”

“I wouldn’t have. I hadn’t noticed the opening. You brought it to my attention in your haste to cover it up, and opened up another weak point I could exploit.”

“... Oh.”

“You’ll need to be more decisive than that, and make your intentions far less obvious. The way you’re playing, you may as well send me a messenger pigeon to warn me of each move beforehand.” A pause, then he reached across the small table to tilt up his chin, to make Israfel look him in the eye. He only ever did that when he wanted him to really listen, so he did listen.

“You won’t always have the upper hand. Sooner or later, you’ll find yourself on your back foot. And when that happens, don’t assume your opponent knows they have an edge on you. They may very well not be aware, and you must not make them aware.”

“But if they know--”

“If they suspect they have something on you, you must not turn that suspicion into certainty. That’s inviting them to strike. Do you understand?”

“... Yes, sir.”

Almost two millennia later, a long way from Tethyr, Raphael let out a bitter chuckle. Of course he only thought he’d understood, then, but he hadn’t. A boy of twelve, still a year away from being taken to Cania to meet his father, he’d believed he was getting a lesson on how to play lanceboard. Only later would he understand what it was that the man had been doing in his limited, flawed, mortal way. He wasn’t teaching him how to play lanceboard: he was trying to prepare him for the Hells, prepare him to deal with his own kin and come out of it alive.

And it had worked, all things considered. He’d learned the lessons and put them to use, then improved upon them; it had kept him safe, and thriving, for a long time. Longer than most spawn of Mephistopheles got to live, as it turned out, until the rat had decided to be too clever by half and Raphael had attacked too rashly, in his own home, too certain of victory to consider what being slain in Baator would entail. Clearly, that one time, he should have prioritized defense after all.

And now he’d let the rat know he had an edge on him, too. He’d die before admitting it, but the ruined book would tell the tale in his stead loud and clear.

And when they stepped in, a bowl of something in their hands, it certainly did. Their gaze found the book immediately, and they raised the scaly ridge that served as their left eyebrow. Raphael had never wished to tear off pieces of someone’s face more. “If you have complaints about the quality of the books I give you, you have but to speak up,” they muttered. If they noticed Raphael’s sorry state, or the empty decanter on the nightstand, they made no mention of it.

Any plans Raphael may have had to try and save face promptly went out of the window. What would be the point? They knew. He’d shown his hand. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction to see him shy away from it. “And if you had questions,” he snapped, putting as much venom in his voice as he possibly could, “you had but to ask.”

A pause, and the rat looked at him in silence for a few moments. “... Yes, this was perhaps unnecessarily underhanded,” they conceded. The apologetic note in their voice was not exactly unwelcome - if anything, Raphael would have appreciated to see them take it a few steps further by crawling on their knees begging for forgiveness that would not come - but something about it made him scowl all the same.

“Spare that tone for your pet vampire and his tales of woe. Are you expecting to hear of a great tragedy? Of devil spawn barely surviving the Material Plane until his unholy father saw it fit to welcome him in his home?” He scoffed. It was a common story to most cambions, save those whose mortal mothers were brought to the Hells prior to their birth, but it was not his. It had never been. “You’ll be sorely disappointed. I wanted for nothing.”

“You were luckier than most.” The bhaalspawn picked up the book, or what remained of it. 

Raphael scoffed. “May I inquire where you even found that book?”

“In a box, inside a cave. You’ll find a disconcerting amount of things in boxes inside caves.”

“I am far from the only cambion sired by an archdevil. What made you think--”

“Lanceboard.”

“I beg your pardon?” Raphael said, in a tone that made it plain he was not begging for anyone’s pardon.

“This was about a cambion sired by an archdevil in Tethyr, just as it broke free from the Calimshan Empire. It reminded me of lanceboard. I saw you play it with Mol, and I have been looking at it now,” they added, gesturing at the lanceboard on the nightstand. “You play by Calimshan rules, ancient ones. Hardly anybody does anymore, even in its former nations.”

“Hardly anybody can play a proper game of lanceboard anymore, is what you mean,” Raphael muttered. “A true art form, lost to time. Was that all you based your guess on?”

“More or less.” A shrug, and the breakfast was set down by the lanceboard. “It was just an intuition.”

One that I made a certainty, with the worst amateur mistake, Raphael thought, and could taste bile in the back of his throat. He waited for the rat to continue, to mock him or at least hint at what they wanted out of the knowledge, but they said nothing of the sort. 

“Isobel will come to have a look at your injuries shortly,” was all they said, and they were leaving, taking the book with them. Raphael glared at their retreating back, then glared at the closed door for several minutes for good measure. Finally, entirely ignoring the bowl of food, he drew in a deep breath and lifted his hands. 

“Vis medicatrix,” he all but growled. 

The healing spell rolled over him, and he breathed out in relief. He tried to move his legs beneath the blankets, bracing himself for pain. It did come, of course it did, but not as unbearable as he expected, and both legs answered to his commands. He could move them without searing agony; he estimated it would be a matter of days, maybe even less than a week, before they could hold his weight and he could walk again. And once he did, he would proceed with the next stage of his plan. 

As soon as he worked one out.

***

“What-- in the Hells-- was that!”

Dalah’s voice was strangled, as though trying to force out words through a throat as narrow as a reed. Lounging on their bed - lounging was about the only way they knew how to rest on a surface - Haarlep clicked their tongue.

“It sounds like a forced ascension. Raphael could usually-- mostly-- control his Ascended form before, but that was with his soul in one piece. It seems that only half of it isn’t handling it as well.” A pause. “That, or Mephistopheles went ahead with some experiments. Wouldn’t put it past him. Or it’s both. Either way, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant. Raphael always hated having to resort to it. Getting himself back under control was difficult and I’m pretty sure the transformation itself hurt like-- well. Hell.”

“I’d never seen anything like it. And I’ve been here--” A pause, a grimace. She didn’t know, Haarlep could tell, just how many centuries she’d been there. Given how old Raphael was, it had to be around eighteen centuries, give or take a few decades. “... A long time.”

“Yes, that specific little trick is beyond most devils. He is the spawn of an archdevil, after all, and it comes with heritage. It’s part the reason why so many here hated him, his less than lovely personality aside. It was an insult of sorts, that a half-fiend would have such power. Mephistopheles just got himself an excellent guardian for his vault.” 

“A monster, that’s what he got himself.” A shaky laugh. “That’s what I gave him. That thing could tear through most souls and devils in Cania like nothing, if not for Barbas’ hold on it.”

“All the more reason to keep him on a tight leash.” Haarlep leaned in, taking a good look at her. The somewhat startling resemblance to her son’s human form aside - how Raphael had not seen it, they had no idea - there was nothing remarkable about her, which was remarkable in itself. “For someone who came so close to him,” they pointed out, “you’re surprisingly free of horrid burns, or scarring, or melted eyeballs. And surprisingly alive, if one can call yours a life.”

“It almost got me. I don’t know what stopped it,” Dalah said, a little too quickly to be entirely believable. Holding something back, wasn’t she? That wouldn’t do. She could hold back all she wanted from them, but she answered to someone else who just wouldn’t be denied. 

“If there is indeed a way to tame the new guardian of Mephistopheles’ vault, there is someone who would certainly like to be informed.”

A pause, and she looked out of the window for several long moments, eyes fixed on the icy mountains in the distance. “... I spoke his name. The one I chose, not the one Mephistopheles saw fit to bestow upon him the day he had him brought to Mephistar.”

“Ah, yes. Mephistopheles does tend to do that. He likes to choose how to name his things. He and Raphael have that in common.”

The remark made her hesitate, and turn to look at Haarlep. “What was your name? Before?”

“I didn’t have one. I don’t especially mind, don’t go worrying that mortal mind of yours. Haarlep grew on me.” A grin. “Any name will grow on me, once I hear it moaned with wanton abandon enough times. And believe me, I never failed to make it happen.”

She made a face. “I don’t know why I still ask questions,” she muttered, and turned to leave. 

Haarlep, on the other hand, had a question of their own. “You know, I was wondering,” they said, sitting back on the bed. “All this time, did you think of him as Israfel or as Raphael?”

A pause, her back tense. She didn’t turn, but they could hear her scowl when she spoke. “I didn’t think of him at all, and I was better off for it,” she snapped, and stormed out before Haarlep could ask anything more. They sighed, leaning back with a click of their tongue. 

“Eighteen centuries in Cania, and still trying to lie to a devil,” they muttered, and looked outside, across the courtyard, to the window leading to the outer portals.

Perhaps, one of those days, they may just set out to see how their little brat was faring in the Material Plane.

***

“Hey! Look!”

“Look over there!”

As a gaggle of children abruptly ended their playing around a tree, Wyll found himself wishing he’d traveled at night. Halsin’s charges had been through Hell as it was - figuratively and, for several tiefling orphans, quite literally as well - and he should have known better than showing up like this, horns and all, a devil of all things. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Have they not seen enough horrors as is?

He stopped some distance away, heart dropping, and immediately held up his palms to try and show he meant no harm. 

“Well met. I mean-- I have no intention to hurt any of you. I’m looking for Hals--”

A shriek cut him off, but it held no terror. Several children broke off from the group to start running, but not away - towards him. 

“That’s the Blade of Avernus!”

“It’s him!”

“Daddy Halsin told us all about you!”

“Remember me? We met at the grove! When you were the Blade of Frontiers! You showed me how to swing the sword!”

Wyll blinked, taken aback, but surprise melted into elation when he met the eyes of a boy who looked very familiar indeed. “Umi! Oh Gods, I’m so happy to see you again!” he crouched, forgetting all about his hellish appearance. “Ah, you’re getting tall! I was certain you'd get through it all. You just had to buy enough time to run, remember?”

“It was Rolan who saved us-- but, I’ll learn how to fight well! Like you!”

“Ah, I’m sure you will. Though I believe Halsin’s fondest hope is that you’ll never need to fight.”

“I’ll only do it if I must. To keep us safe. Can I call myself the Blade of Frontiers when I’m big?”

Wyll laughed. “Of course. Name’s up for grabs now, I guess.” 

He tried to stand, but several small hands grabbed at his clothes to pull him back. 

“Are you really fighting devils in Avernus?”

“You and the big lady with the heart on fire?”

“What is it like?”

“How do you do it?”

“Tell us everything!”

Well, what choice did he even have, Wyll reasoned, but to satisfy the request of such eager fans? He laughed, and stood. “Very well, I’ll tell you all that’s happened in the past half year.” Or… maybe not quite all of it. “I do need to see Halsin, though. Could you take me to him while I tell you everything?”

“Yes!”

“He’s at the inn!”

“He’s spending a lot of time at the inn. With the other heroes.”

“The other-- is someone else from my party here, too?”

“Hu-uh. The dragonborn sorcerer and the vampire spawn.”

Oh, Wyll thought, thank the gods. Luck had been in short supply up to that point, and he very much welcomed such a stroke of it, finding three of their companions in the same place. If they accepted to help in what was probably a suicide mission, then the five of them could perhaps hope to succeed.

“What about the lady with the burning heart? Can she come visit us too?” a girl asked. 

The thought of Karlach stuck waiting in Avernus, even in the relative safety in the House of Hope - ‘I’ll just eat dirt or whatever!’ - dampened Wyll’s smile, but only for a moment. “All going well,” he said, “she’ll be happy to visit you very, very soon.”

***

“All right, I think it’s enough.”

“No, it isn’t.” Raphael ground his teeth and took two more steps. Even with most of his weight on the crutches, his legs ached and trembled from the effort. By the door, the most insufferable cleric to have ever graced Selûne’s ranks crossed her arms. 

“There’s no reason to put so much strain on your legs. You’re doing well, and impatience is not your ally. Don’t undo the progress--”

Whatever she said next was lost to Raphael, as he put another foot down and pain shot up his spine. He turned with a scowl, arms trembling from the effort of keeping himself upright. “Don’t presume you may tell me what I may or may not do, mortal!”

Isobel Thorm’s eyes narrowed. “I am sorry, could you repeat? I think I just heard you say you want me to break your legs again, but I may have misheard. Did I?”

Raphael ground his teeth, and he almost dropped one of the crutches to throw the fireball he’d been aching to throw for the past several days. Except that it was unlikely to do her any harm she couldn’t counter, and he’d drop to the floor the second he let go of the crutch. And it would likely bring a bloodthirsty vampire, an even more bloodthirsty aasimar, and the former Chosen of Bhaal upon him like a pack of wolves. Plus a bear, probably; Raphael had not faced the druid directly, but he knew he could deal significant damage of his own.

Overall, there was an overwhelming amount of evidence pointing to the conclusion that attacking Isobel Thorm would be most unwise.

No matter. I’ll make them all suffer at a later time. I’ll make sure it lasts, savor the symphony of their scream to the last note before I end them and then bring them back to do it all over again. They will die painfully for each time they wronged me.

“... If you’re done killing me in your head, would you grace me with a response?”

Her death, Raphael decided, would be particularly slow. 

“Fine,” he muttered instead, trying and failing not to sound like he’d swallowed a lemon. At least she didn’t further humiliate him by trying to help, and let him get back on the bed on his own. The pain lessened and he breathed out, saying nothing as she cast a healing spell. 

The relief was immediate; without agony shooting up his spine, he could tell that at least one thing she was correct. Impatience was not his ally, and bursts of temper would get him nowhere in terms of getting them to lower their guard. The thought made the next words that left his mouth easier to force out. Not that he let his tone betray the fact they left an acrid taste on his tongue. “... That was uncalled for,” he said, leaning back. “My apologies.”

“Apology accepted.” Isobel Thorm’s voice was dry, but no further threats followed. The crutches were taken, and placed against a wall away from his reach. “Progress is slow, but steady. You’ll be able to walk again in days, if you don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Raphael replied, and watched her leave in silence. He heard the key turn in the lock, and listened just long enough to hear her footsteps on the stairs before he sat up again. A quick healing spell on himself, and he made another attempt at standing, a hand braced against the wall. His knees almost buckled, but held; Raphael ground his teeth against the pain, and forced himself to move towards the crutches.

Impatience was not his ally, but neither was idleness. He was able to walk without searing agony, leaning heavily on the crutches, and wasn’t even short of breath when he got to the window. It was open, but two guards keeping watch beneath it ensured it wouldn’t be a viable way out even if he could go anywhere in his current state. Raphael had never been particularly fond of quaint corners in the middle of nowhere, but looking outside was better than staring at the walls or playing yet another game of lanceboard against himself. 

Until he noticed the gaggle of chattering children marching up to the inn, of course; how much Raphael loathed chattering children couldn’t be overstated. He wrinkled his nose and almost moved away from the window - until he spotted the man walking among them as a few ran ahead into the inn. Or to be more accurate a devil, with a familiar set of horns and an even more familiar sending stone in place of his right eye.

Well, look at that. Wyll Ravengard, self-styled Blade of Avernus - what was he doing there?

Why would Mizora’s attack dog be here, if not for me?

Something stirred in the pit of Raphael’s stomach, a very unwelcomed stab of concern that came much too close to fear for his taste, but he forced himself to ignore it. Why would he be there for him? Had the rat called upon the warlock to slay him? No, surely no. Loath as he was to admit it, no great power or skill would be needed to overpower him as he was now. The bhaalspawn, the vampire, the druid, the cleric, the aasimar - each of them could easily kill him on their own.

He may have been sent by the Hells, of course, to kill him or bring him back. But why? Wyll Ravengard answered to Mizora, and Raphael had no quarrel with her. She was under Zariel’s authority, true, but the archduchess of Avernus was not known to meddle with the business of other archdevils. If his esteemed father knew he lived, he had plenty of forces of his own to send after him.

Unless he promised a reward, and Ravengard just so happened to know where to find me.

Raphael swallowed, stomach clenching, and moved to the side so that the curtain would hide him. He could hear voices - no longer just children’s, although their obnoxious chattering made it difficult for Raphael to catch what the rat and the druid were saying.

“Wyll! We didn’t expect--”

“-- always a pleasure--”

“-- please children, he’ll tell you more stories later--”

“-- did Mizora tell you who your target--”

More words were exchanged, but Raphael couldn’t catch them. He peered out of the window to see most of the children dispersing at last, while the rats headed back inside. He finally heard the bhaalspawn speak only moments before they disappeared through the arches leading into the inn. 

“He’s upstairs. I’ll take you there now,” they were saying, and Raphael heard the warlock sigh. 

“Ah, thank you. I knew we could count on you to kill a devil.”

Then the door closed, as deafening as thunderclap, leaving Raphael motionless at the window, mouth dry as the Calimshan desert. Something gripped his stomach, icier than the glaciers of Cania, as he heard the familiar creaks and thumps of steps up the stairs. Through the terror, he almost laughed. Of course Mephistopheles knew he’d escaped; of course he’d put a contract out on him. Who knew, maybe he’d even been the one to plan his escape so that he could send his dogs after him, for the thrill of the hunt. The rat must have been planning to help his friend collect his head from the moment they’d seen him. 

Why else would they keep him alive? He should have seen, should have known. He hadn’t questioned their intentions enough. An amateur mistake - the last mistake he’d ever make. 

But that didn’t mean he had to make it easy for them.

Raphael turned to face the door fully, leaning against the wall, and dared let go of a crutch to lift his right hand. Between his fingers air sizzled, heat building up as he focused, drawing from any scrap of power he’d left. Not the final act he’d planned for anything, let alone for himself, but it would have to do. It was still better than waiting for the fatal blow in the neck like a beast to slaughter, he thought as the key turned into the lock.

The devilish spawn came forth into our world in blood and flames, the book read. He found some solace in that, at least. There was a sort of poetry to it, leaving the Material Plane just as he’d entered it. The thought made Raphael sneer as the door handle was pushed down.

“And that, love, was that,” he growled, and fire burst forth from his palm just as the door opened.

***

[Back to Chapter 4]

[On to Chapter 6]

[Back to Start]

[dottie-writes-tmnt]

Universal Struggle

This is part 7 of my fic A New Kind of Familiar. Tags and other chapters can be found here!

Some people just want things their way. Others are struggling to get by. And some are so used to fighting that it seems that is all they can do.

Cw for discussions of suicide, and ofc 12!Leo being an asshole over it. Ruby also has a panic attack

When Donnie opened his eyes and saw the roof of the lair, he wanted to fucking cry. He ached in different places and there was a heart monitor beeping. He felt tears gathering in his eyes and he whined, squeezing his eyes shut. And then he heard the voice of Splinter Jr. Great.

“Why the fuck did you do that? You think you can just screw up like that and then, what, kill yourself so you don’t have to fix it?!”

He didn’t even consider answering. Maybe if he didn’t say anything, Leo would leave.

“Or maybe you did this all on purpose. You got Raph out of the way so the attention would all be on you, and then when you decided you didn’t like the type of attention you were getting, you pulled this stunt so someone would find you and then everyone would baby—“

“You think I did this for attention?” he asked, voice quiet as he sat up and turned to watch Leo pace towards him.

“Yes, either that or you’re just purely selfish.”

“You are a fucking imbecile. Leo, I did not plan to fucking live. By the time you were supposed to come try to harass the portal machine into working, I would’ve been dead. So I guess Mikey found me?”

“So you were being fucking selfish! You don’t get to leave and run away from this! You made our brother disappear, and now you have to get him back!”

“I DON’T KNOW HOW!!” he yelled. “You guys always put everything on me! I know this was my fault, but I don’t know everything! Why doesn’t the perfect leader try his hand at it? I hate all of you! I don’t fucking care what you want, Leo, when all I am to you is a fucking machine! And that’s still what I am! Now Raph’s gone and Splinter Junior’s lost his way again!”

“You fucking—“

“Stop it!”

They both turned to the door to see Mikey crying. The turtle sniffed, looking between them before walking closer.

“I-I…um…I-if you fight, Donnie won’t get better as quickly, Leo.”

The blue coded turtle simply gave Donnie a glare.

“Don’t try that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Waking up to your face after a failed attempt is not something I want to repeat,” he muttered.

“At least my face didn’t drive my crush away from me,” the eldest called over his shoulder, the doors shutting. Donnie, honestly, didn’t care about that comment.

He was truly being selfish with the whole thing, wasn’t he? He just… No matter whether he deserved to live or not, he supposed that he had to get Raph back. He had to do that much, since he was the reason his brother was gone in the first place.

 

——

 

Leo reached after him, wailing about the greater good, while Ruby grinned evilly. In his hands was a Jupiter Jim comic, and the slider was begging him to give it back. Ruby, of course, was going to steal it away for himself.

“Fine, I will return your comic, if! You admit that Chrome Dome is superior!”

The slider groaned. “Keep it!”

He cackled, walking away with the comic. Ruby didn’t know what he expected when he saw the big lights on in his room even though he never turned the big lights on, but it was not to see this world’s Splinter standing there.

Immediately, he straightened up, leftover smile gone from his face and shaky hands hidden behind his back.

“Why are you in my room?”

The rat looked at him, expression unreadable, expression unreadable.

“I wish to speak to you, Raphael.”

“About what?” He shoved down the swirling emotions growing in his chest. Now was not the time.

“I wish to know why you avoid me. Is it something I have done or is it something your own version of myself has—“

“My Splinter’s fucking dead,” he interrupted, hoping that was enough to get the mutant off his back.

It wasn’t. The other went on to say he was sorry for Ruby’s loss then started talking about some other bullcrap that he wasn’t listening to, only tuning in when a phrase exited the other’s mouth.

“—my son, and—“

“I am not your fucking kid,” he growled, glaring. “And you don’t care about me. You’re only pretending to because your kids like me.”

“That is not true! Any version of Raphael is a son of mine, and I am not pretending. I worry for you, my son,” the other said, and he started to speak again, the rat cutting him off. “You are so angry all the time, and you become destructive. You yell, you break things, you hurt others. It is like you become a whole new person. Something evil takes hold. Clearly there is something wrong and I simply wish to—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” he yelled before he could stop himself, the hurt swirling in his gut turning into some something else. “You do not get to say things about me, you fucking sick bastard! You’re a fucking dick, and I want you out of my room, now. I don’t know what you—“

“I am only trying to—“

“Stop cutting me off, you—!”

“Do not—!”

He lost control.




It was only for a second. He screamed, winding back to punch the rat, but he stopped. His breathing shortened. Then he heard the footsteps of the others running and he couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. There were voices around him, muffled and concerned, and his panic grew, his ears ringing.

He was still the same asshole he always had been, and being here didn’t change that. A voice came too close and he punched on pure reflex, vision clearing enough to see the slider back away and make a little noise of surprise. Now all eyes were on him. And, his fear decided for him as it transformed, it was time to put on a show.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he snapped, eyes wide and looking wildly around at the people around him. His breathing was erratic, heart beating fast.

They all obeyed, surprisingly, except one. The rat came closer, touching his arm. The other began to speak, getting cut off by a cowardly, explosive Ruby.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Why the fuck won’t you just listen to me!? But I guess you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t make me feel like I’d prefer hell over interacting with your ass, huh, Splinter? Things have to be your way or they’re wrong, and you don’t wanna hear any options that don’t match your fucking own, and I am sick of it,” he growled, wrestling his way out of the room. “I can’t wait until you follow in my Splinter’s footsteps.”

No, wait, why the fuck did he say that. He smacked a hand over his mouth, backing up. He didn’t want to see what their reactions would be, running off before he got the chance.

In the place of his anger was white hot shame and pure fear. He leapt his way up the ladder, throwing open the manhole cover and climbing up the fire escape quickly. He still couldn’t breathe, but he ran anyway.

There was nothing freeing about running across the rooftops when he was frantically trying to get away from something. He fell more than he would’ve liked, scraping himself in the process, before he finally collapsed, lungs burning and eyes leaking as his stomach turned, choked gasps coming from him as he sat there, on his hands and knees on top of a roof and with his words playing in his head over and over. His chest heaved as he tried to get air into his lungs and they rejected it each time.

Something vibrating on him scared the shit out of him, and he yelped, frantically digging for the thing and pulling out his phone. Leo was calling. He pressed the decline button as his sobs finally broke through, making themselves at home between his shaky, choked off gasps.

 

“Ruby? Whoah, buddy, you need to breathe. Do you know where you are?”

Apparently he pressed answer instead because of how badly he was shaking. He was going to dig himself into a hole and never come out. A pitiful attempt at an apology crawled out his mouth. The other clicked his tongue.

“No, don’t apologize. Where are you?”

He looked around, unsurprised to find the area unfamiliar.

“D-don’t…don’t know,” he managed, and the slider was silent for a moment. God, he was fucking pathetic. Leo was gonna make fun of him and tell everyone how fucking pathetic he was. And he was selfish, too.

He was crying because, what? He was the one who said that fucking awful thing to this world’s Splinter.

“That’s okay,” the mutant responded. “Just breathe for a bit, okay? In…out. Good job, repeat. In…”

After he calmed down enough to speak, the slider had him describe what was around him.

“Okay, I think I know where you are. Do you want me to come meet you or would you rather someone else? Raph maybe?”

He simply whined, curled up between an HVAC and the wall.

“Ruby?”

“Whichever,” he muttered after a while, exhaustion coursing through him.

He rubbed his hands on his legs roughly, letting his head fall to rest against the HVAC. It was a habit he picked up a while ago when he got upset. Self soothing. His brothers called him weird for it, along with his other habits.

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

 

Fuck.

Previous Chapter | Next chapter

[karma-and-faith]

“I don’t know, I was recommended a few projects to personally work on but I barely survived the last round.” Carmafe sighs, kicking her legs up in frustration. “I don’t want to think about fucking torsion and tolerances for another week- ugggggh!!” Her friend on the end of the call let Carmafe get all of her whining out before responding, already knowing that otherwise she’d be interrupted every other minute.

“Why don’t you just take a vacation? When was the last time you had one? When we all went to the summer islands 3 years ago?”

“I- Fuck, I guess it has been like 3 years.” Carmafe rubs her eyes and swipes her arm across the bed until she finds her discarded phone, “Maybe I do need a break. Would you want to come along?”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’ve got a big-“

“Project and the deadline’s coming up,” Carmafe finishes for her with a sigh. That’s the problem with half of your friends being contracted engineers and the other half being engineering consultants- someone always has a project and there’s always a deadline. Getting even 2 friends together for a lunch date was a 2 week affair. Of course she shouldn’t complain- how often had she rejected plans for the same reason?

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take the day to think about where I want to go and then make the calls to see who’s free.” She rolls out of bed and steps into her slippers before heading out the door, “Call me back if you want to play hookie.”

“I’m literally working with explosives, I can’t!” Carmafe laughs at her friend’s distress before snapping her phone shut. She walks downstairs, pointedly looking away from her home office and goes straight to the kitchen.

“Water, soda, lemonade, y agua de jamica. So many options.” When the pantry turns out to be equally barren, she digs out a frozen lasagna she had prepped last week. “Really need to pick up groceries today, gonna be eating lemonade ice cubes for dinner if I don’t.”

While the lasagna bakes, she takes a minute to dust off her social media sites and check up on her other friends. As always, she goes to each page and scrolls down, liking every single post. No deaths, a few promotions, and a handful of photoshoots to honor the new season. After her little role call, she goes to aimlessly scroll through videos for a while but upon opening the app is immediately met with a girl crying about how she hadn’t been chosen and that there must be a bias because her essay was perfect. Carmafe checks the tags and then had to double check the date.

“Wow, they’ve already picked out the exchange students huh? But how does she know she didn’t get in?” Carmafe mulls over the video and decides to watch the promotional videos as she ate her lasagna.

The Royal Academy of Diavolo is proud to present its esteemed student council. It is our honor to open the doors of our school and welcome in a new generation of demons and humans alike to-

For as much as the video hyped up the program and intrigue of going to school in a different dimension, it didn’t say much about the school and kingdom itself. Everyone that went and came back was sworn to silence but had given generally positive reviews. Most of the negative ones were over petty shit like food preferences and the amount of walking and studying you had to do, but isn’t that just every college campus? The thought of returning to college and getting to study topics like magic and deadly toxins sent shivers up her spine, and Carmafe wonders for the hundredth time if her essay had been good enough.

As the leader of the “Fuck Around And Find Out” club, of course she had applied. Nothing on earth could compare to the thrill of just imagining going to live in a place with magic and demons, the moon looming over you for eternity. Another shiver of excitement course through her as she threw her plates into the dishwasher and scrolled back to the video of the crying girl, checking her comments for hints on how to know if you’d gotten in. Almost every comment was some kind of whine or complaint about not getting in, and those that weren’t were condemning everyone who applied. She switches to her email app but catches her breath form steam in the air. In under a second the room had darkened and she was chilled to the bone, a large purple portal tearing itself open in front of her.

“I guess that’s my acceptance letter.”

[babyboibucky]

Charm

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky checks whether he still has his 1940′s charm.

Word Count: 1,613

Warnings: TFATWS spoilers! No warning, just a bit of fluff I guess???

A/N: Nothing really, just that Bucky deserves all the love in the world :’)

Charming (Part 2) || MAIN MASTERLIST

“You should date someone.”

Bucky groans at Yori’s suggestion. Again. The old guy had been pestering him about it ever since they started their little friendship. Introduced girls and forced him to take them out to dinner or bingo. He did try of course, but it always seemed too fast for him.

“I already did, haven’t I? You sort of forced me to go on one, remember?” Bucky asked before downing a glass of sake in one go.

Thank god they went to a different Japanese restaurant this time. His date with the girl at the other restaurant went pretty badly, with him walking out after a particularly sensitive topic and never returning. Bucky felt bad and as much as he wanted to go back there and apologize, he just doesn’t have the courage to show his face again.

“Yeah, well you messed up.” Yori said pointedly.

Bucky chortled, “Or maybe you messed up by forcing me. I told you, you gotta take it slow like a dance. I mean, you don’t just ask anyone to dance with you. You ask someone you’d like to dance with.”

Yori’s shoulders trembled as he tried to bite back his laughter. Bucky made a face when he realized he’d been talking a lot.

“Then go find someone you want to date. Or maybe you just don’t have it in you.” The older man teased.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin, “Sounds like a challenge.”

As Bucky poured himself another glass of sake, he began to wonder whether Yori was right. Maybe he really didn’t have it anymore, the confidence and charm he used to have back in his time.

Only one way to find out.

-

The club was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Initially, Bucky thought that it would be the perfect place to find someone to date. Apparently not, because despite the presence of beautiful girls, they were pretty much throwing themselves at him. As much as Bucky was curious about the so called “hook-up” culture in the modern times, it just wasn’t for him.

And good god, the dancing? It’s not what it used to be; Bucky wasn’t even sure if he could call those movements “dance”.

Bucky called it a night and quickly headed to the exit. And that’s where he noticed you, fumbling with your phone and clicking your tongue from what seemed to be frustration. He slowed down in his steps, not wanting to interrupt your little moment as you mumbled a string of curses to yourself.

He eyed you from head to toe, noticing that you were wearing something too simple for a club: just a white shirt, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. With Bucky’s experience, he learned to be observant enough to read someone’s personality.

You were definitely not a frequent visitor to these clubs. And he was right about that because you were just forced to tag along to your officemates to celebrate a promotion.

“Ugh, fuck. Come on!” You unintentionally exclaimed out loud, stomping on the ground causing for Bucky to let out a chuckle.

Bucky’s eyes widened when you abruptly turned around, “Oh sorry. I didn’t meant to uhh...are you okay?” He asked timidly, slowly walking over to where you stood.

You huffed out, “I’m trying to book a ride, but the signal here sucks.” You explained. “And I’m not really comfortable to walk home at this hour.” You quickly added.

It was close to ten in the evening, it wasn’t that late yet but given the location and downsides of being a woman, you really didn’t want to risk your safety.

“Won’t your friends give you a ride home?” He asked.

You groaned, “They aren’t really my friends...I just work with them. They’re all shit-faced drunk and I didn’t even plan on coming here. Not a fan of clubs.” You admitted.

Bucky chuckled as he kicked the ground, “Guess that makes two of us.”

Your hum caught Bucky’s attention and when he looked up, you were looking at him suspiciously. For a moment he thought that you might have recognized him but you merely laughed and shook your head.

“You don’t seem like the type to hate clubs. Why are you here then?” You asked curiously.

Bucky shrugged, “Thought I’d find someone here that I can you know...take out on a date.”

You cackled out loud, it was the kind of laughter that made Bucky join in. You probably thought it was stupid for him to come looking for love at a club. And well, given his experience inside, you were correct.

“I know. It’s stupid. I haven’t been to clubs really, so I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” He admitted, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly.

You nodded, “How was your experience inside then?”

“You could say I was pretty shocked. And disoriented. The lights made me dizzy.” Bucky said, widening his eyes in emphasis.

Laughing, you nodded and agreed before introducing yourself so casually. Bucky repeated your name, he liked the way it sounded.

“I’m James.”

Bucky found himself easily opening up to you. The conversations flowed naturally, from something as basic as favorite food down to your mutual hatred for crowded places and everything in between. Bucky learned that you often volunteer at an orphanage and that you hate plums which happens to be his favorite. It resulted to a harmless debate that lasted ten minutes.

You asked him about his work, something that he had to lie his way around. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, he was afraid that revealing the truth might scare you off. You seemed to be really interested in him whenever he talked about his boring daily routine.

“Do you...do you like to talk somewhere else?” Bucky blurted out.

You offered a sad smile, one that broke Bucky’s heart because you were probably going to reject him. Understandable though, he was a stranger and it was late at night. It was hard to trust people nowadays.

“I have work tomorrow morning.” You apologetically said.

“But you can walk me home...if you’d like?” You asked. “I probably sound demanding but uhh, I don’t think I can really book a ride and I don’t want to walk home alone at this hour.”

Bucky heaved out a deep sigh of relief and laughed, “I thought you didn’t like talking to me.” He sheepishly admitted.

“No, I actually like talking to you. You’re fun. And interesting.” You smiled.

Bucky beamed and extended a hand, letting you lead the way before matching your pace. The more he talked to you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d be the first person he’d willingly ask out on a date.

The walk lasted half an hour but to Bucky, it only felt like minutes. It was definitely not enough for him to get to know you more.

“Well, this is me.” You announced when you reached your apartment building.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” You said.

Bucky placed his hands inside his pockets and nodded, “Call me old-fashioned, but I felt like any gentleman should do so.”

Bucky held your gaze and debated how he should ask you out. Should he just blurt out the question? Would that be too soon? Your number! Maybe he should ask for your number first, show his therapist that finally, there was a new number registered in his contacts.

“Well, I should head inside.” You said when Bucky remained silent and although Bucky didn’t want to assume, he thought he saw a look if disappointed in your eyes.

Yori is going to regret saying that he doesn’t have game.

“Wait,” Bucky called out before you could turn around. “Being old-fashioned and all, I know this might be too forward. Or too fast, even.” he trailed and cleared his throat.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me? This Saturday. We can go to the beach, get ice cream...” he suggested.

Wrong move! Out of all the places he could suggest, it just had to be the beach! It’s not like he could wear a long-sleeved top and his gloves without getting dirty looks from people. You were going to find out the truth about him, his arm, his past. And then you’d regret letting him walk you home because who knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of?

“I’d love to.” You replied with a grin but before Bucky could suggest another place, you had already walked up to the front door of your apartment building, pulling it open before suddenly stopping.

“Or we can just take a walk at the park if you want, if that’s more comfortable for you.” You suggested turning your head to look back at Bucky.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. Again, he was unable to say something because you beat him to it with a surprising revelation.

“I’ll wait for you to come pick me up on Saturday. And don’t worry about your arm, I don’t mind. Good night, Bucky.”

And with one final beautiful smile, you headed inside the building leaving Bucky with a confused look. You knew him all along but didn’t say anything. You opened up to him, held his arm when you laughed and still, it didn’t bother you. You didn’t call him out when he lied about working for a mechanic shop, didn’t get scared when he offered to walk you home.

It took a few seconds for Bucky’s brain to process everything. And then he found himself grinning like a fool when he proved something to himself. And well, Yori too.

“Guess I still got it.”

-

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[burnedbyshoto]

indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch​ thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable. 

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits. 

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions. 

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart. 

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words. 

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll. 

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag. 

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom. 

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty. 

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list. 

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

.

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them. 

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

.

.

.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed. 

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

.

.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that. 

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety. 

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker. 

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now. 

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently. 

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking. 

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave. 

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto. 

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on. 

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say. 

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

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Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home. 

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped. 

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

.

.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out. 

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty. 

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late. 

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening. 

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it. 

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding. 

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away. 

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

 “You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking. 

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice. 

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach. 

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name. 

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position. 

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good. 

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark. 

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan. 

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely. 

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good.  Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed. 

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly. 

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room. 

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down. 

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?” 

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response. 

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth. 

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?” 

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks. 

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip. 

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth. 

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input. 

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips. 

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. 

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 

Intensifying. 

Exhilarating. 

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you. 

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck. 

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

.

.

.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

.

.

.

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning. 

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

[xxxsweetdreamzxxx]

warnings/tags: dom!Jaehyun sub!reader, fanfic, smut; cursing, hook up, fingering, cunninilingus, unprotected sex, cream pie

summary: a chance meeting while shopping for bathing suits turns your summer vacation a little hotter

word count: 4.4k (help)

===============================

this was interesting to write as the beginning and ending are based off of separate dreams this time, so hopefully I was able to link them in a way that made sense. please enjoy!!

===============================

"How does this look?" You asked your friend Jamie, holding a skimpy neon bikini set to your body. 

It was the first full day of your annual summer beach trip with your bestie, and you'd arrived in the seaside town you always traveled to late last night. After eating a mediocre breakfast provided by your hotel, the two of you had headed to a nearby mall to buy new swimsuits. She'd had luck finding one relatively quickly. But the reason you were still there, on the second story of a large department store several hours later, was because you had yet to. 

She made a face. "No offence, but it's not really your style..."

Sighing, you put it back on the rack. "I know."

Rounding the stand that contained the bikini you'd just put back, you briefly glanced over at the neighboring section, which had swim trunks. Movement had caught your eye, caused by three guys walking through. You barely even paid attention to them at first glance, but the one in the back caught your eye, and you did a double take. 

At this second glance, you saw they were all young, probably close to your age, and very attractive. 'Are they models?' You wondered. But again, it was the one behind the first two that really made you look on in awe. He had muted fluffy purple hair that covered his forehead, and dark eyes that shone like diamonds even from this distance. His soft features and perfect skin made you wonder if he was an angel. His thin white shirt hugged what was probably toned muscle underneath. When the taller of his two friends said something funny, he smiled and oh my God, he had the cutest dimples. 

At that moment, he shifted his eyes up and saw you standing there, staring. Like a deer caught in headlights you froze, embarrassed as fuck you'd been caught. But his smile only widened, and he gave you a slight nod in greeting. 

Ripping your gaze away, you acted like nothing had happened and tried to return to shopping. 

"Oh wow y/n, you saw those guys right?" Jamie exclaimed, following you. "Now that's what I'd call eye can-"

You interrupted her, face flushed, by holding up a pale blue gingham bikini. "What about this?"

Before she could answer, her eyes focused on something behind you, mouth falling open slightly. A deep voice then responded to your question. "I think it looks cute."

You whipped around, only to come face to face with the man you couldn't keep from staring at. Your eyes widened and you gulped, startled. Up close, he was simply breathtaking. Literally; you felt your breathing become strained as your heart pounded in your chest. 

"Th- Thank you, um..?" You stuttered before taking a deep breath.

"Jaehyun." He answered. 

"Ah, Jaehyun." Damn, even his name was cute. You gave him a shaky smile. "So I should get it?"

"Definitely." He encouraged. He then looked to Jamie, who'd been speechlessly watching the exchange. "What do you think?"

Turning around, you waited to see her response. After looking between the two of you for a couple of seconds, she grinned and gave a thumbs up. You weren't sure if she was approving of the bathing suit or... 

"Hey, what are you guys doing the rest of today?" Jaehyun asked. 

"Oh, not much." You replied quickly, not planning to elaborate. 

"We'll just be at the beach!" Jamie said louder and at the same time, speaking over you. "Wanna come with?"

You gave her a look, trying to shut her up. She looked back at you as if to say 'what?'

He smiled. "Sure. Let me ask the boys if it's okay with them."

He beckoned the two of them over, who didn't hesitate to comply. Jamie introduced you and her to the group, as you were still majorly distracted by the million thoughts running through your head. The tallest of the three then introduced himself as Johnny, a friendly guy with a round face and sculpted arms that were on full display thanks to the tank he wore. The other was Mark, who shyly said hi to you and Jamie. He had a boyish and youthful aura about him that made you immediately assume he was the youngest. They both readily agreed to head to the beach. 

Still not fully registering what had just happened, you walked to the check out in a near trance and bought your swimsuits. Then you exited the mall, and made your way to the parking lot. Jaehyun went to get his car while the rest of you waited at Jamie's. When he pulled up, the guys got in. After quickly entering her car with her, Jamie pulled out of the parking lot and followed them as they lead the way to the beach.

"Y/n, you okay?" She asked, taking her eyes off the road for a split second to glance at your face. Your prolonged silence had prompted her to speak.

You removed yourself from your racing thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just surprised."

She grinned. "Well, today's not gonna be boring, that's for sure. It'll be a lot more eventful than if we'd hung out at the beach by ourselves."

You nodded in agreement. You knew there wasn't much harm in doing this - there would be plenty of people on the beach around you - they couldn't try anything. And besides, you didn't even get those vibes from them. That wasn't what made you uneasy. It was the thought of spending a day at the beach with such attractive guys that made the tips of your ears turn pink and your heart rate increase. You just prayed you wouldn't say or do something utterly embarrassing. 

Jamie drove into the public beach parking behind their car, parking a few spaces away from them. Exiting the car, you and her first made your way to the bathrooms to change. This beach was well maintained, a stone walkway lead to them and then continued on and up to a wide bridge that arched over the barrier dunes and then down onto the sand. Palm trees provided shade, which was made good use of as it seemed wherever a tree cast a shadow there was a cool bench to sit. 

Locking yourself into a stall in the women's bathroom, you undressed and then pulled on your brand new swimsuit. Thankfully, despite not being able to try it on in the store, it fit extremely well. The gingham pattern, pale blue color, and small ruffles on the waistband and straps made you conclude this was the cutest bikini you'd ever seen. Exiting the stall, you briefly peered into the mirror above the sinks to pull your hair into two low pigtails. 

Turning back around, you found Jamie standing there in her new suit, smiling at you. 

"Ready y/n?" She asked. 

You took a breath before replying. "Yep."

Arm in arm, you walked out to meet the boys, who'd already changed and were standing there waiting, beach bags in hand. Johnny got excited as he spotted you both and practically ran towards beach, Mark trying to keep up with him. Jaehyun looked unbothered as he stayed behind to walk at a normal pace with you. By the time you'd crossed over the sand dunes and strolled onto the beach, Mark and Johnny had already found a good place a little ways away to set up. They'd brought two large towels, big enough for multiple people to sit on, and had spread them out over the sand.

Jaehyun sat down on one, then patted the ground next to him, motioning for you to sit next to him. After a few seconds of contemplation you complied, folding your legs to the side as you still kept a couple feet of distance from him. Jamie sat down with Johnny and Mark on the other towel. 

For the next hour or so, the five of you talked about various topics in an effort to learn more about each other. Gradually, you loosened up as you got used to their company. Johnny and Mark were college friends of Jaehyun's, who'd came into town a few days before you to visit him where he now lived on the coast. Funnily enough, the two boys were staying in the same hotel as you and Jamie while they did so - it was the closest to Jaehyun's apartment.

Noon came and went, and the air continued to heat up around you until it was unbearable. You looked out at the ocean water longingly,  but didn't want to leave by yourself, and the others seemed to be having such a great time...

Glancing over at you, Jaehyun made a suggestion. "Who's up for the water?" 

Despite your assumptions, the agreement was unanimous. As one, you all rose and ran towards the rolling sea, chasing each other. Diving into the waves, you ran out until the water was up to your waist. Johnny swam out farther than any of you, while Jamie and Mark stayed in slightly shallower water. 

You heard the sound of someone sloshing around in the water directly behind you. Spinning around, you were met with his chest - his white shirt was now wet and you could see some of the muscles through it - as your eyes widened and you looked up into Jae's eyes. He smiled down at your face, less than a foot away, dimples on full display. 

"Hi." He said in a way that made your heart melt. Then: "Feel better?" 

"Y- yeah, it was really hot before." Your words betrayed your body - being in the water wasn't cooling you off at all anymore. 

You stood there for a few awkward moments in silence, not knowing what to say. 

"Um-" You began. 

"Woah y/n look out!" He cut you off, sudden panic on his face as he closed the small distance between the two of you.

Suddenly, a large wave crashed into your back. It pushed you straight into the only thing that would keep you standing - his body. Instinctively, you gripped onto his shirt tightly so you didn't fall, tugging it towards you. He didn't hesitate to wrap his strong arms around your waist to steady you. Only after the wave had passed did you realize what you'd done, quickly releasing the fabric from your hands. But he didn't let go. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, worry in his tone.

You nodded, heart pounding loudly in your ears. However, you were shaking slightly. 

He began leading you back towards the shore, not convinced. Stumbling onto the hot sand, he guided you back to the towels, sitting you down once you got there. Getting a smaller towel, he wrapped it around you so you could dry off, then he sat down next to you. 

You looked at him, embarrassed. "You can go back if you want, I'll be fine here."

"No, I'm good." He leaned back a bit. "I'm not much of a swimmer anyways."

He then lifted his arm and ran his fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back off his forehead. You gulped, incredibly bothered by the motion. 

He looked at you with a slight smirk. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah." You replied. 

Smirk widening, he handed you an unopened water bottle. You drank, trying desperately to calm down. 

Jamie ran up to you, Mark following close behind. "Y/n are you okay?" She asked, confused and concerned. "What happened?"

You explained without including the details that made you blush when you thought of them. She sat on the towel next to you, deciding not to go back out. Mark followed suit and shortly after Johnny joined you again when he realized everyone was out of the water.

After a bit, you began to get hungry and got up to try and find some food. Luckily, there was a food truck nearby with some cheap lunch. Returning to the towels, you ate in relative silence as the sun moved slowly west overhead. The rest of the afternoon was spent walking, playing with a frisbee, and sunbathing. You noticed Jaehyun seemed to be keeping you within a few feet of him the entire time, never leaving you alone or with the others. Even when you went back out with Jamie into the shallow water, he followed - even though he tried to appear like he wasn't. 

            .•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•.

Once the sun went down, everything was packed up and taken back to the cars. You threw back on your shorts from earlier before heading to a nearby bar, open to the sea and cool night air. It was already crowded with many tourists, and once you entered you quickly lost sight of the others,  later catching a glimpse of Jamie talking to Johnny off to the side with a drink in hand. 

Seeing the bar, you made your way over to it by yourself and sat on one of the barstools. You beckoned the bartender over to order your drink. 

"What can I get for you?" She asked, polishing a glass. 

"A margarita please." you answered.

She then looked at the seat next to you. "And you sir?"

"A margarita for me too, thanks." A familiar voice answered. 

You turned around in your seat to face Jaehyun, blinking at him.

He smiled and nodded in greeting, those adorable dimples reappearing on the corners of his mouth. Feeling your face heat up, you quickly turned to look at the bartender as she made your identical drinks. 

You cleared your throat a little. "So... you like margaritas too?"

He chuckled softly at your attempt to break the awkwardness. "Truthfully, I've never tried one. Thought tonight was good first time."

You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your soul in an attempt to get your attention. When you couldn't take it any longer and tilted your head to look at him, his eyes immediately met yours. A slight smirk spread across his lips.

When your drinks were served, he was the first to take a sip, eyes not leaving you for a millisecond. You drank and shifted in your seat, fully aware of how he was checking you out as his eyes began to roam. You wondered if maybe you should've put on a shirt over your bikini top to cover yourself better. But that thought was quickly dismissed as a new one took its place. You liked it - the way his attention was focused on no one but you. There were plenty of other hot girls there that night,  but he paid them no mind. 

The hours drifted by as those around you melted away and it felt like you and Jae were the only two in the entire world. The music and voices of patrons were only a buzz in the distant background as you focused on his soft words. You found you enjoyed each others company - he made you comfortable with the idea of spending as much time in it as possible. 

When the clock struck ten, you could feel the beginnings of fatigue creeping into your mind. An incoming text made his phone buzz. He checked it, relaying the message to you after briefly lifting up his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your friend's heading back to the hotel with Johnny and Mark, she's driving them there."

"Oh!" You replied in surprise, glancing around the bar but finding them already gone. You knew what was probably going to happen to Jamie, but you didn't voice it. 

He looked at you for about a minute before speaking again, slowly. "Do you.. wanna come to my place?"

You met his eyes again, heart and mind racing at his invitation. The implications of his question didn't slip by you, they were fully realized. Still, it didn't take you long to make up your mind - in fact, you'd already made it before he'd asked. 

"Yes." You replied. 

He smiled wide and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You quickly slid off your barstool and exited the bar, making for the car. You giggled as he pulled you along. The moon shone down on you from high overhead, lighting the way. Once reaching the car, he opened the passenger door for you and you hopped inside as he then closed it and rounded the car to his seat. Getting in, he started the car and drove out onto the road towards his apartment. 

Your mind raced as you made the silent drive to his apartment, listening to the low sounds of the radio coming through the speakers. It only took a few minutes before he was parking, getting out, and coming around to help you out of the car. Grasping your hand tightly again, he lead you into the building. The lobby of his apartment had only dim lights on at this time to illuminate the room. No one was around. Jaehyun took a left after guiding you through the main doors. 

"This way." He practically whispered, taking you into the elevator. 

He hit the three and the doors closed, leaving you alone in the small space with him for a few moments. He didn't waste any time in turning you around to face him, closing the gap between you. Locking his lips with yours in a heated first kiss, he backed you up into the elevator wall, driving you up it slightly with his strong arms. You instinctively wrapped your limbs around his body to steady yourself and kissed him back. You could taste both him and the drink he'd had at the bar - the mixture was heavenly. 

A ding signified your arrival at his floor, forcing you to part. Thankfully for the both of you, his door wasn't too far away. Pulling you down the hall quickly, Jae stopped at his door and took out his keys, fumbling with them for a few seconds as he tried to rush. When the door was unlocked, he pushed it open, letting you both walk through before harshly closing it again. 

For the few seconds it took for him to throw the keys on a small table next to the door you glanced around the dark apartment. Through a cracked door to your left you could make out a bathroom. A small kitchen stretched across most of the right wall from the door, a long bar separating it from the rest of the room. In this main room was both his living area and bedroom. His bed was pushed up against the farthest wall, which was taken up entirely by two giant windows. The moonlight shone through them, illuminating a balcony on the other side that looked out into the night and the street below, where palm trees waved back and forth in a light breeze. 

The sudden grip of his large hand on your waist from behind made you jump. He spun you around, and gave you that soul piercing stare that made all your self-control fade away. You leaned in this time, seeing a smirk spread across his face right before you closed your eyes. As soon as your lips brushed against his again, he picked up were you'd left off, kissing you relentlessly and leaving you breathless. Slowly, he backed you up further into the apartment until the backs of your legs bumped up against the edge of the bed as you struggled to bring air to your lungs. 

He lifted you just enough to clear the mattress and sit you down on top of it. Climbing onto it himself, he gently laid you down onto the sheets underneath him. He kept himself up with his knees, one on each side of you as he started to move his plush lips down to your neck. He proceeded to mark you, painting several dark spots onto your skin that would surely be there the next day. 

"Ah, Jae." You moaned out for the first time, when the tenseness that had been building between your legs became too much to stay silent.

He paused. "What is it princess?" 

"I need..." You began, heating up at the petname.

"Yes?" He asked patiently, waiting for your commanding words. He smiled down at you, raising a hand to your cheek to stroke it soothingly. 

"You." You finished, meeting his gaze. "I need you."

He smiled wider. "Sure thing."

Removing his hand from your face, he moved it down to the waistband of your shorts. Unbuttoning them with both hands, he slipped them off and down your ankles with ease. Placing his strong hand on your upper thigh, he spread it away from the other and began moving his fingers closer to your heat. Shivering at his touch, you sunk deeper into the bedsheets. He let his fingertips get to the edge of your bikini bottoms, but stopped there, teasing you. 

"Hey-" You breathed, scolding him when you realized what he was doing.

He looked down at you, hair messily splayed around your head as your chest rose and fell beneath him. Your skin was beginning to glisten with perspiration, your eyelashes fluttering slightly every time you blinked your half-closed eyes. "Hm?"

You took a moment to respond. "Touch me Jae."

He smiled a dark smile as he brushed your bikini bottoms to the side. The first touch of his fingertips against your slick clit had you lifting your hips up off the bed, curses falling from your lips. He forced them back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He quickly resumed his actions, running his fingers back and forth over your folds as you moaned at the pleasure. He then suddenly inserted a finger into your dripping core. 

"Ah-" You gasped in surprise as he continued, using his thumb to trace circles across your clit. It was all too much for you to handle. He watched as you gradually lost control beneath him, writhing about in pleasure. The dangerous combination of things he was doing to you quickly brought your first high like a rising wave that crashed into the beach before it. 

You didn't have time to warn him before your walls clamped down on his finger and your juices spilled out onto his hand, sheets, and down your legs. He let you ride out your orgasm and calm all the way down before removing his finger and sitting up, licking every last bit of you from his fingers. You peered down the bed at him, watching in fascination as he lapped it up like a man starved.

"Shit, you taste good." He complimented, making your face feel flushed. 

When his hand was clean, he bent down and stuck his head between your legs. A second later, you felt the flick of his tongue on your inner thigh. He left a trail of wet kisses up it, making his way back up to your heat. Without warning, you felt his lips brush against your folds as he proceeded to use his tongue to clean you up as best he could. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm and draw your legs up closer to your chest. Once satisfied he sat up again, licking the last of you from his lips. 

He then repositioned himself above you. Removing his swim trunks, his hard member sprung free and stood erect, precum trickling from its pink tip. Slipping a couple of fingers into the waistband of your bikini bottoms, he pulled then down your legs, leaving them with your shorts at your ankles. Lining up with your entrance, he held himself up with his strong arms, caging you in. You looked up at him, his faded purple hair messy across his face. He gave you a reassuring smile - dimples and all - before pushing into you with ease and rolling his hips down onto yours. Matching the pace he set, you pulled his face back down to yours to kiss him again, softer this time. He complied, kissing you deeper and slower as he pushed further into you with each thrust.

When he bottomed out, he speed up the movement of his hips, gripping yours to bring them closer to his. The lewd sounds of sex filled the apartment, combined with both of your increasingly loud moans.

"Jae." You moaned out, breaking your kisses. You felt the tenseness building in your abdomen again. 

He groaned as you felt him twitch inside you. "Fuck, you sound so hot saying my name like that."

He then hit your g-spot with the tip of his cock, pushing you over the edge. You came undone all at once, flexing your walls around him, gasping for air. Seconds later, hot strings of his cum shot through you, spilling out onto the bed along with your own. Riding out your orgasms simultaneously, your heavy breathing gradually quieted until he pulled out and sat up on the bed beside you. Watching him slide off the edge and stand up, your eyes followed him as he made his way to the bathroom entrance, ducking in for a second and returning with a towel.

Climbing back onto the bed, he leaned over you and gently cleaned you up with the towel, being extra careful around your sore clit. When most of it was wiped up, he discarded the towel onto the floor and laid down next to you. You rolled onto your side to look at him in the moonlight.

His skin had a visible sheen to it and his hair was a fucking mess - it stuck partially to his damp skin. But that only made his perfectly sculpted features more beautiful. You felt him wrap his arm around your naked waist, holding you to his body. Brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, he spoke for the first time in minutes.

"Let's do this again tomorrow."

In your fucked out state, you couldn't respond with much else than an excited nod as you snuggled up to him. He gently kissed your swollen lips, happy. 

Brushing your nose with his, he whispered: "Night y/n." 

You replied by kissing him back, closing your eyes, and drifting off to sleep in his arms. 

[sunder-soul]

hii what about Tom Riddle being fucking jealous about reader ?

So I got massively carried away with this one lol, apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting, my imagination went wild!

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

Jealousy

Summary: Reader has to tutor an insufferable jock and Tom Riddle starts acting very strangely indeed. Wordcount: 1.8k Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The Great Hall was bright and lively with morning sun and the chatter of students, spoons clinking against bowls and butter spreading on toast.

“What is he doing?” you whisper to Margot sitting next to you at the table.

“I think he’s attempting to show off,” she giggles back.

You were both watching Austin Varrowe, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, obnoxiously demonstrate his Beater swing for a series of very bored looking Ravenclaw girls who weren’t paying him any attention in the slightest.

“Slughorn’s making me tutor that idiot,” you grumble.

“No way,” Margot grins, rounding on you.

“Yup,” you sigh, “can you believe it? Two evenings a week for the rest of the term… I think I’ll brain myself with a cauldron by Friday.”

Margot pats your shoulder sympathetically.

That evening, you reluctantly set off for the dungeons to meet Varrowe with your bag slung over your shoulder, but as you round a corridor you very nearly bowl straight into someone coming the opposite direction.

“Riddle,” you say, surprised, “sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Riddle takes a step back and tidily clasping his hands being his back. “You’re out rather late,” he said smoothly. “And in the dungeons, no less. Are you lost? The library is that way.” He nods back down the corridor.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Riddle was such a know-it-all. “I’m meeting someone, actually,” you say dismissively, checking your watch. “In fact, I better get going or he’ll think I’m standing him up.”

Riddle looks very briefly surprised, and then a cool look of disapproval settles on his fine features. “I don’t suppose I have to remind you that curfew is in two hours,” he says stiffly, “you wouldn’t be intending on breaking that, would you?”

You snort a laugh and step past him. “Thanks for the reminder,” you say sarcastically, “see you later, Riddle.”

You manage to get away before he can say anything else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Varrowe,” you call, giving your friends a quick wave as you dash to catch up to him in the throng of students making their way to their next class. “Are you free tonight?”

“Oh – right,” Varrowe says, looking dispirited. “Sure. Seven o’clock?”

You nod and lean closer. “Please make sure you actually bring your textbook this time,” you mutter, managing to keep your exasperation off your face. “You do in fact need to read it at least once to pass the class.”

Varrowe grins and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “You’re smart,” he says loudly, “barely understood a thing you said last time.”

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to tidy your hair. “Well, see you this evening.”

“Sounds good,” Varrowe shrugs, wandering away.

You sigh. Slughorn better appreciate your sacrifice; tutoring Varrowe was the equivalent of torture. You turn on your heel to catch up with your friends, but once again you come face to face with –

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me,” you say dryly, “seriously, Riddle, it’s creepy.”

Riddle’s eyes slide from Varrowe’s retreating form to your face. “Is Varrowe the one you were meeting last week?” he asks smoothly.

The question surprises you. “Yeah, why?” you frown.

“And you’re meeting him again?”

You arch a brow at his decidedly clipped tone. “Yeah but don’t worry, I promise I won’t break curfew, I know that’s of the utmost importance to you –”

“An odd choice,” Riddle interrupts, something uncharacteristically irate in his voice, “Varrowe.”

You stare at him. “…Is he?” you ask pointedly, unable to think of anyone more in need of tutoring. Only yesterday Varrowe had lost his phial of Flobberworm mucus and had asked Slughorn if he could just use some of his own instead. “I think he’s the perfect choice.”

Riddle’s eyes flash. “I should be going,” he says curtly, “see you in class.” He gives you a single, stiff nod and leaves without another glance.

You blink after him, shaking your head in confusion. Riddle was acting very, very strangely.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“So if you overboil it, it’ll turns green,” Varrowe said slowly, peering at the notes on Veritaserum on the desk between you, “but if you underboil it, it’ll get those weird lumps?”

“Yes,” you say with great relief.

“Is it better to overboil it or underboil it?”

You immediately regret having felt relieved. “It’s better to do neither,” you say flatly.

Varrowe heave a great sigh and carelessly leans back in his chair. “I’m too tired for this,” he complains. “Did I mention that we had an extra Quidditch practice this morning?”

He had. Six times.

You slide your things into your bag and stand. “You’re right, it’s late,” you mutter, “we can pick this up again on Monday.”

Varrowe gleefully stands too and is out the door of the Potions classroom in a heartbeat. “Are you coming to the game next weekend?” he asks you in the corridor outside, unsubtly flexing his shoulder muscles as he pretends to roll them out.

You very nearly roll your eyes. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” he grins, “I’ve been working on this tag-team move with Procker that’ll really have Slytherin guessing, I’ll have to show you later –”

“Varrowe.”

The voice is crisp and cool, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who it is.

“Riddle,” Varrowe says, looking disgruntled. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a prefect, if you recall,” Riddle says in a glacial tone, “patrols are part of my responsibilities.”

“How very fortunate indeed that you were patrolling this exact corridor at this exact time,” you say with a hint of sarcasm. “Merlin, imagine if we’d forgotten about curfew.”

Riddle’s dark eyes flash to you, and you impassively hold his gaze. “You should return to your common rooms,” he says delicately, “or I will be forced to give you both detentions.”

“Steady on Riddle,” Varrowe grins, “we’ve got half an hour yet, give us a second to say goodbye.”

Riddle wrenches his eyes off you and fixes Varrowe with a very cold look. “You will go at once,” he says in a dangerously soft tone, “do you understand?”

Varrowe bristles, standing taller and pushing his chest out in a way he clearly thinks is intimidating. Riddle looks utterly unfazed.

Sensing trouble on the horizon, you grab Varrowe’s sleeve and tug him back. “Come on, Varrowe,” you say quickly, “let’s go. You’ve got practice in the morning, right?”

Varrowe glares at Riddle who was yet to move an inch, his expression still cool and blank. “Right,” Varrowe growls, “yeah, let’s go.”

Varrowe turns and stalks off, not noticing that you don’t follow. Instead, you round on Riddle.

“Will you explain what the hell is going on?” you whisper angrily.

“Watch your tongue,” Riddle says sharply.

You glower at him. “So sorry – I mean, will you please explain what the hell is going on?”

His eyes narrow. “It would not be wise to antagonise me,” he says icily.

“Would it not?” you breathe, stepping closer. “What are you going to do, dock me points? Give me detention?”

Riddle’s eyes are dark and hostile, and something works in his jaw as he glares back at you.

“Back off, Riddle,” you snap, “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but seriously, drop it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathes.

“Oh? You always threaten people with detention when they’ve done nothing wrong? I’m sure Slughorn will be overjoyed to hear that his favourite prefect is abusing his power like that,” you hiss, leaning closer.

Riddle visibly grits his teeth with fury on his face. A tense silence falls, and you suddenly realise that the two of you are standing far, far too closely together.

You step back at once, trying to ignore the strange feeling that swells in your stomach. “Goodnight, Riddle,” you mutter, turning to hurry away.

“Why Varrowe?” he says sharply, stopping you in your tracks.

You look over your shoulder at him. Riddle’s hair looks even blacker in the dark corridor, his burning eyes on yours, the flickering light from the torch on the wall beside him throwing shadows down his cheekbones. “What?” you frown. Now was definitely not the time to get distracted by Riddle’s good looks.

“Why Varrowe?” Riddle repeats stiffly. “He’s a simpleton.”

You blink. “Exactly,” you say slowly.

Something hostile flickers on Riddle’s face before he quickly tempers his expression back into composure. “I appear to have misjudged you,” he says coldly, looking away.

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim in exasperation. “Do you not understand how tutoring works? If he wasn’t absolutely thick I wouldn’t have to waste my evenings explaining to him that Cough Potions are for curing coughs and not inducing them.”

Riddle stares at you. The silence drags on.

You sigh impatiently. “I’m going to bed,” you grumble, turning away again.

“Wait,” he says sharply.

You wheel around, annoyed. “What?”

But your frustration is wiped away in an instant because Riddle is once again much too close. So close, in fact, that you can see the shadows his eyelashes are casting down his cheeks and the heat in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re tutoring him?” he asks quietly.

You nod silently, your throat suddenly thick with nerves.

“That’s why you were meeting him.”

You nod again, unable to look away from him.

Riddle hums contemplatively, his expression smooth as his dark eyes roam your face. “Good,” he murmurs.

“Good?” you whisper.

Riddle’s lips curve into a small smirk, his head tilting slightly, and you absolutely do not blush at the sight. “Weren’t you going to bed?” he asks silkily.

“Worried about me breaking curfew, are you?” you say with a flicker of a taunt, trying to ignore your heart pounding quickly in your chest.

Riddle’s smirk grows. “I told you not to antagonise me,” he says smoothly as he steps in even closer, so close that his robes graze against your arms and you can feel warmth radiating from him as he looms over you.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “seems to be going pretty well for me so far.”

Riddle’s eyes flick between yours, and for a single burning moment the tension is so thick that you can hear your pulse thrumming in your ears, your gaze dropping to his full lips and seeing his do the same to yours – and then just like that, Riddle steps away.

“Goodnight,” he says evenly, “I trust you can get back to your common room without supervision.”

You nod blankly but Riddle is already turning away and disappearing down the dark corridor, melting into the darkness. You stand there a moment frozen in place, your cheeks burning and your heart still racing as the cold air rushes in where his warmth had been brushing up against your skin.

Riddle was acting very, very strangely indeed.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

[booppooo]

I would like to request prompt 2, the reader's pronouns are gonna be she/her, and the whole plot of this oneshot is gonna be where Manny and Mel are on the supply run and Abby is left with reader in the car. They want to relieve themselves so reader eats Abby out in the car. Abby squirts a lot, please and thank you🥰

Gotta Make This Quick

AN: Ask and you shall receive....eventually.

Warnings: unestablished relationship, semi-public sex, lesbian sex, oral, squirting

Word Count: 1743

-

Third POV:

It was just another simple supply run, nothing special to it. Only this time Y/n had been assigned to tag along in lieu of Abby's favorite girl - Alice. An extra set of hands were always nice in this world considering every horrible possibility could happen at any moment. So the solider didn't mind seeing Y/n hop in that back seat with her, if anything she was looking forward to this supply run, however the other two passengers couldn't say the same.

Mel always tried to brush off the fact that she hated how much she made Abby smile - purely because she hated to see Abby so happy in the first place. "I don't have an opinion on her, she's just a good fighter," she'd shrug and turn her nose up. Manny (surprisingly) was on Mel's team in terms of Y/n as well. Though it brought him great joy to see Abby laugh and carry on, Y/n was Abby's greatest distraction and therefore there were a lot more mistakes made than there needed to be. They were a better duo when they were safe inside the stadium, but more of a disaster in terms of a combat. Needless to say, the job always got done and that's all that mattered at the end of the day.

The terrain was rocky and bumpy as always as Manny sped down what was left of the roads. He slowed to a stop at an old warehouse that had yet to be picked through since the Seraphites always patrolled it so heavily, but after finding out their schedule the WLF was able to find a time to squeeze in and sweep the place. And since that time window was so small, Mel urged the two giggling friends to stay behind and keep watch.

"What the hell Mel?" Abby protested while tugging on the door handle.

Mel stepped over to Y/n's window, "Stay here, we'll only be a few minutes."

"Yeah but you didn't have to lock - fuck." Abby scoffed and turned to her friend, "What if there's an emergency and they get ambushed?!"

Y/n slumped in her seat and rolled her head toward Abby, "Obviously they're betting on no one showing up. Just relax."

Abby rolled her eyes, "You're fucking kidding me right?"

"Couldn't be more serious babe."

And at that Abby's pretty freckled cheeks burned a soft crimson. Her mind fell fuzzy while her palms began to sweat against her rifle. She broke the tense eye contact and darted her gaze around the vehicle.

"They're... they're not doing this very smart." she continued, but Y/n had tuned it out and was completed infatuated with the way she had made Abby crumble.

Daringly she took a step further by inching closer and nonchalantly resting an palm over Abby's gorgeously massive thigh. It wasn't hard to miss the way the blonde's breath got caught in her throat - adorable. She lazily drew circles on the rough fabric and gazed up to Abby.

"You're so tense, what's got your panties in a bunch all the sudden?" Y/n teased and didn't bother to suppress the shit eating grin on her face.

Abby swallowed the spit pooling in her mouth. Though she was a blushing, sweating mess, she was absolutely loving every moment of this. Should she entertain it?

Abby softly shook her head and forced herself to stare out the window. This was surely just Y/n being her flirtatious, silly self.

Then her hand came up and squeezed softly on Abby's exposed bicep. It was like she was holding a flame against the hard muscle and lit Abby's entire body on fire. Her thighs pressed together and Y/n's nails dug into her pants. This was overwhelming in all the right ways, but Abby still wasn't sure her intentions.

Her warm breath fanned across the soldier's neck, "I know a thing or two about how to de-stress."

This woman who was known for being the strongest and sturdiest solider quickly felt her heart and mind melting at her friend's words. Just like a flip was switched and she completely folded over. Y/n was nearly foaming at the mouth; it was now or never.

With that she guided Abby's beautiful features to face her and they shared the most lustful kiss. Of course with the ticking time bomb Abby had been she soaked up every bit of touch Y/n offered her and found herself grabbing and feeling along her body. She had built her up and broke her down to the point where she was nearly feral. Abby loved the way she hated all the teasing.

Of course the strongest tried to settle her place over Y/n, but she wouldn't go down so quickly, after all it was Y/n's idea. She pulled away from the intense making out to smirk at her freckled companion and shove her shoulders down against the old leather seats. Again Abby's breathing failed her and left her abruptly while her heart hammered against her chest (not to mention the heat and slick accumulating in her pants).

But before the fun could continue Abby was struck with reality, "We're really gonna fuck here? What if someone sees?"

What a ridiculously question, Y/n thought.

"All the better."

Before Abby's rational could put up a resistance Y/n was earnestly working to remove Abby's cargo pants. Time was of the essence and both of them were well aware of that, but the desire swirling inside the car was just too overpowering to be ignored or interrupted.

The fighter laughed mockingly seeing the wet spot that had shamelessly formed on Abby's panties, "You're so fucking perfect." As expected the praise went straight to the blonde's core before even reaching her brain.

Y/n was ravenous and hasty in her approach. She nipped and licked and kissed all along those thighs she had dreamed to be between for an embarrassingly long time - it really was a dream come true. Then the underwear were ripped down her legs, thighs pressed open and against her strong torso, and Y/n's tongue went to work.

"Ah!" Abby cried out and smacked a hand over her mouth. All Y/n could do was laugh.

The goal: do whatever it took to make her cum as quickly as possible. Mel and Manny could be sprinting out those doors any second and there wouldn't be time to redress.

"Mmm fuck.." Y/n groaned and continued her ministrations.

Abby found herself trying not to shoot up to cloud nine, reaching and grabbing at whatever she could to give her a sense of reality. It was like she had the wind knocked out of her and each time Y/n's swirled her tongue deliciously over her clit a spell was casted on her. It was hopeless, Abby was hopeless, there was no way she was lasting very long.

And she didn't last very long, because in an instant that hot coil in Abby's abdomen snapped, her eyes rolled back into her head and she was crying into her hand. Y/n was elated when her lips, chin, neck, and chest were gushed on and drenched, in turn fueling her to work more fervently until Abby couldn't take it.

Those famous thighs began to tremble and Abby breathlessly begged Y/n to stop and tried squirmed away. How she wanted to continue to feast on her until she was an absolute mess of a person, but their circumstances were not in their favor and Abby was incredibly embarrassed at the fact she had squirted for her first time. Needless to say it was one of the most intense orgasms she had experienced to date but she never knew that would be the result.

Of course Y/n being the lady she was, cleaned up the mess she had made on Abby with her tongue, not missing a spot. The taste was unforgettable and her next mission was to get this wonder of a woman in her bunk. But for now they needed to get her dressed and Y/n's shirt changed.

Almost as if on cue, Y/n finished tugging a new shirt over her torso as Mel and Manny came darting from the warehouse, tossing the supplies in the trunk and throwing themselves into their seats.

"Everything okay?" Y/n wondered as Manny began to tear out of the scene.

"One of 'em saw us so we're leaving before we get ambushed. How were things out here?" Mel turned in her seat.

Abby instantly became flustered and her gaze retired to the window.

"Couldn't have been better." Y/n smirked.

[shoftiiel]

bound to you: 23

"it took you forever to get here"

synopsis: y/n is the new girl in town, she would like to escape from her past and begin a new life without any romance drama, but what happens when she caught the attention of a certain boy who happens to be one of her brother’s best friends.

warnings: none

word count: 1k

a/n: the song heeseung is dancing is heaven by taemin :)))

<< | masterlist | >>

What does he want to show me? is all you could think about on your way to the dance studio. Saying you weren't nervous would be lying, but why were you nervous in the first place? it made no sense, heesegung was just a friend, but why does seeing said friend make you feel like this? Heeseung was amazing, you find adorable the way his eyes disappear when he smiles or the way he would comfort you when you are feeling down, it is like he knows everything that you have been through, how does he do that?

As you entered the studio you heard faint music playing in the background, as you walked closer to where he was the music got louder and louder. You opened the door and saw a very focused heeseung dancing to a clam yet energetic song, he stopped as soon as he saw you.

“finally” he said catching his breath “it took you forever to get here”. He paused the music and went for his water bottle, there was something rather attractive in him that you had never noticed before. He was all sweaty, you weren't used to seeing him like this, usually when you two meet he looks like a nerdy boy who just won a chess match, but now, he looked completely different, the opposite of how he normally looks. And of course you had seen him practice before, but just once, and you weren't exactly paying attention.

“What did you want to show me?” you said, interrupting your thoughts, realizing that you had been staring at him this whole time and he probably noticed.

A big smile appeared on his face, “I want to show you my routine,” he said. You were shocked by his comment, you clearly didn't expect it. “also, tell me what you think, I am not sure whether i like it or not”

“but i know nothing about dance” you said, he just chuckled at your comment, “that's why I wanted you to see it, you can give me your honest opinion” he smiled at you and you swore that something moved inside you, why were you blushing like a middle school girl? “Just tell me what you think of it, okay?” he said before playing the music.

“Okay” you took a seat on the floor, with your back on the mirror, facing him.

As soon as the music started playing he started moving along with the rhythm, his moves were so beautiful, it was as if he was one with the music. You could watch him dance for the rest of your life, it was just mesmerizing. It was so satisfying to watch, the way he hit every single beat, his moves are so flawless and he makes it look so effortless, so perfect. As the song is coming to an end you realize something, you do like heeseung, you like the way he changes into a different person when he dances, how his expression changes and how he gets in his own world when he does what he loves, you also like the way he makes you feel, he makes you feel safe, he feels like home. Your friends were right, you did like him and you were just in denial, you couldn't wrap your head around the thought of you being oblivious about your feelings all this time, shit, you thought, i like heeseung, i really do.

The music ended, sapping you out of your thoughts, “what do you think?” he said looking at you with his bambi eyes, he sat next to you in an attempt to catch his breath.

“hee it was amazing, you are amazing” you said excitedly as if you were not dying of nervousness because of how close he was to you.

“Do you think so?” he said looking straight into your eyes, which just made you blush more than you already were. “yes hee, i don't know why you said you weren't sure about it, i can guarantee you that everyone will enjoy it”

“thanks y/n, i don't care what everyone else thinks of it, you liked it and that's what matters” his words had an impact on you, and at this point you were sure that you looked like a fucking tomato, but this time he actually noticed it.

“y/n are you okay?” he placed his hand on your forehead “you are very hot” you know he wasn't talking about your physical appearance, but it felt like that.

“oh, yeah” you laughed awkwardly trying to think of an excuse “i - umm, its so hot in here, there are no windows and the weather is really hot” lucky of yo heeseung its a guy, which means he is, lets say kind of dumb, he bougth every word you said.

“You are right, let's go get some ice cream” he got up and grabbed his things “it'll be my treat, you helped me, so it is a friend helping a friend” ah friend, you smiled through the pain, and did what yo do best: hide your emotions. He only saw you as a friend, it hadn't been even 10 minutes since you realized your feelings and you were already feeling down. It had been a long time since you were interested in someone and yet, you were already hurt.

“Sounds great, lets go '' he grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you out of the dance studio, the sudden touch made your heart do a backflip. It was not going to be easy to be around him and not look like a strawberry every time.

tag list: @ncityy04 @markleepooh @papiibuprofen @ghjasksdk @kac-chowsballs @youreverydayzebra @clanggyyy @niafics @witheeseung @dalamjisung @softforqiankun @woonieiv @seungstarss @ryujnworld @sunghooniee @hoonbokki @punneysushi01 @uhhalexwashere @echelhoops @milkycloudtyg @lokideadontheinside

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 23}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was torn.

Half of her thought that Cassian was overreacting, but the other half of her thought that his anger and frustration was perfectly justified.

What exactly were they getting into? And, was it what was best for Nyx? Yeah, the last month had been great, but if it didn’t work out, what would that mean for him? Would it be better if she and Cassian had simply remained two friends, co-parenting under one roof?

Nesta’s heart began to beat a little faster.

She felt like she was going into a panic attack.

Cassian and Nyx had been gone for an hour, and every second that passed became more and more unbearable.

She needed him to be there.

She needed to figure this out.

She just didn’t know what the answer was.

Alis had gotten into her head, there was no doubt about that. A little over an hour ago, she was living in a dream, then Alis came in, out of nowhere, and brought her back to reality.

She was sitting on the couch, almost exactly where he’d left her, when he finally returned. He was covered in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to him. Nyx was having a conversation with him, more to himself though, since it didn’t seem like Cassian was even close to paying attention to him. But his eyes went directly to Nesta as soon as he walked in.

She’d changed. She no longer wore his t-shirt, instead in a loose shirt of her own and a pair of jeans, and her hair was loose and wet around her face. As if she’d need to shower their night together, shower him off of her. Not a shred of that beautiful skin was showing, not like she’d been doing lately. Leggings and shorts and tank tops. She’d been comfortable around him.

With a scoff, Cassian set Nyx down on the floor. He headed for the stairs, but Nesta stood, nearly toppling the cup of coffee she’d been clutching over as she set it on the coffee table. “Cassian, we need to talk about this.”

He paused, waving a hand towards her. “What for? It looks like you’ve already made your decision.”

“I need you to calm down,” she said, steadily. “I need you to think logically.”

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me.”

Nesta hesitated. “Tell you what?”

“If this is something you want to pursue or if I just wasted the last couple months falling in love with you,” he finished.

His voice may have lacked emotion, but Nesta felt every word like a stab in the chest. Falling in love with you. Those were the words she was going to tell him today, under much different circumstances.

Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Now, she was overwhelmed.

Now, all of her thoughts were rushing toward the same spot in the middle of her skull at a thousand miles an hour, and when they got there, her head would explode.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“But it should be,” Cassian said. “If you feel the way that I do, it should be that easy.”

“We have to think of Nyx,” she breathed.

“I am thinking of Nyx,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. At the sound of his name, the baby turned to look at him. “I want him to grow up in a happy home, seeing two people who love each other, and damn it if that isn’t how it’s been for the past few weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “What happens if we break up? What happens if we get in a fight or something happens to one of us? What then?”

He had strode down the stairs and was in front of her before he could stop himself. He framed her face in his hands, like he had so many times the past month, to kiss her, to make love to her, to show her how he cared for her. “Why are you worrying about the what if’s? Why are you worrying about what could go wrong, rather than how right everything has been?”

Because everything goes wrong eventually. The only reason we’re together is because we were shoved into this house after the worst thing imaginable happened. They died. We took over. What right do we have to be happy?

The words flooded her mind, but stilled on her tongue.

Nesta didn’t push him away. She wanted to reach up on her toes and kiss him, softly, but she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze. “Cass,” she breathed.

The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Nyx had walked up to them and was hugging Nesta’s leg, as if he knew that she needed the comfort.

“Dont say my name like that,” he whispered.

Nesta slowly shook her head. “I just think this has all happened too quickly. We haven’t been thinking, we’ve just been acting-.”

“You’re pushing me away,” Cassian interrupted, swallowing harshly. “Damn it, Nesta.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“Because you’re not making sense,” he argued. “Things have been perfect—”

“They’re dead!” She cried, pulling from his grip, scooping Nyx up. “Things have been far from perfect. We’re only like this now because Rhys and Feyre are dead.”

The words seemed to freeze something inside of Cassian and he stepped back as well. “So what? We go back to how we used to be? I’m back in the guest room and we awkwardly exchange good mornings over breakfast?”

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him, the scent of him, everything. “I don’t know, Cassian, I don’t—.” She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping tighter around Nyx. “I just need some time to think, to breathe…”

When she looked back up at him, his jaw was set and he was slowly nodding. “Fine. Take your time.”

And then he was moving, back up the stairs before Nesta could even ask what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he was back with a duffle bag in his hands.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you space,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Nesta opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was frozen where she stood, her feet stuck to the floor, her mouth hanging open, that panic rising from the pit of her stomach into her heart, which was beating far too quickly.

Cassian kissed Nyx on the forehead as he passed, but paid Nesta no mind as he went for the door.

“Cassian!” She called, at last.

Cassian stopped just in front of the door, keeping his back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“You're just going to leave?” She asked, quietly, bouncing a sleepy Nyx on her hip. “Just like that?”

Cassian didn’t turn around. “Are you going to ask me to stay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Nesta said nothing.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, exhaustion lacing his tone. “Maybe I need time to think, too.”

He opened the door and shut it softly behind him.

*

He didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He knew where he wanted to be, but right now…

He couldn’t look at her.

It didn’t escape him that when he’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, she didn’t say it back. He couldn’t even act like he hadn’t seen her eyes flare in panic. So he couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t go back to sleeping in that guest room, not when he’d become so used to sleeping with her in his arms every night.

So Cassian had ended up here, knocking on his brother’s door, thankful that his car had been parked in the driveway when he pulled up.

He needed a drink. He needed someone to tell him he was being an asshole. He needed someone to listen while he vented and bitched. He knew Azriel would do all that for him.

When he answered the door, Seph was in his arms, pulling on his bottom lip. She smiled when she saw Cassian, but Azriel’s surprised smile quickly faded.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, looking at the duffel bag tossed over Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Azriel stared at him for a second before stepping aside and letting Cassian pass.

“Are we talking about this now or later?” Azriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Beer?” Cassian asked, dropping his bag beside the couch.

“Fridge,” Azriel said, slowly, watching him.

Cassian made his way to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a cold bottle and chugging its contents.

Azriel followed, leaning against the countertop and Seph continued to play with his lips.

“Where’s Elain?” Cassian asked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and getting another.

“Work,” Azriel said, sighing. “So, if this involves smack talking Nesta, you may want to get it out now.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do that, barely wanted to think about her. But he owed Azriel at least some explanation.

“The social worker stopped by this morning,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter and opening the beer. “And honestly, yeah, it was unexpected, but I figured it’d be fine. Last time, Nes was drunk off her ass, but we— I figured, since we were more of a family this time, things would be great.”

Azriel blinked. “They’re not taking Nyx, are they?”

Another shake of his head. “No, gods, no. They— She could tell he was in good hands, but she immediately picked up on Nesta and I. What we’ve…become.”

It seemed, just like Cassian, Azriel didn’t see it as a problem. He wasn’t following. “And?”

“And Nyx was hungry so I left the social worker and Nesta alone to get him breakfast. I came back and she’s gone and Nesta is second-guessing our relationship. She asked if I’m just fucking her out of convenience.”

The thought made him sick to his stomach, almost as badly as it hurt his heart.

“And you replied with…” Azriel began, trailing off, waiting for Cassian to finish the sentence.

“I went for a jog,” Cassian said, shrugging.

“So you ran away?” Azriel pushed.

Cassian shot him a look. “No. I went for a jog.”

Azriel sighed. “And when you came back?”

“She said she needed space,” Cassian said, emptying his bottle.

Azriel set Seph on the floor with a plastic spatula, which she instantly start banging on the cabinets. “And that’s when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run,” Cassian snapped. “I gave her what she wanted. I gave her space.”

Azriel slowly shook his head. “Did you even try to talk things out?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, the word clipped. “Told her I was falling in love with her, and guess how she replied?”

Azriel watched his brother.

“Didn’t say a fucking word,” Cassian finished.

When Azriel didn’t speak, he walked back to the trash can, dropping the bottle inside.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here,” he said, unable to turn around and look his brother in the eye. “She was ending it. She was calling things off and I’m supposed to, what? Just keep living there like we were before? Pretend nothing has changed?” He swallowed hard, willing the damn tears clouding his vision to fade. They wouldn’t. “She didn’t even ask me to stay.”

Azriel sighed, opening a cabinet beside the fridge that Seph couldn’t reach. He produced a bottle of whiskey and set it on the counter. “I can’t drink until Elain gets home. And I absolutely think you need to talk to Nesta, but I think you’re right. You need to stay here tonight. Give her space.”

Cassian blinked, and a tear that was holding on slid free, down his cheek. He angrily wiped it away. He felt ridiculous, but it had been a long time since he had told a woman that he loved her. He’d never said it in his adulthood. A couple times in his teens, before he knew what the word really meant, but never as an adult.

He’d said it.

He’d meant it.

And she hadn’t felt the same.

Cassian nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

*

Nesta stared at Cassian’s contact on her phone screen.

She wanted to press the call button, but didn’t.

She did open a blank text a few times, but couldn’t type anything.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted Cassian.

But, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

She had never been one who was dependent on a man, had spent most of her twenties single and having no problem with it. But suddenly, she couldn’t imagine her day to day life without Cassian in it. And that terrified her.

She heard murmuring on the baby monitor sitting next to her on the side table and glanced over to see Nyx sitting up in his crib.

It had been nearly three hours since Cassian left, and aside from putting Nyx down for a nap, Nesta had barely moved. She still sat in the same spot on the couch she’d been in when the social worker had shown up and when she’d ignored that Cassian had said that he loved her.

The words should have filled her with joy and she should have screamed from the rooftops that she loved him, too. Instead she locked up and thought she was going to be sick.

What was wrong with her?

Wiping away the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen, Nesta hurried up the stairs, and into Nyx’s nursery. He reached for her the moment he saw her, his own big, blue eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” She cooed, resting his head against her shoulder.

After a deep sigh, he looked up at her and reached for a tear that had fallen down her cheek. His lip began to wobble.

“I’m okay,” Nesta promised, even though her voice cracked and those tears continued. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise.”

Nyx knew, though.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He knew Cassian was gone.

He knew Nesta was heartbroken.

Little did he know that her heartbreak was self-inflicted.

Nyx laid his head back on her shoulder and clung to her. He stayed like that as she walked back downstairs and sat back in her spot on the couch.

He held onto her, looking around the room. She knew he was looking for him and was about to tell him he wasn’t here when he spoke. The word wasn’t a mash up of noises like it had always been. No, it was a true and steady word. His first word.

“Dada?”

Nesta froze. She didn’t even know what to say. Should she tell him Cassian wasn’t his father? He probably wouldn’t even understand, just like he didn’t understand where Rhys and Feyre had gone.

But…for all intents and purposes, Cassian was his daddy now. And she was his mama.

So she pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered. “He had to leave, baby. He had to go for a little while.”

Nesta hoped and prayed that Cassian would walk back through that door, and yet, she couldn’t muster the courage to ask him to.

That night, instead of Cassian taking up the spot next to her, it was Nyx, who held her hand until they both fell asleep.

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 12 - Muse

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Fluff, Rough Sex (Light but Consensual), Light Degradation, Role-play (Reader In French Maid Outfit), Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Making Out With Gojo, NSFW, Unprotected Sex

Summary: You keep your promise to Gojo and the two of you enjoy a little bit of roleplaying.

A/N: I know it's been a while since I posted last. Here is the updated chapter (she is kind of long) and it's basically 5% plot where everything else is smut. I have been reading this same thing for over a week and spent most of today editing, so I hope it's fine! Please keep in mind again that I do not have a beta, and will highly miss a lot of things or even misspell them. I hope you enjoy the chapter!  Requests are still open! I currently write for Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna and Choso. Please make sure I can see your age on your profile, otherwise you will be ignored (minors dni) 

- - - 

(Three Years Ago)

“Looks like someone is being spoiled…”

You glanced around your apartment that has been completely decorated in flowers. You started grinning like an idiot thinking of Haru’s promise to give you a garden before replying, “ it’s a long story... ”

“ Soo , things worked out after the failed anniversary dinner?” Gojo questioned, noticing the way you shyly bit your bottom lip as you returned your attention back onto the T.V. screen.

“ Yes, they did …” you answered casually, still holding that pretty smile on your lips. You were clicking the button on the remote as you switched between movies to pick one to watch for the evening. “I don’t think I gave you the full update…”

Gojo took a sip of his melon soda, before leaning back comfortably against your couch. “No you did not. Last time we spoke you told me you were going away for the weekend. So tell me, how did prince charming work his way back into your good graces?”

Hakone , the weekend getaway; memories of you and Haru’s trip flooded back to your mind. The onsen experience, strolling through nature by day, visiting art galleries and losing sleep at night just to make love…

“It was… perfect.” you whispered breathlessly, your heart skipping a beat after you gave Gojo the brief explanation.

“ How romantic… ” the sorcerer replied, doing little to hide the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, nudging your elbow playfully into his stomach. “Don’t be such a killjoy…”

From behind his dark frames, Gojo was reading your body language when you spoke. He pressed his lips together, not wanting to take away the happiness you were basking in and burying the thought that lingered his mind.

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asked again, his eyes glued onto you as he patiently waited for your reply.

Your cheeks went warm and your reaction was to adorably bury your face into the palm of your hands, desperately trying to fight off the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You leaned back on the couch next to your friend, dropping your hands down by your sides as you tilted your neck to face him.

“ Hopelessly so… ”

Gojo swallowed hard, a sinking sensation pummeled through his gut upon hearing your words. Your eyes flickered when you noticed how his expression hardened but he quickly switched to a big grin.

“As long as you’re happy … ” he reassured, giving you a thumbs up.

“I am, very much so …”

“ Good!” Gojo replied, but the word tasted sour in his mouth and he quickly changed the subject. “Now let’s get back to picking our movie…”

What the hell am I supposed to do now? he thought to himself, the disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.

I can’t tell her yet…

I’ll just have to wait...

(Present)

Gojo was exhausted. His day was tiresome and everything seemed to be getting on his last nerves. His morning started off on a bad note thanks to the higher ups. Itadori Yuji swallowing one of Sukuna’s fingers was not what he expected but now he had a problem on his hands involving the life of another teenager.

A talented kid at that, Itadori definitely had potential...

Gojo was good at hiding his frustrations from his students, and even from some of his peers. However, the minute he stepped into the lobby of his apartment building, the weight of his day came crashing down on his shoulders. He exited the elevator, slowly making his way over towards his apartment door but paused for a second before entering inside the safe haven of his home.

He immediately sensed your presence.

You called him earlier when he was at the school, asking if you could stop by his place to pick up something that you had forgotten.

“Just ask the security to let you in, I’ll give them a heads up and inform them... ” Gojo distractedly replied before ending the call.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly to himself, thinking that maybe you decided to stick around and hang out at his place.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, as he stepped through the threshold of his front door. “Did you really miss me that mu-uhhhhhh…”

Gojo dropped his keycard on the floor, his mouth agape as he took in the sight of you standing before him. His heart literally stopped beating for a whole second and the sorcerer found himself frozen in the entrance of his living room.

“ Gojo-san,” you purred, turning your heel from the large glass window you were wiping and smiling as you faced him directly. “ You’re home...”

Catching the great Gojo Satoru by surprise was something rare but you managed to do it with ease because he always had his guard down around you.

Gojo admired the outfit you were wearing. Your black dress was short, very short, with the bodice buttoned all the way up to your neck and little puffy sleeves covering your shoulders. The white apron you were wearing over it was trimmed with little frills, matching the detailing along the collar. His mouth went dry when he reached your legs covered in a pair of stockings but he noticed the single garter wrapped around your thigh adorned with a tiny bow. You were wearing black pointed high heels to match the ensemble, adding a decent amount of inches to your height. The cherry on top was the white silky headband that was pulling back your beautiful hair.

Gojo had given up on your promise weeks ago, thinking there was no possible way you might actually follow through with his idea.

Yet, here you were , dressed up in a french maid outfit.

You placed the cloth in your hand in the basket on your floor. Your heels clicking against the wooden surface and echoing around his quiet penthouse apartment as you approached him, holding your head high as you confidently nestled into the role you were playing.

You gripped his attention, but couldn’t see how shocked he was from behind his dark sunglasses. As you stood in front of him you bent down to pick up the key card before elegantly standing upright and holding it up to his face.

“You dropped this,” you stated quite matter of factly, batting your lashes at him innocently.

The man had been rendered speechless.

You raised your brow as the seconds passed, waiting for Gojo to say... something.

He could sense your heart beat increase, as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other and you nervously glanced away from his direction. You dropped the act for a minute as you placed your hands around your waist to look down at the outfit you were wearing.

“ Uhm … did I do this wrong ? This is the only outfit I could find online that was even close to the idea you had and it took weeks to actually get here. I can...I can try to find another dress if this isn’t what you li-”

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, interrupting your comment and tilting your head up so you were looking at him as he snapped himself out of the trance you seemed to have put him under.

“No! No, no no …you look… fuck… you just caught me by surprise…” he replied, a wave of excitement rushing through him as he stumbled over his words. He proceeded to lower his sunglasses so you were met with azure eyes, softening his gaze as a cheeky grin spread across his gorgeous face. “You look ...perfect…”

He stretched out that last word, ensuring to savour every part of you. Your face grew warm but you couldn’t help but smirk with approval that all your hard efforts into this costume worked their magic on your friend.

“Really?” you questioned in a hopeful tone, reaching for his wrist and giving him a squeeze. “I’m glad! You worried me for a second…”

Gojo leaned forward to kiss you, the heavy weight he bore when he stepped into his home dissipating as he tasted you on his tongue. Once he had his fill of you, he broke away from the kiss before casually walking backwards and instructing, “don’t mind me, I’m just going to step out for a second so we can properly start this over…”

You giggled before turning around and making your way back to your position next to his window. Gojo noticed your white slip peak from under your skirt, and he gently bit down on his knuckle unable to contain his own anticipation.

This is going to be fun, he thought.

When he stepped back inside his apartment it was with a totally different demeanor. He cleared his throat as he made his way over, noticing your face playfully light up before repeating your initial greeting:

“ Gojo-san, you’re home... ”

***

One hour.

You had the man stirring for an entire hour.

Gojo didn’t think you would take this as seriously as you did but you were putting on a performance for him.

At first he sat in the living room, watching you mindlessly wipe his spotless windows and bending over ever so slightly for him to peep under your skirt. He impatiently tapped his finger against his thigh, knowing full well that he was not allowed to touch you unless you touched him first .

That was the rule you both agreed on.

When Gojo realised that you weren’t planning on giving in so easily, he used the moment as an opportunity to change out of his uniform but that didn’t stop you from being a tease.

While he was in his room, he switched to a pair of comfortable sweatpants and just as he was about to slip on his hoodie, you barged into his bedroom.

“ I’m sorry to intrude…” you announced innocently, sauntering your way over with your eyes lingering on his abdominal muscles and lifting up his half-filled laundry basket. “ I just needed to wash these…”

Gojo pressed his tongue to his cheek, shaking his head at you as he moved to his drawer to replace his shades with his blindfold, knowing full well you were going to draw this out for as long as you can.

Maybe this is payback…

Gojo returned to the living room, his eyes fixated on the television screen as a way to distract himself from you.

After you did a few meaningless chores, you picked up the feather duster from your equipment basket and directed yourself into his line of sight. You began to “ dust ” off his shelves, swaying your hips deliberately from side to side as you walked in front of him.

“ I hope you don’t mind me in your way, Gojo-san …” you said serenely, flicking the duster over the random items on his shelf.

“Not at all…” the sorcerer replied, his voice smooth as silk when he spoke. “But you should know you missed a spot…”

You raised your brow as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his stare.

“ Oh ?”

Gojo spread his legs further apart, resting his long arm on the back of the sofa before bringing his other hand forward to point high on his shelf.

“Right there,” he indicated.

You hummed to yourself, knowing full well that Gojo wanted to see more of what you were hiding underneath your outfit. As you stood on your tiptoes, you deliberately arched your back to stick out your rear in his direction.

Gojo trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, humming in approval and deciding in that moment just how he plans on eventually fucking you in this cute outfit of yours.

“A little higher…” he commanded, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes as you “cleaned” his top shelf, and he felt himself harden against his pants when the fabric of your dress just barely covered your ass.

The minutes passed, dragging slowly until the sorcerer found himself growing impatient. The longer you were making him wait, the more cruel he was planning on delivering his own punishment in return.

“May I get you some water, Gojo-san?” you asked him, snapping him out of his own thoughts as you made your way over to the kitchen. “You look a little thirsty…”

Oh yes, he definitely wasn’t going to hold himself back…

“ Please…” he said through gritted teeth.

You made your way over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the random trays he had and placing a glass right in the middle. You fill it up with ice before pouring in the water, then lifting up the tray and making your way over to him.

“ Here you go…” you offered, but instead of picking up the glass with your fingers, you deliberately knocked it over, allowing the cool liquid to pour all over Gojo’s lap.

The man hissed, surprised that you caught him off guard yet again with your tactic. The water pooled between his thighs, making his muscles tense up even more.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, the goosebumps running up and down your arms when you noticed the outline of his dick against his sweatpants.

Staring at him with your knowing, apologetic eyes, you proceeded to say, “I’m so sorry, let me get something to help you dry up…”

When you returned, you found your place down on your knees in front of him. You pressed the dry towel against his inner thigh, earning a grunt in response because your touch was close to his growing erection.

Your other hand glided up his calf, sending your message across as Gojo’s eyes widened when that same hand replaced the towel.

Fucking finally, he thought, no longer frustrated by his own desire or the fact that he was now soaking wet.

“I can dry these with the rest of the clothes…” you explained, lifting yourself upright on your knees. “I’m going to have to take these off..”

You hooked your hands around the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his lean legs and removing them.

“What about these?” Gojo asked, tilting his head towards his tented boxers. “I’m soaked all the way through…”

“ Uhm… of course!” you chirped, as you removed the second article of clothing. “I’ll get these dry for you right away…”

As you tried to stand up, Gojo reached for your forearms and dragged you back down on the rug.

“What about this?” he asked, directing your attention towards the length of his swollen cock.

“I-I don’t know if I can help you with that,” you teased, averting your gaze as you feigned shyness.

“I pay you to use your hands, don’t I?” Gojo questioned.

“ Yes, Gojo-san …”

“Then you should do whatever it takes.”

Gojo could have sworn he saw you smirk but you were swift to hide your reaction. You brought your hand to his length as you began to stroke upward, circling your thumb around his swollen tip. Your other hand teasingly traced a vein up and down his shaft, and Gojo exhaled as his body relaxed against his plush sofa.

You squeezed his cock, feeling the width of his hard member as you continued teasing his head. You spread the pre-cum all over the tip, before bringing your lips down and replacing your thumb with your tongue as you swirled around the head before finally sealing your mouth over him.

You gently suck, your cheeks hollowing but you remain focused on just his head. The hand that isn’t holding his shaft moved to his thigh, where you gave him an eager squeeze as you tasted him in your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gojo leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he hummed with relief. The low rumble of his voice spread down his abdomen, and your ears perked upon hearing his satisfied reaction.

You released him with a pop, before adjusting your position so your forearms were now resting over his thighs.

Gojo was average in thickness but his length definitely made up for it and you wanted to get comfortable before taking him all the way in.

You guided him into your mouth, easing him down inch by inch as you bobbed over his impressive length. Your hands pressed into his thighs, a small whimper escaping you as your teeth grazed lightly over his cock while you expertly worked him.

“You keep doing this and I might consider increasing your pay…” Gojo murmured, half-drunk with arousal as he began losing himself to you.

You quickened your pace, ignoring the discomfort in your jaw as you let him fuck your mouth. Gojo reached his hand to the back of your neck, gently stroking you with his slender fingers as encouragement. His chest began to rise and fall as his breathing grew heavier.

“ Keep going …” he coaxed, his voice shaking and growing tender. He rolled his hips in rhythm to your movement while your hands began massaging his legs and working their way high up to his pelvis.

His fingers curled around your hair, your throat burning but you kept going not wanting to disappoint your esteemed employer.

“ Mmm , F-fuck… ” he whined, his words sweet in your ears as he reached his peak.

Gojo’s hips bucked into you and he held you in place, releasing thick ropes of cum in the back of your throat as he moaned.

His grip was tight around your head and you tried not to gag as you swallowed everything he gave you. You slowly retracted him out of your mouth, desperately catching your breath in between small coughs as you settled yourself.

“Such a beautiful mess…” Gojo complimented as he looked down at you from where he was sitting.

Your chin was covered with  your saliva, your perfectly styled hair unraveling from his grip and your smokey eye makeup smudged. Gojo flicked his fingers in his direction, ordering you to get on his lap.

Your knees hurt when you stand up, the cheap fabric of your stockings already wearing from the friction against the rug. You spread your legs as you straddled him, lifting the hem of your dress up as you adjusted your position.

“ Well, well…what have we here… ” he cooed when you flashed him. “Hold your dress up for me…”

Your face grew hot but you obediently obliged as you bunched up the dress to your waist, giving Gojo a full view of your stockings that covered your bare pussy.

Gojo dragged his index finger along your slit, your arousal stringing on the tip of his finger as he pulled away from you.

You were completely soaked through.

“ Do you always show up to work without any underwear on?” he teased, bringing his finger back between your legs  and pushing the material of your stockings between your lips.

“Only when I know I am seeing you…” you replied seductively.

“Is that so?” Gojo mused, biting his bottom lip as he focused on his finger circling your folds. “How professional…”

“Actually I'm very unprofessional. I have something to confess, Gojo-san …” you whispered, dropping your dress as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear before stating, “…I touch myself whenever you’re not home .”

Gojo froze his movements. You were doing everything he described when talking about this particular fantasy: the hot maid that he comes home to who teases him into fucking her.

Oh, and you were playing the role beautifully.  

“Did you do that today?” The man questioned, directing it towards you and not the character you were pretending to be.

You giggled in his ear, “ twice .”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, his free hand that wasn’t between your legs reached for his blindfold. He lifted the fabric, where a pretty blue iris was staring at you with sheer adoration.

“ Oh, angel, you continue to surprise me…”

“None of that, yet…” you announced, covering his eye as you pulled his wrist away. “ We’re still playing, Gojo-san.”

On that reply, Gojo reached for the band of your stockings. He ripped the flimsy fabric with his strong hands, tearing it straight down the middle before picking you up and laying your back against the arm rest.

“I’m going to have to start putting security cameras around the place,” he added, getting back into the role as he slipped off his hoodie. “But I think I would prefer seeing you with my own eyes…”

He instantly noticed the way you checked him out, your gaze hungry for his body. He lifted up your dress, bunching it up at the waist to reveal your torn undergarment. Your sweet pussy was glistening with your arousal and Gojo licked his lips with anticipation. He raised one of your legs over the sofa, leaving the other  to dangle off the side and exposing you completely to him.

“ Touch yourself.”

You brought your fingers to your fold, working your throbbing clit as you closed your eyes. Your body was electric, riled up to the point where you were already so sensitive as you rubbed yourself. Soft whimpers left your lips and Gojo held your knees apart as he watched you masturbate.

“Are you always this quiet?” He teased, “A dirty slut like you begging to be fucked…I’m sure you get louder than that…”

If you weren’t so heated by everything that was going on, you would have been caught off guard by what he was saying but instead you moaned at his derogatory words.

The character you were playing began blending in his mind with your own person, his dear friend, and the thought of you eagerly pleasing him made the blood rush between his legs, his arousal making him harden again.

“You hear that?” Gojo continued, knowing full well how much you enjoy his dirty talk and pointing out the way your pussy squelched as your fingers drove themselves inside you. “You’re so fucking wet and I hardly even touched you. Are you that needy already? Are you that desperate for someone to fuck this pussy of yours?”

“Y-yes…”

“Do you call out my name when you make yourself come? Do you beg for it?”

“ Mmmm, yes, Gojo-san…want you so bad …”

“If you want me to fuck you, you little slut , you’re going to have to tell me how much you want it…”

You gasped, your free hand reaching to massage your breast over your uniform as you finally opened your hazy eyes to meet Gojo’s. Your heart was racing, your body gyrating against his sofa as you slipped your fingers between your folds.

“ Mmahh, Gojo-san, I want you to fuck me on this couch. I want to feel you inside me. P-please, I need you inside me…so fucking bad…I can’t…I ca-” you voice pitched as you increased the speed of your movements, rolling your hips in circles and your dropped your head back against the arm rest.

You came all over your fingers, your orgasm hitting you hard, as you sang your noises of pleasure. You were trembling against the chair, panting heavily as you pulled your fingers from between your legs.

Gojo flipped you on your stomach, unable to hold himself back any longer. Your hands were on the arm rest, your knees pressed into the plush cushion as you spread yourself as wide as you could for him. Usually, Gojo would enjoy taking this time to lick your sweet cunt clean but he was barely holding on himself after what he witnessed.

The tip of his cock teased your lips, before he slipped himself inside you with ease, coating his entire length with your arousal. Your eyes widened as you looked at him over your shoulder with slight panic.

“Satoru, you’re not wearing a…”

“I’ll pull out…” he replied, holding your hips up before snapping roughly into you.

You were dizzy, completely functioning on your urges without giving logic any thought. If it was anyone else, you would have stopped but Gojo wasn’t just anybody and the man had quite the control over his own body.

You cried out feeling your walls clench around him. He was moving hard and fast, fucking you roughly on his sofa, with every push harder than the last and leaving your legs trembling as you tried your best to hold yourself in place for him.

He drags his length out of you, ensuring that you felt every inch before wildly plunging back inside. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs against your stockings, your nails digging into the sofa as you whimpered.

Your drenched cunt made it so much easier for Gojo to fuck you but his slightly sadistic mind was forcing you to feel it more.

Your toes curled inside your pointed heels, your back arching as speckles of black clouded your vision. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips jerked when your orgasm compounded into you, making you drop down to your forearms as you were unable to counter your explosive release.

Gojo was covered in your juices and with a few sloppy thrusts he finally pulled himself out before finishing himself off by pumping spurts of cum all over your back, decorating your outfit with his release.

The man didn’t stop there. Instead, he flipped you onto your back bringing his hands to the buttons of the top half of your dress and ripping it apart.

Your chest was bare, covered in a bra that he tugged down until it was resting underneath your breasts. He brought his insatiable lips to your mound, rolling your pointed nipple between his thumb and index finger before closing his mouth over the other nub.

You were shaking underneath him, unable to handle any more stimulation as he pinched one nipple and peppered the other with kitten licks.

Gojo did it until he was hard again, leaving marks all over your breasts as he pushed himself inside you. He held your legs apart but you barely had anymore energy to keep up with him. Instead you kept him motivated with your pleasured mewls, praising him for all his glory.

“ Harder, please…harder….”

Gojo stopped, holding himself inside you and feeling you pulsate against him. He ensured to drag the seconds out making you whimper with impatience as you were desperate to have him continue.

“ Gojo-saaan…” you pleaded, tears pricking  your eyes as you wailed for mercy. “Don’t stop fucking-ahhhhhhh …”

You couldn’t even finish until he was thrusting inside you again. Fucking you to the heavens and back with the same intensity he did earlier. When he pulled out of you as he climaxed, he finished himself off all over your cunt, marking you with his essence.

***

Steam covered the glass door surrounding you, the warmth engulfing your body as you and Gojo stood in the hot shower together. Your body was sore but in the most pleasant way possible and you allowed the water droplets to massage your skin, closing your eyes as you exhaled and enjoying the amazing pressure from Gojo’s  shower.

You only opened your eyes when you felt Gojo’s large palm on your stomach, bringing you into his torso as he leaned down and kissed your ear.

“Did you have fun?”

The knot in the pit of your stomach twisted, sending shivers down your back from his question. He treated you with so much kindness after you both slept together. He sang you praises, telling you over and over how good you were to him as he took his time to clean you up, not allowing you to even lift a single finger while he used the time to focus on taking care of you instead.

You turned around to face him, your eyes gazing up at that unjustifiably handsome face that was uncovered because he had his hair slicked back.

“Surprisingly, I did…” you teased with a smile, placing your hands on him, as you delicately traced your fingers up and down his forearms.

His height was overbearing now that you didn’t have your heels on, and the sorcerer found himself tilting down just to look at you. His fingers pressed into your lower back as the silence filled the space between you both. Gojo used it as an opportunity to bring his lips down to meet yours, indulging himself with a kiss. He picked you up in his strong arms, before holding you against the grey tile of his bathroom wall. You moaned into his mouth, playing with his tongue as your hands reached for his neck.

“So, tell me, angel… ” he whispered into your mouth in between a kiss. “What kind of fantasies do you have?”

“Uhm, I don’t really have any fantasies…”

You felt his fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking him in the eye.

“You know, if you tell me , I can return the favor…” he stated, flashing his pearly whites as he gave you an easy grin.

“You’ll think it’s stupid…”

“Try me.”

You rested your head against the tile, playing with the back of Gojo’s hair as you cleared your throat.

“Uhm, so , back in college there was this professor that I had. He was extremely good looking, I think everybody in our class had a crush on him. I realised I did too because everytime I would try speaking with him, I always jumbled up my words or said the wrong thing. It was super awkward…I mean, he wasn’t awkward but I definitely was…”  

A small laugh escaped you but Gojo was still listening attentively.

“Anyway, I never told anyone. I was with Haru and always felt like I was being a terrible girlfriend because I was just so attracted to my professor. He was also the sweetest guy, was married and had three kids…” you sighed as Gojo grazed his hand across your thigh, blushing before admitting, “…but I used to think about him taking me on his desk all the time. Like, it got to the point where I had to drop his class because he was too much of a distraction…”

Gojo chuckled, “oh, you dirty slu-OW!”

You tugged at his earlobe, pouting to stop yourself from laughing at his snide comment.

“That’s what you get,” you replied, before loosening your grip and dropping your hand to his pecs.

“Relax, it takes a slut to know one. There is no need to get offended!” he teased, shifting the joke onto himself and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, so you’ve got a little thing for a teacher/student scenario?”

“Just a little…”

Gojo brought his lips to your neck, planting small kisses upwards until he murmured against your ear.

“As a teacher myself, it will be my utmost pleasure to be your sensei for an evening,”

“You don’t have to…”

“You're not forcing me, angel. I want to,” Gojo insisted, his lips now hovering above yours. “Besides, I’m your friend, right ? We take care of each other, that’s what friends do.”

You nodded in agreement, your eyes dropping down to his lips as you patiently waited to taste him on your tongue.

“Since you did a stellar job with me tonight, let me do the same for you… ” he whispered, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and nipping at it gently.

You squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as you held him close, feeling faint when Gojo kissed you again like he was pulling the oxygen straight out of your lungs.

And yet, you had no desire to let him go.

***

CHAPTER 13: SPINNING

[folkloreguk]

French Class [7]

A/N: AAAH I apologize in advance for this part bc I feel like it's kinda messy :/ I hope you still like it though?? Lmk what you think! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, angst, H/N is a jealous and drunk fool :/

words: ~ 3.7 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @yeostars, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon, @tr-wemoon, @prismwon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek, @r-eadings

H/N’s POV:

Maybe I’ll come ‘round, your text had said. How did you expect him to enjoy the party if you wouldn’t be there? H/N used to make fun of guys who ran after girls like lap dogs. And yet, over time he had become one of them, if not worse. Every text, every possibility of seeing you had him on the edge of his seat in excitement. There was nothing he cared about more than spending time with you. When at first it had been sexual attraction – an obsession with your body and the way you turned him on with the most subtle words and touches – it had changed into something entirely different. The relentless hunger was now occasional, ever so often interrupted by a dire wish to see you smile. A wish to hold you, and to kiss you out of the blue – something he wasn’t allowed to do if it wasn’t for the two of you hooking up. The stupid agreement you had made was starting to feel like torture instead of heaven. He was lucky his poker face was professional, and he had years of practice in flirting and sounding casual even if his heart was beating up to his neck. There was no other way he could have concealed how infatuated he was with you, otherwise.

“H/N, come help me set up the snacks!” Korain shouted from the kitchen. H/N’s friends were throwing a party at their place, and he had shown up early to assist them in preparing everything. With you on his mind – as always – he trotted into the kitchen where a row of bowls was standing out on the counter.

“Just open and pour the bags into the bowls, will you? I still need to get ready,” Korain said. “Chohee said she might be here a bit earlier, and I don’t want to look like this when she’s going to look amazing.”

Korain gestured to his bed hair he probably hadn’t brushed once since getting up and then tweaked the fabric of his sweatpants and his old, baggy tee. H/N wanted to argue that if Chohee really liked Korain, she wouldn’t mind seeing him this way. H/N, for one, couldn’t care less what you wore tonight. As long as you showed up at all, he would be beaming. Strictly speaking, at times when he got to see you wake up, sleep in your eyes and your clothes in a disarray, it spun his head in ways no little black dress could ever do. When he saw you make breakfast in his kitchen, in his shirt, he could barely contain himself.

His daydreams of you were once naughty and gave him boners at random times of the day – and don’t get me wrong, they still were, sometimes – but it was when the domestic dreams had begun, that he realized he was screwed. He didn’t need anybody to tell him how he felt, nor did he have some crazy moment of clarity. There came a point in his days where he didn’t just notice his non-sexual daydreams of you, he invited them. His brain was imagining things like setting up a shared table for dinner or kissing the back of your hand in the dark of a movie theater or playing you a cheesy song that reminded him of you. He wanted to hold your hands from across the library table and have his arm around your shoulders to show you off to the entire campus. But none of it could be real. It all went against the rules.

“Will Y/N be here too?” Korain asked and pulled H/N out of his daydreams. God, I hope so, he thought.

“She said she might be here,” H/N answered.

“Chohee’s always talking about her. And you. About how she thinks Y/N has a crush on you, but she always denies it, saying you’re just friends. Maybe you could try and bring that up tonight?” Korain said, as if discussing your feelings for someone was as easy at conversing about the weather. “Alright, I really have to go get ready now.”

“I’ve been thinking, I might- “ said H/N, but Korain only pat his shoulder.

“Let’s talk later, at the party, okay?” he said, and walked out the kitchen. I might like her, H/N had been meaning to say. I might like Y/N. No. I’m in love with her. No maybes. He could bet all his money on it, that’s how sure he was. But his friend had disappeared and now it was on him to wait until the party began. Left alone with his thoughts.

Of course, you would deny having a crush on him. Because you probably didn’t, he thought. Wouldn’t you search for a smart guy, someone your mother would approve of, and someone who understood your endless talks of nerdy topics? Although sometimes he had no idea what you were on about, H/N was captivated whenever you gave him a lecture about something you had learned. And when he asked you to explain something one more time, you never hesitated, or judged him for it. Your kindness made his heart swell, and only when the first crowd of party guests arrived did he realize he had spent half an hour daydreaming about you. Again.

With the way he kept the front door in his sight at all times, one could have wondered if he was a highly wanted criminal on the run, afraid the cops could barge in at any moment. Some of the girls who tried to flirt with him even asked him about it, but he wasn’t going to confess he was waiting for the love of his life to walk through that very door. With little conviction he returned their flirting. He hated himself for the thoughts he had. Thinking that should you not arrive, he could console himself by taking one of the other girls home instead. They didn’t deserve to be used like that, but he was bitter and so, so in love with you. It was hard to pay any attention to the other girls at all, no matter how sweet they were being.

Flirting back at them, however, came to him as easily as the words to his favorite songs. It posed no challenge, like it did with you. When he had to try hard to make your cheeks heat up, or to lure out a shy smile instead of your genius, quick-witted remarks. There was nothing more exciting to him than to invent new ways in which he could make you flustered.

Right now, it was his turn to be flustered. Because his ex had approached him and was reciting some of her favorite memories she had of their relationship. “Remember our third date…the one that ended with us squished in that tiny dressing room at Victoria’s Secret?” she asked and blinked at him expectantly. He went along with her words and replied something not too direct, but still enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

It was his own fault she was so intent on talking to him. While you had been on your date with the economy-major-guy, H/N had tried to contact his ex again. In hindsight, he thought it pathetic and extremely stupid at that. Nothing would have come of it, anyway. Not while he felt the way he did about you. So it was only lucky his ex hadn’t been free that night. Then he had gotten dangerously close to drowning his feelings in the vodka in his kitchen. Thankfully he had refrained from this, too, because you had shown up afterwards and you had ended up having mind-blowing sex, and he knew for a fact that had he been drunk, he would have blurted out some crazy sentiments he would have regretted saying in the morning.

Sometimes he tried to signal you his emotions, ever so subtly. Waving off your claims when you called him the campus fuckboy or telling you he wasn’t really hooking up with anyone else besides you, it all was an attempt at making you see what he felt for you. He would tell you that you looked pretty, not just so you would understand he liked you, but simply because it had to be said. When he regarded you fixing your hair in the mirror with a frown, he could barely believe you didn’t know how beautiful you were. And he had gotten closer to you during sex. Whether it was voluntary or an instinct that came with being in love, he wasn’t certain. There was nothing like kissing away your moans while he fucked you into a mattress.

He was about to text you – the urge to see you getting unbearable – but didn’t want to sound clingy when you strut through the door. No slow motion or fan blowing your hair around dramatically would have made you look more perfect. The ridiculous pang he felt in his heart when he saw you hug another guy only reminded him of how whipped he was. He reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend, after all. When you then made eye contact with him and made a beeline for him, he was worried he’d be short of words. He needed to pull himself together.

“Hi,” you said, and your smile was magical enough to stir up the butterflies in H/N’s stomach. You pointed at the empty spot on the sofa between H/N and another guy you didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” the guy said, before H/N had time to speak, and the stranger smiled at you in a way that could only mean he wanted to get to know you. But H/N caught your attention by swiftly putting his arm around your shoulder, making the stranger back up and divert his eyes the other way. He had never meant to be the jealous type. It was just that you were finally here, and he was so happy to see you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you running off again. Only when you gave him a funny look H/N realized he needed to calm down if he didn’t want you to get annoyed.

“So, what did I miss?” you asked.

His ex was approaching from across the room again, and before he could have stopped his mouth, he said the stupidest thing. “Kiss me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but he was intent on it. “Please. Kiss me. Quick.”

There was a strange emotion that crept over your face, and you seemed to have no clue why he was so set on it. Nevertheless, you did as he asked. Your mouth tasted of watermelon bubblegum, so sweet, so perfect, and he was flying on cloud nine for the short while it lasted. It wasn’t real, though. The thought stabbed his brain like a dagger. When you pulled apart you were grinning, and his ex wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Care to explain why we just did that?” you asked. “You’re diminishing your chances with the ladies in the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “My ex has been trying to get with me again, and I hoped she’d let off if she saw us kiss. And she did.” Then his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by my chances with the ladies? I was hoping we could go home together.”

“I can’t tonight,” you said, and he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’ve got to get back to studying first thing tomorrow morning. I just came here to hang out, for a while.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster without sounding like you were ripping out his heart. It wasn’t even your fault. He would never try and get between you and your studies. But what if he could be there? What if he could be the one staying in bed, watching as you climbed up early to bury your head in books? He’d watch you through tired eyelashes, and you’d ridicule him for being so starry-eyed when looking at you. Later he’d bring you tea or coffee and remind you to take a break to eat. Was it ludicrous to obsess over something so domestic? He didn’t feel guilty for it.

All at once, your laugh pulled him out of his daydream, and into a funny story you told him. Over-consciously, he noted how your arm went around his shoulder lazily. And for a while you sat and talked. Occasionally a flirty remark slipped over your lips, and he would always return it. It was idiotic, but he was already worrying about how much he would miss you once you went home. Perhaps his plan of consoling himself with another girl hadn’t been so bad, after all. Just as he had finished the thought, a familiar face walked by and noticed him. The alcohol in his veins made her seem perfectly inviting as a distraction, for later.

“Oh, hey. Y/N, this is Minji,” he said, pointing at the girl. “Minji, this is Y/N. She’s…just a friend.”

Instantly, you removed your arm from his shoulder. There was hidden pain in your gesture, or was it merely wishful thinking on his side? Minji nodded and greeted you, but you only waved her off with a polite smile.

“I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen,” you announced, and before he could have stopped you, you had walked off. For a while he chatted with Minji, because he had no good reason to run after you that wouldn’t create awkwardness. His patience lasted approximately ten minutes. Luckily, a friend waved at Minji from across the room and she excused herself. Although he would never wish her ill, he was glad she was leaving.

Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you talking to a guy. Without thinking, H/N smiled at you as he came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. He hadn’t meant to look so intimidating, and he hadn’t meant to be an asshole either. Yet, the guy across from you appeared scared and when you turned your attention to H/N, the guy slowly retracted into another circle of chatting people. Guilt crept in on H/N. He was tipsy, and although he knew his drunkenness wasn’t an excuse, it made him want you so much more. Perhaps it was also insecurity making him act crazy. There was always a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind, that you might just like him back. So long as you hadn’t confirmed the opposite, he would live in constant terror that someone else could steal your attention and make you theirs before he could.

“Come with me,” you muttered in his ear. Your hand was around his wrist, and he had no choice but to trot after you like a child. At first, he thought you were going to take him out the front door, but then you made a turn for the stairs. He didn’t need to be a fuckboy to know what it meant when a girl walked him up the stairs. From one second to the other, his mood changed into gleefulness. Had you changed your mind? The mere thoughts of what could happen upstairs could have given him a boner, had he pondered on them for longer. You said nothing, only driving him more insane by the second. The first open door was good enough for you, so you pulled him inside and closed it behind you. Smirking, he reached for your waist, ready to pull you into a kiss.

“Don’t,” you hissed, and he flinched at your angry tone. He kept his hands to himself, kneading them nervously. Shit. This was the clear opposite of what he had anticipated. The two of you had never fought, and hearing your voice, sounding so deeply upset, scared him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to make out- “ he said.

“I don’t mean just now. I mean…what is it you’re trying to achieve by acting all possessive over me in front of random guys? Pretending I belong to you? But the second a pretty girl is in front of you I’m just a friend, aren’t I? What’s that about?”

There was no explaining this, and he knew it. Yet, he would try, pathetically. “I just thought you didn’t want those guys bothering you.”

“I can handle a guy by myself, thank you,” you snapped. “If I needed help, I’d ask. Like you did. Apparently, I’m good enough to be used as an escape from your ex, but when hot Minji came around you wouldn’t even blink when I got up and left.”

“Usedas an escape?” he asked in disbelief. “You didn’t have to kiss me, but you did anyway.”

“That’s because I was trying to be a good fucking friend!” you yelled now, sounding over the music from the party.

“You used me too, don’t you remember?” he countered. “Or did you not show up on my doorstep after your terrible date so I would fuck you and make you feel better?”

You looked taken aback for a moment, knowing he was right, in a way.

“It’s like you’re always trying to get away from me, but you can’t,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, every trace of guilt washed away. “Get off your high horse! Isn’t that the whole point of us? That we’re using each other for sex? Nothing more than that, right? If I walked out now, you could go and find the next girl in line to take over instead of me. Didn’t you try to see someone while I was chatting to the guy I went on a date with? It’s all about using people, isn’t it? If things with the guy had gotten more serious for me, you’d have her, ready for you. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up? Leading someone on like that?”

There was truth to your words. He had tried to find someone to date, should you have found someone too and your friends-with-benefits relationship had been over. But he hadn’t led her on. He had been honest in letting the girl know he wasn’t sure if he wanted anything serious. His chest was hurting, and the pain was only making him more furious.

“Yeah, I could have switched you for her,” he said coldly. Was he only trying to hurt you now? Perhaps, but you had hurt him first.

“Right, because that’s all I am to you,” you said, quieter than before.

“That was our plan! You’re my fuck buddy, nothing more!” he raised his voice now, tired of your empty words and signs. “You have no right to accuse me of anything when I’m playing by the rules. The rules you made. Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Start the game over. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Start over?”

“Go back to when we were just horny for each other and nothing else,” he said, as if that would be possible. As if he could ignore the way your eyes shined, even in the dim light coming from the streetlamps outside. Like he could pretend he didn’t want to hold you and make you forget all about this terrible fight.

“Fine, let’s try,” you said, and he watched in astonishment, as you closed the gap between the two of you. When you tilted your head, he gave you permission by doing the same. When you kissed, with teeth clashing and exhausted sighs mixing up, he swore there were bombs going off somewhere in his head. Alarm bells, too. This was by no means a great idea. But what could have stopped him and his hungry mouth? He backed you against the wall and pressed you into it, hard. Before he had registered it, his hands were pushing up the fabric of your dress and you moaned, sounding so beautiful he could barely believe it. One of his thighs forced its way between your legs while he gripped your waist like his life depended on it.

But then, just as rapidly you had begun to kiss him, you pushed him away. His lungs felt tight when he noticed the affliction and confusion on your face. He wished he could make it go away. But he had caused it, so now his presence only made things worse.

“No- no, I change my mind. This is fucking stupid,” you said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N,” he said in a gentle tone. Somehow, it seemed that his careful voice hurt you most of all.

“I think we should stop. All of this,” you said. He was beginning to shake his head in disbelief, but you cut him off. “We said there wouldn’t be jealousy, but there obviously is. We should have stopped long ago.”

“But what about starting the game again, from the beginning?” he asked, too afraid of what you would say to even look at you. If you were going to rip out his heart you should have done so quickly, when he wasn’t paying too close attention.

“The game’s over. This is going over both of our heads,” you said. “I- I’m going to go home now.”

So this was heartbreak. H/N had never considered that it could be meant so literally. But he could swear that the muscle inside his chest was convulsing and shriveling as if you had stolen the blood that kept him alive right from his arteries. The pain was sharp like a thousand cuts had been inflicted on his skin, and he struggled for words like your words had taken every of his most elemental abilities.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No,” you said. “You’re drunk. You’re the one who could need someone to walk you home. And I don’t want you around me right now. Get home safely.”

That was it. No hug. No last, longing look. Just your words stabbing like knives and your ethereal beauty as you turned on your heel and walked from the room, leaving him behind, bleeding out by himself. What had he done?