#LIKE NOTHING ELSE GOES THE SAME ITS JUST AN EXCUSE FOR ME TO DICK AROUND

[maskyartist]

inspired by good ol deaged oz au where the scenarios the same (oz gets violently turned into a lil guy from long memory's failsafe magic making sure this body doesnt die) BUT Ozpin doesnt remember jack SHIT he is JUST a lil guy :) just a lil dude :D

and now the crew just have a baby with magic ridin with em for awhile

(btw deaged oz is owned by @bafflement go check out the tag its quality stuff i just got inspired by their concept :D)

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Jefe - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

you walk into el michoacáno looking for a job, where you meet the handsome and devilishly charming lalo salamanca. he welcomes you aboard with open arms, and he's eager to show you the ropes.

tags/warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, semi-public sex, possessiveness, light dom/sub

anatomical terms: dick/cock, cunt/hole

words: 6,680 (because i smoke crack apparently)

ao3 link

author's notes: im learning spanish so please correct me if you notice any mistakes!! i'd really appreciate it ♥

El Michoacáno

You think you had lunch there once or twice. Decent, but nothing too remarkable. You weren’t there to eat, anyway. You were looking for a job and just happened to be passing by when you spotted the help wanted sign out front. Figuring you’d have as good a shot there as anywhere else, you walked inside. 

The air was abuzz, at least more so than you’d expect on a Monday afternoon. Lively music and delicious smells emanated from the kitchen. There weren’t many people in the restaurant. Two young men were talking at a table, though you couldn’t make out their conversation. You spotted another young man with a shaved head standing in the back, seemingly watching the other two. You figured he was the guy to talk to.

“Excuse me?” You asked as you approached him, and he looked up from the conversation to acknowledge you, “Do you work here?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. What’s up?” He asked. He didn’t seem like much of a talker, but you got a nice vibe from him.

“The sign out front said y’all were hiring?”

Before he could answer, a loud voice butted in from the kitchen, shouting over the music.

“¡Nachito! ¿Quién es ese? (Who is that?)”

The man in front of you groaned. That wasn’t a good sign, you thought. He turned his head and replied to the mysterious voice, “No sé. Me preguntó sobre un empleo. (I don’t know. He asked me about a job.”

“Entonces, le debes preguntar como se llama, ¿no? (Well, you should ask him what his name is, no?”

He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to you. “What’s your name?”

You answered, and he repeated it to the stranger, who seemed intrigued. “¡Bien! Le dices a espere ahí. Voy a salir justo en un segundo, déjame terminar esto primero. ¿Es lindo? (Good! Tell him to wait right there. I’m gonna come out in just a second, let me finish this first. Is he cute?)”

“¿Por qué no le ves por ti mismo? (Why don’t you see for yourself?)” He asked, and then shifted his attention back to you. “That’s my boss. He’ll be out in a second. I’m Nacho, by the way. Short for Ignacio.”

You nodded, thanking him for translating. You could only pick up a couple words in Spanish, so you were curious about what kind of person his boss was. You wondered if he was gonna be your boss then, too. If that was the case, you wanted to make a good impression. You started to fix your hair and adjust your clothes before the man you were talking to spoke. 

“Don’t worry, you look fine. He can be kinda… ‘intense’, but you just gotta get to know him fi-”

“Ah, there we are!” The voice from the kitchen announced as its owner walked into the front of house. You turned to find an older man who could very easily be described as tall, dark and handsome. He had silky salt and pepper hair, a mustache, a floral patterned shirt tucked into tight dress pants, and an apron taut around his waist. He was slightly sweaty from working in the kitchen, but that just made it seem like he was glistening. When he saw you, he playfully bumped Nacho with his elbow, “Wow… es verdad. Se ve muy lindo, ¿cierto? (Wow… it’s true. He looks very cute, yeah?)” he laughed to himself, wiping his hands on his apron. Nacho kept the same stoic expression, unphased by his boss’s joke. “You must be ___. You’re looking for work, yeah?”

And there goes all the interview prep you did. You weren’t expecting to be caught off guard by your potential new employer being a smokeshow. Your brain scrambled trying to answer him. “Yeah, I, uh… I was just passing by and saw the sign out front. I’ve worked in restaurants before, and I have my resume if you need to see that.” You started to dig through your bag when he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about that, chico. Relax. Let me get to know you first, and we’ll see if you’re a good fit here, okay? Come, sit down.” He walked over to a nearby table and grabbed a seat, gesturing you to sit down across from him. “My name’s Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo. My family’s owned this place for decades now.” 

You repeated his name in order to drill it into your mind. “Lalo, okay. Nice to meet you! Makes sense why you’d be open for so long. Whatever you were making back there smells great.” You smiled, hoping you weren’t coming off too strong in your flattery.

Lalo giggled. “Thank you. You ever been here before? I think I’d recognize a face like yours.”

You blushed, but kept your composure. “Once or twice, yeah. Food was good, though I don’t remember seeing you here before either.” 

“Oh, I’m just here temporarily. We had a family emergency and needed someone to take over for a little while. I’m usually handling our affairs down in México,” Lalo crossed his legs and folded his hands, resting them in his lap, “Actually, that reminds me. Do you speak Spanish?”

“Uh… un poquito? (A little?)” You made a pinching gesture with your fingers when you said that. Lalo couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry. Is that gonna be a problem?”

He waved off your concerns. “No problem at all. I’ll just have to teach you then. You’ll pick it up quick, don’t worry. Where did you work before?”

You breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed your posture. This felt more like a blind date than talking to a potential boss. “Well, I was actually a manager over at Los Pollos Hermanos for a while. It was fine, but the customers were-”

“The chicken place?” Lalo asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know the owner!” He laughed. “He’s an… associate of mine, I guess you could say. You know him?”

You perked up, “Mr. Fring? Yeah! He’s the one who did my interview, actually. I only met him a couple times, but he was always nice to us whenever he came in.”

“I bet,” Lalo replied, eyeing you more carefully after you name dropped his “associate”, though he made no indication, a charming smile still plastered on his face. “Let’s see… what else do I need to ask?” He pondered for a few seconds before it clicked. “Ah, ya me acuerdo (I remember). Have you ever been arrested, charged, any kind of criminal record or things like that?”

Your face dropped. You hated answering this question. It always made you ashamed when you brought it up. “Once, actually. I got arrested for drug possession a couple years ago.”

Lalo’s smile retreated, and he looked at you somberly. “What happened?”

“I was in a bad place mentally back then, and I… I got caught with stuff in my car. My lawyer got me a good deal though, but it just sucks having to talk about it. Makes me feel dirty.”

“No, I mean, what happened when you got arrested?” Lalo asked. “Sorry if that’s too personal. If you don’t mind talking about it, I’d like to know how you handled it. It’s a tough situation, you know?”

Your eyes widened. That was a weird interview question. Was this even technically an interview? “Well, I… I was handcuffed and read my rights. Then they brought me back to the station and booked me. After that I got sat down at a table in an empty room, and two cops tried to get me to talk. I told them I wasn’t speaking with them and I wanted my lawyer.”

Lalo nodded, his smile slowly creeping back in. “Smart boy. Resourceful, I like it. Tell you what, if Fring trusts you, I trust you. You wanna start tomorrow?”

You perked up at the offer. “Really? You mean it?” You tried to hide your excitement, but you felt it seeping through your pores.

“Yeah, why not?” Lalo said enthusiastically, matching your energy. “I got a good feeling about you. You don’t mind starting early, right?”

“No, not at all,” You replied, “I had to work opening shifts at Los Pollos sometimes. I’d have to  get there around 5.”

“Muy bien (Very good). Get here at 5 tomorrow, okay?” Lalo asks, holding his hand out for you to shake it.

You nod, taking him up on that handshake. You try not to think about how strong his hand feels. “Got it. Thank you, Lalo!” You gather your stuff and head for the door. “I’ll see you then!” 

Lalo waves you off. “See you then.”

—

It was still dark out when you arrived at El Michoacáno. Lalo had told you to come in the front entrance and he’d leave the door unlocked for you. You did as instructed, a delicious smell and various noises wafting through the air. You figured he must be in the kitchen. You followed your senses to the back, and sure enough, Lalo was focused on the stove, talking to someone on the phone. 

“¿Y tú confías en él? ¿Crees que él puede mantener su boca cerrada? (And you trust him? You think he can keep his mouth shut?)” Lalo spoke with a hushed voice. Even if your Spanish was perfect, you wouldn’t have been able to make out any of his words. He went to grab something from the counter when he saw you standing there, and his demeanor changed entirely. He was smiling, almost giddy to see you. “Oh! Hey! Sorry, I wasn’t looking at the clock. I didn’t even hear you come in. Go have a seat out front. I’m making something for you. It’s almost ready.” He turned back to his phone to finish his conversation with whoever. “Ya llegó. Te veré más tarde. (He just got here. I’ll see you later.)”

“Oh, thank you! What is it?” You asked as he hung up the phone, forgetting what a quick change in attitude you’d just seen from him.

“I promise you’ll love it. Now, go sit down, okay?” 

You nodded and went back to the front of house, pulling up a chair and sitting at a table with your back facing the kitchen. It wasn’t long before Lalo came up behind you, holding a plate and a cup of orange juice. 

“Here you go! I figured you’d need something to wake you up this early, yeah?” He set the dishes down in front of you before taking a seat at the other side of the table. The food looked and smelled great, but honestly he was the most delicious thing in your eyes. You shook that thought out of your head real quick, not wanting to fumble this new opportunity. 

“Thank you so much!” You took a bite, and groaned at how good it was. He smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Oh my god, that’s good. What is it?”

“Chilaquiles rojos. It’s a family recipe. I’ll have to show you how to make it one day.” He relaxed in his chair, watching you intently as you ate. You gazed back at him, your mouth watering for a whole other reason. His shirt was unbuttoned just a little too much, and you fixated on his chest. God, he was hot. So confident, so suave, so generous, and he can cook? You found yourself getting lost in him, which is why you didn’t notice he’d asked you a question. “Well?”

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daydream, nearly choking on the mouthful of mood. Oh god, I blew it, you thought.

But you didn’t. Lalo chuckled, “It’s good right? Can’t think about anything else?” You nodded before reaching for the glass of juice. You suddenly felt really, really thirsty. “No worries, chico. I understand. I was just telling you the plan for today.”

You hummed in affirmation, shifting your brain back into business mode as you swallowed, “Yeah, what’s up? Where do you want me?” 

“First things first, me and you are gonna take a ride,” He replied, “We’re gonna meet up with someone to discuss business, and then I’ll take you back here and we can get the day started. Sound good?”

You finished up the rest of your meal. “Yeah, sounds good! I’m excited to get started.” You answered with a cheery smile.

Lalo laughed again as he stood up from the table. “¡Muy bien! Let me just get these for you.” He grabbed your dishes and made his way to the kitchen. “We’re gonna head out once I get these cleaned up.” 

“Okay!” You answered, hoping you seemed like a dependable employee. 

Lalo quickly washed the dishes and made his way out to you, making sure to take off his apron and leave it on the counter. “Alright! Let’s go.” He placed his hand on your shoulder as he walked you outside to his car. He opened the passenger door for you, and you thanked him before settling in. “It’s gonna be a long drive, so just get comfortable, chiquito.” 

You nodded and buckled yourself in, trying not to seem flustered at his chivalry and the pet name he called you. It was like he made you dizzy. Come to think of it, you did feel a bit light-headed, actually. He got into the driver’s side and turned on the ignition. As you made your way onto the highway, you suddenly felt sleepy, even though your day just started. Huh, that’s weird, you thought, but paid it no mind. You figured you could use the extra rest anyway. You rested your head against the window, the sun starting to rise over Albuquerque as you drifted into sleep.

–

“Rise and shine, amigo! We’re here!” Lalo patted your shoulder to wake you up.

You were startled, not realizing you’d knocked out, but you weren’t scared. After all, Lalo was there to comfort you as you rejoined the waking world. You looked out the window and saw nothing. Not nothing interesting, but literal nothing, and no one. Nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. Where were you? That’s when it started to dawn on you that you were in a stranger’s car and he took you out to the middle of nowhere. Did he drug you? Is that why you fell asleep? Your eyes glazed over and your breath started to speed up as visions of your impending doom clouded your senses.

Lalo must have seen the panic in your eyes, his arm trailing down your back. He spoke with a gentle voice. “Cálmate. Está bien. (Calm down. It’s okay.) You’re okay. We’re just out here because it’s private, you know? It’s a competitive industry. Don’t want anyone listening in.”

It worked. You felt reassured, taking a deep breath to settle your nerves. Another car was pulling up, and Lalo laughed as he spotted it.

“There he is!” He said, pointing it out to you, “We’re gonna get out and say hello, okay?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, opening his door and stepping out, “Vámonos! (Let’s go!)”

You got out of the car just as the other parked across from you. A familiar face stepped out to greet you, and you were confused.

“Mr. Fring? What… what’s going on?”

“Hello. It’s good to see you again.” Gus smiled, nodding to Lalo before turning back to you, “I’ve been told that you were considering working under Lalo here, is that correct?” 

You stuttered, your mind racing about what you had gotten yourself into. “Y-yes, that’s correct. I… I came in yesterday asking about a job, and he hired me. Today’s my first day.”

Gus nodded, as if he knew all of this already. “Right, right. Lalo asked about you. I told him you were reliable and that you performed your duties exceptionally.”

Lalo finished his thought for him, “That’s why I wanted to take you out here to meet him. I told you he’s an associate of mine. He and my family work together as distributors for a larger organization.”

“Distributors?” You asked, still not sure how you were supposed to be handling this, or what the hell they were even talking about. You weren’t panicking, but you certainly didn’t feel at ease. 

Gus raised an eyebrow, his tone suddenly darker as he spoke directly to Lalo. “¿No le dijiste? (You didn’t tell him?)”

Lalo sighed, and placed his hands on your shoulders, bracing you for what he was about to say. His eyes pierced down into yours. He spoke calmly, but firmly. “Listen, chico. The business Mr. Fring and I are in is… under the table, so to speak. We trade things that people want, that they pay a lot of money for, but it’s all very secretive. If you want to work for me, I need to know that I can trust you. Understand?” 

That’s when it clicked. You just took a job with a fucking drug cartel.

And backing out would probably mean a bullet in your brain and your body left here for the coyotes.

Fuck it.

“I… I understand. You can trust me.” And with those words, you sealed your fate.

Lalo laughed and pulled you in for a hug, slapping you on the back as praise. “¡Muy bien! Alright! I knew I had a good feeling about you. You won’t regret it. Me and you? We’re gonna make a lot of money together. I promise.” 

You were trying not to combust when he wrapped his arms around you. He smelled so nice. His chest was so warm, so strong. You felt like he could squeeze you until you popped, and you couldn’t say that you’d hate it if he did. You could feel your face getting hot against him, and he felt it too.

Gus chimed in to praise you too. “Very good. I never had a doubt that you would be a good asset. Now, are we through here, Lalo?”

“Sí, sí, ya puedes irte (Yeah, yeah, you can leave),” Lalo replied playfully, “Voy a estar ocupado con éste aquí (I’m gonna be busy with this one here), ” He patted your back for emphasis.

“Very well,” Gus said, turning his attention to you once more, “Good luck in your new position. I hope to see you soon.” He left you with that notion of good will before stepping in his car and driving off, leaving you alone with your new boss, who seemed full of glee.

“Okay! That went well. Now, come on,” He led you back to the car and opened your door for you, “We got a lot to discuss when we get back. Don’t fall asleep on me again, alright?”

You giggled, though you still had no idea if you actually dozed off naturally. Plus, given the fact that he’s apparently involved with a drug cartel, it wouldn’t be that much of a reach for him to have slipped you something. He doesn’t seem like the type to do that, but then again, you never figured the owner of Los Pollos Hermanos to be in on this kind of shit either. Whatever, worrying was gonna do you no good right now, so you stepped into the car and let him take you back to the restaurant.

–

“I actually closed down for today,” Lalo said as he put the car in park and turned it off, “I wanted to make sure you had my full attention.” He made sure to lean in close and draw out those last two words.

Well, he certainly had yours. You figured he could tell how flustered he made you. You weren’t even trying to hide it at this point. He chuckled when he saw your cheeks begin to flush.

He walked you into the back entrance of El Michoacáno, the whole place seeming more sinister now that you knew it was probably a money laundering front. He spoke as he led you into the kitchen.

“Entonces (So), something you need to learn in this business is how to take orders, got it?” He didn’t wait for you to answer. You stood still in the kitchen and watched him pace back and forth as he talked, “It’s easy. Do what you’re told and don’t talk back. Since this is all new to you, you can ask questions if you need clarification, but that’s it. You don’t need to know all the ins and outs behind everything, okay?”

You nodded. 

Lalo pouted. He slowly sauntered over to you and tilted your chin up to stare into your eyes. “And I expect a verbal answer unless I tell you otherwise.”

You felt your brain short-circuit. He was absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt, fucking with you. You followed his instructions. “Yes… sir…” You weren’t sure what to call him now. His name felt too casual for a setting like this.

He cackled, still holding on to your chin. “Sir? ¡Qué formal! (How formal!) I didn’t tell you to call me that!” He smiled, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “but I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your sensitive skin, gasping and clinging on to him by his shirt. You needed something to keep you grounded, and he was the best thing you could think of. He snickered, backing off and letting go of you before he continued.

“Now, we’re gonna play a game together, you and me. Just to test how well you can follow orders. Don’t worry. It’ll be fun, I promise.” He slid his hands down to grip your hips. “You ready, chiquito?”

You swallowed, figuring you could guess what kind of “game” he had in mind. You answered softly, “Yes, uh… should I still call you sir?”

Lalo smirked and moved in to close the distance between you two. “If you want,” was the last thing to leave his lips before they touched yours.

You whined into the kiss, yanking him even tighter against you. He tasted so sickly sweet. He felt so strong, so stable, so comfortable, so intoxicating, so dominating. His hands trailed from your hips to your ass. You squeaked when he grabbed you, and you felt his lips curl into a smile before he pulled away. 

“Okay. First things first, take off those pants and hop up on the counter.” He ordered, his attitude firm and demanding, giving you no leeway to argue. It was like a switch had flipped within him and he truly was just ordering around an employee. 

“Ah… yes, sir.” You sighed, and did as you were told. You shimmied to the edge of the counter, legs spread and dangling over the side.

Lalo filled the space in between them, his hands caressing both your thighs. His mouth latched onto your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. He snuck in a few sharp bites, giggling when you yelped at each one. He trailed his way up to your underwear, savoring each face you made and your body’s every twitch as he worked. His hand pressed against your crotch and he froze. You panicked, realizing what would have stopped him. You idiot, why didn’t you think to tell him?

”You, uh… you don’t have anything down here, do you?” He asked, the slightest bit of uncertainty in his voice. It seemed like he wanted to tread carefully so as not to upset you.

“Ah… no, I… I’m trans,” You mumbled, fear surging through your veins. 

Lalo took no time to process it. “Oh, alright,” He slid his fingers past your underwear and pressed into you hard, ripping a loud moan from you, “I can work with that.” He kissed you hungrily, you moaning into his mouth as he devoured you. It was sloppy and rough, drool spilling out of your mouth, teeth clashing into each other. He backed off and pulled his fingers out of you, now soaked with desire, and put them into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked them clean.

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and tapped your cheek gently. “Mírame, chiquito (Look at me, little boy.),” You were greeted with the sight of him with a stern look on his face. “If you want to work for me, you will do exactly as I say. You follow my orders. You are mine to command. You are my plaything, and I can use you however I want. Is that understood?”

You were thrilled to be at his disposal. You wanted to submit to him. “Ah… yes, sir. I understand.”

“Say it, Lalo demanded, his hands gliding back down to your thighs and tugging your underwear off, “Repeat after me. My body. Belongs. To you, Lalo.”

Despite the heat building inside you, you repeated his words back cleanly, as if he was saying them through your own mouth. “My body. Belongs. To you, Lalo.” 

Lalo nodded in approval and gave you your next line. “My body is yours, Lalo. It’s your plaything. It’ll do whatever you want,” He gripped your thighs tight to punctuate his next command, “Say it.”

You whined before you said it back. The embarrassment in your speech was more noticeable this time around. “My body is yours, Lalo… It’s your plaything… It’ll do whatever you want.”

“It’ll do whatever I want,” Lalo muttered to himself. He shifted gears to praise you for your obedience, a proud smile on his face. “Good boy… Es verdad (That’s right)...” His voice trailed off as he focused on you. You were aching for him, and he knew it. He got off on having that power over you. He licked his lips as he took in the beauty in front of him: you, bottom half undressed, in his kitchen, ripe for the taking. “I’ll take care of you,” He said before slowly lowering himself onto his knees.

You wondered for a second what he meant by that, though you figured it out once your legs were on his shoulders. You started to squirm in anticipation. “Please, Lalo… Please…”

“Tan impaciente (So impatient)...” He cooed, rubbing your inner thigh. It was like he was trying to map out your figure, so soft, so pliable, a blank canvas for his works. He took a deep breath, a firm grasp of your hips, and he spoke bluntly. “Now. Don’t speak, just wait. ¿Comprendes? (Understand?)”

You fidgeted slightly, though his grip kept you from moving too much. You nodded to show you were listening.

“No words, no sounds, no movements, nothing. Not even a sigh.” Lalo’s voice held no kindness as he barked orders at you. “Not a single sound. I don’t want to hear you. You got that?” He glared at you waiting for your response. “Understand me, boy?”

You bit your lip and nodded frantically, desperate for his touch.

“There you go. That’s better.” Lalo took a moment to calm himself, and you, before he dove into your heat, his tongue expertly navigating through your folds. It was then you realized how soaked you were already, and he’d barely touched you yet.

You convulsed when he made contact. You were in shock, thinking you were done for, having already broken his instructions. He glanced up at you to make sure you were good before he continued. He seemed to be giving you the slightest bit of leeway, knowing you couldn’t possibly stop all of your reactions. You writhed and twitched underneath him, but he kept you steady. Your breath quickened, loud puffs of air coming out from your nose, practically chewing off your lip to keep it contained, but it wasn’t enough.

“Don’t.” Lalo scolded as he pulled away, his lips already coated in your essence, “Don’t you dare breathe like that. Keep. It. Down.” He locked eyes with you, waiting for your acknowledgement. 

You took a deep breath, nodded once more, and just like that he went back to work. Though this was supposed to be a lesson in discipline, he found himself enjoying it as much as you were. His eyes falling shut, his mouth humming against your cunt, letting the vibrations from his mouth travel through you, his mustache grazing your lips. The loudest sound in the room was the reverb from how wet you were. You paid it no mind. You had to relax. You were focusing on your breathing now… nice and easy… in and out… 

…and then he slipped a finger in.

You spasmed and your breath stopped short, but you were determined. You would not falter. As he curled into your g-spot, you bit your fingers to keep quiet. It worked, somewhat.

Lalo looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. “Well…?” He could tell you were struggling, “¿Qué pasa? (What’s wrong?) Tell me what’s on your mind, boy,” He asked mockingly as he slipped another finger inside. He loved seeing you try to fight the pleasure.

You could tell he was trying to trick you, but you remembered your duty. You shook your head and gave him a weak thumbs up. Lalo couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He knew you wanted to make him proud. He kept his eyes on you as he talked.

"There we go. That's right. Focus on me and you'll be fine. If you focus on me, you can hold it in. Just...a little...longer." His motions sped up to counteract his sickeningly sweet tone. He could tell you were about to break, but he wanted to lull you into security. You wouldn’t fail him now, would you?

His words kept you grounded. You looked for guidance in his eyes and you found it. You took another deep breath and thought to yourself: It’s okay. I can do this. You felt strong, capable, and confident…

…and then his lips were on your dick. And he started to suck. Hard.

You broke then and there. It was as if he was vacuuming your pride and composure right out of you. The hand that was keeping you quiet flew down to Lalo’s hair and grabbed it. Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you let it all out. You cried out for mercy, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Lalo!”

Lalo stuttered for a second once you broke, but he quickly found his rhythm again. He smirked and gazed up at you in awe and pride. He’d known that it was only a matter of time before you snapped. You couldn’t possibly resist for too long; he wouldn’t have let you.

You kept wailing as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His cheeks hollowing out to suck you off, his fingers pressing into that perfect spot, it was all too much. You wailed pathetically as you approached the cliff. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t! I can’t! Too…! Much…! I’m…! Fuck! Lalooo!” 

His name was the last sound to leave your lips before you climaxed. With both hands on his head, you pushed him down into you as you squirted into his mouth. You felt him wince for a second, but he gladly slurped you up. Your legs quivered from the overstimulation. You were a sloppy mess, and it was all his doing. 

When he was done, Lalo took your legs off his shoulders and stood up. He was staring down at you, brow furrowed, a bright fire burning in his eyes. His face and shirt were soaking wet. He was panting heavily, and he looked ready to strike. 

You trembled in fear beneath him. You were a helpless little bunny face to face with the big bad wolf. Your voice cracked as you begged for leniency. “I’m sorry, Lalo. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.” You chanted your apology over and over, pleading for him to take pity on you.

Lalo caressed your cheek, but there was no warmth in his touch. He looked at you in disappointment and pity. He was taking in the sight of you: weak and subject to his will. His next words cut you like glass, “Stand up.”

You sniffled as you lowered yourself onto the floor, too afraid to look him in the eye, your own orgasm dripping down your legs as you stood. The feeling of dread was unbearable, but you dared not ask any questions.

“Look at me,” Lalo said forcefully. He tilted your face up to his, leaving you nowhere to hide, your eyes overflowing with shame. In that moment, he saw you for what you were: a cute, helpless little boy, eager to please him at your own expense. You were his bitch, and he spoke to you as such. “Turn around and bend over.”

“Y-yes… sir…” you sobbed quietly before presenting yourself to him as requested. 

Lalo positioned himself behind you, his firm hand grabbing your ass, and he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Since I can’t teach you obedience, I guess I’ll just have to teach you discipline.” 

Smack.

You squealed on impact, the painful shock quickly fizzing away into a delightful sting. He rubbed your reddened skin to soothe it before spanking you again.

“You know…” Smack. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it in…” Smack. “I just wanted to see how you’d try…” Smack. “...and take your punishment like a man.” Smack. Smack. Smack.

You whined after each successive hit, your pained cries gradually morphing into moans of ecstasy. Your legs buckled, upper body slumped over on the counter, still spiraling from your orgasm, you were desperate. “Please… Lalo… I need… please…”

Lalo shushed you, his tone gentle and nurturing once more. His breath was hot on your ear as he spoke. “Not yet, conejito (little bunny).” Smack. “Say thank you.”

“Th… Thank-” Smack. “ngh!...Thank you, Lalo!”

“Thank you for what?” Lalo asked, punctuating his question with another slap. “Come on, what are you thanking me for?”

“Thank you for… teaching me a lesson…” 

“Good boy! ¡Bien hecho! (Good job!)” Lalo ruffled your hair as he stood up. His other hand traced its fingers up and down your wet slit, “Tan mojado (So wet)…” he hissed, “Te vas a sentir tan bueno alrededor de mi verga (You’re going to feel so good around my cock)...”

“Huh…?” You mumbled. You hadn’t the slightest idea what he said, but it sounded like a compliment.

“Oh, sorry, muñequito (little doll). I was just talking to myself.” He purred, taking his hands off you to undo his belt. When you heard the clinking of the buckle, you whined and tried to grind your hips into him. Lalo was quick to shut you down. “No, no. None of that. I’m in control here, remember? I can do what I want with you. This goes at my pace, not yours.”

You pouted and buried your face in your arms against the countertop. It certainly felt like he was taking his time. Eventually, you heard a zipper, some clothing rustling around, and then you felt him press against you. He stopped short, leaving you wanting. You turned around to see him with a sly grin on his face.

“Say please.”

You were in no mood to talk back. “Please, Lalo, please… I… I need it…”

“What do you need?” he asked, his words dripping with mockery.

Any shame you had before was long gone, and in its place was insatiable desire. “I need… I need you to fuck me… please Lalo…”

“Aw, so cute,” Lalo praised you and ruffled your hair once more. “It’s alright, nene (baby). I got you.” He took hold of your hips and pushed in slowly, savoring the feeling of filling you up.

Your moan echoed throughout the kitchen. Your body shuddered as his cock stretched you open. He felt huge. He had just gotten started, and you were already shivering against the counter.

“Qué chingón… es más apretado de lo que yo pensé… (Holy shit… it’s tighter than I thought…)” Lalo grunted. You were squeezing him so tightly, he was nearly out of breath by the time he bottomed out. He took a moment to adjust before he patted your thigh, “Hey, you alright down there? Cause I’m doing great.”

“Y-yeah, I’m… I’m good,” You whimpered, “just…” and pressed your hips back against him, “please…”

Lalo chuckled and kissed your cheek before running his fingers through your hair. “So needy…” He pulled out of you agonizingly slowly, and then slammed his hips into you hard. You cried out, and he pulled you back into him by your hair, “Such a needy little boy…” He purred in your ear as he set a ruthless pace, fucking you roughly into the counter.

You were grateful he wasn’t making you keep quiet now, otherwise you’d have no chance. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth, your eyes glazed over, and every noise you made was primal. You couldn’t think about anything else. Hell, you couldn’t even think. All that mattered right now was Lalo and how good he was making you feel.

Lalo felt the same way, but he could maintain at least some composure. For one thing, he could still speak, “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that. Dios mío, you see what you do to me? If I knew you had a cunt like this, I would’ve taken you the moment I laid eyes on you. So fucking good.” He snarled in your ear, your hair clenched in his fist as he pumped into you like a toy. You felt his other hand begin to rub your dick, and you shrieked. He didn’t even acknowledge your reaction; he showed no signs of stopping. “Y qué mojado, también. Me mojaste todo. Nunca había visto algo como eso en mi puta vida. Tan sucio. Qué niño tan sucio. Voy a hacer que lo hagas otra vez. (And so wet, too. You got me all soaked. I’ve never seen anything like it in my damn life. So dirty. Such a dirty boy. I’m gonna make you do it again.)” 

You didn’t understand a single word in either language. Words were above you right now. You felt like an animal. The only thing on your mind was that deep, carnal instinct you were chasing. Lalo was there to guide you to it. You could feel your cock twitch in his hand. It wasn’t long now. Within your garbled mess of nothing syllables, one clear entity stood out:

“Ngh… gah… hah… La…lo… Lalo…”

Lalo’s face was beaming. He wore it like a badge of honor, how he could reduce you down to a pathetic, brainless animal. You were his beast to tame, and the beast was almost slain. “Come on, chico, you can do it. Let me feel it. I wanna feel you cum for me.”

He didn’t have to wait long until the thread snapped. Your back arched, your hole tightened around him, and your exhausted vocal cords let out one final cry of pleasure as your release splashed against his thighs. 

Lalo cackled when he felt it. “Ha! I knew I’d get you to do it again. But now…” He wasn’t far behind either. His rhythm started to get sloppy, and he used his grip on your hair to pull you back into him. His tone darkened into a menacing growl, “Now it’s my turn.” He rutted into you with all the fury and energy he could muster. He finished with a deep, rich groan, his cock buried inside you up to the hilt, his body shuddering as he painted your insides white. You were still reeling from your climax, gurgling and twitching as you felt his warmth flood you. 

He didn’t pull out when he was done. Instead, he let go of your hair, but not before excitedly petting it like you were a dog. Two strong arms pulled you tight against his chest, and he gave you an affectionate smooch on your cheek. He sighed in bliss, probably with a goofy smile on his face, and broke the silence with a voice as sweet as honey.

“I’m gonna love working with you.”

[thewildfandomwitch]

The sheer fucking irony of these same self-proclaimed "pro-women-(but-only-if-that-woman-is-me)" types is that they've turned into the exact same perverse and dangerous individuals that they are claiming to try to defend the bathroom against. They themselves prove that gender has nothing to do with protecting or not-protecting women from SA, because at the end of the day assaulting people (especially based on looks, the "if you didn't want to then why were you wearing that/why do you look like that" excuse as an example) is an act of holding power over someone else. They claim that only men can harm women in that way, but no.

This is loud and outspoken proof that women can be just as much of a danger to other people... and they refuse to acknowledge it (I doubt that these people are oblivious-... well not all of them at any rate, I bet they do have the ability to know and understand that what they are doing is just to get a power high), a lot of them claim that women can't assault others, and if they do then it's framed in a humorous fashion.

Not unlike certain historical examples of the excuses that were given to excuse university Frat and Sorority house hazing, or workplace harassment, Hollywood is its own warning, violence against gays and lesbians, bisexuals, people on the aroace spectrum (I will never understand how a culture that sluts shames as par for the course will suddenly do a 180 on a dime if someone just so happens to be perfectly cool with not having a massive fascination with sex), and so on. Like, seriously, if a lady is prone to get shamed for dumping her moon cup and washing it in the sink then it ain't a woman-safe sanctuary.

Which just goes to show that this a universal systematic issue with our cultural perception of what power looks and feels like and that gender is just a flimsy excuse to try to justify monstrously dickish behavior.

Don't even get me started on UK vs. North American bathroom stall designs. There is a whole other rant there that begins with TRY DOING YOUR BUSINESS WITH BIG FUCKING GAPS EVERYWHERE! and ends with: wtf is this talk about "protecting" the bathroom when THEY have proper private stalls, or dedicated water closets, and we only get NOMINAL privacy because there are fucking VERTICAL gaps in the stall door, and the only polite means of telling if a stall is occupied or not is if you can see their feet under the doors! You wanna talk about privacy? Then answer HOW is it fair that you have to go out of your way to be a dick in a European/UK public toilet, but we had a Mrs. Feeny and one or two of her friends going around peering into the gaps in the stall doors of her church, and the school they volunteered at under the veneer of "making certain that your panties are not improper for a young lady" and because she was a little old lady we were all told to let her be because "she's just eccentric"?! (and before it is brought up, no. she was not a closeted lesbian. some of the local gays themselves eventually came to this conclusion (though not everyone because look at certain closeted American politicians and their aids) because there was no sexual pleasure being derived for this woman, just a power trip for calling teens wearing thongs harlots and ranting about what Jesus would think).

[etherealskeletons]

i have no idea what my cousin sees in peter hes such a fucking asshole all the time theres not a single day that goes by where he istn a fucking dick. hes extremely terrible to my dad and he gets nasty and catty with me and my cousin is like “well idk whats wrong with him lol” and white knights him so HARD. shes always giving excuses and theyre so flimsy, its always “your dad reminds him of his oldest son, and peter gets cranky/stressed out when hes near his kids or ex wife, he has a lot of trauma yknow:((” like??? that doesnt make it okay to be super nasty to everyone else. im full of fucking trauma but im not putting everyone else down and being an energy vampire. i cant imagine being so fucking toxic to literally everyone around me bc i cant get over that my ex wife was abusive to me, i cant imagine essentially becoming my ex wife and terrorizing everyone else the same way i was. but this man does, he does it almost all the fucking time. hes even terrible to his CURRENT WIFE, MY COUSIN. like??? wha t the fuck do you see in himm???? girl im gonna throw you down the stairs i hate this!!!!! i hate how stupid youre getting i hate that you allow yourself to be treated like this what happenED!!!!!! i hate how he treats everyone and how she lets him get away with it, i hate living here its so tense all the fucking time hes always so angry and upset

i hate my uncle i had to go to the house today, hes finally losing my childhood home. hes getting kicked out and the house its going to be renovated for someone else. its hard bc on one hand im glad its gonna get a makeover and will be in better hands bc currently it looks like a crack house bc my uncle is a shitty person who hangs out with skeevy people. going there was so fucking hard it just looks like shit i hate it i hated going there i hated seeing the house get WORSE.. i thought about taking pictures of the place but whats the point i dont wanna remember the hosue looking like this i dont wanna remember it like this at all it looks so awful i jus stood there and i couldnt stop shaking it was so intense being there. we ended up leaving early bc it was too much for both me and my dad but peter had a huge fuckign meltdown over it and HE WASNT EVEN THERE?? he cussed him out over facebook and demanded we go back bc you cant abandon family even though my cousin literally didnt ASK US to help or anything and she felt the exact same way we did??? she aws gonna dip super early after getting some plates like we did he really made a big deal out of fucking nothing it was so stupid??? we ewnt back and i GUESS its good that we did and that she also stuck around bc there was a few good things that came out of it. i have some of my grandmothers jewelry that she never wore, her old kitchenaid, and i found my grandfathers wedding ring (finding that and his glasses made me cry ouffh) but go d i cant go back to that house i just cant its too fucking much its terrible i hate it i hate it i dont care if peter gets mad and tells me how terrible i am i just cant handle it

i hate that my uncle screws ebveryone over i hate hearing from one of the roommates that hes gonna be living in his car bc my uncle screwed him out of his money for his methhead on again off again girlfriend, i hate that my uncle always plays victim and shoves blame on everyone else and bleeds everything dry and ruins everything. he does this all the time i ahte it i hate him i hate that hes been doing this for my entire life, possibly longer, and always gets away with it. he l;ooks awful too i just know hes using i know it and i feel sorry for him but god he caused so much pain and upset in this family i cant help but feel so much anger. (but i tried being an ‘”adult’’” i was being civil and nice. being around peter made me realize i cant BE like that i cant hold grudges and lash out bc someone reminds me of my fucking mom or my ex girlfriend. NOT LIKE I EVER DID BUT LIKE.... just being around that made me realize i cant keep holding onto everything, i HAVE to move on and let go. its over its so fucking over dude you cant keep living likethat its so unhealthy and it literally makes everyone miserable)

but i still hate this fucking.. white trash ass red wing fucking family, i hate them i hate them i hate them i hate that i feel stuck i hate that i spend most of my days rotting and nights crying because everything is too overstimulating and too much

[shig-a-shig-ah]

LAYING CLAIM

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader

» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove​ for beta-reading!

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.

And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.

That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.

But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.

If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.

And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.

You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.

It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.

After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.

That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.

Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.

That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.

But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.

"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.

But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.

That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.

You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.

"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."

It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.

When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.

You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.

"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"

The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.

You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.

It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.

"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.

"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.

You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.

When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"

Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.

Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."

The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.

Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.

"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.

Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."

That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.

It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.

Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.

He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.

"Just...go slow, okay?"

"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.

Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.

The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.

You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."

He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."

You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.

"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."

You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.

"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"

You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.

"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."

The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.

"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.

It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?

Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.

"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.

Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.

He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.

You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.

"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.

"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."

And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.

You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.

"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.

He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.

"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.

"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.

The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.

"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.

"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.

"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"

"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.

"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."

"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."

"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"

He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.

You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."

The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.

"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"

"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.

You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.

No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.

Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.

You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.

"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.

Dabi can't wait to do it again.

[glassartpeasants]

That ending was a stab on the heart from beginning to end I'm gonna steal bob 🏃🏾‍♀️

The One That Got Away

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, death

A/N: Don’t threaten Bob

~~~

The bed felt different after that night.

2 months ago you had caught Shigaraki cheating on you with someone random woman. You stood in the doorway just watching, trying to find the words to say but nothing came out. It’s only when you dropped your groceries and your present to him is when he noticed your presence.

*flashback*

“Shit! (Y/N) it’s not what it looks like-” He tripped over his words. You said nothing as you just looked at him, knowing that no matter how much you loved him that there was nothing that could ever make you forget this.

“Fuck just say something!” You were still silent as you dropped the groceries you were holding. It just wasn’t clicking for you. How could he do this to you? what had you done wrong?

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice seemed to echo throughout the room. Nobody said anything. Until she spoke up.

“Oh my god, Im so sorry! I didn’t know he was taken! Please forgive me.” The girl spoke as she jumped outta bed and started putting her clothes on.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Those words spilled from your mouth before you could actually say anything you meant. The girl had hugged you before saying she was so sorry a final time. Flipping off Shiggy on the way out.

“(Y/N)...i promise we can talk about this.” You just kept looking at him. Those eyes seemed to burn into his soul. He doesn’t think you noticed the tears spilling from your eyes. He was about to say something to you but you started to walk towards him. Thinking he was gonna get hit he just stood still before feeling your part of the bed dip.

He turns around to see you laying there, eyes still open with tears rushing down your face, your clothes of the day still on your body.

Shigaraki tried to put his arms around you but you had hit his hands back. and used your feet to push him to the edge of the bed while you laid clung to the wall.

*flashback over*

Thinking back on it you don’t know why you didn’t just walk away. Maybe you were to tired from being busy and running errands for him all day? Did you want it to be a bad dream and hope to walk up to realize nothing ever happened? Whatever the reason was, you weren’t sure but a part of you wishes that you left that night.

Now you sit at the bar, sitting far away from what use to be your boyfriend, not even taking a glimpse of him and he knew it. You just sat in the corner drinking and looking on your phone until a familiar smell approached you. 

“Oh hey Dabi.”

“Hey there (Y/N), why aren’t you hanging out with crusty over there? He keeps staring at you and the tension in here could be cut with a knife. It’s been two months and apparently everyone said i should ask what's going on.”

“Im not going near him at the moment. We’re on a break per say.” this seemed to peak Dabi’s interest as he leaned closer.

“Oh? Did crusty do something?  Your secret's safe with me, i swear on my soul.” What did it matter if you told Dabi? He already doesn’t respect Shigaraki so why not, plus, so what if that fuck didn’t want anyone knowing, he shouldn’t have cheated when everyone else was sleeping in the base.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you but, 2 months ago I caught Shigaraki cheating on me...” You felt small tears prickle the corner of your eyes. Bringing your hand up to your face you rub it away, hoping to ignore the pain that was banging against your chest.

“What a dick, wanna make him pay?” You look up at Dabi who had a huge grin on his face. You thought about it for a good few seconds before shaking each others hand.

“Once Shigaraki goes out on that mission today, we’ll talk more.” Dabi said before getting up from his seat and grabbing a drink from the bar.

You didn’t know what Dabi had planned but you hoped it would bring Shigaraki the same pain you felt that fateful night 2 months ago.

~~~

You sat on the ground in Dabi’s room as he paced back in forth, coming up with revenge plans. All of them sucked or ended up with you guys might going to Jail.

“New plan, everytime Shigaraki wants to hang out tell him you had plans with me and leave the room. You can go somewhere and i’ll go somewhere with you. Effectively ditching him.” Thinking, you try to come up with all the pros and cons this proposal Dabi shared with you. But soon your hurt over ruled the logical side of you and you agreed to it not a moment later.

“Great! Now all we need is for Shigaraki to ask to hang out with you. Don’t know how long that’ll take though...”

“I usually ignore him after what happened but sometimes he asks to hang out with me whenever its a slow day at the base or if he’s bored.”

“ Well guess we have to wait tell then huh?” Nodding your head, you get up before putting a thumbs up in his direction. You walked out of his room and see Shigaraki sitting at the bar. He must have finished his mission early. You rolled your eyes before sitting on the other side of the bar counter. You could feel shigaraki look at you through father.

“Hey....”

“.....”

“Look im sorry, a-and i know that doesn’t excuse what I did but please-” You got up before he could finishing his sentence as you walked towards your shared bedroom. Going in there use to give you comfort but now everytime you step into that room you see that fateful night over and over again.

You sat on the bed before hearing Shigaraki’s footsteps coming towards the room. Furrowing your brows, you ignore him as you put your shoes on. You needed a little bit of fresh air so you were planning on going to the local park to relax a bit. You weren’t a villain like the rest of them, you were just a simple civilian. Not that you minded really. It was peaceful not fearing for your life everyday and having the fear of failure not on your shoulders.

You didn’t really have a quirk so you just ignored the questions when people asked you if you had one. 

“Can I talk to you?” You were dragged back to reality when Shigaraki’s voice rang through your ears. Annoyed you just answered hoping that the conversation would be short. 

“What do you want?” You voice was snappy and you could feel the venom dripping from it.

“I understand that your mad. And you have every right to be but your not even giving me a chance to redeem myself and-”

“Redeem yourself? Why the hell would I do that? YOU cheated on ME. LIke hell im gonna forgive you so easily.”

“It’s been two months! What happened was in the past!”

“It was in the past my ass. How would you like it to see your lover in bed with another?!”

“I-”

“I felt like my soul died that day. I thought I was your only one! Only to find out that you slept with her! Was she a one time thing or were there more hookups?!” You stood up from the bed as your fists turned white and your anger slowly erupting.

“.....”

“TELL ME DAMNIT!”

“Three...there were three different occasions...” Now the tears were kicking in. You were hoping that it wasn’t true. What if there was more and he was only saying three just to ease your heart?

“Why? Why would you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” Your questions were like knives stabbing into Shigaraki’s heart. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he didn’t want your heart to hurt more than it already was.

“Im not going to ask again Shigaraki. You either tell me the truth or I will walk out of this base and never come back.”

“The...the first time it was a drunk accident, the second time Dabi had brought her to the base and one thing led to another. The last one was the same as the second one.”

“Did...did Dabi know about the affair?” You were begging, no pleading for him not to have known. You didn’t know if your heart could take it.

“Yes...” That was it. That was the thing that broke you. Walking up to Shigaraki you pushed past him before flipping him off and saying one final line.

“I would rather die that ever be with you again.” And with that, you left the hideout. You speed walked through the alleys to get to you parked your car. Your friends house was pretty far and you didn’t feel like walking in the dead of night were criminal activity was more active. 

Getting in your car, you turn on the radio and start breaking down. Your tears were blurring your eyesight as you put the car in drive. 

The streets weren’t busy except for the occasion car with some college students. Or drunk people walking along the sidewalk. The sound of the radio blasting songs that were supposed to be happy barley brightened up your mood as you drove down the dark highways.

All of a sudden a bright light hit your eyes from the right side. Some fuck must have had their brights on. But you had the right away so you went. All of a sudden a huge crash rang through your ears and the world became dark.

~~~

A ring came from Shigaraki’s phone. Looking at the clock he noticed it to be 2am. Annoyed he just decided to answer it.

“Hello, this is (hospital name). You were listed under a emergency contact for (Y/N) (L/N).” Shigaraki jolted awake as his hands reached his neck, standing up and already begun to pace the floor of his room.

“Yes did something happen?!”

“At 12am tonight miss (Y/N) was in a car crash. A hit and run to be exact. Their car was totalled after it rolled about 3 times from the speed that the driver hit them. A bystander of the accident called 119. They were in need of surgery immediately once paramedics noticed that they were crushed and bleeding out quickly due to a shard of glass that was stabbed in their chest.”

“Are they okay?!” The doctor on the other end went silent.

“Im deeply sorry for your lost sir. They died during surgery trying to remove the glass that was lodged in their skin. The police are on the look for the suspect. if you wish to see them were on (blank street). Once again, im sorry for your loss. Goodnight sir.” The phone went silent as the doctor hung up. 

Everything seemed to stop as the feared villain feel to his knees. Tears fell from his eyes as his body shook. He realized that now it was impossible to even try. And the last words you had ever said were ‘ you’d rather die than ever be with him again.’ Crying into his hands as his tears made a puddle on the floor.

I guess you took your words seriously.

[nightowlfandom]

Rich! Bad Boy!Min Yoongi- Try Me

Just wanna say if you see your name used here, I don’t have beef with you okay? I had a random name generator in another tab and just used the first name I saw.

Once again someone doesn’t want me to be great so....this might be the only post today because I....dunno I can’t post when I’m not in a good mood and its been real shitty.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

X RATED PROMPT LIST| NON X RATED PROMPT LIST

RUN IN HERE AND COME GET Y’ALL JUICE

Leggo!

...

You were practically glued to his side. His arm was tightly wrapped around your waist as he led you across the room. You had perched your designer sunglasses on top of your head to get a clearer look at your surroundings. Why were you wearing sunglasses at night? Because you could, of course.

Your wore a backless floor length gown in one of his favorite colors. He had insisted you wear your fur coat, but you convinced him to let you leave it in the car. You were on full display, not only for him but for anyone else who thought that they had bought the most gorgeous date for the night. That title was forever and always reserved for Min Yoongi’s girl and tonight only proved it more and more. 

He walked with his held held high as if everyone around him was beneath him. His attired screamed ‘try me, bitch’ From his black suit and tie to crisp white dress shirt and shoes that were worth more than someone’s rent for five months. His hair was slicked back and while he didn’t bother to raise his own pair of shades, everyone could see the glare very evident on his face.

You two were the epitome of a power couple, in the most literal sense and everyone respected that.

“Mr. Min! Welcome!” a nervous and frantic looking man rushed up to you. “This must be your beautiful companion for the night.” he bowed repeatedly. So many times that you lost count. He held his hand out for you to take, but you were left to stare awkwardly. You had no idea what to do in that moment. After a second or two you held your hand out, which he shook a bit too aggressively.

Yoongi calmly used his free hand to raise his sunglasses up. “You gettin’ paid to rip my girl’s arm out its socket?”

“Oh! my apologies Mr. Min!” he instantly let your hand go. “I wasn’t aware.”

“You never are.” he scoffed, allowing his shades sit on the top of his head. “Is our table ready or did they send you here to waste our time?”

“You’re fashionably early! Your comrades haven’t arrived yet.” the host stammered. “Follow me!” he practically disappeared through the sea of people. 

“What a tool.” you spoke for the first time since you left the car. “I’ve never seen a bigger kiss-ass in my life.”

“Hm, trust me I’ve met worse. He’s just a dick-rider for the men who really own this place.” He leaned down and spoke into your ear. “Those guys will literally shit on someone else’s table if I tell them to.”

“How riveting.” you rolled your eyes playfully as he led you through the crowd. It was easy for people to get out of your way. One look from your boyfriend and they were hugged the nearest wall or throwing themselves against the various tables set up all over the place. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Don’t make that face.” He smirked. “I told you, official business.”

“And we couldn’t do that somewhere less...sleazy?” you scoffed at the old man with five different women on his arm. “Yoongi-”

“It’s only for a few hours.” he assured. “Then after that, we can do whatever you want, okay?”

“You said that last time.” you hid the pout forming on your face.

“You have my word.”

“Or so you say.” you slipped out of his grip. “Until you have more trash take out.” you shook your head as you walked ahead. Yoongi watched you from behind as you walked ahead. Of course you didn’t need him by your side to be considered intimidating. He bit his lip at the idea of ripping that dress off your body when you got back to the hotel. Shit, he might not even manage to keep his hands to himself in the car.

Yoongi joined you at the table. “ You feel like Soju tonight?”

“Depends on if you want me to start fighting or not.” you raised an eyebrow at Yoongi.

“Hm, on second thought how about imported beer.”

“This isn’t date night at your place, dear.” you replied jokingly.

“Hm, you’re right. It’s been a while since we’ve splurged. We can do wine tonight!” he chuckled in reply as you both sat down. Just as you both got settled, you were met by a small crowd. Yoongi’s friends, of course. 

“Oi! Watch how you handle my fucking jacket! It’s worth more than your life.” Namjoon snapped at that host.

“My apologies sir!”

“Yoongi, Y/N. Good to see you.” Seokjin shook Yoongi’s hand firmly. “Sorry we’re late.”

“We just arrived ourselves.” you replied, relaxing as Yoongi wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Yoongi insisted.”

“Of course he did.” Jungkook sat down. “I saw the other women glaring at you.” he laughed. “You sure know how to make an entrance.” he raised your hand to his lips for a short kiss to your knuckles.

“Of course she does. She’s the best looking woman here.” he huffed as if it was obvious. The host quietly bought the selection for the night.

“Wine for the lady, the usual for the rest of us.” Yoongi spoke for the table.

“Yes sir!”

Before anyone else could speak, a woman in a red dress and white fur coat strode up. “Yoongi? Is that you?”

“Meredith....fancy seeing you here.” Yoongi looked less than thrilled.

“Very!” she seemed a little too happy to see him. It was funny because you had never seen nor heard of this woman in your life. “So...I tried to call you.”

She was completely oblivious of you sitting right there and you didn’t like it.

“What are you doing here?” Seokjin annoyedly spoke up as his drink was poured. “If you couldn’t tell, we’re all trying to enjoy ourselves.”

“I just wanted to catch up with an old friend!” she put her hands up in defense. Her eyes suddenly landed on you. “Whose this?” she fixed her face in disgust

“Y/N L/N, who the fuck are you?” you raised an eyebrow. Your posture straightened up as she glared at you. You threw your sunglasses on the table, crossing your arms as you perked up.

“Are you Yoongi’s pet or something?” she put a hand on her hip. “ Guess they’ll let anyone in!”

“Pet? Oh Honey...Even if that were true it would still mean I’m sitting here and your standing there looking stupid....”

“Oh yeah. He’s probably waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of you!”

You held up a single hand to up Yoongi to signify that you didn’t want him to speak. He looked livid, however you didn’t see the point in him wasting his time or energy on this woman. You slowly stood up. The host held your glass of wine with shaky hands, unsure of what to do.

“Thank you.” you grabbed the glass from him. “Run along now.”

“Yes mam!” the scared host scurried off, obviously not wanting any confrontation. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Yoongi asked, watching you with weary eyes. You weren’t confrontational so this was a huge surprise.

“Meredith. That is your name, right?” you smiled sweetly. You took a sip from your glass. “Hm...What a darling coat! I bet it goes with anything.”

“Of course it does! It pairs best with red. I bought it in Paris...” she put a hand on her hip as if she was a model. “As you can see.”

“Too bad beautiful gowns and expensive fur doesn’t make the wearer any less cheap than the next bitch.” you instantly shut down the false sense of security you built for the disrespectful woman. 

“EXCUSE ME?!?”

“Not done yet....” you cleared your throat before speaking again. “ Whore, Pet, Wife ,Girlfriend, whatever you want to call me, go ahead but best believe my place in Yoongi’s life will always hold rank over you, my dear. You weren’t even important enough for him to tell me about you and we’ve been together for four years going on five as of two months from now.” You put your free hand on your hip. “That’s number one.” you laughed gleefully.

“Damn Yoongi, your girl has guts.” Namjoon whispered.

“That’s my babe.” Yoongi sat back and watched you drag Meredith for filth.

“Number Two! Before you try to feed me shit and call it sugar, make sure you take off the tags on your clothes.” You pointed to the obvious department store tag. “Clearance...nice. I also know fake diamonds when I see them, don’t play yourself.”

Nothing was wrong with fake gems, or clearance items...but pretending you were better than everyone else while lying...that wasn’t gonna go down.

The girl had went completely quiet now.

“Three. Last but not least. Get over this whole convoluted ‘I’m better than you’ ideals you follow because the same people you turn your nose up at are the same people who you rely on on a day to day basis. Shiny hair, expensive clothes, and a posse of fake friends who tell you everything you want to hear does not guarantee happiness. Insulting me because it gives you short lived joy does not guarantee happiness. Pretending you actually have any sense of class when it’s obvious you faked your way to the top of social stardom does not guarantee happiness.” you put your wine glass on the table. “So before I proceed to tell you to go fuck yourself and to stay away from me and my BOYFRIEND...any questions?”

Not even five seconds passed and this woman walked off without another word. You didn’t feel bad, not by a long shot. Respect is something that’s earned any ANYONE who didn’t understand that could get a piece of you.

You sat back down next to Yoongi, grabbing your wine again. “Gentlemen, forgive me for that outburst.”

“Damn babe.” Yoongi wrapped his arm around you again. “That was hot.”

“Good because I’m highly fucking livid right now.” you calmly took a sip of your wine. “Who was that woman?” you turned to glare at Yoongi.

“She was an actress who was paid to portray my wife for a business thing I was forced to do.” he shook his head. “Y/N I promise she means nothing to me. It was before we even met.”

“Good. Let another girl talk crazy to me, I’ll kill you both.” you said with a straight face. “Her for thinking she can talk to me any way she wants, and you for keeping things from me. I will cut you deep, sir.”

“Damn I love you.” he bit his lip. He turned your head towards himself to give you a deep kiss. 

...

As he had promised, he could barely keep his hands off you in the car. The minute the doors had shut, Yoongi had the hem of your dress bunched up in his fist. His lips feverishly laid open mouth kisses along your exposed neck. 

“Yoongi, we shouldn’t do this here.” you whimpered, even though your actions said the completely opposite.

“Why? No one is gonna stop me. They damn sure won’t say shit about it.” Yoongi stopped for a split second to turn a glare to the limo driver, who was trying very hard not to look in the rear view mirror. “PUT THE FUCKING DIVIDER UP.” he barked.

“Yes sir!!”

Yoongi pushed you down onto the seats, causing you to let out a laugh. The divider was put up and you could hear the sound of fabric ripping.

He had tore a rip up your dress.

“Goodbye $3,000 dress.” you huffed.

“More where that came from.” he laughed, which was quickly replaced with a sadistic smile. “Spread your legs, baby.” he pouted. “Daddy wants to finger you”

“In the car-"

 “When we get back to the hotel, I want you naked on that bed.” he growled. “If not, I’ll fucking rip whatever you have left off.”

... (The Hotel)

He couldn’t even keep his hands to himself in the elevator, any part of you he could get his hands on, he touched. By the time you two had gotten back to the room, you were thrown on the bed. Your dress had a huge tear up the leg and the straps were holding up either. Yoongi had discarded every article of clothing except his pants which were hanging low on his hips at this point.

“How do you want me?” he flicked his tongue against his bottom lip, looking you up and down. “I’ll do whatever you want, babe.” He watched as your shy wall was quickly put up and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Baby doesn’t know?”

“Nuh uh.” you hid behind your hands with a shy smile.

“Hm...my hands?”

“hm....nuh uh.” you shook your head again.

“Hm...my mouth then?” he bit his lips, standing right in front of you. “Where was that fire, honey? Come on.” he grabbed your hands. “Want me to eat that pretty pussy, baby?” He gathered the rest of your dress in his fist. “Come here.”

He began kissing up your bare thighs. You shook your legs, biting your lip. You felt him pull your panties down.

“You were so brave for me, sexy girl. Where’s that fighting spirit? Do you want me to eat this sweet little- hmm.” he dragged his tongue up your slit, laying opened mouthed kisses along your pussy. “You’re brave for the outside world but you still need daddy to take care of you, huh?”

“Mhm!” you nodded desperately.

“Baby you taste so fucking good.” he laughed, lashing his tongue against your hot flesh. “You’re moving so much.” he cackled. “Hmm” he dug his nails into your thighs. “You like it when I eat this pussy?” 

“This is mine.” he mumbled against your heat. “This is all mine. Don’t think I’m done with you yet...”

[mha-princess]

Crossing Lines - Part 2/3 [Bakugou x Fem!Reader]

part one is here | part three is here

Genre: Angst | 18+ | College AU | Ongoing |

A/N: The next part will most likely be the last part, as I don’t want to draw this out to the point where it’s annoying (⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃♡- Anako

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: bakugous an asshole/very minor violence/explicit language / mentions of sex

Summary: falling for Katsuki and keeping it a secret was easy, but still being secretly in love with him after developing a friends with benefits relationship is hard.

Masterlist | Request Rules | Request Box

“Wait how long has this been going on ?” Mina questioned shoving bits of bagel into her mouth.

“ A month....... maybe five.” You shrug standing up to throw your plate away. You had invited Mina over for breakfast to talk about what had happened last night between you and Bakugou.

“So you’ve been hooking up with Bakugou for that long? I didn’t even notice, well no one noticed, not me, not Kami, not Kiri. Speaking of Kami and Kiri, where are they? I thought you invited them?”

“I did. They can’t just walk down a flight of stairs to get here, not everyone lives off campus.” You giggle at her unawareness and sit back down at the kitchen table. Mina nods.

“So what did you say her name was.” Mina questions, It takes you a minute to recall.

“Hayami?” You say slightly uncertain.

“Hayami? Yeah that definitely doesn’t ring a bell.” A few minutes late you and Mina are startled by the slam of your door.

“Hey, Hey, Hey.” Kirishima announces happily strolling over to the kitchen table and taking a seat, Kaminari following behind him.

“Ejiro how the hell did you just get in here?” Kirishima laughs and holds up a key.

“Bakubro said he stopped by and he accidentally grabbed this when he left.” He said tossing you the key. “So how are my favorite beauticools doing today?”

“Not good we need help with something.” Mina says taking her phone from her pocket.

“If it’s anything about classes we can’t help.” Kaminari says taking Minas bagel and finishing it.

“It has nothing to do with classes, as if we’d ask you two himbos for help.” Mina rolls her eyes. “Do you guys know a girl named, Hayami?”

Kirishima furrows his brow. “Hayami? I don’t think I ever even heard of the name.”

You turn to Kaminari who also has his phone out.

“What about you, Nari?”

“One moment.” He walks over to Kirishima and hands him his phone, leaving you and Mina to stare at eachother.

“Ohhhhhh Hayami! I do remember her! We met her the night me, Kami, and Bakugou crashed the arcade.” Kirishima facepalms. “She gave us her number but I don’t think any of us ever reached out.”

Mina scoffs. “Someone did.”

Kaminari and Kirishima looks at you both confused.

“Come again?” Kaminari says setting his phone on the table.

“Yeah? Is there something we’re not in on? Why are you worried about her out of all people?” Kirishima questions leaning forward in his chair.

Mina then explains to them your situation. Kaminari and Kirishima look at eachother in shock.

“Y/N! That’s like rule number one of friends with benefits! You don’t question outside affairs!” Kaminari groans.

“I know! But I love him Kaminari and I need to know if there’s someone else. I still have hope. Hope that he might like me. ” You say pain evident in your voice.

“Well if it’s any help I think I have her Instagram.” He says taking pity on you and opening Instagram. After finding it he quickly flips his phone face down.

“On second thought maybe that’s not a good idea.” He laughs nervously causing everyone at the table to look at him confused.

“Kaminari let me see your phone.” Kirishima says, standing up from the table. Kaminari quickly grabs his phone.

“I don’t think that a good idea, really.” He says slowly backing away as Kirishima grew closer.

Kirishima lunges at him and in an instant Kaminari is pinned to the ground.

“Y/N, catch.” He chunks the phone to you. Your hands easily grasping it from the air. Mina comes over, peeking over your shoulder and immediately she sighs, yeah this was a bad idea.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Maybe it’s not what it looks like?” She says, blatantly ignoring the facts. Your eyes begin to burn.

Kirishima releases Kaminari from his hold and they walk over to you.

“He doesn’t even go to the cafe with us. He says it makes him look stupid to be in such a soft setting. But there he is with a girl. I mean she looks like his type. Cute button nose, black hair, brown eyes.” You clench your jaw, forcing back tears.

“Y/N don’t be like that! Your Bakugou’s type or else he-.” You cut Kaminari off mid sentence.

“If I was his type he wouldn’t be with her.” Tears streak down your cheeks and leave wet stains on the table. After a minute you get up from the table and grab a napkin to wipe your eyes.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m not his girlfriend I shouldn’t be upset.” Your friend come to your aid and crowd around you, engulfing you in a big hug.

“Don’t apologize for the way you feel babe.” Mina says.

“Yeah Y/N you have feelings. That’s only human.” Kirishima’s hold on you tightens a bit.

“And we’re always here.” Kaminari adds. After a few minutes of letting you bask in your sadness, they release you form their hold.

“Sorry for the hold up guys, but we need to get to class.” You chuckle and wipe the remaining tears from under your eyes.

“Yeah Mrs.Chu is always on me and Mina’s case about attendance.” Kaminari rolls his eyes at the thought of that lady.

“Soooo am I drivi-.”

“NO!” You all cut off Mina before she can finish. Today had all ready started off bad, and endangering your life with Mina reckless driving was the last thing you needed.

“I’ll drive.” Kirishima says grabbing his keys and opening the door. “Now come children, before we’re late.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The day couldn’t possible go by more slowly. You couldn’t remain focused due to your situation, the situation that you started I must stress. You know it shouldn’t be pestering you, but you just couldn’t handle losing Katsuki to some random girl.

From the beginning you found yourself drawn to Katsuki. Yeah that might sound cliche, but it was the truth. The ash blonde hair that was slightly unkempt, the red eyes that could cut deep even if you were just glancing, and a smirk that held so many inaudible warnings. He was unruly, but at the same time beautiful.His personality was arrogant and short tempered, but that just made him all the more alluring.

The unapproachable heart throb is what he was. Pretty in the face, but dementing and vulgar in many different ways. Ways that should've been a warning, but weren't.  

When you first started hanging around Katsuki it was mostly kirishima's doing. He felt that all his friends should at least be formally aquantainted with one another, so some days you would have study sessions at your apartmet other days you would all would crash at the dorms. And every moment you were around Katsuki the more you were drawn to him.

One day Kirishima had left you two alone at the dorms to go re-up on snacks with Mina and Kaminari. Now this was most likely the only time you would be alone with Katsuki, so you took it upon yourself to ask him a couple of ‘questions’.

“Katsuki?”

“What?” he answers his eyes never leaving his phone.

The top half of his body hangs off the edge of his bed, his shirt barely covering his stomach.You go over and sit on the floor in front of him. Slowly, you reach up and run your hands through his coarse head of hair.

“The hell are you doing?” He questions, but doesn’t stop you from playing in his head.

“Can I ask you something.” The tone of your voice was soft but serious.

Bakugou then rolls over onto his stomach and throws his phone into the abyss of sheets beside him. He stares at you and the nervous you should’ve felt earlier makes it’s way into your body.

“You gonna speak or what?” He says annoyance leaking from his voice. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.” He responded rolling back over and grabbing his phone.

“Like you’ve never had one? No boyfriends, no girlfriends, no significant others?”

“I answered the damn question, no boyfriends, no girlfriends, nothing, relationships aren’t my kinda thing. The hell are you asking me this for anyway? ” He rolls back over, his eyes cutting deep into your thoughts.

“W-What about hookups?” Bakugou’s face goes blank for a minute before that cocky smirk makes its way to his face.

“Tcht is this what you were going on about? If you wanted some dick you couldve just said that.” His smirk grows as he watches you panic.

“We can hookup if that’s what you wanted to ask. But I have lines that shouldn’t be crossed.” He says rolling back over and chucking you his phone.

“Put your number in.” That cocky son of a bitch, not even letting you answer or explain yourself. I mean it’s not like you would’ve said no anyway. You hand him his phone back.

“Y/N wants to be fuck buddies with me? I didn’t peg you as the type.” He grins, his eyes burning right through you.

“Well you said you aren’t looking for a relationship, so I don’t see the harm in it.” You shrug. Bakugou nods in agreement, but raises a brow.

“I know I said I’m down but we can’t do any lovey dovey shit. This has to be strictly no feelings attached.”

Now, after he finished that statement a bell should’ve went off in your head. From that point you should’ve know that liking Katsuki wasn’t a good idea and hooking up with him would only lead to you hurting yourself, but clearly you were blinded. Blinded by the thought of him and blinded by the want of him because if you would’ve noticed you wouldn’t of still been sitting at your desk half dazed ten minutes after class had let out reminiscing about how you got yourself into this mess.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to leave, clearly your not staying behind for extra help, as you didn’t even write down the notes that were on the board.” You look down at your notebook, yeah it’s blank.

“I’m so sorry Mrs, I’ve had a lot on my Min-.”

“I don’t need your excuses, just get going so I can lock up.” You nod and grab your things. Upon picking up your phone you notice a message from Kirishima.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Message

Kirishima :)

Ummmm please don’t bite my head off for this but something came up and I had to leave early, Mina and Kaminari have dance practice and I didn’t want you to be stranded.............. So Bakugou is going to take you home, be at the front of the school. Ok? Ok. Love you ttyl 😘

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Your mouth hung ajar at the message. Why? Kirishima why? Why would he set you up for failure like that? You sigh as you walk out of the school doors.

It took a few minutes before Bakugou arrived and when he did your day only worsened. As you drew closer tot he car it was clear that someone else was in he front seat. A black haired, brown eyed someone. With gritted teeth you open the back door of the car and chunk your stuff in not saying a thing.

“Hello!” The girl exclaims as she turns around in her seat, sounding way to preppy and happy about this situation.

“You are?” You say not the least optimistic, Bakugou glaring at you from the rear view mirror.

“I’m Hayami.” She smiles and holds out your hand for you to shake. You turn and look out the backseat window.

“What are you his girlfriend?” Your jaw clenches as her face goes red. You stop her before she can answer that question.

“Katsuki can you drive? I have somewhere I need to be.” Hayami turns around in her seat as Bakugou mashes the gas.

The drive is silent until Bakugou starts taking a bunch of unfamiliar turns.

“What are you doing my house isn’t this way?” You say sitting up in your seat.

“I’m dropping Hayami off first.” He says pulling into an unfamiliar driveway.

“Thank you Katsuki. We should do this the same time next week.” She smiles and he nods in approval. She then steps out of the car and shuts the door. He sits there for a minute.

“Are you going to get in the front seat or stay back there like a dumbass.” You roll your eyes.

“Fuck you.”

Bakugou quickly puts the car in reverse and once again begins taking a bunch of unknown turns.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” He doesn’t say anything, but a few minutes later you find yourself in a vacant parking lot. He then gets out and climbs into the backseat.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He says shutting the door.

“I’m not the one with the damn problem.” You cross your arms and look away from him.

Annoyed with the way you were acting his hand grabs a hold of your cheeks, pressing your mouth inward as his lips ghost over your ear.

“Your a fucking brat.” You pry his hands from your face.

“I’m not a brat your a fucking asshole. Breaking your own damn rules. Did you tell your little girlfriend how the night before you took her on a date you were just at my house fucking me? Or did you tell her how many times you ate my pussy in that front passenger seat? I bet she doesn’t know anything about that now does she?” Your voice bitter and slightly heavy.

“I’m not fucking her, unlike you she has the potential to be more than a fuck toy.” Yeah he shouldn’t of said that. Upon finishing his sentence the palm of your hand quickly made impact with the side of his face, causing a sound that couldve been heard if anyone was near by.

“Take me home.” Your choke as your eyes began to burn. But he doesn’t move he stares at you still in shock from the hit. This time you push him to make him gain contact with reality again.

“I said take me home!” You shout tears now fully rolling down your face. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s angry.

“Your fucking crazy Y/N. This, whatever the fuck we have going on is over. I don’t need your bullshit ruining what I have going on.” He says getting out of the backseat and back into the front.

The rest of the ride was silent. Bakugou was speeding clearly not wanting to be around you after slapping him senseless. Although you wanted to, you didn’t cry, you’d rather wait to release your tears when you got to the comfort of your home.

He slammed on the breaks as he pulled into tge front of your apartment complex. No words were exchanged. You simply grabbed your things and shut the door behind you. He didn’t apologize, hell he didn’t even look back to make sure you got into your apartment, he just drove off.

When you finally made it to the comfort of your room. A weird sense of pain hit you. It wasn’t the same kind of pain you felt yesterday, it was a unfamiliar pain. A pain so severe it caused your heart to physically hurt from your emotions that were running rampant.

A toy. That’s all you were to him and all you were ever going to be. Frustrated and a sobbing mess you take a piece of paper and a pen and begin to writing.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

People always say it’s better to have loved and to have lost, than to never of loved at all, but what if you’ve lost everything including yourself? What if you loved someone so much that you were willing to give them everything including your body, in exchange for nothing but a few minutes of being close them? Am I pathetic for wanting him to love me? Am I even more pathetic for having ignored the signs? The signs that he was no good for me. Bakugou Katsuki. The epitome of my pain, the epitome of my hurt, but the one I love most. It’s better to have loved and to have lost, than to never of loved at all, but I’ve lost all worth, all self love, and all reason to even try. ─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You fold the tear stained paper and slide it into your desk drawer. You then grab your phone and make a much needed call.

“Yes?”

“Is this Izuku?”

[songbirdstyles]

bang a gong.

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, and when you meet harry at a bar, he’s more than happy to help you out.

warnings: literally all porn, very little plot. fingering, m+f receiving oral, dom!harry

word count: 11.1k

listen to while reading: bang a gong (get it on) by t. rex

You should say - for the record, or perhaps to maintain your dignity - that this is never the type of place you’d generally be caught in.

If you hadn’t been dragged from your faux pretense of nonchalance after you got dumped, you never would have come. It wasn’t like it was a serious relationship - barely two months - but it was your first since graduating college and perhaps you thought, maybe, you were in with this guy for the long haul, but he didn’t agree. You suppose it was a silly thought (your friends had told you not to expect too much from a former frat boy, anyway.) And it did prove to be, anyway, dissipating the second you woke up to a text saying he didn’t reckon things were working out, and could he please have his hoodie back?

Whatever. You hadn’t been too sad but your friends insisted you needed to let go of him and that is exactly why you’re here, pressed into a booth at a high end nightclub you can’t afford, your friends and the randoms they’d pulled from the dance floor packed so tight that you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather seats and to each other. You hadn’t intended on drinking anything because the prices of the drinks would absolutely kill your bank account, but that, according to your friends, is exactly why you’re here - meet rich guys who frequent here, to have drinks bought for you with false promises of a night of fun, before leaving them high and dry while you are thoroughly drunk.

A good concept, in theory, and it was enough to tug you off of the couch and dig through your closet to find a suitable dress to wear. Perhaps you’d support it more, though, if you had any experience in seducing guys at all - the entire night, you’d merely been grabbing the extra shots your friends had gotten from the guys they’d located.

“Aren’t you having fun?” your friend asks, and you turn to look at her from where she sits next to you. The music is thumping some song you can’t recognize and it rings in your ears as you raise your eyebrows at her. Speak louder, your eyebrows say, and Natalie leans closer so her lips are nearly brushing your ear. “I said, are you having fun?”

Are you? Well, you’re not sure. Even if you’d done nothing to earn the two shots you’d downed, they did taste better than the cheap bars you and your friends frequented on weekends. And it was entertaining, watching guys nearly twice your age seriously believe they’d end up between the sheets with your friends later. So you shrug, bringing your hand to fan at your neck, trying desperately to alleviate the heat burning at your skin. “It’s alright.”

It’s good enough for Natalie and she turns back to Valerie, whose legs are swung over the lap of some 50 year old who had got you all your second round of shots. His hand is pressed to her waist, fingertips digging into her skin through her dress, and it makes your stomach churn to see, so you drop your eyes to the table, where you’ve been picking at your screen protector for the past 15 minutes.

It’s times like this you wish you were a lightweight but you barely feel tipsy, and you’d like nothing more than to rip away your inhibitions and go out and dance against some guy who you’ll never see again, but you find it too awkward to do while practically sober. You bring your eyes up to scan at the dance floor - God, there’s so many girls with the same ideas you had, presumably. The demographic of this club is rich old men and broke, early-20s girls and you don’t know how much you really like to be one of them.

Though you can’t deny that the drinks are good.

“Stop thinking so much!” you glance back at Natalie with your brows furrowed. You hate the way she can practically feel what you’re thinking because you’d have been more than happy to tug at your screen protector until it peeled off of your entirely-too-vulnerable phone but she’d never allow it. Never let you sit here, in this booth, while everyone else is having a good time. Sometimes you appreciate it and sometimes you don’t and you aren’t quite sure of how you’re feeling about it now. “You know what I think?”

You can’t fucking hear her and you lean your head in more, awating her response as your narrowed eyes look around the crowd on the dance floor again. No one catches your eye but nobody catches your eye here, either, and you reckon you’d have better luck roaming the streets of LA to find someone worth your time.

“I think you should go get laid,” Natalie tells you, and you exhale, a humorless smile turning your lips up. “I’m serious! There has to be some hot, rich guy here. What, did that guy fuck you so good you never want anyone else again?”

The thought of being pinned under any guy that your eyes are glazing over could make you gag, but you reckon she may be right. Unbeknownst to your friends, you’d never fucked anyone and you hadn’t necessarily felt the need - you’d done just about everything else under the sun, and not a single guy you’d given a blowie to, or who’d fingered you, had ever been able to find the spot that made you squirm more than anything. So you’d never quite understood why having someone’s dick inside of you was such a big deal but you can’t deny, now, that getting it out of the way does sound quite nice, solely to boost your self esteem after getting dumped by a graduated frat boy named Logan.

There wasn’t much of a bigger blow to your ego than that.

You tug your gloss-coated bottom lip in between your teeth, dropping your eyes back down to Natalie’s, and she widens her eyes at you in a way that further encourages you to get the whole virginity thing out of the way. It’s not like it matters, anyway. “Maybe,” you tell her, entirely too quiet compared to the music pulsing through the club, and she smiles, leaning back in the booth. You’re not sure if she heard you because you can’t hear whatever she says next, but it doesn’t matter - you’re already pushing your way out of the booth, calling excuse me to where Alexa is leaning close to the man she’d found (and he’s, by far, the most attractive of any of the three guys your friends had located, but Alexa has always been the best at finding the hottest guys, and you’re nearly positive she actually will end up fucking him tonight.) She leans forward so you can climb behind her, awkwardly in your heels, and you tug at one of her curls as you clamber out of the booth.

Working your way through a crowd of people to the bar is a skill you’ve all but mastered and at a club like this, it’s a lot easier than you’d expected. There’s less people dancing than you’d thought though you shouldn’t be shocked - it certainly isn’t like the usual clubs you go to. And so, you push your way through the people dancing to the bar, and there’s a few people spread out on the barstools. You scan the back of them - you can’t see any of their faces, naturally, so you merely judge from their hair, and you take a few steps forward and settle yourself onto a stool besides a man with messy brown curls, a pint of beer in front of him.

When you peek at his side profile he certainly looks younger than you’d expected - hardly older than you, if at all. And that’s a score for you, you figure. You’d much prefer to lose your virginity to someone who doesn’t seem like they could be your dad. But he is wearing sunglasses and that’s a bit weird - certainly not a dealbreaker but odd enough to make you wonder.

You aren’t sure what to say - should’ve listened closer when Natalie, Valerie or Alexa were seducing their men for drinks - and for a moment you sit in silence. 

It’s only when you turn your head to take another look at him, at the sunglasses sitting at the very top of his nose, that the silence between you two is broken, and his head tilts ever so slightly towards you. “What’re you looking at?”

God, his voice. You’d always had a thing for British accents and his is better than most, deep and raspy and slow, and you shift on your stool. And it sounds just a bit familiar but you can’t exactly pinpoint where - well, it doesn’t matter. If things go further between you two, tonight, you surmise he’d forever be the sexiest voice you’d slept with.

But you can’t get your hopes up. After all, the sunglasses in a dimly lit, fancy club is enough to make you just a bit suspicious of what type of person he is, and you refuse to hand over your V-card to a weirdo.

“Just wondering what your glasses are for.” Figure it’s best to figure that out before you let this get any further. You don’t want to waste your time. And you pointedly glance up at the ceiling, eyes darting around the walls of the club. “S’not like there’s much light here to protect your eyes from, is there?”

He chuckles, then, and you raise your eyebrows. “Guess I just don’t want people to see me,” he tells you, and when he turns to face you fully your eyes scan over his face and - God, he really does look familiar. And he sounds familiar. Have you met him before? No, you don’t think you could ever forget someone like him.

But - well, maybe. You weren’t necessarily known for having the keenest of memories.

You smile at him, brows creasing together. He certainly does seem to be a mystery and you’d love to uncover it in more ways than one. So you lean forward, resting your arm on the bartop. “Seems like the wrong kind of place, if you don’t want people to see you.”

“I reckon it’s working - you’re the first person to talk to me all night.” A hand - a large hand, you note - goes up to his hair, fingers brushing through his curls, and your eyes follow its path in a way that certainly isn’t anywhere close to subtle. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Is he flirting with you? You’re not quite sure but God, you hope so, because so far he keeps getting better and better to you. So you turn to completely face him and you can see the small smirk on his lips, as if he knows what he’s doing to you without even having to try. “Are you going to tell me your name?”

You can see his eyebrows raise as he picks up his beer and takes a sip. Your eyes can’t help but follow every movement he makes and you don’t care if you look desperate - truthfully, you are. You hadn’t even seen his face in its entirety but you suspect your friends would be impressed if they could see the sort of guy you’d located. Even if you leave this club and never see him again, you’re not sure you could ever forget the way he’s making your stomach flip just with a small quirk of his lips.

When he’s set his drink down again and brought his wrist up to wipe at the beer still lingering on his lips - is that a Gucci watch? - he tilts his head at you, curls flopping, and then says, “Tell me yours first,” so you do. And he nods slowly before telling you, “My name is Harry.”

Harry. 

Your mind is whirring because suddenly the pieces are coming together - and you hadn’t been in your One Direction phase for a few years but you certainly know who Harry is. And the fact that you’re just sitting here, right now, talking to him in a club filled with too many other girls to count, seems like an accomplishment in itself. But you don’t want him to know you know, though surely he must assume you do, so you nod in the same fashion he did, as if you’re content with what he’d told you.

“Harry,” you repeat, as if testing the name out on your tongue. He spins his stool slightly so he’s facing you and your knees knock into his slightly. And then you raise your eyebrows at him, reaching down to tug your dress down slightly where it’s been riding up on your thighs, and you don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements. “Are you going to let me see your eyes, Harry?”

Harry laughs slightly and then stands, and you look up at him, confusion blazing in your eyes. Is he leaving? God, you hope not. You don’t want your experience with him to be over before it's begun, no matter what it ends up being. But then he motions, with one finger, for you to follow him and you’re standing so fast your head is spinning, and you trail after him as he leads you through the crowd of people, and you crane your neck to try and see where your friends are but you can’t see them anywhere.

It’s fine by you, you decide, as Harry stops in front of a small, darkened booth towards the back of the club. You’re surprised but positively overjoyed that it’s empty - seems like the perfect type of table for anyone looking to get lucky. And, Christ, you are.

You slide into the booth and Harry slides in right next to you, leaving hardly a few inches between you two as he rests his arm against the back of the booth oso he can face you, and, beneath the table, your ankle links with his. You give him a moment to see if he’ll pull his foot loose from yours, but he never does, and it makes your heart race.

“Gonna take off your glasses for me, Harry?” you tilt your head forward - where you’d moved to is closer to the source of the music and it’s harder to hear, all of a sudden, but you can’t bring yourself to pretend that’s why your face gets so close to his. His breath smells like beer and mints, and you can see the smirk spreading further across his face. “I’ve been dying to see your eyes. Bet they’re pretty.” And you’re not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, because you’ve hardly tried to seduce anyone like this, but you’ll lay it on thick for him.

He’s different.

He chuckles and you can feel his breath, hot against your face. It sends a shiver down your spine and you hope the instinct was imperceptible. “Take them off for me, then,” and you do, reaching up to pull the glasses off his nose, and you can tell - just by the feeling of them in your hands - that they’re more expensive than anything you’d ever held in your life. 

As if everything before this wasn’t proof enough that you truly were talking to Harry Styles, sliding the glasses down his nose and meeting his eyes really validates it. You can’t help the way your lips part as you reach down to rest his sunglasses on the sticky table and you hope you don’t look as amazed as you’re feeling.

God, you have to be dreaming. The guy you cherry pick from the randoms sitting at a bar is - him. And you’re sitting with him, his fingers dancing across your shoulder blade where his arm is thrown lazily over the back of the booth, your ankles intertwined.

16-year-old you never could’ve believed it, but 22-year old you is having the time of her life.

“You look a bit shocked,” Harry murmurs, barely heard over the pounding music, but you hear it as clearly as if he’d yelled it in your ear.

You shift your mouth closer to his ear, so close that you know your lips graze his skin when you tell him, “Prettier than I’d expected, s’all.” It’s then - with a start - that you feel his other hand drop to your knee, pressing circles into your soft skin. You could nearly moan at the feeling and you know, suddenly, that this’ll definitely go where you want it to, assuming you don’t fuck it up.

And you won’t. Won’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Ah.” When he tilts his head ever so slightly your lips are hardly a centimeter apart and with one shift forward you could close the gap, press your mouth to his, slip your tongue into his mouth. Force this into exactly the direction you need it to go, feel his hands drop to your hips, pulling you into his lap, cock hard against your core where your dress is riding up your hips.

As soon as you start to lean in, to make every fantasy you’ve had a reality, you feel two fingers, harsh against your shoulder, and they don’t belong to Harry.

You glance up, eyes narrowing at whoever had disrupted you, and standing in front of your booth is Alexa, wearing a small smile reeking of both excitement and guilt. And you can’t bring yourself to be mad at her for interrupting you, even though you want to, as she drops your phone onto the table.

“Sorry for interrupting,” she calls above the music, and you roll your eyes, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to move your head closer to his. In your ear you can hear him groan softly as your chest presses against his, and you can feel his arm that had been over the top of the booth drop to wrap around your waist - exactly where you’d wanted to feel it. “We’re gonna head out. Are you going to come?” The question is innocent but you can tell she already knows the answer as her eyes drop down to Harry’s arm, secure around your waist, fingers rubbing patterns into your hip through your tight, black dress.

“No,” you tell her, and Harry squeezes your hips in approval. “No, I’m gonna stay.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s then that Harry turns his head to look at her, effectively pressing your bodies closer than you’d thought they could go, and you can see the exact moment Alexa recognizes him - the way her eyes widen and her lips part into a smile. You’re not sure if she’s simply shocked that she’s seeing Harry in person or if she’s surprised you’re wrapped around him, but either way, she looks absolutely shell-shocked. “Promise I’ll take good care of her,” Harry tells your friend, and the double entendre makes you shift slightly, thighs rubbing against each other. 

He better take good care of you.

You bring your hand up to wave to Alexa and you can’t hear the response she squeaks out before she’s gone, and you don’t look to see her go back to your friends. You merely lean back, just a bit, pressing your hands to Harry’s shoulder to look at him.

“Gonna take good care of me, then?” you raise your eyebrows and you can see Harry’s pupils dilating as he stares at you, and you shift closer to him, practically in his lip. The music changes, then, and you hadn’t been paying attention to it before but now, Bang a Gong seems quite fitting for the moment. “Hope you follow through on that.”

It’s then that he leans forward, eliminating the distance between your faces as his lips press to yours. And you hardly have a moment to even comprehend it as his hand rises to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, and you moan into his mouth just about immediately. Harry’s tongue slips into your mouth and one of your hands drags up to the back of his neck, nails tracing along his sweaty skin. You’re not sure you’ve ever truly appreciated being kissed until right now, feeling his lips slotted against yours, the way his hand is pushing further up your thigh until his fingertips are creeping up the cheap material of your black dress.

You only pull away when you need to catch your breath, and Harry’s arm keeps you so close to him that the thought of regaining your composure seems too far away to consider. You’re not sure you’ll ever recover from that and you know there’s so fucking much more to come and you truly have scored, even if you only end up with kiss swollen lips to show for it.

But you reckon he has a thing for hickeys. It’s just a vibe you get from some guys, and as soon as the thought settles into your brain Harry proves it - mouth moving down to just below your jaw, and you drop your head back with a whine as you feel him beginning to suck a dark mark into your skin. His hand on your hip clutches your dress between his fingers, pulling the material tighter to your body than you’d even thought it could go, and it’s all the leverage he needs to pull you as close to him as you can go without being on top of him.

Which - you aren’t opposed to, but you’d always pictured your first time being below an incredibly handsome man.

(Though, you hadn’t ever pictured your first time being with your teenage crush, so you shouldn’t start relying on your fantasies now, you guess.)

When you shift your leg so it’s hooked across his, he pauses, pulling back to glance at the mark he’d left on your skin. In the dim light in the back of the club you’re not sure how well he’d be able to see it, but he grins as he examines it. Your fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and you can feel him shiver beneath you and it makes your clit throb. “I think,” he tells you, leaning in so his mouth is right at the bottom of your ear, and you fight back a whimper at how deep his voice had gotten - dropped nearly an octave since the last time he spoke. “I think we should take this somewhere else.”

Harry squeezes your bare thigh, then, fingers just a few inches from the hem of your panties. You’d let him pin you to the booth, fuck you hard where anyone could walk by and see but - of course - that isn’t feasible. And as much as you truly do not care about losing your virginity, you don’t think you want it to be here, so you nod your approval. In an instant he’s out of the booth, fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugging you out after him. You grab his sunglasses and your phone, resting on the sticky table. You stumble as soon as you stand up and you’re not sure why - you think you’re just a bit overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the past 20 minutes, and the fact that Harry fucking Styles is almost certainly taking you to bed.

“Hang on,” you tell him, and when he turns to look back at you with an eyebrow raised, you reach forward to perch his glasses on top of his nose, preserving the anonymity you knew he wanted. He smiles slightly as he reaches up to push them further up his nose, and then he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you begin to walk towards the door.

Your friends are gone, you note, as you pass the booth you’d occupied earlier. Your phone, firm in your hand, has been buzzing incessantly since Alexa dropped it off but you haven’t bothered to check what the notifications are - your friends, surely wondering what you were doing, where you were going, when you would be home. And you didn’t know, truly, but you hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Harry pulls you through the doors of the club into the moist, nighttime air, and immediately you’re shivering - it’s chilly, just a bit. Not too bad, but you can tell it’s just rained by the way your foot sinks into a puddle of water, soaking through your cheap black heels.

You pay it no mind - just keep walking in pace with him, wondering, briefly, if there’ll be a time when you wake up from this. Perhaps right as he slides inside of you, filling you up so good, you’ll squeeze your eyes shut and moan and when you open them you’ll be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you didn’t have such a rampant imagination.

There’s no way this can truly be real but at the same time it is - the way his fingers tap against your hip feels so real. The way he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he turns you both down the street, it feels like it can’t possibly be a dream.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice sends vibrations rolling through your body and now that you’re free of music blaring through your head, muffling every word the pair of you spoke, you can appreciate it more - the rasp in his tone, how deep and slow he speaks. You could nearly moan at that but you hold back, biting on your tongue to prevent any loose noises from slipping out.

You lean up so your mouth is close to his ear like you had in the club, even though there’s no music surrounding you to make it necessary - you like the way he tightens his grip on your hip when you breathe against his ear. “Just wondering where you’re taking me.”

That wasn’t, in fact, what you were thinking about, but you didn’t think you could muster up the courage right now to tell him how bad you want him inside of you.

Harry points down the street and you squint to what he’s motioning to - “Have a driver waiting for me. Gonna take us to my hotel room, not too far from here.”

“And then what?”

He raises his eyebrow as he glances down at you, and you can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes even on such a dimly lit street. “And then -” he turns into a parking lot, just behind the club you’d been in, and you can hear the distant thumping music from inside - “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Christ. You nearly whimper just at the implication and your mind speeds off, leaving your body behind, imagining every single thing he could do to you - or you could do to him - or anything. You can picture a thousand different scenarios and every single one ends with you in his hotel bed, your V-card firmly in his pocket.

It’s then that Harry stops in front of a sleek, black car - raps two knuckles on the tinted window of the driver’s seat and it rolls down almost immediately, as though it had been waiting for his signal. You can’t hear what he murmurs to the driver as he ducks his head inside the window and you don’t strain your mind to try and listen - within a few seconds he’s stepping back, opening the door to the backseat and ushering you inside.

You’d never been in a nicer car before but you shouldn’t be shocked - the outfit he’s wearing tonight could pay your rent for the next four months. There’s a partition between the backseat and the front and you’re beyond thankful as Harry slides in beside you, slamming the door shut, and he doesn’t give you a moment to process anything before his lips are on yours.

You wouldn’t dream of complaining as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, and he’s groaning into your mouth as his hand drifts downwards to cup your ass through your dress but it’s not enough for him and you can tell. Fingers push up the bottom of the cheap material so he can slip his hand beneath it, hand cold against the back of your thigh and he slides his hand further up until he’s groping your arse once more.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and you can feel Harry smirking against your lips - a smug bastard, he is, but you find you don’t truly care. You pull your mouth from his, feeling his teeth tugging at your bottom lip, but you’re hardly disconnected a moment before you throw your leg over his thighs, straddling him, and he moans like music to your ears. 

He uses his grip on your ass to force your hips to rock against the bulge, prominent even through his pants. His other hand tugs your dress up to your hips, letting the material bunch around your waist, and immediately his hand comes down hard on your ass - you squeal, dropping your forehead against his, as he rubs over the spot he’d just smacked.

“Y’like that?” You nod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s neck as he lands another slap down on your bum. Your hips press harder into his, feeling the pressure on your clit as you roll against him. “Yeah, know you do. Dirty girl.”

And - you’re not sure why - but you drop your lips to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe and feeling the way his cock twitches beneath you. “Can I tell you something?”

He nods, and you bring your hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his sweaty curls. Harry tilts his head to the side and your lips briefly brush, feather light, as you slow the pace your hips are rocking, savoring every brush of your panty clad clit against the material of his pants. “Anything,” he mutters, head dropping against the headrest, and you reach down to press your palm to his cock. God, he’s so hard and he feels so big too, too big to even fit in you, but you know damn well you’ll try your very best to make it work.

Even if you’ve never done it before, and before you can wonder if it’s the best time or thing to tell him, you lean in. “I’ve never had sex before.”

Harry certainly seems shocked and the way his lips part goes straight to your ego - do you seem so good at all of this that he’d suspected you’d done it time and time again? Maybe he’s confused as to why you told him and truthfully, you are, too. Just felt like the kind of thing he’d like to know. Your ex boyfriend had certainly wanted to know, and two days after you’d told him he’d ended things.

Maybe some guys don’t want to take girls’ virginities, but judging by the way Harry’s fingers dig further into your ass, you suspect he does.

“Never?” There’s the surprise thick in his voice and you nod, grasp on his cock tightening ever so slightly, and he groans beneath you. “God. Never would’ve thought. Bloody good at this.”

Yep, there’s your ego inflating, and you shrug. “Done just about everything else. Just haven’t gotten to the good part.” Another smack lands against your ass and you moan, pushing back against his palm as he smooths his hand over your skin.

He leans back, then, shifting his hips, and you can see his pupils dilating more and more as he glances down at the way your cunt presses to his cock - “Why don’t you show me what you can do, then?”

You’re much more than willing, and you lean in to give Harry one final kiss before pushing yourself off of him and sitting, on your knees, on the seat beside him. He’s watching you so intently you could almost feel judged but you love it - love the way he watches you push your hair behind you, how he reaches down to slowly undo the zipper of his fancy dress pants, but you wanna do it yourself. You push his hand away, wrapping your hand around his wrist, and surely he’s strong enough to resist the dominant act you’re playing if he wanted to but you can tell he doesn’t. You finish unzipping his pants and he lifts his hips slightly so you can shimmy them down his thighs, just enough so you’re face to face with his cock, thick and bulging through his briefs.

You don’t give yourself a moment to examine just how big he is - bigger than you’d anticipated when you were on top of him and when you’d felt him up. You’d sucked off plenty of guys and none of them came close to his size but you’ve mastered the faux confident facade as you shift backwards, leaning down with your ass high in the air to press a soft kiss against Harry’s cock through his boxers.

He groans, those glasses slipping down his nose, and his wandering fingers end up dancing down your back - you’re not sure where he’s going but you shift forward to give him easier access to your ass, if that’s what he wants, and your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers to pull them over his cock.

Jesus, yeah, he is big. You wrap your hand around him, pumping experimentally a few times, listening to the way Harry moans brokenly. You wonder, briefly, when he’s last done this - he looks as though it’s been a bit too long but, well, you suppose you can’t judge how sensitive he is when just the feeling of his hand splayed across your lower back is wetting your panties faster than anything has before.

Lips press a wet kiss against the tip of his cock, just briefly, before you wrap your lips around his length and push our head down - a gurgled cry escapes his throat and you nearly smirk around him, taking him as far down your throat as you can until your nose is just about brushing his pelvis. Your hands press to his thighs and you can feel him growing stiffer in the confines of your mouth by the second. Fingers tangle in your hair, forcing your head down, and with any other guy you’d roll your eyes but there’s something different about him, something that makes you like the dominance. Any semblance of it that you’d had seconds before is gone and there’s a smack against your ass, causing you to cry out against his cock.

Normally you pull off of guys after 15 seconds (or so) but Harry doesn’t let you, holds you down, and you hollow your cheeks around him. Swallow, and his hips jerk up into your mouth, forcing a gag from you, and then he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull your mouth from him.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and his hand is groping your ass so tight it nearly hurts but the pleasure overpowers it and you push back against his hand. His fingers tug at your thong, slipping beneath it as you lap at the tip of his cock, and no sooner have his fingers circled your puckered hole - is he gonna do it? - that he slides them further down, running his digits through your soaked folds. 

“So - so fucking wet -” his voice cracks as you take him down your throat again but his hand doesn’t force your head down like last time - instead he brings his other hand to your bum and smacks you hard, harder than every other time, and you moan and he moans, and then two of his fingers slip into your cunt and you moan again.

God, it really is happening, because if it wasn’t, you’re sure you’d have woken yourself up in excitement by now. He really is two fingers deep in your pussy while his cock is all the way down your throat, and he really is crying out as you whine against his cock. His digits curl, brushing against that sweet spot in your velvety walls that has you clenching around him, and you think he’s the first guy you’ve ever done anything with whose found your G-spot without 10 minutes of needed assistance.

Your tongue swirls around his cock as you take your mouth from him, throwing your head back with a cry, and your first still pumps him up and down - his fingers are thrusting in and out of you so fast that the sound of your arousal is nearly the same volume as your moans lingered with his. You’re going to cum so fucking hard, first time you’ve cum from anything other than your fingers or your toys, and you roll your hips against his fingers, grasp on his cock tightening.

“Gonna cum -” your eyes roll back into your head as your thumb flicks over the head of Harry’s length, feeling the way his body jerks at the sensation. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop -”

“Gonna cum for me?” his voice is a hiss through gritted teeth as his fingers speed up even more, pumping inside of you so fast that your head is fucking spinning. “Do it, then. My dirty - fucking - girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you needed and you can’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed at how fast you’re cumming because as soon as the pit in your stomach starts to unravel you can feel his cock twitching in your fist. You can’t think of a single thing to say, vocabulary wiped clean, merely throwing your head back with a noise akin to a scream as you cum on his fingers, and as his hips jerk up, you can feel his release coating your hand.

Harry’s fingers still pump slowly inside of you, prolonging your orgasm until it fades away and in turn you try to do the same to him, hand moving up and down his cock until your breathing steadies from labored pants into something more normal. So you pull your hand off of him, pushing yourself to sit on your knees, cum covering your fingers. And, in an instant, Harry’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you let him guide your hand up to your mouth.

You can tell he’s merely testing you to see if you’ll do it - but, truthfully, you’d wanted him to cum in your mouth, anyway, if only to prove something to him, or to yourself. So you stick your tongue out, lap a thick stripe through his cum on your hand, dripping down your wrist, and Harry’s lust ridden eyes watch you, lips parted and breathing picking up again.

Your eyes never leave his as you lick up the last of his release on your hands, swallowing every last bit of it, and when you open your mouth to stick your tongue out - proving to him that you took every single goddamn drop - his hand flies to the back of your neck, pulling your head in, and your lips connect with a clash of teeth.

“Like a fucking angel,” Harry groans, pressing his fist to the car seat next to you, and the feeling of him hovering ever so slightly above you makes the buzzing in your head that much more intense. His other hand works at tucking himself back into his pants, zipping them up, and you figure it’s good to pull your dress down to cover your ass, too. “My fuckin’ perfect girl. Jesus Christ.”

You can feel the car slowing to a stop and you’re entirely too ready to go up to Harry’s bedroom and have your goddamn brains fucked out. You already feel like you’re on cloud 9 with one orgasm down, one so intense and brutal, one that you reckon nothing but him could muster up, and that’s just his fingers - you need to know what his cock’ll do to you. 

His hand falls back down to your waist where it seems to love to reside and he squeezes your hip, leaning in to nibble at your bottom lip again. You grin lazily, then reach up and push his sunglasses back up his nose where they’d slid down the bridge ever so slightly. “Want you t’fuck me,” you breathe, voice raspy in all of its post-orgasm glory. “Never gotten fucked by anyone before but I need you - swear, I’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

Harry chuckles and turns to glance out the window - then he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. When you’ve both clambered out of the car his arm is around you in a heartbeat, and you need the support, legs feeling shaky, and you take just a moment to glance up at the hotel you’re walking into - nicer than anything you’d ever been in in your life but you feel a bit more used to it by now.

“Tell me,” Harry mutters, leaning his lips close to your ear, as the automatic doors slide open for the pair of you to walk into the hotel lobby. “How many guys have made you cum before, hmm?”

“None,” is your response, turning your head to the side so you can witness the shock that overtakes Harry’s face - you can’t see his eyes but you’re sure they’re wide. “Told myself I didn’t want to fuck a guy who didn’t know where the clit is, and - well, none of them did.”

He chuckles as you two make your way through the lobby towards the elevators - it feels wrong for you to even be here, walking by people who see more money every day than you have in your life, in your dress you’d gotten at the thrift store and your heel still slightly wet. But being with Harry, having his arm around you, makes you feel decidedly less awkward, because you’re sure millions of girls would positively die to do what you’re about to do.

But you get to do it, and if that isn’t the best feeling in the world.

He stops in front of the elevator and presses the button to go up, and the doors open almost immediately - such a gentleman, he is, letting you step in first, and when you’re both in you watch the button for the very top floor light up as he pushes it. 

“You’re in for the night of your life,” Harry tells you as the elevator doors slide shut, and you’re entirely expecting him to pin you to the wall but he doesn’t - incredible composure, really, staring straight ahead like he can’t feel the desperation practically dripping from your body. You stare at him, for a moment, at his side profile, jaw set. Like he isn’t as needy as you are, but, as your eyes trail down his body to the bulge already hardening again in his pants, you know that he is.

It seems like an eternity later that the elevator doors slide open again, and you want to race down the hall to his room but you let him lead the way, even if his pace is pathetically slow as he strolls down the hallway. There are only two rooms up this high, on either ends of the hall, and his is to the left of the elevators and it seems so much further than the one to the right.

But you make it there, and Harry’s reaching in his pockets to find his key card - and then he’s swiping it - and then he’s pushing open the door - and as soon as it shuts again, you’re pressed firm against the wall. Your hands fly to the back of his head as his drop to your back, trailing downwards to cup at your ass again (he seems to have a thing for it, but you would never think of complaining.) Your lips press to his as your head falls back against the door, and his hips jerk forward to roll against yours.

You still feel entirely too sensitive and you moan out, pushing your hips forward to meet his as you pull his face closer to yours, using your arms around his neck as leverage to pull him in, but you didn’t need it - you can tell he’s just as desperate as you are, and soon he pulls you off of the door, backing you up to God knows where. You let him lead you until your legs hit something and you fall backwards onto a plush couch, pushing yourself onto your elbows to watch Harry as he drops to his knees before you.

Oh, shit.

Your cheeks heat up as he rests his hands on your knees, spreading your thighs apart. Harry’s hand rises up to his sunglasses, perched, still, on his nose, and he pulls them off, resting them on the coffee table behind him. His eyes meet yours and perhaps he can see the apprehension in your eyes because he leans up, pressing a kiss to your lips. You savor the moment, the sweetness of his tongue entering your mouth, before he lowers himself back down onto his knees. Hands go to the bottom of your dress, rolling it over your hips until it can settle around your waist, exposing your entire bottom half to him, and it feels so much more intimate now that you’re not confined to the backseat of a car.

Harry leans in without giving you a breath to collect yourself, pressing a kiss to your clit through your arousal-soaked lace panties - your hand drops to the couch, squeezing the edge of the cushion between your fingers, and you can already feel your slight embarrassment slipping away as Harry pushes your thigh, forcing it further open.

“Tell me,” he says, deep and hot with how close he is to your cunt, and your hips roll of their own accord at the feeling. “How many guys have done this to you?”

You pause to think, chest rising and falling as he leans in again, licking up your panties, and the sensation makes it a bit difficult to gather yourself enough to respond - eventually, though, you swallow and say, “Not too many. One or two.”

He leans back, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “And they never made you cum.”

“N - no.”

“Well, I will,” is his response, and, as cocky as it may seem, you know he’s right - could probably make you cum through your panties, but his fingers hook in the top of them as soon as the thought pops in your mind. You lift your hips up so he can drag them down your legs, and when they’ve puddled by your feet he helps you take them off. You watch as he crumbles the lacey material in his hands and then stuffs it into the pockets of his fancy pants - for later, he murmurs against your thigh. And then he goes in - hands on your thighs forcing them apart so hard it nearly burns but you find you like the stretch, and his lips wrap around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks on the small nub.

Your head drops back against the couch and you bury your hand in his hair, a loud moan escaping your throat. He wasn’t teasing you and you were beyond grateful - tongue laps up every drop of wetness that gushes in your cunt, kitten licks against your clit, and you can tell he has more experience than you could have imagined. Harry has it mastered, exactly where to place his hands (one on your thigh, the other creeping its way beneath the material of your dress towards your tits) and how to flick his tongue just right to have your hips bucking up against his mouth. And if you thought you’d cum hard in the car you know you’re in for a fucking treat because there’s already pressure building in your stomach and it won’t be long until it fucking erupts.

When you squeeze your eyes shut he stops - pulls away, his mouth and his hands, like he’d never been there in the first place. You open your eyes, chest heaving as you stare down at him. His pupils are lust blown and wide as he stares at you, eyebrows raised, as if you’re meant to know something he never told you - “Eyes open,” he tuts, tone condescending and smug, and you hate how much you love it. “Keep them open. Gonna watch me make you fall apart, alright?” You nod slowly. “Tell me.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as Harry’s lips form a small o, breathing a puff of air onto your beyond sensitive clit, and your fingers in his curls tighten to what has to hurt - but he moans, ever so slightly, as you finally breathe, “Yes. Okay.”

“S’what I thought,” is his response, and then he leans back in, licking up your soaked folds as though no time had passed. Both of his palms press against your thighs, pinching your soft skin, fingers dangerously close to the area he’s working so well. God, his fingers, you swear you’ve never felt anything better than them - you want them again, so bad, hitting your sweet spot so good.

You can’t begin to get the words out to tell him that, though, so you merely reach down, shaky fingers wrapping around his wrist and pushing it closer to your cunt - he pauses, tongue mid-swirl around your clit, and looks up at you with a glint of pure cockiness in his eyes. 

“What do you want?” he doesn’t remove his mouth from around your clit as he speaks and the vibrations roll through your body, sending a cry through your throat, and you push his hand further towards your cunt. You know it won’t be enough - haven’t known Harry for quite long at all, but you reckon you know that much about him. “Use your words,” and Harry sounds so fucking commanding that it could make you cum right then and there.

“F - fingers,” you just about sob out, rolling your hips up into his mouth so your clit brushes against his tongue. “Please, Harry - need your fingers, please -”

“Fingers, hmm?” His digits dance across your thighs, straying further away from where you need him, and your eyes just about roll back into your head as he pulls his mouth from your clit and blows on it again. “Where do you want my fingers?”

But you’re too far gone to speak - as he leans in to brush his tongue against your sensitive clit once more, you can feel the pit in your tummy starting to come undone. You drop your head back as Harry licks a thick stripe up to your sensitive nub, and he stops again, pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. “Does my dirty girl want my fingers in her pussy, hmm? S’that where you want my fingers?”

You moan out in affirmation.

Harry pulls his head from your thigh and you push yourself so you’re sitting up more, getting a clear view of everything he’s doing as he spits on your pussy, the saliva dripping down onto your clit, and you fucking cry out. His fingers come up to collect the spittle, rubbing it along your clit before dragging it down your folds so he can push them into your pussy - curling up immediately, knowing exactly the spot that makes you squirm. His other hand comes up and lands a firm smack against your clit, one that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

It only takes a few quick pumps of his curled fingers, in and out of your fluttering cunt, that has you cumming so hard you swear you see stars. Every single sob that breaks free from your throat is so loud that you swear the neighbors in the room at the other end of the hall must be able to hear you - should send them a flower arrangement tomorrow morning, because it’s just his mouth and fingers that has you screaming bloody murder.

“Oh my god -” your hips jerk against his mouth, your hands in his hair dropping back down to the cushions. “Fuck.”

Coming down from your second high of the evening is entirely different from your first - you can’t imagine how you’ll possibly be able to pull anymore from you but, as Harry stands up, your slick covering his mouth and chin, you know you have to.

The whole point is to fuck him. To finally know what everyone’s talking about - to see what the fuss is all about. 

Harry leans down, tongue forcing its way down your throat the second your lips part for him, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your arousal mixed with the beer he’d had earlier, all traces of the mint washed away, and it tastes so divine. Even more divine as his hands drop to the zipper of his pants, sliding it down, and you slide your fingers in the waistband, helping him tug them down his thighs. He kicks them off as soon as they’re near his feet and then he pulls away, palm pressing against the bulge in his briefs. 

“How do you want it?” he asks, words dripping with lust and desperation and you know the exact way he’s feeling and more. You watch him intently as he grips the bottom of his sweater and tugs it over his head - it drops to the rug atop the ground and you let your eyes soak in the sight of him, almost fully nude, briefly ignoring the question.

You hadn’t necessarily expected him to ask. He seems more dominant than that, needing to take control, so you swallow, chest heaving as you try to think. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

He seems to have been expecting that answer, because his hands fall to your waist, pushing you down so you’re lying on the couch. It’s spacious, just enough room for you to adjust yourself comfortably, and Harry lowers himself down on top of you the second you’ve shifted enough.

“How’s this?”

And his caring demeanor is shocking but fitting, because as much as you merely want to get your virginity out of the way, it does feel like a sort of important moment. You want it to be comfortable, and lying on the plushiest couch you’ve ever been on with Harry hovering above you, his arm inches above your head, is about as comfortable as you’re going to get.

You loop your arms around his neck and you can feel his clothed cock, pressed to your cunt. He’s so fucking hard and you’re amazed at the amount of composure he has. “Perfect,” you mumble, leaning up to attach your lips once more (you swear, you can’t get enough of him.)

Harry tugs down his boxers, just enough to free his cock from the flannel confines, and you can feel his tip, running along your folds - he slaps it on your clit and you groan. You drop your head back against the arm of the couch as he sinks his tip into your cunt. Slowly, steadily, he pushes himself the rest of the way in, stuffing you so deliciously full of him that it nearly overtakes the pain.

Nearly.

You’ve used dildos before and you’re thankful for it, now, because you reckon without any sort of experience you’d feel absolutely split in half. Even now, there’s a dull burn sparking between your thighs, and you drop your head back, eyes squeezing shut as you try to adjust to the feeling. No, it didn’t necessarily hurt but it was different and that in itself was enough for you to need a moment to adjust. The way his cock twitched inside of you every so often encouraged you and subsequently turned you on beyond belief, and you don’t need too much time to adjust, after all.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and you can feel it against your face, barely an inch above yours. Poor guy, must be torture, holding out, because you can practically sense how needy he is. You lift your head up to press your lips to his, soft like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, before pulling back. “Move - fuck, please, move, Harry.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling his hips back before thrusting them back in. That is certainly different, verging on the border of pain, but with a few more slow pumps, in and out of your dripping cunt, the pleasure is beginning to take it over.

It takes a moment to find a rhythm that’s enough for both of you. There’s still a slight discomfort but not enough to make you want to wait any longer. You’re finally having sex and you want it to keep going, to do it forever and ever with the absolute God hovering above you.

“So goddamn tight,” Harry grunts as he rocks his hips into yours. “Squeezing me so good. Never fucked anyone so tight in my life, I swear.”

His compliments, whether they were in the heat of the moment or genuine, makes you moan out - makes this entire thing feel so much better.

And fuck, it truly does feel good, especially when he angles his hips just so, every thrust sweeping against that sweet spot deep inside of you that he’s so adept at finding. For the first minute or so you’re fine with the leisurely pace he’s doing but you can tell it’s killing him and it’s starting to kill you, too. You’ve never been too patient, even if you’d waited 22 years for this exact moment.

You’re not a virgin. It feels good, the invisible badge of honor and the cock, going entirely too slow for your liking, deep in your pussy.

“Faster - need you to go faster,” you gasp as Harry’s thumb drops to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive nub, and they’re immediately a sharp contrast to the way he pulls his hips out and slams them back in. This is what he wanted, what he needed, and it’s what you need, too. No slow pumps. You need him fucking fast and hard and God it feels good, the way he presses down on your clit, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. “Feel so good inside me. God, keep doing that.”

Harry braces a hand on top of the couch, lifting his body slightly off of yours to piston his cock in and out of your cunt, taking him greedily and fully. He’d been with plenty of girls before - more than he could count - but there was something different, being the first guy to fill you up, to fuck you so hard you saw stars. And it was bloody good, watching you beneath him, your mouth falling open with a broken moan, pushing your pelvis up towards his, trying to help him along.

“Such a dirty girl,” Harry rasps, reaching down to grab the top of your dress - should’ve taken it off of you, really - and he pulls it down so aggressively you’re sure the fabric will rip. Your tits spill out of the top, covered only by your bra, and his fingers hook in the cups, pulling them away from your breasts, and in an instant his head is lowered to flick his tongue against your nipple. “Feels so good, hmm? Getting fucked for the very first time? Poor baby - never had a dick before. Tell me how - tell me how it feels.”

Your head is fucking spinning, is how it feels, and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to talk for days to come. You sob out your response, barely audible, but Harry hears it as if you’d spoken loud and clear - “So good, fuck, gonna cum.”

Two of his fingers pluck at your clit like the strings of a guitar, as if you’re merely something to be played with, but it’s enough to send you over the edge again. Your body convulses beneath him, eyes squeezing shut. Your cunt fluttering around him could make him cum but you can tell he wants to hold out - wants to see if you have one more in you, and you’re not sure if you do.

It’s as though Harry can sense the second you’ve milked your orgasm for all you can, because he pulls out of you the second you’re done. Before you can cry out, his hands grab your hips and flip you over with such ease it’s nearly embarrassing. You hardly have the muscle strength to hold yourself up, merely dropping your face into the cushion as his hands position himself at your cunt, pushing in without giving you a second to adjust, and it’s back to the hard, steady pace you’d reached before.

This position is a fucking change and one you love, a new angle letting him reach spots inside of you that you hadn’t even known existed. Your moans are muffled where your mouth is pressed to the cushion but Harry’s are loud and clear, piercing the air near violently as he cries out. You can’t see him but you try with all your might to picture exactly what he’s doing - picturing how his mouth is open and his eyes are shut and he’s lifting his hand to land it back down on your -

As though he can read your thoughts his hand goes up and smacks down on your ass, the noise cracking through the air, and you sob out at the feeling. You love that, you really do, and you’d never have expected yourself to but as he sends another slap to your skin you decide it’s one of your favorite things you’ve done this whole fucking evening.

“Gonna cum,” Harry grunts, hand gripping your thigh to rock your body in time with his. You wiggle your ass, pushing it against him, and for that, you earn another smack. “Where d’you want me to cum? Want it on your back, hmm? Or maybe flip you over again and cum on your pretty tits.”

You can’t verbalize anything, nothing except for broken cries and his name falling off your lips like a mantra, and he knows it.

“Or -” and his voice drops nearly a whole fucking octave, deeper than you’d even thought it could go, and you’re so close to your fourth that your ears are starting to ring - “does my dirty girl want me to cum in her pussy? Fill you up with my cum, fuck you so good until you’re stuffed with it.”

It’s that - his words, fucking filthy and rising above every other noise the two of you make - that ends you. Sends you hurtling into your fourth, now, the couch practically absorbing your moan (or more like a scream) and any ability you’d had to hold yourself up on shaky legs dissipates as you collapse against the couch but Harry’s there, holding you up, forcing your hips back into his you were made for it.

You don’t need to say anything - he knows what you want, can read you like a book by now, and you’ve only known him for tonight. So as his cock gives its final twitch inside your cunt, worn out from cumming four times in such a short amount of time, he makes no move to pull out. Just grips your hips and holds them close to his, and the feeling of hot ribbons of cum shooting into your cunt, filling you up exactly the way you’d wanted, is a sensation you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

When he’s done, pulling out slowly, you collapse fully onto the couch with nothing to hold you up - you’re fucking exhausted but you’ve never felt better in your life. A haze seems to be settling over your mind and body, preventing you from paying any attention to anything that’s not Harry as he stands up above you. And then you feel him, wrapping his arms around you, picking you up like a goddamn baby and you like it a lot.

You’re entirely too close to falling asleep in his arms before he lies you down on a surface softer than the couch - has to be the bed, the rich hotel beds, and as your head lands on the pillow you know you’re correct. God, feels like a pillow, and you’d like to spend the rest of your life right here.

Harry’s like a God in human form, truly, getting a warm washcloth from the restroom to wipe at the cum dripping down your thighs. You two speak in soft, hushed voices, as though making up for the absolutely inhuman noises you’d made before, as he pulls your dress over your head and deposits it on the ground. It is ripped, you can see, but you find you don’t really care. Not like you didn’t get it for less than $10 - and it’s just a reminder of every amazing thing that happened tonight, not that you’d ever need one. You know you’ll remember this night forever.

Finally he lies down beside you, shifting so he’s spooning you, arms firm around your waist and your head to his shoulder. This feels perfect, exactly what you needed to end off your first time perfectly.

“M’not a virgin anymore,” you murmur, adjusting yourself to press your body closer to his. “Feels good. Feel like I’m finally living.”

Harry chuckles at that, pressing a kiss to the side of your face. “Hope your first time was as good as it could be.”

You exhale softly. “It was perfect,” you tell him, voice soft and dripping with emotions you can’t possibly decipher. And it’s the absolute truth - even if your first time wasn’t with a boyfriend you were in love with, like your friends, you don’t think you’d ever have it any other way. “Maybe we could do it again, some time.”

Probably a mistake to ask, but there’s nothing to lose, really. Maybe a piece of your dignity if he says no, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. You’d do this a thousand times over again with him without hesitating.

He takes a beat to respond and you know you fucked up, already squeezing your eyes shut in regret, but then he rasps, “Definitely gotta do it again. Tomorrow night … and the night after that … and the night after that …” and you know you’re in for it.

[untaemedqueen]

The Price Of Love (M)

Idol!Taehyung x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

WordCount: 8.1k

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Exes To Lovers!AU

Warnings: Marking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Belly Worship, Fingering, Praise, Squirting, Fellatio, Degradation (Slut), Big Dick!Taehyung, Slight Dom!Taehyung, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Pregnant Sex, Crying During Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Possessive!Taehyung, Cream Pie

A/N: I’ve had this in the WIPs for a few weeks and I’ve slowly but surely added to it until I got it to where I liked it. @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​ and @ppersonna​ heard all my bitching and moaning about it giving me a headache because I wanted it to feel right and real. So thanks to the forever squad for listening to my bitching! Enjoy!

"We can't keep doing this." 

Those five words had stuck the fear of God into your boyfriend's heart as he sits across the hotel room with a glass of wine in hand. His hand falters, red wine sloshing around the glass before he widens his eyes at you.

"Excuse me? What?" He asks feebly as you avert your eyes from his handsome face. 

"This. Us. We can't keep doing this like it'll work out." You say, bile rising in your throat at the words you choke out.

He opens his mouth in shock before setting down his wine glass. "No. No! I don't understand! We're fine!" He mumbles to himself before standing up.

You shy away from his touch as he crosses the bedroom to you. Your eyes are trained on the floor as you hear him whimper. His large hand falls to your thigh and you furrow your eyebrows before standing. 

"Is it because of me spending time on the Weverse app or… I've been playing too many games with fans because I can-"

Your eyes flit to his, a cold stare shot at him cutting him off. "Kim Taehyung, I would never ask you to stop interacting with your fans. Are you kidding me?" You bark out at him before scoffing and grabbing your bag.

"Y/N. Please. There must be something I can do to make you stay. We've been together for two years… Tell me, I'll fix it." His voice is wrought with agony and you tense up hearing a sob rip through his throat.

"There's nothing to fix. We're done. I'm sorry." You tell him before grabbing your toiletries from the bathroom. You hear him shuffling behind you, sobbing and destroyed. You can't seem to turn around before glancing at him through the mirror. You've broken the most handsome man in the entire universe. 

"I'll do anything. I'll-I'll leave tour more and fly to see you. Y/N please. We can get married like we've always talked about. Anything-I'll-" You zipper up your bag before closing your eyes. You want to cry, scream, kiss him- anything and everything. But, you did this and you have to go through with it. There's nothing worse than this. And, you still have to do it. "Bye, Tae."

"Taehyung?" His name snaps him out of his memory. His fingers run through his hair before putting his temple to the van door. 

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm good." He whispers to his best friend before looking out the dark tinted window as the van drives towards their apartments. 

"You've been thinking about her lately." Jimin whispers to him before folding his arms. Jimin always loved you, you were so dear to him and he could never truly understand why you left Taehyung in that way. You ruined him. You created a shell of a man. But, you must have had your reasons. You didn't do things carelessly.

"I wonder how she is." Taehyung whispers before closing his eyes. He can still see the way you laughed, how you would dance around the kitchen making food. How your bare feet would slide across the heated tiled floor. His hand drifts over his heart before putting on his sunglasses. "You should call her." Jimin whispers quietly before pressing his plush lips into a straight line.

"Why? She wants nothing to do with me." He whispers before looking out the window as people go about their business. 

Seoul was so fast moving and Taehyung was slowly becoming a snail. The van stops at a light and he sighs as he watches the people go to and fro. It's a mere second that he catches sight of the black wrap dress he bought you. His hands press up against the window as he jumps out of his seat. 

It was you, there was no mistaking it. Or else, he's gone crazy. Your hair was its natural color again, not dyed like six months ago. You were walking with the tide of people, hand on your stomach. Taehyung gasps loudly before banging on the car window. You're pregnant?!

"Chim! Look! It's Y/N! She-She's-" Jimin jumps over his shoulder bag before looking where Taehyung is pointing.

"Where?!" He asks loudly as Taehyung turns his head towards his best friend with a smile. 

"There! At the corner!" Turning his head back, his shoulders slouch as his eyes frantically look for you.

"Tae...I don't see her." Jimin whispers before sitting back down in his seat.

"She was there! I saw her! She was…" His voice trails off before putting his hands over his face. You were pregnant.

His apartment was cold. You used to put on the heating system for him when you knew he was coming home. You used to have dinner made with a big smile on your face. He would lather you in kisses, hug you so tightly like you would disintegrate to dust if he let you go. Throwing his bag to the floor, he mindlessly pads across the cold floor before laying down on the couch. 

"I'm going crazy." He whispers before sobbing loudly. His wavy black hair falls into his eyes as he presses his face into the couch cushion.

The couch dips and paws climb up his body before his arms encircle his dog. 

"Tan. I'm going crazy. I saw mommy today." He mumbles to his dog as he licks his tear streaked cheeks. With a breathless sigh he wipes at his running nose with the back of his hand before closing his eyes.

"I saw her. I swear to God. She looked...beautiful." He whispers as his jaw goes slack. Yeontan lays on his chest, furry face burying into his neck as he stomps his foot on the couch.

"I know what I saw. She's pregnant." He mumbles before pulling out his phone. Jimin told him to delete your number a hundred times over and you were still there. 

'My Love'

Taunting him to shame. He ignores his innermost screaming. His mind begging him not to crack open this closet filled with skeletons but he presses the call button anyway. 

His palms begin to sweat. Heart beating voraciously loud in his ears as he stares up at the ceiling. It begins to beat harder when he hears you.

"Hello?"

"You aren't serious! You can't leave!" Taehyung begs as he chases you down the hotel corridor. He grabs your arm as you call for the elevator. You turn to him, eyes glassy with tears as you look up at him.

His nose was pink, cheeks streaked with tears of agony as he holds your shoulders. "Please. I love you. Don't leave me." He whispers, voice cracking as he begins to sob again. 

"Don't make this hard. You know how I feel about you too." You whisper before closing your eyes and begging for the elevator to hurry the fuck up.

"If you love me then don't go. Stay. I'll do anything. Please, baby. Please." His voice trails off as he rubs his thumb over your jaw line. 

"It'll be better off this way. I'm a burden and I won't have you ruining your career." You tell him before swallowing thickly. The elevator bell dings and you sigh before pulling away from him harshly. 

"Y/N." Pleading is the only way to describe his voice and you sniff gently before getting on to the elevator.

"I love you, Tae. I'm sorry." You whisper before pressing the ground floor and looking away as the doors close.

"I saw you." Taehyung's voice comes out gruffer than he means to. But, goddamn does your voice fill him with emotion.

"What?!" You say loudly and Taehyung swears he can hear glass break on your end of the phone call.

"I saw you today. When we were driving back from the airport. In that black dress." He puts his hand on his forehead before pressing his lips into a straight line.

"I thought you were in Japan." You whisper and he scoffs loudly.

"We came back a day early." He mumbles before setting Yeontan on the floor as he stands up.

"Oh, Tae. I'm so sorry but I think you're confused or-"

"Don't do that! Don't you dare do that to me! Don't make me seem like I'm fucking crazy like all the other guys do! I SAW YOU! And you're- you were- are…" He can't finish his sentence as he walks towards the large windows of his apartment. 

He stares down at the Seoul traffic as you stammer on syllables. "I should-"

"Should go? No. Don't you do this to me, Y/N!" He yells as he presses his index finger to the spotless glass. 

"I'm coming over." You say before hanging up the phone. He looks down at his phone before putting his forehead to the window.

"Oh Christ." He whispers shakily before putting his hand over his mouth.

It takes you 30 minutes to get to his apartment. 30 minutes for Taehyung to go back and forth in his living room with Yeontan on his tail. 

One arm tucked under the other as his hand presses to his mouth. He's rehearsed what he is going to say to you. He's going to look you in the eye and tell you how fucked up you made him. How absolutely soulless he's been without you. A global star turned into a mere shell because of you. Nothing has been the same. Food doesn't taste the same. And yet…

The doorbell rings and he jumps out of his skin before jogging over to the mirror. He fixes his hair, brushes his thumb over some stray eyeliner before puffing out his cheeks. 

What was he going to say again? You ring the doorbell again as Yeontan scurries over to the door. 

"Okay. You can do this...Just… Tell her." He whispers, and with a shaking hand he grips the door handle. 

Swinging the door open, you collectively gasp at one another. Taehyung's mouth opens before blinking. 

"Hi." You whisper to him as he falters backwards.

"I knew it." He mumbles before turning away from you and walking towards the couch on shaky legs. You close the door behind you before folding your arms, almost as if it's a defense mechanism. 

Taehyung turns his head to you before giving an incredulous scoff. 

"I had s-so many things I wanted to say to you." He says before his body slams onto the couch. 

You follow after him, but not before picking up Yeontan as he jumps on your leg excited. He hasn't seen you in so long and he can't help but yap happily as you kiss the top of his head. Taehyung plants his elbows on his knees as he buries his face into his hands. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He whispers before leaning back and letting his head loll onto the lip of the couch. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly before watching you trudge in front of him. He lets out a disbelieving laugh before looking back up at the ceiling.

"Y/N. What the fuck!" He yells before closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whisper as Yeontan shifts in your arms. He chuckles to himself before slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"You're sorry? Oh. Good. Sorry." He says before sitting up quickly. You jump slightly before clearing your throat. 

"I thought it would be best if I left so you didn't have to deal with-" He holds his hand up silencing you. 

"How dare you?" He whispers before his eyes meet yours. He wants to cry, to break something. But, he can't get over how beautiful you look. 

"Y/N. How dare you do this to me." He mumbles before watching Yeontan lick your cheek. 

You step closer to him and he spreads his legs like it was normal. Like you hadn't left six months ago. Stepping inside of them, he reaches out to you before leaning forward.

"How dare you hide this from me. Like I wouldn't fight tooth and nail for you and-" He presses his hand to your growing stomach before pulling away as if he has been burnt. 

You recoil from him before turning around. You put your hand over your mouth before shaking your head.

"This was a bad idea." You mumble before setting Yeontan down on the floor. Taehyung watches you press your hand to your back before slowly standing upright. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose before jumping over the couch. 

"Don't you take my child away from me." He says quickly as he presses his back against the front door.

You whimper before closing your eyes. "You left me, knowing you were pregnant with my child?" He asks quietly, his voice creeping through the large living room as he stares at your closed eyes.

"Yes." You whisper back and he feels as if he's been shot through the heart.

"Why? Y/N how could you fucking do this to me? I loved you...I love you." His hand cups your face and it's almost frightening how comfortable it is. How at peace you feel by his touch.

"Because you're busy and you don't have time for a child or...or love." You say as his hand snakes from your cheek to the back of your neck pulling you closer to him.

"Don't you dare say what I am and what I'm not. If you gave me the choice I would have stuck by your side through everything. Your morning sickness, your tiredness, your… whatever other things pregnant people do." He finishes off in a mumble that makes a giggle break free from you as you open your eyes.

"I was scared." You tell him and he can only scoff at your words.

"You were scared...I love you, Y/N. What's there to be scared of when we're together?" He asks as his thumb brushes over your collarbone.

"Oh I don't know, your billion managers, the boys, ARMY. I could go on." You tell him as he pulls you closer. Your stomach presses against his body and he shudders at the feeling. 

"Jesus Christ." He swallows thickly before looking down at the obstruction between the both of you.

"Do you love me? Still?" He asks and your eyes look up at his as his mocha irises gleam with uncertain emotion. 

"Yes. I still love you." You say before pointing at your stomach. He snorts gently, a breathy noise his nose before grabbing your hand. 

It's almost frightening how calming you are to him. He should be pissed- furious even. But you, here in front of him like this is like a dream.

He wants the comfort of holding you in his arms back. He wants to be able to lay in bed with you on off days for hours, playing with your fingers and singing mindlessly with you.

He just wants you back in his reality. 

He wants you back in his bed.

"Come lay down with me. It's late." He says and you stay rooted in the spot as he pulls you.

"This isn't the same Tae. We aren't the same." You tell him sternly. To which he rolls his eyes before tugging you harder. 

You whine his name gently and if you didn't have his child six months and growing in your stomach, it would be like nothing has changed. The whirlwind of emotions comes to a halt inside of him as he intertwines your fingers with yours as you walk down his long hallway. 

There are so many questions he has but he didn't know if he needed the answers, to be honest. Just thinking of all the things you'd been through alone because you were trying to save him in some fucked up way sets him in a weird sort of comfort. 

He lays down before rubbing the spot next to him. "You're on my side of the bed." You tell him and he smirks before rolling over.

"I thought you'd forgotten." He says before putting his hand under his cheek. You sit down gingerly and he moves instantaneously to help you lay back like an instinct. 

"I'm okay. Don't worry. I can even open jars by myself." You say giving a fake gasp.

Tae chuckles before looking at your stomach as he lays his head in the pillow. "Having my baby is giving you super strength? You can open a jar now? Color me impressed." You laugh rolling your eyes before putting your hand on your stomach.

He sits up before taking a deep breath. "You fucked up, you realize that don't you? You took away the chance of me watching my child grow all these months." 

You sigh, the guilt eating away at you as you hold up two fingers. He raises an eyebrow before kissing the back of your hand.

"Two? Two what?" He asks as he leans closer to you. His lips drift over the skin of your arm and his eyes flutter shut at the familiar softness.

"Twins." You mumble. 

His lips stop and his eyes snap open. It begins then. A voraciously nervous laugh bubbles forth from him. "I cannot believe this." He says through laughter before burying his face into the pillow. 

You swallow nervously as he sighs loudly. "You need to promise me you aren't going anywhere again. You'll stay. We'll get married like we always wanted to and...and we'll be a family."

You take a sharp breath through your teeth as he looks at you. You nod before intertwining your fingers, "I promise." You whisper as he leans in.

"Good. I've missed you so much that I felt my world was crashing down." Taehyung mutters out before pressing his forehead to yours.

"Can I touch?" He asks before looking down at your stomach. 

"Of course you can." You reply, almost breathlessly.

He takes a sharp breath before looking at your belly. 

"Oh Jesus." He whispers before flexing his hands and fingers. His hands gently lower themselves and you watch as his eyes become glassy. 

He presses his hands to your stomach before looking down. He gives a wry laugh as tears begin to stream down his cheeks. "Wow! I mean...Wow! That's my… These are my babies." He whispers before closing his eyes.

You giggle gently as you wipe at your eyes as tears trail out of the corners and down your cheeks. 

"I have to make up for so much lost time...I-" A kick comes from your stomach and you flinch gingerly with a chuckle as it twinges your rib. He gasps gently, putting a hand to your face to make sure you're alright before putting his cheek to your stomach.

"Hi. I'm your dad. Mommy's been taking care of you because she was afraid but there's no need to be frightened. I'm here now. Daddy's here." He whispers to your stomach before lifting up your shirt. 

"Fuck." He curses as he puts his forehead to your belly. You giggle before running your fingers through his hair. You feel the guilt setting into your bones, but it comes to a heady stop at his words.

"You're huge." His voice is muffled into your skin and you gasp loudly before slapping his shoulder.

"Rude! You can say it nicer!" You chide him, making him laugh.

"You're beautiful. As always." He whispers before kissing your stomach. His lips, so warm and soft it has your eyebrows furrowing together as he crawls up the bed to lay beside you.

"I really missed you. My heart ached for you. I felt so hopeless without you." He kisses your forehead before sighing. You run your hand over his cheek before turning on your side.

"Easy. Do you need like, a pillow or like...a warm water bottle?" You nod gently and he takes the pillow from underneath his head before propping it underneath your side.

"Also this isn't England back when King Henry was alive. Who needs warm water bottles?" You quip back with a laugh.

"I need to learn what pregnant women need and want. And I have to buy all different stuff for our babies and-" You smile widely as you put your finger on his lips. 

"Do you want to know their gender?" You ask him as you run your fingers through his hair. 

"Yes! Please!" He begs as he runs his hand over your engorged skin.

"Twin girls." He chuckles to himself before sniffling. Squeezing his eyes tightly he pulls your head to his chest, letting your belly rest on his body. 

"Wow. Three to one, huh?" 

"Eh. Well more like three to seven." You tell him and he laughs loudly before nodding. "The guys are going to get so excited. Especially Jimin." 

Laying in bed with you is something Taehyung had only dreamed about the past six months. And now, here he was. 

His thumb caresses your bottom lip as you speak and exhaustion isn't a word in his vocabulary as you talk about the past six months.

"Have you been with anyone else?" Taehyung asks you and you give him an incredulous look before pointing at your stomach.

"I haven't even been with myself." You murmur out making him chuckle. His big box smile graces his face before kissing your lips gently.

"You? Have you?" You ask him as you run your fingers down his bare chest. He shivers at the contact before nodding slightly.

"Yes. The company paid a woman to...to try to get rid of my terrible thoughts. Tried to get rid of my loneliness but it couldn't be helped… I moaned your name and only yours. She felt...disgusting. Not like you at all." He whispers as his eyes look past you as if he's reliving a disturbing memory. You hum to him before kissing the birth mark on his nose.

"At least you didn't forget about me." 

"Never. I'd never forget." He tells you as he runs his hands up your stomach. With a groan you lay on your back before smiling gently at him. His eyes glance over your body before licking his lips.

You were simply glowing with his children within you. And, he wouldn't have had any sexual intentions if your nipples weren't going stiff and peaking out beneath your lacy bra and thin tank top.

"You haven't even touched yourself, you say?" He asks gently as he sits up. You hum to him and he runs his finger over your bare stomach. 

"You look beautiful. I told you, you would be divine with my children inside of you. Didn't I?" You give a snort as he runs his hands over your clothed thighs.

"Can I help you? Y'know cum?" He asks, tongue sliding over his bottom lip before smirking at you. It's the way his big eyes drink you in that you find your thighs unconsciously pressing together. 

You hadn't thought about the need for relief in all these months, if you're being honest. You were too busy being nervous and riddled with grief.

But here now. As Taehyung's hands run over your clothed thighs, you feel comfortable. You feel at ease. And, the need for relief is coming back in waves so large they could capsize a boat.

Crawling over you, he minds your stomach before bending down and kissing your lips. The kiss is filled with heated passion, the both of you pouring out your worries and the way you've missed each other for six months.

Your fingers intertwined into his soft locks as he holds himself up from your body. 

The tip of his tongue glides over your bottom lip and like an instinct your mouth opens for him. 

He groans into your mouth, a needy carnal noise of please, as his smooth wet muscle glides over yours. Tugging on his hair harder, he whines before pulling away from you.

His arms get weak and his stomach presses into yours before pulling away. The sound of his gentle laugh gets your stomach doing somersaults inside of you.

"Like trying to fuck during an obstacle course." He mumbles, earning a laugh from you. 

He taps your arms as he licks his lips and you sit up long enough for your tank top to be discarded to the floor.

"Fuck." He lowly curses as his thighs straddle yours.

He takes his time kissing over your peony scented skin, the scent taking him back years and he can't help the ball that begins to form in his throat. He could cry out, screaming seven ways to hell as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. But instead, he will enjoy this moment. He has to. You're his again.

His lips pluck at the delicate skin of your neck, leaving small patches of pink and reds in his wake. 

His hands find your breasts, squeezing them gently. He adores lace on you and now, with the added cup sizes he could quite literally say that he's in heaven. 

His hand snakes around your back before unclipping your bra with the snap of his index finger and his thumb. You hum pleased at the skill you taught him and he chuckles before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Look at you." He murmurs reverently as you lay back down before him.

"Be gentle." You whisper to him and he nods understanding. 

His head bows down, his black hair falling into his eyes as his lips wrap around your dark areola.

Small keens and mewls leave your lips as his hands press harder against your thighs, kneading the flesh with the tips of his fingers.

"Tae." You whine out as he locks your legs in place, squeezing his knees to keep them shut beneath him.

It's a dizzying kind of elated emotion you feel. Your hands drift over his clothed shoulders and you give an almost childish whine as you tug at the cloth. 

His mocha irises meet yours before pulling away and taking off his shirt. His lips are back onto your breast in a matter of seconds. 

Your fingernails leave small red lines over his back as he flicks at your nipple with the tip of his tongue. 

One of his hands presses to the distended side of your belly, almost as if to make sure how big you are so he doesn't hurt you.

"I fucking missed you." He mumbles as he switches his attention to your free breast. 

You can feel your arousal soaking your panties. It's been so long since you've been given this beautiful attention.

With a whimper, you tug at his hair. 

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth before narrowing his eyes at you.

"Have you forgotten how to behave, baby girl? You've forgotten who you belong to?" Taehyung asks.

The authority in his voice makes you shiver. Biting your bottom lip, you shake your head releasing his hair from your grasp.

"I wanted to be gentle with you, seeing as how you've been keeping my little girls so safe inside of you but I think you want to be punished." His voice is filled with this natural cockiness that has your chest constricting with elation.

His hands hook into the sides of your sweatpants and you meet his eyes as he presses open mouthed kisses to your stomach. 

Your gentle gasps and whimpers have his hard cock twitching and pressing into the fabric of his loose grey pants.

"I-I haven't shaved or gotten waxed…" Your voice becomes weak towards the end of your sentence and he clicks his teeth in reply.

"When have I ever cared about that? Ever?" He asks seriously. His lips peck yours before tugging down your pants.

He finds himself smirking at the sight. Small strands of arousal break and cling to your sodden lips as he throws your clothes behind him.

He hums to himself as he spreads your legs. This was akin to home for him. He was so sincerely excited to have you back but, being between your legs it's like you never left.

"You can't blow on it." You tell him quickly as his body bows down.

He picks his head up above your belly before winking at you and nodding.

His hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them locked in their open place. His thumbs drift over the bottom of your belly as he watches your cunt clutch around nothingness.

You were so desperately horny now, just the hot ragged breaths you feel from him have your clit aching with need.

You couldn't see him above your stomach, which added this mysterious intrigue to what he was going to do next.

“Shit.” He whispers and you find your heart skipping a beat before his lips encircle your clit. 

He devours you as if he’s been starved of you- because he has.

He adores your moans as they crescendo in the quiet room. 

You taste sweeter than before but it’s something so familiar that it drives him insane. He finds himself moaning against you, clutching harder onto your thighs as you writhe beneath him at the sheer pleasure.

His finger prods at your entrance as he continues to lavish upon you. You can feel this invisible band inside of you tightening so quickly, it’s been so long since you’ve felt him adore you in this way. 

Entering his finger inside of you, he pulls away just to watch your eyebrows furrow from the amazing feeling.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” He whispers as he kisses the skin of your stomach. 

His long finger curls inside of you, expertly knowing where the soft patch of nerves is that will help you become undone beneath him. 

“Tae!” You whine as your hips lift off of the bed. 

He loves that. The way you moan his name in your heated ecstasy. He wants more of it, to hear you blubber and call his name out to the heavens. 

Sliding another finger in, his lips leave your stomach before encircling your clit once more. 

Your hands grip at the sheets beside you, white knuckling them completely. 

Your heartbeat is in your ears as you grind your needy cunt to his face. 

“Good girl.” He praises you as your eyes flutter closed.

You can feel the pleasure coming to a head as he rears back before spitting on your soaked lips. 

Shivering at the feeling, your head lolls back as you lose yourself.

He can feel your pussy throbbing and pulsing around his fingers. He goads you on with quick licks with the tip of his tongue. 

His name falls like a prayer from your lips before gasping. White spots begin to dot the inside of your eyelids and you can barely hold on to your sanity.

“Cum for me, baby girl.” He whispers against you.

Curling his fingers fast inside of you, the breath is pulled from your lungs as you let out a low whine.

You orgasm with a muddled mind, moaning his name so loudly he can practically feel it reverberating through his body. Your cum squirts onto his hand as your back bows off of the bed.

Ears ringing with white noise, you can barely hear his praises as his hand roams over your stomach. 

“God, you’re so perfect.” He says as he pulls out of you slowly. 

He waits patiently as you come down from your high, kissing at your hardened nipples. 

You feel almost drunk and sluggish off of his pleasure.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the handsome man's smirk. 

“It’s been too long since you’ve squirted on me.” He whispers earning a laugh from you as he pulls down his grey pants. 

For you, it’s been too long since you’ve seen his impressive length. It’s award worthy, seriously. You can feel your mouth watering as you take his hardened length into your sights. The soft rose veins that pepper it in its entirety and the mushroom tip that’s reddened with need, call out to you as you sit up.

He hums nervously as he sits up on his knees. 

“I don’t know, baby. Can you?” He asks as you spread your legs to accommodate your stomach. 

You wrinkle your nose at his sweetness as he runs his hand over your cheek.

“I’ll be fine.” You say as you inch your way closer to him.

“I don’t know. I mean, you might be uncomf-” His concern is cut off with a sharp groan as your hand wraps around the long length of his cock. 

He whimpers as his bottom lip tucks between his teeth. Your free hand finds its way beneath your stomach as your head bows down. 

His hand scrambles to grab the headboard of his bed as you kiss over his shaft. 

“Agh, fuck.” He mutters as his eyes close.

Your lips are so warm and soft against him, precum begins to pool at his slit before lazily traipsing down. You lick up the precum, moaning at the distant yet familiar taste. 

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth as your tongue swirls over the tip. 

“Fuck, just like that baby girl.” He curses as his free hand combs through your hair. 

He can remember all the times you’ve become sloppy on his cock. He adored seeing your spit and his precum streaming down your chin and neck, his cock twitches and throbs in your mouth at the memory. 

He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail before lolling his head back as your mouth sheathes his cock.

Whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you stroke as you fuck his cock into your mouth.

“Yeah, fuck. You like that, don’t you? Like my cock in your slut mouth.” He groans out.

Your eyes stare at his small abs as they contort and press to his taut skin. His golden skin shines in the moonlight as a sheen of sweat envelops him. 

Working your mouth faster on him, you can’t help but feel a new wave of arousal sweep through you as he moans your name. 

His hips thrust toward your mouth as he lets your hair go. His hand clutches to the back of your head as he looks down at you.

“Open up, baby girl. Swallow my cock.” He commands and you whimper in reply.

Swallowing around him, he moans loudly as your nose nestles to his pubic bone.

“Jesus.” He whines as he pulls your head down faster on him.

Your gag reflex springs into action as he begins to fuck your throat. Tears make your eyes glassy before rolling down your cheeks. 

Spit and precum stream down your chin as his eyes stay locked on yours.

“You’re so fucking messy. Look at you, shit.” He moans through clenched teeth as he holds you down on his cock.

You moan at his words, your clit rubbing against his bedsheets at his brutal actions. 

Letting go of the headboard of his bed, his hand lands on your stomach as he holds you close to him.

His long, thick cock begins to thicken and throb as you run your tongue over his length with every thrust.

“Fuck! Y/N! Such a little slut! Your mouth feels so good on my cock. Taking it so well.” He whines out as you grip on to his thighs.

You can tell he’s close by the way he whimpers and drives the head of his cock deeper into your throat.

“Swallow my cum and show me how fucking sorry you are that you took my girls away from me.” He seathes out through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut.

His face painted in pure bliss is something you could never get out of your head and seeing it above you now is just heaven on Earth.

He whimpers your name over and over, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he presses your head down deeper on his cock. 

“Yes! Fuck!” He whines as his ropes of cum meet your throat.

You swallow around him, relishing in the warm, salty taste. His body shakes through the pleasure, thighs twitching rapidly. 

He lets out a long groan, the sound going straight to your core as he pulls out of your mouth slowly.

Tapping his index finger to your cheek, you open your mouth for him as he angles your chin up to see inside your mouth, “Good girl, baby.” He praises you before kissing your forehead. 

He stands off of the bed with shaky legs before sighing happily. 

You lay back down as his hands hook behind your knees. You giggle as he pulls your body down to the edge of the bed. He kisses over your stomach as your feet find their place on the floor. 

He stands up tall before you as he spreads your legs.

“You see how horny I am for you?” He asks playfully as his cock still stands to attention. 

His hands palm at your breasts, squeezing and rolling them gently. He runs his cock through your sodden lips, coating the underside of his cock in your arousal.

“Your pussy feels so warm.” He murmurs out in wonder before prodding at your entrance.

You bite your bottom lip in anticipation. Running his hands over your sides, he enters his cock into you slowly. 

Both of your mouths drop open in tandem at the amazing feeling. 

“Fuck.” You whine as his head lolls back. 

He buries himself to the hilt before stilling inside of you, letting you get adjusted to his large length. 

“You look so beautiful underneath me.” He says. Your heart flutters at his words, cunt clutching around his length. 

He smiles down at you. The smile holding all these elated emotions he could never put into words. He was so amazed to even be here with you again.

Your body was soaked in the white moonlight as it shines through the large bay windows of his bedroom. He has never seen anything more beautiful. 

“You’re never leaving again. Do you understand me?” He asks seriously as he pulls out of you slowly.

“Yes.” You reply earnestly.

He snaps his hips back into you, the bulbous head of his cock dragging against your plush walls. Your hands grip at the edge of the bed as you moan his name loudly. 

He sets a relentless pace as his hands caress your stomach. 

“Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good. So tight and wet for me.” He groans. 

“Tae!” You whimper as your fingers pinch and roll your nipples between your fingertips.

All of his thrusts held a deeper meaning and he could practically cry out of happiness to be here with you in this very minute. 

Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands grip harder at your stomach as he snaps his hips harder against you.

“You are mine, forever.” Each word is punctuated with a harsh thrust that has your head swimming in white-hot pleasure.

His hand reaches the apex of your thighs, he rubs furious circles on your clit as your back bows off of the bed.

Your legs spread wider for him as he moans your name. 

You were like putty in his hands, becoming boneless and sinking into his large bed as he fucks you so well. 

He could feel your pussy begin to throb and pulse around him, begging for release around him.

He moans pleased at how easy it is to please you, “Cum on my cock, baby. I feel it. Shit.” He moans.

With just a few more thrusts, you were cumming on his cock. You were blubbering and moaning for him with gentle whines as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“Christ! You got so tight!” He says before pulling out of you. 

Whimpering at the loss, your eyes find his as he gives a breathless smile. 

He twirls his finger and you understand what he wants immediately. He helps you turn over, grabbing a pillow for you and putting it underneath your stomach. 

“You okay?” He asks as he positions himself at your entrance once more. 

“Yeah.” You whisper.

His lips kiss over your back as he thrusts himself back inside you. 

Your voice was hoarse and dry from the moans and pleasure you’ve been receiving but you can’t help but want more as his hands grip at your hips. 

He pulls you back fervently on his cock as he kisses over your shoulder. 

It’s the familiar scent of peony that makes him feel home. It drives him closer to the edge as he holds you so close to him.

Standing back up, he feels his throat tightening as the globes of your ass jiggle with each thrust. 

“Goddamn.” He moans before spanking you hard. 

You gasp loudly, burying your face into the sheets as your skin smarts from his slap. 

He groans at the noise you make before slapping your ass again.

“You look so fucking good with a red ass.” He moans out before slapping your other cheek. 

You can feel your arousal dripping down his balls and onto your thighs below. It’s almost animalistic how he drives himself inside of you.

“Cum for me one more time.” He says as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. 

Your moans and loud whimpers earn praise from him as he snakes his arm around your stomach and to the apex of your thighs. 

“Your clit is so fucking swollen.” He mumbles as he begins to rub circles.

“Taehy-ung!” You cry out as your body begins to shake from the over-stimulation.

“Take it like the good girl you are. C’mon.” He mumbles as he presses his chest to your back. 

“I-I can’t!” You whine but your body betrays you as your legs spread wider for him, bucking back against him with the little strength you have left.

“Yes, you can. Your pregnant cunt is wetting my cock so nicely, baby girl. You’re dying to cum again on my big cock.” He mumbles in your ear. 

His index finger and thumb pinch your clit gently and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes as he grips at your hip harder.

You can hear his ragged breaths in your ear, setting your nerve ending aflame.

“You’re going to cum on my cock again like a good girl. Show me how much your slut cunt missed me.” He murmurs before kissing the shell of your ear. 

The invisible band begins to tighten within you again for the third time and your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling. 

“Your pregnant pussy is dripping all over my cock, begging to put another load into your needy cunt. You love my cock, don’t you?” He seethes as he fucks you quicker.

“Y-Yes!” You whine as he pinches your clit again. 

“That’s right. You missed my cock inside your pretty little pussy.” He lifts himself off of your back and the sound of skin slapping skin resounds through the stagnant air. 

“God!” He groans out and you can feel his cock thickening inside of you.

“Tae! Fuck, I’m-I’m cumming!” 

“That’s a good girl. Cum for me.” He moans.

Your thighs quake and your face buries into the sheets as you orgasm for the third time. With muffled ears you can hear him cursing behind you, bucking into you with all of his strength as he drives himself to his release.

“I love you so fucking much. Tell me who this pregnant pussy belongs to.” He says as he grips onto your hips.

“You, only you.” You whimper out, voice riddled with exhaustion. 

“That’s right.” 

He groans loudly as he reaches his end, “God, I’m cumming baby! Fuck!” 

Ropes of cum lather the walls of your pussy as his head lolls back. Weakly you look behind you as you watch him bask in the glory. He was so handsome and so perfect. How could you ever have left him?

You can see a few tears fall from his eyes as he lifts his head back up and he wipes them away quickly before pulling out of you. He hums to himself as your pussy begins to cream with his cum. 

He helps you lay back down and you find your eyes becoming heavy with exhaustion. 

“I love you.” He whispers as he fixes the pillow beneath your head.

“I love you too.” You whisper as your eyes become lidded.

Wiping his cock with his briefs, he looks you over before sighing loudly. 

“Don’t...Don’t leave me again. Please.” He begs your sleeping form before laying down beside you. 

He lays his head on your stomach before looking out the window as the moon shines brightly into the room. Pressing his lips to your distended skin, his eyes squeeze shut. 

His forehead presses to your stomach as he sighs. Now that he has you back, you can’t leave again. You make him feel whole, you make him complete.

He isn’t Kim Taehyung without you, and he hopes you know that.

It took him a long time to fall asleep last night. 

He stayed up just looking at you, putting his hand on his children. He cried a few times too. He was so happy, so confused, so completely in love with you.

Waking up this morning, he groans as his hand reaches for your belly only to be met with cold sheets. 

His eyebrows furrow before he’s jumping up in bed.

“Babe?! Y/N?!” He calls loudly as his neck cranes to look into the en suite bathroom. 

It was dark and he found this overwhelming darkness creeping into his heart. 

“Babe!” He yells as he jumps out of bed. 

His throat constricts and he feels lightheaded as he throws on his pajama pants. 

“Y/N!” He screams at the top of his lungs as he rushes out of the bedroom and down the hallway. 

His eyes fill with tears and his hand clutches at his heart.

“No!” He yells as he skids into the empty living room. 

“Fuck!” He bawls before leaning against the kitchen island. He buries his face into his hands as he sobs loudly.

“No.” He cries feebly. His legs feel weak and he has to will himself to stand up.

The front door opens with laughs and Taehyung’s head springs up as you enter with Jimin and Jeongguk behind you.

The room falls silent as he shoves off of the island counter and barrels towards you.

He disregards his closest friends as he pulls you into a hug. You hug him back, as his body shakes in your arms.

“Hey.” You whisper concerned as he buries his face into your hair.

“Where’d you go? I was…” He trails off as he sobs quietly.

“I went to get breakfast. You didn’t have anything in the apartment because you went on tour. I ran into Chim and Gukkie in the lobby.” You say as you pull away.

His hand caresses your cheek as you wipe his tears from his face.

“I thought you left...left me.” He hiccups before pulling you back to his chest. You close your eyes as you hold him as tightly as you can.

“I’m not going anywhere Tae.” You whisper as he looks over wearily at his two friends. 

Their eyes show sorrow for him and he closes his eyes tightly before relishing in your hug. 

You stayed like this for a few minutes until his heart had calmed down. Pulling away, his hand lands on your belly before kissing your temple.

“I’m sorry. I should have left a note.” You say as he brushes some hair behind your ear. 

He swallows nervously before nodding. 

“She remembers what you like to eat too!” Guk says holding up the take away bag, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Taehyung gives him a small smile before pulling you over to the dining room table. 

Sitting down, you put the food out onto the table before kissing your boyfriend's cheek. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You tell him as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. 

He nods before looking at you. It would take time to get back to normal again, but there was no place he’d rather be than to be here with you. 

“That’s the price of love though, isn’t it?” Jimin asks as he opens up his rice.

The both of you look at him as he begins to smile.

“The price of love?” Your boyfriend asks as he wraps his arm around your waist.

Chim nods with a hum, “You need to lose someone to remind you how much you missed them. That’s the price of love.” 

Tae thinks on it for a second before rubbing your belly. 

“I guess you’re right, just don’t make me pay the price again.” He tells you sternly, earning a smile from you as you cuddle into his side. 

He smirks gently before kissing your forehead. 

“I’ve paid my price time and time again.” He mumbles before grabbing his breakfast.

[wittyno]

y do u hate tommy?

No. I don't hate him. I just don't like static characters who seem to have to learn the same fucking lesson over and over again and then hurt the characters around them without facing fucking repercussions. What is this? The CW?

I like Tommy as much as the next angsty sad-boi protagonist. Yes, hurt people hurt people, but the show allows there to be no true repercussions.

He is constantly allowed to hurt the women around him and they just say "that's Tommy". I could maybe see it if it was a take on power dynamics and they have to let this slide, but we don't see enough of their characters to really get that impression. I can write all the meta I want about how being a divorcee at that time would be detrimental to Liz and her kids or how Ada has been shoved into the American branch, but yet seems to have the least amount of agency of the adult Shelbys effects her. But the show never actually considers this.

Sure we can see how Tommy's trauma both in and after the war has lead him to be the person he is, but it's bland storytelling if that's the only perspective. It is a lack of perspective that really gets to me.

If the show had just wanted to focus on Tommy they could have had him write The Wall and be done with it. The show chose to have interesting side characters, but then chose to underserve them.

I mean that walk out is still one of the cringiest thing I have seen on my screen in a long time. I am of the opinion that cringe is mostly dead, but that's cringe. It gives the same energy that that tiny scene at the end of Endgame where all the women work together. LIKE BRO? Below is one of the ways I would re-work the show.

A list of corrections:

If Lizzie has to marry Tommy, and she fucking shouldn't then, have her divorce his ass. Give him the arc of reflection and her the arc of freedom, explore what it was like to be a divorced woman in the first half of the 20th century.

Make Micheal or Finn QUEER. Have him work through and discover his sexuality. Have him deal with Tommy and Arthur and tie it to the culture around masculinity at the time and maybe tie it in to him not being a vet. You wanna go full dark make it Micheal and have him deal with the societal implications of him being queer and his implied sexual abuse. Obviously, we know those two are not connected, but if you watch interviews with queer survivors of sexual abuse it is something they have to work through.

Give Ada more agency. For Ada I see two paths. 1) get so fed up with Tommy's bullshit that she either starts her own gang or goes to work full time for a rival gang like Alfie's. 2) fully lean into the communist activist side of her character. Have her actually organizing walk outs and maybe that's how we are introduced to Tommy's unfortunate love interest number 4. Maybe have her deal with the fact that while she did grow up poor, these days she has less in common with the working class. The first woman to take seat in parliament was in 1919, what's Peaky Blinder's excuse? Give Tommy's politics arc to Ada.

More of Isaiah and Jeremiah Jesus. That scene in season one where Jeremiah pulls the bullet out of Tommy is amazing. Give me more of him/them trying to give healthcare to the people of Small Heath. Both with the limitations on financial support but also of medicine at the time. Modern medicine the way we know it now really got its start during and post ww1.

More Tommy and his kids. They do a really good job of humanizing him in a way that nothing else does.

Give Grace agency 2022.

Now if I were to add characters:

Give Tommy a love interest that isn't traditional Snow White incarnate. Have her decide that he is not good enough. STRIP TOMMY'S DICK OF ITS PLOT ARMOR 2022.

A rival woman gang, see the the Forty Elephants gang.

Show more of the asian community in small heath, without making it racist.

More of the Romany / Irish Traveller culture and how it impacts the Shelbys, their standing in society, their relationship to each other, and their relationship to people outside of their community. Make sure to actually hire actual experts before you use the wrong fucking language again. God.

Make the Shelbys who are vets deal with the fact that they may be able to escape fighting in World War II. Allowing them to condemn others the way they were condemned.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Notting Hill AU Snippet #6

When they finally leave her brother's house, Lena is simultaneously exhausted and wired. Exhausted, because even a good time takes it out of her, and yet wired because the world's most famous woman is right next to her on the sidewalk, nudging shoulders as they walk down the block. It makes for a heady combination, which is the only reason at all that Lena finds herself rising to Kara's challenge of climbing over a wrought iron gate to the garden beyond.

"For the record," she huffs, struggling to find purchase with her bare hands, "I am not dressed for this-- whoopsie daisy!"

What the FUCK did she just say?

"What did you just say?" Kara echoes, her smile audible in the dark.

"Nothing," Lena brushes off as she resets. "Just, trying to get a decent foothold-- whoops!"

She slips again, and this time Kara laughs, the sound loud and musical. "You said whoopsy daisy. Like some mid-century housewife--"

"You keep distracting me!"

"From what? Another whoopsy daisy?" Kara nudges her aside, dusting off her hands. "Step aside, miss priss. Watch the professional work."

Lena obeys, turning her head aside to avoid her nose brushing a very toned, very firm ass as Kara shimmied her way up and over the fence in one try. Lena's mouth goes dry at the smoothness of the motion, and the way Kara's arms strain against the slim cut of her blouse.

Kara may be an actress, but she's clearly no waif.

The woman in question grins at her from the other side of the fence. "You know, you say you're not intimidated by a silly rule, but I think there may be some subliminal hangups..."

Lena scowls. "Oh, like hell."

Boots scrabbling against the fenceposts, Lena hauls herself up through sheer willpower alone. By the time she lands on her feet on the far side, Kara has disappeared further into the garden. With a quiet curse, Lena brushes herself off and straightens her hair before trotting after her.

"Wow..." Kara breathes when Lena catches up. "It's like it's own little world in here."

Lena watches her observe the garden, noting the way her eyes sparkle in the faint light trickling in around them. The field they stand in is lush beneath their feet, and even in the dark the scent of fragrant flowers fills the air.

Kara makes her way over to a bench, and reads the inscription on. "To June, who sat on this bench every day. From John, who always sat beside her."

Lena smiles at the sentiment, and the way Kara's voice softens as she reads it. It's beautiful, and she says so.

"I guess some love does last forever," Kara remarks, half to herself. She sits on the bench, smoothing her hands across the wood as if to ask its owners for the privilege. After a moment, she notices Lena watching. "Come sit with me."

Lena does, and they spend the night with Kara's head on Lena's shoulders, looking at the stars.

---

The next night, they go on a proper date. Or at least they try to, except Lena can't find her glasses and Querl is absolutely no help in finding them, so she watches the entire movie through the prescription lenses of her snorkel mask.

Luckily, it only makes Kara laugh, even if it earns Lena a couple handfuls of popcorn in her hair from being pelted. Afterwards, Lena takes them to her favorite sushi restaurant, and makes a show of ordering in Japanese.

"Arigato gozaimasu," she finishes, handing over her menu. When she looks across the table at Kara, she's pleased to see she's impressed.

"Now how did you learn Japanese if you've never traveled?"

Lena shrugs. "I may have dated a few travelers in my day."

"Uh huh," Kara deadpans. "What else did they show you?"

Looking up, Lena lets a lascivious grin curl her lips. "Maybe I'll get to show you."

Lena revels in the fluster that marks Kara's acceptance of the sake that comes a moment later, and marks the red blush that heats under tan skin. The conversation shifts away, but continues, and Lena lets it, content with the impact she's made.

As the meal winds down, they linger a little bit, trading information they haven't shared yet.

"What's the one place you want to go, above all others?" Kara asks.

Lena sighs. "I don't know." Kara looks at her suspiciously, and Lena lifts her hands. "I could give you the same tripe I give any customer in my shop, but the truth is, the idea of travel has never really been the destination for me."

Kara looks surprised at that. "Oh?"

With a hum, Lena nods. "For me, it's always been more about who you're traveling with. And for a while there, I thought I had someone, but she never wanted to go anywhere. In the end, it turned out she just never wanted to go anywhere with me."

It still aches. Her split with Veronica had been so sudden, it split Lena's entire entire world apart. It had been bad enough to learn that Veronica had well and truly checked out of their relationship long before she ended it. To hear that Veronica had never really been in it in the first place had--

"Then she's an idiot," Kara says, bringing Lena out of her thoughts back to the present day. She reaches across the table, and links their fingers together. "And it's her loss."

Lena forces a grin. "Funnily, that's exactly what my therapist said..."

A round of raucous table from the table behind them drowns out whatever else she might have said. Glancing over, Lena registers a group of young to middle aged men in suits-- likely stock brokers, in this part of town. They were rowdy even when they came in, but now--a round of sake later-- they're downright obnoxious.

The next one who speaks doesn't bother to mind his words or his volume.

"Give me Kara Danvers any day."

Kara meets Lena's eye across the table, rolling her eyes as his buddy chimed in.

"Didn't like her last film. Fell asleep as soon as the lights went down."

"Don't care what the films like-- if it's got Kara Danvers, it's fine by me. I mean, have you seen that ass."

Lena's jaw clenches. Kara's hand slips away, as does her gaze.

"Oh hell yeah," another one continues. "And you know she's just begging for it. Never wonder how she got that gig in Dirty Dancing, did you?"

"It sure as hell wasn't because she could dance!" They all laughed. Lena shifts in her seat, blood boiling, but Kara catches her eye, shaking her head no. Too late.

Lena rises to her feet and marches to the offending table. "Excuse me, boys, but every single person in this restaurant can hear you. And while I'm perfectly happy to watch you reveal yourselves to be the absolute cunts you are, I take exception to the fact that you're talking about a very real person in the process."

The table stares at her, shocked.

"You." Lena glares at the worst offender. "Does your mother know you debase women with the same mouth you use to kiss her on the cheek? How about your girlfriend, though I find it incredibly doubtful you've managed to shag anyone with that kind of charm."

Kara tugs on Lena's arm, trying to pull her away. Lena almost goes, but turns back at the last minute, nearly colliding with the server hurrying in with the table's paid check.

"Actually, I'm not finished. Until each and every one of you learns a woman's favorite song, color and five year goal, you sure as hell don't get to wonder what flavor condom she prefers, you got it?" Her gaze lands on the platinum credit card in the ticket tray, and smirks in triumph when she sees it's a corporate card.

"And I'm sure that Lord Holdings will be thrilled to hear all about how their employees behave while they're out eating on the company's dime."

At that, the man she'd skewered a moment ago finally recovers enough to scoff. "Hah, and what do you care? What are you, her sister?"

"Actually," Kara speaks up, coming to stand beside Lena. "She's my date."

Dead silence follows as every single one of them registers who exactly is speaking. Finally, one of them tries to sputter an apology, but Kara waves it off.

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. I'm sure it was just joking between friends, just as I'm sure your dicks are the size of peanuts. Enjoy your dinner!"

With that, Kara turns away, snagging Lena's hand as she does. Allowing herself to be towed away, Lena flips them the vee and grins, then joins Kara in trotting out of the restaurant.

As soon as they hit the street they both start to cackle, drawing stares as they laugh maniacally. Lena's heart is pounding, as is Kara's, judging from the way she holds a hand against her chest.

"Oh, my god... I-- I've never done that before!" Kara laughs. "I don't know what came over me!"

"What, standing up for yourself? You're a natural!"

"No, you were amazing! I dunno, I just heard you and I saw you facing off against them all alone, and I just-- did that! I just did that!"

Kara laughs again, and Lena tugs her closer by the hips. Pressing a kiss to her lips, Lena smiles at her. "It looks good on you," she purrs. "You should do it more often."

Kara smiles back at her, rubbing her thumbs on the ridges of Lena's hips. "Maybe I will."

Lena could kiss her again, but Kara steps back, tugging them back in the direction of the hotel. "Walk me home?"

The walk back is spent in comfortable silence, but as they near the marquee of the Ritz, Lena's heart starts to pound for a whole new reason when Kara turns to her. "Wanna come up?"

Lena nods. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Kara gives a small of relief, and smiles. "Good. Give me five minutes."

The next five minutes are the longest of Lena's life. But she waits them, hands jammed into her pockets, and counts every second before finally allowing herself to head up to the room.

When she knocks, she isn't entirely sure what to expect. A robe, maybe, left open to reveal tantalzyingly firm abs. Matching lingerie, even, to match Kara's eyes.

What she doesn't expect is Kara fully clothed with panic in her eyes.

"You've got to go," Kara whispers.

Lena freezes, but keeps her smile in place. "Why?" she whispers back.

"Because my boyfriend, who was in America, is in fact here in the next room."

previous / next

[bigskydreaming]

I know that you don't think there should be conflict between Dick and Jason because of Robin and I get that, but I was just wondering since it so often does happen that way or is referenced happening in the past what do you think the most ideal resolution for that would be?

I mean to be honest, I don't think there is any ideal resolution if its JUST between Dick and Jason, is the thing? Like its not even that I dislike the trope because its not canon based, its that it COULD be an okay conflict if it kept the right things centered instead of just casually bringing them up but without ever putting focus on them.

What I mean by that is like....the reason this trope is usually such a problem IMO beyond just being unnecessary, is that.....people always try and just address it as this issue that exists between Dick and JASON.....

Even while acknowledging - but just in passing - that the REAL issue is and always was between Dick and BRUCE.

So like, you can't EVER adequately resolve a conflict IMO, if you're not actually resolving it between the right parties. Its not something that can be 'fixed' just by Dick and Jason because it isn't something that was CAUSED by Dick and Jason. It wasn't even caused by Dick! The conflict in as much as it does exist, stems entirely from possible reactions Dick did or could have had to BRUCE's ACTIONS.

And people keep trying to erase Bruce from that equation on the back end, even while paying lip service to the acknowledgment that he's part of the equation on the front end, and that just doesn't work and it never can, IMO. You're retroactively making it a problem between the wrong people entirely, and it shouldn't be surprising then that resolutions that only involve those specific people don't ever fully adequately resolve the problem caused by another person entirely.

Like, the 'resolution' is almost ALWAYS just Dick saying he realizes he was an ass to Jason and it wasn't Jason's fault, and then makes it all about making it up to Jason. And there's soooooooo many ways to address this issue, that for that to be the one and ONLY resolution we pretty much ever see - and with it not even involving Bruce at all - that's a problem.

There are SO many ways to still have this as a kind of conflict to some degree or another and resolve it WITHOUT just throwing Dick under the bus and acting in PRACTICE like he's the one doing something wrong even while saying something else about Bruce.

But pretty much all of them involve BRUCE doing SOMETHING....because ultimately....it all goes back to Bruce and not Dick.

So if Dick is behaving like an ass to Jason in a story? Dick 'realizing this' and apologizing still isn't that strong a resolution, because either Dick explains his side of things and why he reacted that way, in which case there's a high likelihood that its going to still read to a lot of readers like him weakly making excuses for himself but not actually justifying anything he said or did to Jason in the story....or the other possibility is that Dick takes full responsibility so as to NOT come across as just trying to make excuses for himself, and dives into the reparations and accountability whole-heartedly, in which case Dick never actually gets his side of the story delved into and his emotions and reactions upheld as valid or even just understandable or sympathetic to any meaningful degree.

But the problem I have even here is then.....well, why is it treated like Dick is the only possible person who can even speak up on Dick's behalf? Why does he always have to self-advocate? Even if Bruce is still being obtuse about what he did wrong - Alfred was there, he knows what happened and is more than capable of grasping the real root of Dick being upset, you can have Barbara explain to Jason why this hit Dick so badly and how it really had nothing to do with Jason, one of the other Titans can step in on Dick's behalf, Clark or Diana can say something....

There's a dozen other characters who can advocate FOR Dick and speak up for him TO Jason, explain the FULL situation and try and put Dick in a better light so as not to sour Jason on his new brother and try and preserve whatever potential relationship they build in the future once Dick's better able to move past his hurt or make his peace with it, via Jason having just....more information and being in a position to be more sympathetic about it rather than just hurt and reactive on his OWN behalf - which is literally all Dick is doing in the first place, so Jason's more than capable of understanding that mindset!

Like, Jason's a very empathetic character, and he more than ANYONE else in the Batfam is capable of grasping the nuances of having barely anything left to remember your family by, anything good to hold on to, and to see THAT just given away to a total stranger by someone who has no right to give it away in the first place? Jason is the MOST likely person to be outraged on Dick's behalf if he hears the whole story from someone unlikely to downplay it the way Dick usually does in order to not make Jason feel worse about it. He'd be like...what the fuck, who the fuck thinks that's okay?

It is so, SO easy to preserve Dick and Jason's potential brotherly relationship by just....letting someone else speak for Dick and cast him in a positive light specifically because Dick DOES believe in accepting full accountability when he thinks he's done anything wrong to any degree. He's not someone who tries to spin his own mistakes, he takes more blame than he usually deserves.....so its kinda what I was saying earlier about how people tend to take advantage of him being an unreliable narrator. Why is his side of things so often limited to just HIM defending himself to others when its well established that a core part of his character is he doesn't really believe in going all in on defending himself in the first place? That he's more than willing to take the fall? (With this of course having a ton to do with his self-esteem issues and his uncertainty or lack of trust in the security of his place in his home or family, but I digress).

But you see what I mean? We KNOW Dick's not the best advocate for himself because of his well advertised guilt complex....so why is he so often left to be the only one to advocate for himself even in situations where there are many, MANY other onlookers with as full a grasp of the problem as he has himself, and no reason to pin the blame on Dick or cast him in a negative light?

And for me, it always comes back to fandom's tendency to try and divert attention away from Bruce's own accountability in this matter - because refusing to have anyone else speak up for Dick comes from the same place IMO as not having Bruce step up to volunteer his own accountability in the matter. People don't WANT Jason being mad at Bruce for this or resenting Bruce for getting his relationship with his new brother off to such a poor start by literally giving away the only thing Dick had left of HIS family, the one thing in the world he still had that didn't come from Bruce originally, the way Dick didn't himself.

So like....the answer to your question is I don't think there can ever be a true resolution between JUST Dick and Jason alone, because the second you make any kind of real conflict between them on this matter even if just initially, Jason IS valid in being hurt by ANY degree of distance or being treated coolly by Dick, because Jason did absolutely nothing wrong....so its not on Jason to resolve this......but by the same token, there is this tendency for Dick to default to being an unreliable narrator here and UNDERSELL how much he was actually HURT by this rather than just acting like an ass because of this specifically - which means the FOCUS is still always going to be on WHAT Dick did rather than WHY.....and thus ensures that there's never going to be a true focus on WHY Dick felt hurt and HOW Dick felt hurt.....and thus there's never going to ever be any real resolution to THAT specifically, either.

And THAT'S the ultimate problem. That addressing this conflict between Dick and Jason - its not enough to just have Dick 'get' that he's hurting Jason who doesn't deserve it, and apologize for that and do better, and thus things are resolved and made better for JASON.....but ONLY Jason. Dick still, in this scenario, has to essentially just get over it.

And if your conflict on any level acknowledges to any degree that Dick's attitude or whatever is still ultimately just coming from a place of hurt....

Dick 'getting over it' isn't good enough. That's not actually a resolution. That's writing Dick as settling for an acceptance that HE'S never going to get a resolution so the best he can hope for is to get over it himself in order to make things better for him and Jason instead of just spreading the hurt all around. And that sucks, pretty much.

So I'd say in any case, you're still better served in this conflict by having literally anyone OTHER than Dick broach the subject with Jason first and at least pave the way for Jason to be sympathetic and understanding, so that Dick's not just 'immature' or 'spoiled' or 'acting like an asshole' as the prime takeaway - no, he's a nineteen year old who's been on the outs with Bruce for well over a year by this point and he's hurt by Bruce's seeming thoughtlessness over how he'd be affected by not just giving away Robin, but adopting someone else without even notifying Dick himself of a new addition to their family, or even attempting to first clarify with Dick what the status of Dick in relation to this family actually even is.

But ultimately, I'm always going to fall back on saying that if you're going to make this a conflict between the brothers initially, to ANY degree....the only TRUE resolution requires BRUCE being the one to take the initiative and resolve things for ALL of them, by being frank and just saying hey, he fucked up here, and explaining to Jason why Dick was hurt by what he did and how it had nothing to do with Jason, which in the process of that demonstrates for Dick that Bruce actually GETS how what he did was wrong and how it hurt Dick and why Dick feels the way he does about it....thus allowing everyone to get on the same page via the resolving actions of the one party who ACTUALLY had the most to do with setting this particular conflict in motion in the first place.

Anything less will always read like a half measure IMO because like....the conflict began with Bruce and what he did.

It should end with Bruce and what he does too.

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Life With You Makes Perfect Sense (You're My Best Friend)

TimKon Fanfic

Read on AO3 or Read my other works here

For context: this takes place during the time when Stephanie Brown was Robin after Tim's dad figured out his identity and made him retire. In the comics, Conner finds this out by coming to Gotham to look for Tim when he fails to show up at Titan's Tower and bumping into Robin Steph. Batman refuses to give Conner Tim's address but tells him that he has all the same skills Superman has to find him himself. Conner tracks down Tim's voice and confronts him in his bedroom. In the comics, he ends up leaving and doesn't appear to hear from Tim again until he comes back to the Robin role. This fic takes place as a sort of "what-if" to fill in that missing time.

I took the dialogue in italics from the first and last scenes directly from my copy of the TPB Teen Titans: Beast Boys & Girls (2005), though the body language that goes with the dialogue and everything else in the fic is mine.

Title comes from Tim McGraw's "My Best Friend"

Tim woke up clinging to the whisps of a dream that fled from the screeching of his alarm. As he blinked himself back to consciousness, he grasped vainly for the subject of the dream and was left feeling inexplicably wistful.

His fumbling fingers managed to silence the alarm, but there was still the unfortunate matter of having to heave himself out of bed, his limbs feeling heavier and more uncooperative than they had in weeks. Apparently, all the extra sleep he’d been getting since he retired still wasn’t enough to make Monday mornings suck any less.

He pushed away the traitorous voice in the back of his head that suggested that maybe his exhaustion had something to do with his conversation with Conner the other night.

Conner had shown up unannounced and asking questions Tim hadn’t expected to have to answer again. “Why didn’t you show at the tower yesterday? And what’s with this new Robin? The girl?”

“Last week…” Tim paused, trying to decide how best to make Conner understand. “My dad found my costume. He found out I was Robin, and he went a little—” Tim paused, unsure, “—overboard. I’ve been wanting to tell him for months anyway.”

Conner turned his head towards where he could hear Jack moving around, easily locking onto his vitals. “He seems totally relaxed now. His heart rate is normal and—”

Tim glanced back at Conner nervously, but still refused to look at him head on. “I quit.”

“You what?” Conner exclaimed.

“I’m not Robin anymore. I gave it up.”

“Why?” Conner couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was hearing.

Tim tried to explain, needing Conner to understand. His approval felt vital in that moment. “I never liked living two lives. I never planned on doing it for this long. And I never wanted to lie to my dad. Now I don’t have to anymore.”

Conner shook his head in denial. “Come on. You can’t do this to the Titans. That girl isn’t… She’s not Robin.”

Tim wanted to stop thinking about that night, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t. The look on Conner’s face when Tim told him he wasn’t coming back to the Titans, how Conner refused to meet Tim’s eyes when he talked about how much he and the other Titans needed Tim, not just Robin. All of it. After all, what right did Conner have to come in and tell Tim how to live his life? Conner was born into this, he didn’t have a Before to compare the hero life to. He didn’t understand what it was like to be torn between two halves of himself.

At that thought, Tim paused about halfway through pulling on a shirt, and immediately felt guilty for even thinking it. Conner had just found out he was half Lex Luthor after all. He was probably the only person Tim knew who would understand exactly how Tim felt being stuck between his Dad and Bruce since the truth came out.

Tim pulled the shirt on the rest of the way with a mental sigh. He wasn’t really mad at Conner. Things had changed really quickly, and the other boy had made a lot of good points. As he ran through the rest of his morning routine, Tim’s mind continued its highlight reel.

“Let it go.”

“You’re my best friend, Tim. How can I? The Titans aren’t the Titans without Robin. They just aren’t.”

“Just because I’m not wearing a cape doesn’t mean we can’t hang.”

For the first time since Tim had explained his motivation, Conner finally met his eyes again. The resignation there made Tim’s throat tighten. “It won’t be the same. I’ve heard that from too many friends. Friends I never talk to anymore.”

And Conner wasn’t wrong. When was the last time he had talked to Cissie? Sure, he still got the occasional update on what she was up to from Cassie on Titans weekends, but that wasn’t the same. It was so easy to lose touch with people who left the hero game. Hell, he hadn’t even spoken to Dick since he quit, and they had supposedly been brothers.

Conner had every right to be worried. But what else was he supposed to do? There was nothing else he could have done to protect everyone’s identities, and it wasn’t like his Dad was about to let him go to group hangouts with a bunch of superteens.

Tim mulled it over as he mechanically choked down a bowl of cereal. His dad had been pretty adamant about the no contact thing, and Tim was trying to be the respectful son his dad deserved. But Conner wasn’t something Tim was willing to sacrifice for his new mission. Besides, what was the harm in just staying touch, it’s not like he was putting himself in danger.

Still, it was probably better safe than sorry. If he got his hands on a computer at school, it wouldn’t be hard to track down the Kents’ phone number. Then it was just a matter of waiting for Dad and Dana to be out long enough for him to have sole access to the landline.

Yeah, Tim thought as he threw his bowl and the sink and headed out to catch his bus, that would work. It would be enough. It had to. Tim just wished he didn’t feel like he was betraying his dad all over again.

-0-

If anyone could read his mind right now, they would be impressed by the amount of self-restraint Conner was exercising to control his strength as well as he was despite how frustrated he was. Unfortunately, poor Lottie the Cow could not read his mind, and, unlike Krypto, she wasn’t hiding any secret Kryptonian powers of her own.

After the third time he used just a tad too much pressure in his attempts to milk her and she shied away from him yet again, he had to concede defeat. As he swapped out with Pa (who was all too willing to pass off the stall mucking), Conner let himself feel the indignation he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he spoke to Tim.

It just wasn’t right! Anyone with eyes could see how much Tim loved being Robin. Conner knew how much pride he took in being able to hold his own against some of the most powerful people on the planet. How Tim’s heartrate still sped up with excitement every time he swung off a building or when he flew with Conner.

His dad wanted him to be normal so bad? What was more normal than a teen managing to sneak out without their guardian knowing or taking their dad’s car out for a joyride with their friends. So what if the car was a Batmobile or if the adult he was sneaking past was a Tamaranean princess?

And the worst part was that he wasn’t even mad at Tim, not really. Sure, he had been pissed in the moment, but mostly he was just hurt. They had all finally gotten back to normal, and now Tim was leavingagain. It just wasn’t fair. Conner just wanted his best friend back, but every time they got over one hurdle another one showed up. And this was something Conner couldn’t punch.

“If you shovel any harder, you’re going to snap the end off again.”

Conner whirled around, barely managing not to break the poor tool in his surprise. Martha just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, a full basket of chicken eggs resting on her hip. “You want to tell me what’s eating you?”

Conner didn’t meet her eyes, just grabbed the now full bucket of manure to take it to the compost. “It’s nothing, Aunt Martha.”

Her brow wrinkled in concern, which was not what Conner had wanted at all. She took another moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Well… I know you don’t owe me your thoughts son, and I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to do what you and Clark do.” She started walking alongside Conner before continuing. “But I have raised one Kryptonian and I can listen with the best of them. So, if you need to get something off your chest…”

Dumping the bucket into the compost, Conner almost refused out of habit. Instead, he hesitated, casting his eyes to the side as he grasped for an answer. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. “It’s kinda a long story…” the note of disappointment in his voice seemed to surprise both of them. Martha didn’t miss a step as she steered them back towards the house. She too glanced at the rising sun and then sent Conner an appraising look. “hmmm… School is important. It would be a shame if you had woken up ill this morning and couldn’t attend.”

Conner felt himself gaping like a fish as he followed her inside.

-0-

Tim was pretending not to notice Dana hovering when the doorbell rang.

And wasn’t that a fun situation. Tim wasn’t quite sure how much Dana knew. He knew his dad hadn’t told her about Robin, as per the arrangement. But he wasn’t sure what story she’d been given instead, or, more likely, if she’d just been left to draw her own conclusions.

Regardless, she clearly knew Tim had been hiding something because she had been acting strangely ever since. Making excuses to keep him in view, asking much more probing questions about his day and who he was spending it with, checking out parenting books on “troubled teens.”

She hadn’t said anything to Tim about whatever it was she thought was going on, but she had always been over-protective of Tim. Sure it could occasionally cross over into infantilizing, but, after a lifetime of people only worrying about Tim’s wellbeing when it affected them, it was kinda nice to have a parent care so openly.

Still, this was starting to get ridiculous. It wasn’t like he was running a drug empire from the kitchen table, and writing an English essay while someone keeps sneaking glances at you while cleaning the stovetop wasn’t exactly easy.

So, the doorbell was a welcome distraction.

While Dana rose to answer the door, Tim tried to focus back on his paper, as if he could make it write itself with the force of his glare. However, there was no amount of effort that would ever keep him from recognizing that voice.

He was at the door before he even realized he’d made the decision.

“—don’t know why he didn’t mention it, ma’am, we made these plans last week.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m really comfortable with letting you boys go without clearing it with Jack fir—"

Tim peeked around Dana’s shoulder to see Conner Kent, glasses and all, staring up at his stepmom with an almost comically earnest expression. “Dana?”

She glanced back at Tim, not letting go of the half-open door. “Your friend—”

“Conner,” the boy in question supplied helpfully.

“Right,” she said with a forced smile, “Your friend, Conner, was just telling me that you two made plans to get together to study tonight? Tim, honey, you know your Dad wants you to let him know before you make plans to go out with people we don’t know.”

Tim did know. It was one of many new rules that his dad had decided to implement after he found his Robin gear. The restrictions chafed, but, as his dad pointed out, he definitely deserved the lack of trust at this point.

But when he caught the cocky “play along” grin over Dana’s shoulder, Tim stomach filled with warmth at the familiarity. He quickly schooled his expression into an appropriately sheepish smile. “Sorry Dana, I guess it just slipped my mind.”

Dana softened, her grip on the door slackening just a tad.

“If it helps, Mrs. Drake,” Conner broke in, “we can just study here.”

Tim wondered if Conner had learned the earnest and polite young man routine from watching Clark or if it was just natural talent. Either way it was enough for Dana, leading her to relax and open the door completely.

“Oh, that would be perfect! Tim, honey, why don’t you get you and your friend set up at the table? Will you be staying for dinner, Conner? We’re having Chinese tonight, and it’d be no problem to order an extra serving.”

“That would be great, Mrs. Drake!”

Dana headed back towards the kitchen, presumably looking for the takeout menus, leaving Tim and Conner in awkward silence. Tim decided to break the tension first.

“I’m sorry, Conner, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you were just trying to help.”

“Wait, that’s supposed to be my line! I’m sorry, Tim. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t think you could make your own decisions.”

“So, still friends?”

“Please! You didn’t think I’d come all the way to Gotham to ditch you now, did you?”

“Why did you come? If that was it, why not just come in the window?”

Conner shifted his weight, hand tightening minutely around the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Well, I was talking to Ma earlier, and she helped me realize that even if Robin can’t hang out with Superboy, that doesn’t mean Conner Kent can’t spend time with Tim Drake.” He looked up from his shoes, his blue eyes putting the Gotham sky to shame. “That is… if it’s okay with you?”

If you had asked Conner, Tim’s answering grin could have lit up even the darkest Gotham alley.

-0-

Fifteen minutes later found Tim and Conner side by side at the kitchen table, various homework from various subjects strewn out about. Leaning over under the guise of checking Conner’s math, Tim murmured under his breath for only Conner to hear: “So Conner Kent wears flannel now?”

Conner snorted. “I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing they sell in Smallville,” he whispered back. “Why? You a fan?”

“To be honest… I miss the leather,” he replied thoughtlessly.

“Is that so?” Tim realized what he’d said out loud a moment too late. “I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” Tim replied with a little shove that did absolutely nothing but prompt Conner to break out into full body laughter so loud it drew Dana in from the living room to see what was going on.

When she found a blushing Tim whispering back furiously and sending her embarrassed looks, she let out a chuckle of her own before leaving them to it. She had a good feeling about this kid.

-0

It quickly became routine for Conner to come by after school to do homework a few days a week. Tim had worried that it might have been getting Conner in trouble, but Conner had assured him that he had worked things out with ‘Ma so that he still got all his chores done in spite of the extra hours he was putting in Gotham. And as for Batman, well, if he didn’t want him coming to Gotham to see Tim, he shouldn’t have told him how to find him.

And at least he wasn’t dangling the latest Robin in mid-air anymore.

Whether by fate or weird coincidence, however, he still hadn’t managed to run into Jack Drake while he was monopolizing his son’s time yet. The first night Conner stayed for dinner had ended with them all waiting for half an hour after the food arrived before Jack remembered to call and let Dana know he would be working late. It wasn’t the last time either. And the nights he did come home for dinner were the nights where Conner had already planned to head home early to have dinner with his own family.

Not to say Conner minded. He had some thoughtsabout Jack Drake and the way he treated his son. It was probably better for everyone that Conner spent as little time with the man as possible.

But there was only so long that could last, especially since Tim was practically dying to get out of the house for more than just school or Jack’s father-son excursions.

Unfortunately, as time went on Jack had only gotten more paranoid about where Tim was going and what he was doing, not less. Lately, Tim was practically on lockdown since it was such a pain to get permission to go anywhere without his dad or Dana. The last time he had gone out to the diner with Bernard and Darla his Dad had “just happened” to stop by for a to-go coffee. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been making sure Tim really was where he said he was.

His only saving grace was Dana. While she still enforced his dad’s rules (apparently not wanting to undermine his parenting), Tim had overheard her arguing on his behalf with his dad on multiple occasions, insisting that Tim was a good kid who had earned a little bit of freedom. Granted, these conversations rarely accomplished much besides getting Jack to dismiss her concerns as a lack of understanding due to not having children of her own. Still, Tim appreciated the support. Particularly since Dana had clearly decided that she liked Conner and essentially left them to their own devices while they were “studying.”

Now in addition to actually doing their homework, they were able to spend time talking about the rest of their lives, especially the normal civilian stuff they never seemed to have time for during Titans weekends. Everything from friendships, to TV shows, to their relationships with their parents was fair game. Tim had felt like he knew Conner before, but this was a whole new level. And the more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

And that’s why he had recruited Dana.

It hadn’t been hard. For once in his life, being completely honest with an authority figure about what he wanted was enough. It probably shouldn’t have felt as weird as it did.

Dana had given him a strange look when he mentioned he wanted to hang out with Conner outside of studying, but she had agreed that she didn’t see a problem with it. After all, if his father was alright with him spending time with Bernard (who Dana knew firsthand was not exactly the best of influences) then surely he would be okay with Tim spending more time with “a nice young man” like Conner. He just needed to meet him first.

It would be fine. Probably.

And that was how the two of them had ended up setting the dining table while Dana put the finishing touches on what she assured Tim was Jack’s favorite meal.

“Dude, you’ve got to take a breath,” Conner whispered as he reached around Tim. “I’ve heard your heart beat slower going up against literal mercenaries.”

Tim snorted. “I’ll take Deathstroke over this any day.”

“Hey now,” he shot back with a scandalized hand to his chest, “I’ll have you know I am delightful company!”

Tim’s futile attempts at a mock glare were interrupted when he could no longer hold back the urge to giggle at the absurdity of the situation. He could go up against the worst the world had to offer without thinking twice, but the idea of his dad and his best friend in the same room had him on the verge of a panic attack.

He shot Conner a grateful smile. “I just really need this to go well.”

Conner slung a careless arm around Tim’s shoulder but spoke with a level of seriousness he rarely let people see. “And it will, I promise. We make a good team, remember? We can handle this.”

Tim nodded and drew in some deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. Conner didn’t say anything else, just let him take the minute he needed. Just as Tim had gotten a hold of himself and was about to gently shrug off Conner’s arm, Conner pulled away of his own accord with a parting squeeze of Tim’s shoulder.

“He’s here,” he explained, gesturing to the front door with his chin as he finished off the last place setting.

Sure enough, a moment later Tim heard the telltale click of a key in a lock. There was a very slight possibility that his breathing may have quickened again just a bit if the bemused look Conner sent him was any indication.

Tim most definitely did not stick his tongue out at his friend before heading to the entryway to take his dad’s coat.

Conner and his snicker followed a beat behind Tim. When Jack’s gaze finally landed on Conner, Conner felt his spine straighten involuntarily. Jack didn’t say anything at first, and in the stretching silence Conner felt himself trying to channel every bit of the big blue boy scout he had in him.

Jack’s eyes cast over every bit of Conner’s appearance, from his glasses to his button up to his clean but scuffed sneakers. Conner was uncomfortably reminded of being a literal lab specimen under observation.

Suddenly, Jack’s expression morphed into a charming smile Conner didn’t trust for an instant. He stuck out a hand, and Conner was so caught off guard by the sudden transition that he almost forgot to shake it.

“You must be Tim’s friend. Carter, right?”

“Er—”

“It’s Conner, Dad.”

Jack waved Tim’s correction away. “Right, right, Conner then.” He started walking off to the living room, clearly expecting them to follow. “Dana tells me that you’ve been coming over to study quite a bit lately. I hope your grades have seen a better uptick than Tim’s have.”

Conner sent a questioning glance Tim’s way but didn’t get a response other than the visible tension in the other boy’s jaw.

“Not really sure what the point of a study group is if it doesn’t actually raise your grades any,” Jack continued.

Assuming that the biting comment was rhetorical and feeling supremely awkward, Conner didn’t respond right away. But as the three of them each pulled up a chair, Jack’s impatient expression clued Conner in on the fact that he was actually supposed to answer.

“Er…yes sir. I’ve been really lucky to have Tim’s help getting caught up.”

Jack was saved from responding beyond a noncommittal hmm by Dana’s arrival with the food. As she placed the casserole dish of what looked like enchiladas on the table, Dana gave them all a forced smile.

“And it’s been so nice getting to know one of Tim’s friends, Conner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drake.”

“So how did you and Tim start hanging out?” Jack questioned absently.

They had prepped for this question. Conner used the opportunity to launch into an overdramatic retelling of a group project they had worked on together and how they realized that they worked well together. Like all the best lies, it included just enough details not to be suspicious while still having a kernel of truth.

His story succeeded in breaking the ice enough to get conversation started, and Conner felt himself relaxing. He had meant what he said to Tim earlier, but he didn’t exactly meet that many new civilians. But Tim had prepared him well, and this wasn’t his first undercover op. He skillfully navigated around dangerous truths and gave the performance of his life as the perfect All-American teen.

Maybe he should have felt guilty about lying to these people who had opened their home to him. Clark probably would have had something to say about it. After all, on paper Jack had every right to be upset. His son had literally been throwing himself in front of bullets for strangers for years behind his back. Not only that, but he’d been doing it alongside another adult he had trusted to have his son’s best interests at heart. Surely any good parent would have been just as upset, right?

But Conner was very aware that Jack Drake was not the parent he believed himself to be.

Good parents didn’t ship their kid off to boarding schools from the minute he was old enough to attend, and then never show up for the few weeks their kid is home.

Good parents don’t look at everything that makes you you and try to sand it away so that you’ll fit some perfect ideal they have in their head of what you should be.

Good parents don’t look at the emotional scars and bruises they’ve given to their child and tell them that its their own fault for making them do this, for not being enough or for being too much.

Jack Drake may not have laid a hand on his son, but he’d still done plenty of damage, and Conner was forced to watch Tim thank him for it.

So, no. Conner didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for lying to the man who constantly left his favorite person more confused and conflicted than any mystery Batman had ever handed to him.

Tim may not realize that he deserved better yet, but that was alright. Conner would flatter and charm and play meek and responsible without feeling a single thing if it made Tim’s life easier.

As the conversation shifted to what was new with Dana’s sister and her kids, Conner met Tim’s eyes again. Tim subtly tipped his glass approvingly toward Conner, and Conner sent back an answering wink.

Well, he corrected internally, maybe he’d feel one thing after all.

-0

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for its tourist attractions. It was kind of a risky financial decision to try to open anything that encouraged a lot of people to congregate in a city where crowds drew Rogues like killer moths to a flamethrower. And that went double for anything that could be construed as children’s entertainment.

Luckily, Gothamites were both stubborn and spiteful, so there were a few places, like the traveling carnival currently set up near the harbor, that popped up every now and then with that brilliant fuck you energy that so clearly defined the city.

After last week’s dinner got off to its admittedly awkward start, Conner had hit his stride. Seamlessly switching between the perfect “aw shucks, me?” smile when asked a question about himself and then an earnest “tell me more about…” to turn the conversation back to Jack’s interests, Conner would have earned even the Batman’s reluctant approval.

By the end of the night, Jack was riding the high of getting to speak about himself to a willing audience for so long. It was all too easy to get Jack’s permission for Tim to hang out with Conner outside the house… as long as he still made sure to call and check in on the hour, of course.

Tim hadn’t hesitated to get them tickets for the second night the carnival was in town (not wanting to tempt a Rogue’s attack on the first), and the night had finally arrived.

Now, sharing a seat on the ferris wheel with the other teen, Tim couldn’t understand why he’d been so worried. He’d always been the first to insist that there was so much more to Conner than people gave him credit for.

Tim found himself glancing at Conner out of the corner of his eye. Luckily, the other boy was too busy leaning over the railing to watch the sun set behind the city skyline.

Most people looked at Superboy and saw a brash, arrogant, and (if he was lucky) comical teenager. They dismissed him as the brawn to other Titans’ brains. They couldn’t understand how he could be so different from Superman.

Tim knew better than that. Sure, he could be all those things, but what teenager wasn’t? Especially considering all the shit the authority figures in his life had put him through. And yeah, he was funny too.

But Conner was also a damn good friend. He was loyal and brave and empathetic and fiercely protective of the people who had earned his respect. He paid attention to people, and he cared so deeply, even though he tried to cover it up with nonchalance and a confident façade. He might be bulletproof, but Tim would protect that vulnerability he saw until the day he died.

“Alright. Where’d you go?”

Pulled back into the moment rather suddenly, Tim was startled, but he didn’t have to worry about coming up with a suitably mysterious response here. “What?”

Conner snorted and raised one hand to slide his sunglasses just far enough down the bridge of his nose that he could meet Tim’s eyes.

“You’re looking at me weird. What’s up?”

As Tim tried to decide how to answer in a way that wasn’t completely cheesy, the ferris wheel paused again, this time with the two of them at the very top.

“I just—I’m just really glad you’re here. Thanks for coming to Gotham.” He didn’t just mean today either. He meant all of it. The first time he came to find out why Robin wasn’t at the tower, the time he showed up at Tim’s door even what would have chased anyone else away, and every other time they had hung out since.

He didn’t have to specify that though. The blinding smile that broke out over Conner’s face made it clear the message was received.

Conner took a moment, trying to school his expression into something a little smoother, but it was a lost cause. Eventually he just settled for clearing his throat. “You don’t have to thank me, Tim. There’s no place I’d rather be. Besides,” he continued as he casually threw an arm across the back of Tim’s seat, “everyone knows Gotham has the best sunsets.”

His heart pounding, Tim took a deep breath and let himself sink into Conner’s side. For a second, Conner stiffened and Tim worried that he’d made a horrible mistake, that he’d ruined everything.

It was only when he felt the comforting weight of Conner’s arm move from the seat to wrap around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him closer, that Tim let himself believe that this could be okay. They could have this.

The leather of Conner’s jacket was cool against the side of Tim’s face. The sky was a brilliant mess of golds and reds and purples. And Tim was with the person who made him feel safer and more himself than anyone else on the planet.

“Yeah, I suppose we do, don’t we?”

-0

That evening, Tim sat down on his bed, pulling his camera out of his bag. He was looking forward to developing them. Maybe he’d give Conner a few of the shots if they were any good.

knock knock

Tim looked up to see Dana leaning up against the doorframe she had knocked on.

“Hey, Honey. Did y’all have a good time?”

Tim couldn’t have held back the smile if he’d tried. “Oh yeah, it was awesome!”

Dana smiled back just as warmly. “Oh, I’m so glad!” Tim believed her. That was the best thing about Dana, she was one of the most genuine people he knew, and for some reason Tim couldn’t fathom, she had always seemed to care so much about Tim.

“Do you mind if I come in, sweetheart? There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about…”

-0

“I swear to god I used to be good at keeping secrets,” Tim groaned as he allowed his head to thunk dramatically against the diner table.

Conner didn’t look up from his menu, but he did use his TTK to save their waters from tipping over. “Sure you were,” he deadpanned.

“I was literally trained in deception and resistance to interrogation by one of the best detectives in the world.”

“Yup.”

“She still doesn’t know I was Robin. Neither of them have made the very obvious connections between you and a certain Boy of Steel for some reason.

“It’s the glasses.”

“It is not the glasses.”

“It is,” he said. “Conner Kent wears glasses, and Superboy doesn’t. Therefore, obviously different people.” His forehead crinkled. “Do you think a sweet potato milkshake would be any good?”

“It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve ever eaten.” Tim squinted back up suspiciously from where he was still sprawled on the table. “Also, I feel like you are not being nearly sympathetic enough to my plight.”

Conner finally gave up the pretense of looking at the menu and dropped his chin to rest on his hands on the tabletop, so his face was only a few inches from Tim’s long-suffering expression.

Unfortunately for Tim’s dignity, Conner’s crooked grin was infectious. “How long did it take her to figure it out?”

“Ugh, she apparently she knew the minute she saw me, but at least she promised not to tell Dad.”

Conner snickered.

“Don’t laugh! She tried to give me the talk, Conner!”

That just sent Conner into full-body cackles. Tim watched him throw his head back and couldn’t help but feel proud. He did that. But he wasn’t done pouting yet either. It was the principle of the thing, after all.

“Sorry—” Conner gasped, “Sorry babe!” He leaned forward to place a kiss to Tim’s forehead, reveling in the way his boyfriend blushed so immediately. “You can hide just about anything else, sure, but you’ve got absolutely no poker face when you’re happy.”

Tim grumbled good naturedly like the absolute gremlin he was before finally deciding to sit up when a rather unimpressed waitress stopped by to take their order.

When she walked off, Conner turned back to Tim, casually taking one of Tim’s hands in his as though they weren’t both still completely in awe of this new development.

“So…” Conner started. “You were supposed to get together with your Wizards & Warlocks friends over the weekend, right? How’d that go?”

Tim’s eyes lit up as he started telling Conner about the most recent developments to their current campaign. Conner did his best to make sense of all of the characters and jargon he had no reference for, since it clearly meant a lot to Tim. Though that was made a little trickier by how much fun he was having just watching Tim.

He rarely got to see him so animated, due to the expectations constantly heaped on Robin and Tim Drake alike. When talking about something he enjoyed, however, Tim came alive. So, Conner listened, asking real questions that sparked off another tangent every time he started running out of steam.

Conner wondered if Tim’s eyes had always sparkled that much when they were hidden behind a mask. He didn’t think so, but either way he was just grateful Tim trusted him enough to let him see.

-0

“So then Ives—oh, Dana, can you pass the bread? thanks—Ives ended up rolling a Nat 20 on persuasion, which completely messed with my pla—”

“Alright, alright, I’m about tapped out on Witches & Wizards—” Jack interrupted, his hands raised in a timeout gesture.

“Jack!” Dana admonished.

“It’s actually Wizards & Warlocks, Dad.”

“Whatever it’s called! There’s only so much of this I can hear before my brain rots.”

Tim forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dad.”

Jack waved away the apology with his buttered roll. “Forget about it. Hey, how’s your school’s basketball team this year? I was thinking we would go to the game this Friday, just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Tim said, “I don’t really know. Umm… what time is the game? Because I already made plans to go see a movie with Conner on Friday before he has to go away for the weekend for some family stuff.”

Jack frowned and Tim found himself straightening up involuntarily. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that Conner kid. What’s up with that?” he asked accusatorily.

Wary of stumbling into a trap he couldn’t see, Tim tried to feign a casualness he didn’t feel. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized we have a lot in common, but I hang out with a lot of people. Why do you ask?”

This apparently wasn’t enough for Jack because he didn’t let it go, even putting his fork down so he could make sure his full attention was on Tim. “You don’t though! You almost never talk about Bernard anymore, or that Darla girl! The wizards thing was weird enough, but now if it’s not that then it’s Conner this or Conner that! If you’re not careful, you’re gonna give people the wrong idea about the two of you.”

The tightening in Tim’s throat would have been painful if it weren’t for the numbness he felt sinking into his bones.

“And now you’re suddenly too good to hang out with your dad anymore? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m concerned about the person you’re becoming lately.”

“No! No, Dad it’s not like that—”

Tim looked at a wide-eyed Dana desperately for help. Ever ready to defend Tim when he needed, Dana didn’t disappoint.

“Oh, Jack, honey,” she laughed a little too loudly, “leave the poor boy be. He’s a good kid, and it’s healthy for a teenage boy to want to spend more time with his friends! I don’t see the harm in it. Honestly, shouldn’t we be proud of him for honoring his commitments?”

Jack’s glare was as hard as steel and just as cold. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t be proud of. I think I know how to parent my son.”

Dana broke eye-contact first, and Jack seemed to be the only one immune to the rising tension. Eventually he paused his meal consideringly. “Though I suppose you do have a point, Dana. Tim and I will just have to go to the next game, hmm?”

Grateful for the out, Tim nodded quickly. “Sounds great, Dad.”

-0

Tim had been looking forward to seeing this movie since he’d seen the first preview, but he hadn’t been paying attention at all for the last ten minutes. Oh well, he could come back and watch it again later, maybe with the guys in his W&W group.

In the meantime, it was definitely worth the sacrifice. Kissing Conner in the back row of the theatre, Tim had never felt more like a normal teenager in his life. This might be just as fun as running over rooftops.

-0

Conner swung Tim’s hand back and forth between them as they walked, feeling a bit like a little kid. Most people probably would have been on edge walking through the streets of Gotham right after sunset, but most people weren’t literally bulletproof.

As it was, Conner would have been content to stay out there all night if it meant he got to keep holding Tim’s hand while he chattered about the photos he had taken on their last outing to the botanical gardens and how they had turned out. Conner had learned more about camera lenses in the last ten minutes than he had in his life, and he was loving it.

Unfortunately, the Titans would be expecting him in an hour or so, and Tim’s dad would probably take exception to his son being out all night under mysterious circumstances. So, it was with a heavy sigh that Conner finally arrived at the Drake’s brownstone.

The boys came to a stop before reaching the front steps, neither ready for the night to end. Conner leaned forward to press his forehead to rest against Tim’s.

“You know,” he whispered, “I know I said I wanted Robin to come back to the Titans —and don’t get me wrong, I would still love that— but I’m also kinda loving having you all to myself.”

Tim chuckled and when that laugh turned into a crooked grin that made Conner’s stomach flutter, he couldn’t resist kissing it back off.

WHAM

Tim and Conner jumped apart as the door to the brownstone slammed open. Jack glared down at them.

“Tim. Get in this house, right now.” When Tim hesitated to move, Jack’s tone only grew even more demanding. “I said get in this house Timothy Jackson Drake.”

The sound of his full name seemed to spark Tim back to life, as he scrambled back towards the house. Conner gently caught one of Tim’s hands just before he was out of reach, and the other boy looked at him like a started deer.

“Do you want me to…” Conner trailed off with a meaningful hand wave at the side of his head. Do you want me to listen in, he was asking.

Tim thought about it for a second before shaking his head. “But maybe don’t go far?”

Conner nodded decisively before meeting Jack’s hateful gaze defiantly for just a moment. He shoved his fists into his jacket pockets before storming off to the corner. As soon as he was out of view, however, he took advantage of Gotham’s perpetual lighting problem to fly up to the roof of the house next to Tim’s, ready to be there the minute Tim needed him.

He settled in to wait, trying to focus on anything but the shouting coming from the Drake residence.

It was probably took longer than it should have for Conner to realize he wasn’t alone, but, hey, he was distracted. Sue him.

“You can come out. I can hear your heartbeat.”

Black Bat unfurled from where she had blended perfectly into the shadows cast by the air-conditioning unit.

“What are you doing here?” Conner asked.

Cass joined him in sitting on the edge of the roof to watch the brownstone. “A while ago…there was a killer…hunting the last robin. I still check in.”

“Every night?”

“No…but most nights.”

Conner considered that for a moment. “So, I’m guessing you saw…?”

“Yes.” Conner thought he could detect a playful edge to her voice. “You are not very subtle.” Okay, no, he was definitely being teased.

trying to play along, he bumped her shoulder with his own. “Well, we can’t all be bat-level sneaky. The universe couldn’t take it. Some of us have to be showy enough to balance the rest of you out.”

Cass hummed consideringly. “That’s fine. Batman will… train it out of you.”

Conner let himself fall back dramatically in mock horror, and Cass giggled. The sound did not match the mask at all, but somehow the juxtaposition seemed fitting for a member of the bat family.

“It’s how he shows his love, promise.”

Conner smiled, the tension of the moment briefly eclipsed by the mental image of the Batman trying to mother-hen a super. Clark would never let him live it down.

Suddenly, movement drew his eye, and Conner saw Tim. Ready to hear the verdict, Conner rose to fly back down.

“Thanks,” he turned to say, only to find himself met with an empty roof.

Bats, man.

-0

Tim followed Jack into the house, his heart pounding so hard Clark could probably hear it in Metropolis. His lips and fingers felt weirdly tingly before going slightly numb. His brain was going a million miles an hour but his body just felt slightly distant.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He wasn’t ready for this, it was supposed to be on his terms. But it was happening and it was happening now.

Jack stormed into the living room where Dana was half-risen in concern. She froze at the thunderous expression on his face as Jack being to pace the room like a caged lion. Meanwhile, Tim was a stone statue standing just in the room’s entrance. He felt a little bit like one of the artifacts his parents had brought back as souvenirs from their travels, just another relic meant to show off to friends that just ended up cluttering an empty house. And were Tim’s ears ringing?

“What the fuck did I just see, Tim?!” Jack burst out.

“Dad, I—”

“Don’t you fucking dare try to talk yourself out of this. Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?!”

“No! Of cour—”

“Jack, honey, whatever this is about, maybe we—”

Dana’s attempts to calm Jack only seemed to enrage him more, and she was cut off by the CRASH that came from Jack pitching one of her vases across the room. She froze, her eyes darting between Tim and Jack.

“Do you want to tell her what you’ve been doing behind our backs, Tim, or should I?”

“I—Conner and I--We” Tim sputtered unintelligibly, but Dana got the gist. She closed her eyes for a moment too long in sympathy, and Jack’s fury turned on her in an instant.

“You knew? You knew what was happening, and you didn’t put a stop to it?”

“Jack! There’s nothing wro…”

Her voice trailed off as Jack stalked closer and closer to her chair until he towered over her. She shrunk down. Jack leaned down over her and braced himself on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping his wife.

“Do you even care about what this could do to us?” His voice had gone low and picked up a dangerous quality that reminded Tim of the way Batman spoke to criminals he interrogated. But Tim had never been afraid of Batman.

He went on, his head tilted mockingly. “Or, are you just too stupid and selfish to realize how this reflects back on me?”

And, as he watched Dana start to shake, something in Tim snapped.

He was across the room in an instant, wrenching Jack’s arm behind his back so that he was forced to step back and turn around to keep it from breaking. The second Jack let go of Dana’s chair, Tim shoved him stumbling in the opposite direction.

“Leave her alone.”

Jack spun back around. “Did you just shove me?” he asked in pure outrage.

Tim’s chin raised defiantly. “I told you I could, didn’t I?”

At the reminder of the night Jack found out about Robin, Jack’s face twisted back into something ugly.

“So what?! I risk my life to save you from those freaks the first time, and this is the thanks I get? How the hell is anyone supposed to take me seriously when my son is—”

“I didn’t ASK you to save me, Dad!” Tim shouted. Years and years of bottling his resentment and frustration had led to an inevitable explosion, and Tim didn’t care who got burned. “I loved being Robin, I loved getting to help people, and getting to show what I can do. I worked so hard to earn Robin, and I gave it up to make you happy and I still can’t do anything right for you. I am so sick of pretending to be someone I’m not in the hopes that maybe someday it’ll finally be enough for you.”

“Tim—”

“No! It’s my turn now!” Tim’s words were acid. If he didn’t get them out now, they would burn him from the inside out. “I will never be the perfect kid you and Mom thought you deserved. I get that now. But I am enough. Bruce thinks so. Dick thinks so. And Conner thinks so too. I am more me with him than I am with anyone else. You already took Robin from me. I won’t let you take this from me too.”

Jack puffed up in rage. Seemingly having forgotten his lesson, he stormed into Tim’s space. Tim took a few steps back on instinct before he came back to himself and planted his feet, forcing Jack to stop to avoid a collision. Their faces were only a few inches apart as they glared at each other.

Tim realized he was almost as tall as his father.

Stubbornly trying to regain the control he could feel slipping through his fingers like water, Jack summoned every bit of authority he had in his body into his tone. “You aren’t seeing him again. This never happens again. Do I make myself clear?”

It was a good effort, but Tim had fought the Justice League. He regularly stared down the worst Gotham had to offer and said not here, not today. There was a lot he was willing to do to keep the peace. But Tim was fed up, and this was one thing he refusedto compromise on.

“No.”

There was nothing as immovable as a Bat who had made up their mind.

Maybe Jack finally recognized that because, for just a moment, Tim thought he saw something like sadness in his father’s eyes before they hardened like steel.

“Then get out.”

Tim blinked, his confusion enough to break through the bubble of anger that had been clouding out all else. “What?”

“I said get out of my house. And don’t come back.”

“Dad—”

“I don’t know who you are anymore. But you aren’t my son. I guess Batman ended up killing him after all.”

Tim’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure whether it was the grief or betrayal that cut worse, but he kinda wished the numbness would come back. He drew in a deep breath, pulling what was left of his anger around him like a shield. Or maybe a cloak.

He spun around on his heel and marched back toward the front door.

The movement seemed to break the trance of confused horror that had held Dana like a vice as she watched the argument unfold like a demented tennis match.

“Tim!” she called after him. She reached out vainly as if that would be enough to close the distance that had opened up between them like a chasm. “Tim, sweetheart!”

Tim couldn’t turn around, but that didn’t make Dana’s heartbroken tone any less painful to hear.

He didn’t stop once he was out of the door until he was halfway down the street. And then, it was only because Conner landed right in front of him.

“Hey, what happened?”

Tim couldn’t answer. He couldn’t make eye contact right now either. But Conner didn’t press him.

“Okay,” he reassured, “that’s okay.” He raised one hand for Tim to take if he wanted. “Can I give you a lift then?”

Tim took the hand.

-0

Tim directed Conner to touch down at the Manor’s front door, not wanting to risk the possibility of Bruce having changed the security codes by now. Even still, he was certain they had tripped some sort of alarm when they flew over the property.

He was proven correct when Alfred pulled open the door before he’d had the chance to knock. If he noticed that Tim still hadn’t let go of Conner’s hand, the butler didn’t say anything.

“Master Timothy! What an excellent surprise!”

Despite everything, Tim found his mouth pulling into a fond smile at the old man. “Hi Alfred. Is Bruce home? I need to talk to him.”

“Right this way, sir!” Alfred said, already pulling the door open, and Conner allowed himself to be pulled along with nothing but a supportive hand squeeze.

Tim felt his heart pounding as he followed Alfred towards what he quickly realized was Bruce’s study. Suddenly unable to bear the silence anymore, Tim burst out: “Alfred, have you met Conner?”

Alfred’s face twitched into what only the bats would recognize as the butler suppressing a fond smile of his own. “I have not, sir. Though I must admit I had guessed.” Addressing Conner directly this time, Alfred continued, “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kent.”

“Oh, uh…” Conner stammered before Martha Kent’s training kicked in. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Alfred hmmd approvingly but left it there. Luckily, Tim was saved from further attempts at small talk by their arrival at the study doors. Alfred bid them goodbye before slipping away with a subtlety Conner had only thought attainable by bats.

Tim drew in a deep breath before knocking hesitatingly on the ornate doors. The “come in!’ came barely a moment later, and Tim pushed them open with the resignation of a convict approaching the gallows.

On any other day, Conner would have been looking around at anything and everything in the office appreciatively. But today he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tim who had gone ramrod straight, his own gaze locked onto the man standing up from his desk at the other end of the room.

Bruce Wayne rose from his desk, in that moment somehow managing to look twice as intimidating in a tailored suit as he ever did as Batman. His eyes roved over both boys, taking in everything from their still intertwined hands to Conner’s civilian garb to the way Tim looked like he might be on the verge of passing out. His face was inscrutable the whole time.

Eventually, Bruce’s gaze met Conner’s own defiant glare. “So…” he drawled in perfect deadpan, “are the glasses genetic, or is the entire caped community conspiring to drive me prematurely gray.”

Tim let out a sudden laugh so strangled Conner was mildly concerned he was choking. Conner could empathize.

Apparently amused by their reaction, the Batman smirked,and Conner’s soul left his body for a moment.

When it became clear that they weren’t going to say anything on their own, Bruce continued. “Well, Conner, something tells me that Tim and I need to have a conversation. Will you be joining us, or do you have somewhere to be,” he asked mildly.

Conner gave Tim a sideways glance, under no delusions about who’s comfort Bruce was really concerned with here. Tim squeezed Conner’s hand one more time before finally letting go, and Conner took that as the dismissal it was.

“Actually, sir, I think better head to San Francisco before Victor starts to wonder where I am.”

Bruce nodded turned his attention to Tim. Conner made sure to supportively squeeze Tim’s shoulder back on his way out. He tried to ignore the part of himself that made him feel like he was abandoning Tim to the lions.

-0

Once Conner had pulled the door shut behind him, Bruce let go of the bit of Batman that had made its appearance the minute the proximity alarms had let him know that someone had flown over the property boundaries.

“Tim.”

Tim still wasn’t making eye contact, his gaze getting no closer than Bruce’s mouth. Bruce resisted the instinct to drop into the Batman voice. While it would be a sure-fire way to get Tim to look at him, it also would do nothing to actually make the kid more comfortable. Tim would assume that it meant he’d done something wrong, and that would just make everything ten times worse.

Instead, Bruce fought to keep his tone as even and gentle as possible. “How about we sit down,” he asked with a gesture toward the twin armchairs by the fire.

Tim nodded stiffly but still wouldn’t speak. Bruce held in his sigh. Just as he reached his own chair, there was another knock on the door, and Alfred pushed his way in without waiting for a response.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Master Bruce, but I thought some soothing tea might be helpful.”

Bruce smiled at the older man. “Thank you, Alfred. That would be great.”

Alfred nodded and brought his tray over to the side table before pouring each of them a cup. As he turned to leave, Tim’s quiet “thanks” was almost inaudible, but Alfred caught it anyway.

“You are most welcome, young man” he replied, making sure to send Bruce a pointed don’t screw this up glance on his way out.

Bruce settled down into the chair next to Tim, their knees almost close enough to touch. Tim’s hands were wrapped so tightly around his teacup that Bruce worried he might shatter it, but he didn’t take so much as a sip.

“Tim. Can you tell me what’s going on, son?”

Tim finally looked up from his cup again, his gaze settling on Bruce’s mouth again.

“I’m not really sure where to start.”

Okay, Bruce could work with that. “Does your Dad know where you are right now?”

Tim snorted humorlessly. “I really don’t think he gives a shit where I am or what I do at this point. He—” Tim broke off to clear his throat before trying again. “He kicked me out.”

There was pure defeat in Tim’s voice, as if he’d always known it was a matter of time, but he still managed to be disappointed anyway. That more than anything filled Bruce with a level of rage rare even for him while simultaneously breaking his heart.

Not trusting himself to speak at first, Bruce instead gently pulled the poor teacup out of Tim’s grasp and took his hands in his own. Tim’s fingers were trembling.

“Because he found out about you and Conner?” he clarified softly, not wanting to risk a faulty assumption when everything was so fragile.

Tim nodded again anyway. “We fought about some other stuff too, but… yeah, it was mostly about that. He saw us together, and—”

Again, Bruce really wanted to shake Jack Drake senseless. It was bad enough he always seemed to take this wonderful kid for granted, but to see a father intentionally hurt his child over something so inconsequential? It was unforgiveable.

“I’m so sorry, Tim. I know how much you wanted this to work out.”

Tim’s eyes filled with tears, and Bruce was pulling him against his chest even before he consciously recognized what he was seeing. As his son fell apart in his arms, Bruce found tears coming to his own eyes as well.

It had always been obvious how desperate Tim was for his father’s affection and approval after being starved for it for so many years. This was the final deathblow to the hope that one day it would be enough.

So, Bruce held his son, running his fingers through his hair. Eventually, Tim had cried himself out and pulled away, his embarrassment clear on his face. Bruce pulled a clean handkerchief (courtesy of Alfred, of course) from his pocket and handed it to a grateful Tim. Once he had pulled himself together, Tim looked back at Bruce, finally meeting his eyes.

“Does this…Does this mean I can come back to the Manor?”

“Oh, chum…” Bruce reached out to cradle one side of Tim’s face in his hand, his thumb reaching out to brush away another rogue tear. “I promise, you will always have a place in my home. Got it?”

“But what about Stephanie? You already have a Robin…”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Well, first of all, your place in this family is not contingent on whether you’re wearing a mask or not. And I’m so sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise. You are just as welcome here if you never put a mask on again as you would be if you went out tomorrow.

And secondly,” here he grimaced, “I may or may not have fired her for putting herself in danger after I told her to stay put. So… Robin’s yours if you still want it.”

“And you’re really okay with me dating a guy?”

Bruce chuckled. “Tim, I’ve taken in three boys by now. You think I never considered the possibility that at least one of you might bring home a boy someday? Granted, I would have put money on Dick being the first, but the point still stands. It makes absolutely no difference to me if you’re gay, buddy.”

“Umm… I think I’m bi actually.”

“Alright then, but my point still stands. I trust your judgment, and I don’t care who you date, as long as they make you happy.”

Tim gave a watery smile. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” Then fully out of emotion points, Bruce cleared his suddenly tight throat. “Now, mind coming with me to the cave?”

Confused, Tim cocked his head, but rose accommodatingly. “Sure, what do you need?”

Bruce shook his head as he spun the clock hands and opened the secret passage. “It’s not what I need, but what you need.” He beckoned Tim to follow him down the steps, which he did obligingly. “I need to grab some more Kryptonite.”

“Bruce!” Tim squawked in shock and indignation. His brain immediately went into panic mode, thinking about all the ways Bruce trying to shovel-talk Conner might go horribly wrong, or at least be horribly embarrassing.

Bruce turned back, completely baffled by how adamant and unexpected the refusal was. “Tim,” he started. And oh no, that was his I don’t know why you’re arguing with this perfectly reasonable request voice that always managed to piss Dick off.

“If the two of you are going to be spending time together in Gotham as civilians, you need to be prepared in case the two of you get caught up in one a Rogue attack.” He turned back around and continued on over to the vault where he kept the Kryptonite. “Oh, and don’t let me forget to give him one of these new rebreathers I’ve been working on next time he comes over. The last thing Gotham needs is a Kryptonian getting dosed with Fear Toxin or Joker Gas.”

Kryptonite in hand, Bruce spun and nearly walked into a frozen Tim who was looking at him with a dumbfounded expression. “What?” he asked, the smallest bit of defensiveness bleeding into his voice.

Tim’s voice turned slightly skeptical. “And that’s the only thing you want the Kryptonite for?”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to be confused. “Yes???” he asked, mind whirling to figure out what he was missing.

Tim realized he had definitely misread where this was going and felt torn between laughing at Bruce’s complete confusion and the urge to hug him.

He decided to go with the second one, and if Bruce still had no idea what was going on when he hugged Tim back, well, that just made it better.

-0

Conner was happy enough to take the call that saved him from having to help seed the backfield. He was twice as happy to hear it was from Tim, who he hadn’t heard from since Conner left him at Wayne Manor three days ago.

“Tim?”

“Conner…”

“Tim, is that…you?”

“It’s me.”

“What’s up? What’s going on? I hear gunshots.”

“Tell the Titans not to give up my room. Tell them I’m back.”

Conner grinned. “I knew it.”

[retrievablememories]

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it. 

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it. 

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it. 

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

[rowan-underthehouse]

Backseat Driving

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Ruby/Sam Winchester

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3547

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, mild sexual content, language

Additional Tags: mostly comedy with a few more serious moments, relationship reveal

Summary:

Sam and Dean Winchester have done a remarkable job of keeping their relationships with things they should probably be hunting a secret from each other. That is, until now.

Read it on Ao3 here

Sam never thought he’d live to say it, but he should probably be more grateful his brother is alive.

In a grander sense, he’s thrilled. He would have given everything for this in a heartbeat. Hell, he tried to give everything for this. All he wishes is that there was a way around the guilt.

It had become white noise when Dean was in the pit, horrible and endless, but it could be drowned out. He could convince himself that Dean would have wanted this if he could have seen the whole picture. Now it comes in waves. One moment he’s fine, the next he can barely keep his head above the water.

Sam is lacing his boots, trying to be as silent as possible when it hits him tonight. Dean willingly went to an eternity of torture for Sam’s sake, and Sam couldn’t even honour his dying wish. It’s harder to justify with his brother sleeping curled on his stomach a few feet away. Harder to ignore.

It’s ridiculous, shoving pillows under his quilt like some teenager sneaking out the back door with a bottle of Jack, but if he can’t keep his promise, at least he can try to keep Dean from worrying.

He quietly drops the impala’s keys into his pocket, and slips out into the night.

…

It’s hellhounds that wake Dean tonight, tearing at his chest and leaving shredded ribbons of flesh. He can’t move. Can’t fight or even look down. He just lays there, feeling the wet warmth of blood soaking into his clothes, catching glimpses of enormous slobbering heads, gasping for the breath that barely makes its way into his lungs.

He bolts upright, only making it halfway to the knife beneath his pillow before his brain lurches into the dark and empty motel room a few seconds after the rest of his body. He goes for fistfuls of his hair instead, tugging until it hurts and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. His jaw aches, teeth having been clenched for far too long.

It’s another stupid fucking nightmare. That’s all it is. Dean just needs to fight through the relentless exhaustion still weighing him down and get his feet on the floor. Get some water or just stretch and try to reset his brain for any chance at a few hours of good sleep. But there’s a dog howling in the room next door and his eyes are so sticky with tears they almost burn and he can’t make his legs listen to his brain and kick off the covers.

“Shit.”

He doesn’t notice the telltale flutter of feathers, just the sudden steady pressure of Cas’ hand on his shoulder. Dean startles hard, sucking in a breath as he whips around.

“Cas.” A tiny bit of the tension drains from Dean’s body. “Did I,” he clears his throat, reaching for some dignity. “Did I call for you again?”

Cas smiles softly, setting a hand on Dean’s sternum, easing the crushing of his lungs, brushes knuckles against Dean’s jaw and saps out the tension. Maybe it’s a waste of his grace, but Cas always refuses to hear it.

“In a way. I sensed your longing.”

It sounds fucking pathetic, but Dean can’t bring himself to care. He’s too tired for the usual embarrassment that would come with grabbing fistfuls of Cas’s coat with trembling hands, and tugging him lightly toward the bed. Cas doesn’t need convincing.

Cas runs a hand through Dean’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head. He pulls back just long enough to drop his overcoat to the floor and kick off his shoes. Dean barely has time to register the loss of contact before Cas is straightening out the sheets, easing him out of his sweat soaked overshirt and jeans. He climbs under the covers and tangles his legs with Dean’s as easily as if it was breathing. Like they’re meant to hold each other this way. He pulls Dean tight to his chest, kneading his fingers into the tension in Dean’s shoulder blades, and Dean melts into him.

The battle against the bone-deep exhaustion dragging Dean back toward sleep is quickly becoming uphill. He presses his face into the fabric of Cas’ shirt.

“It’s alright, Dean. Rest. I have you.”

And Dean gives up the fight.

…

Maybe it’s hard-wired into demons for the sake of all their contracts, or maybe Ruby really wants to see what will happen next, but Sam doubts her constant punctuality is a courtesy.

She’s waiting on the corner of Oak and 19th when Sam pulls up, exactly where she said she’d be, jacket pulled tight across her chest to fend off the night chill.

Sam opens the door and she slides into the passenger seat.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

Sam keeps his eyes on the dash. “Yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Ruby catches his arm on its way to the ignition, finally managing to meet his eyes, her tone more gentle.

“You can’t listen to him, Sam. You’re stronger than your brother. He wouldn’t understand. He’d ruin everything we’ve worked for. It’s too important. We can’t let him get in the way.”

Sam sighs deeply. “I know.”

“You’re doing the right thing, Sam. This is the only way.”

“I know.”

Ruby relaxes her grip on Sam, easing back into the passenger seat as if nothing had happened.

“I would kill for some French fries. We can go to that restaurant and try to pick up Lilith’s trail. We’ll have to make sure you’re strong enough for tonight…”

She slips out her pocket knife, casually drawing the flat edge across her bicep, like a fidget instead of the open invitation Sam knows it is.

“…help you unwind.”

Sam steps on the gas.

…

Dean doesn’t sleep for more than an hour, waking up with Cas still relaxed beside him, eyes closed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think the angel was asleep. One big hand is splayed over Dean’s hip, thumb dipping just below the waistband of his worn boxers.

It’s driving Dean crazy.

It would be so easy to shift Cas’ hand to where he needs it. He’d just have to roll over. Maybe it would seem too desperate, but, fuck, Dean is desperate. It’s been weeks since they’ve had time for this and he’s passed one too many long drives thinking about Cas’ mouth on him.

Instead, he scoots closer, untucking Cas’s shirt to get to warm skin and toned abs. He presses a kiss into Cas’s collar bone, his neck, the underside of his jaw before finally pulling back to see his face. Cas’ eyes are open, pupils blown wide as he watches Dean. The grip on Dean’s hip tightens.

In one fluid movement, Dean repositions to kiss Cas more solidly, just about blacking out for a second when Cas matches his enthusiasm.

“Want you,” Cas gasps out between kisses.

His voice alone is almost enough for Dean. He closes his eyes again, trying to compose himself. “Yeah. Yeah, alright baby. Hold on.”

Cas frowns when Dean pulls back, obviously confused, until Dean props himself up and rolls to straddle Cas’ hips. It’s a process to get his shirt unbuttoned and off, Dean still kissing him like the world is ending much faster than it is, and Cas no more eager to pull away.

Dean finally sits back into Cas’ lap, taking a moment to catch his breath. He trails a hand down Cas’ chest, making him shiver.

“Fuck, sweetheart, look at you.” Dean loves seeing Cas like this, his face so open and happy. And because of Dean. It’s hard to wrap his head around. Dean traces along the smile forming on Cas’ lips, beaming when Cas presses a kiss into the pad of his thumb. He could get used to this.

Dean is leaning down to kiss him again when he loses his balance. He doesn’t fully understand what’s happening until his back hits the mattress, hands gently pinned above his head. It might be the hottest thing Dean has ever experienced. He barely stifles a moan as Cas shifts his weight on top of him.

At that exact moment, Dean remembers his brother, still tucked under his quilt in the adjacent bed.

“We should take this somewhere else.”

Cas nods, a strand of already disheveled hair falling into his face, and then Dean’s back hits the familiar cold leather of the impala’s back seat.

Arms unpinned, he sets to work on Cas’ belt, finally letting out the soft moan that’s been building at the back of his throat.

“Cas? DEAN!?” Dean doesn’t need to look to recognize Sam’s voice coming from the driver’s seat. “What the hell!”

…

Like so many other cars, the impala has a big, slightly scratchy blanket that lives in the back seat. The only difference is that this one has been replaced a good dozen times when there was too much blood to just wash out. The current car blanket is an almost new, grey number, which is, as it turns out, just big enough to wrap Dean in his relative state of undress like a very angry burrito.

He sits in the backseat, scowling at Sam through the rearview mirror. To Sam’s right, Ruby is looking only slightly less unimpressed.

Sam tries to enjoy the last few seconds of silence.

Ten…nine…eight…

“So it’s not bad enough to work with a demon, now you’re sleeping with her too?”

“Dean…”

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me! What the hell do you think you’re doing, man? How long have you been…been fraternizing with the enemy!”

Sam is living proof that no matter how hard you roll your eyes, they won’t get stuck.

“She’s not ‘the enemy’, and you don’t have much of a leg to stand on here, Dean. Do you really think it’s a good idea to get dicked down by an angel?”

Dean opens his mouth like there’s actually an excuse he could use here. No words come out. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Never say ‘dicked down’ to me again.”

Sam’s gained a bit of ground, and he refuses to lose it now.

He finally adjusts the mirror to get a good look at Castiel. He sits next to Dean, all shirtless and messy haired, but somehow the same stoic warrior Sam has always known save for the way he stares out the window like if he’s still enough they’ll forget he’s there.

It doesn’t take Dean long to deflect. “How long has this been going on behind my back?”

“You were dead, Dean! There wasn’t exactly a back to go behind.”

Ruby, who had apparently decided to let the brothers sort out their own argument, finally whirls around in her seat.

“He’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions.”

“Ruby-“ Sam wonders if it’s too late to launch himself out of the car.

“Apparently he can’t!” Dean half yells. “I’m dead for four months and the guy goes and hooks up with a demon! What if you knock her up Sam, did you ever think about that?”

Sam doesn’t have time to interject.

“And in my car ! Please tell me none of this happened in my car!”

Sam decides it’s best to say nothing at all.

“No.” Dean puts his head in his hands, ever the dramatic. “No! I’m going to have to deep-clean everything in here! No, you’re going to deep-clean everything.” He jabs an accusatory finger in Sam’s direction.

This was bound to come out eventually. Sam had hoped it would be many, many months down the line, over a beer, after he had defeated Lilith and saved the day. A little more congratulating and a little less half-naked Dean in the back seat. Now the best he can hope for is a chance at damage control. He turns to Ruby, who seems to be trying to glare Cas to death before he can do the same to her. That explains why they’ve been so quiet.

“Look, can you give us a minute, guys? It might be better for Dean and I to talk this out alo-“

Cas is gone before Sam can even finish his sentence. It almost feels too easy.

“Ruby?”

She hesitates, looking from Sam, to Dean, and back again.

“Alright, fine.” Her voice is seething with anger. “If your brother doesn’t trust me after everything I’ve sacrificed for you then I’ll just get out of the way. Enjoy your talk.”

Sam pulls over at the nearest gas station, getting one last icey look from Ruby before she opens the door.

“Lilith has been here.” A deep voice from the backseat makes Sam jump.

Cas has returned to his seat, now fully dressed, his brow pinched together.

“A town called High River 60 miles North.”

…

There have been a lot of awkward drives in the years Dean has spent hunting with his brother, but this might be the worst. He actually feels a flood of relief when the car rolls to a stop in a parking lot dimly lit by flickering lights.

The building in front of them appears to be a diner. It must be called Hal’s or Val’s or something, but after one too many seasons of snow, the sign reads A L’S I ER in washed out glowing red. The musty air reaches Dean a good twenty paces away when Sam cracks the door open and peers inside.

Sam signals behind him, and Ruby is slipping in the door before Dean can make a move.

“Just…wait here a minute. We’ve got it covered.”

“And let you go off with the demon chick and do whatever it is the two of you do when you aren’t defiling my car? I don’t think so.”

Dean starts after him, Cas stopping him by the arm. Dean doesn’t pull away. His heart does a tiny little flutter right out of a dimestore novel. It's embarrassing.

He gives Cas a once over, taking in the usual outfit, and then his own faded t-shirt and boxers. “Come on, man. You couldn’t have thought to grab me a pair of jeans?”

Cas’ face goes faintly red in the flickering light. He seriously considers something for a moment.

“I could go now, but it might be best for me to remain here.” He shoots a glance after Sam and Ruby.

“Forget it.” Dean grumbles.

Cas tilts his head to meet Dean’s eyes where he’s turned away. The grip on his arm goes from restraining to affectionate.

“You’re not angry with me. You’re embarrassed. And you’re scared that now this is out in the open something bad will happen.”

Dean scoffs “It’s not out in the-“

Cas moves a hand up to cup his face smiling gently. Reassuring.

Dean says nothing. Just covers Cas’ hand with his own and leans into it, closing his eyes.

…

When Sam peaks back out the diner door, Dean is waiting for him with his arms, and Castiel’s coat crossed across his chest like a disapproving sit-com mother.

“It’s all clear. Just one demon in there. We’ve got him tied up.”

“Wow, gee, great, Sammy. Did you gift wrap him for me too?” Dean calls back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

There goes the damage control. Sam sighs. At least the lying is over, even if it does come with the uniquely uncomfortable knowledge of why Dean’s grocery runs have been taking so long. Well… some of the lying is over. And he’s not lying to Dean about his powers exactly. Just strategically omitting details.

He pushes the door all the way open and leaves Dean to come in when he’s done sulking.

Maybe Dean is going to spend the rest of the night in You-did-something-I-don’t-like-so-now-I’m-going-to-be-as-miserable-as-possible mode, but Sam has to give him credit, he knows how to get a job done. When Dean marches up to the half-rotten chair the demon is tied to, it’s pretty intimidating.

The demon smirks up at Dean, not even struggling against the ropes bound over his grease-stained apron. He must have been the cook.

“Nice coat. Do you always dress like this for a hunt?”

Dean ignores him.

“What’s your name?”

Sam has stayed back behind his brother, half-bathed in shadow, and fixed his glare on the demon. If he’s heard anything from the others he’ll know it’s time to start talking.

“Does it matter?”

Shit. This isn’t going to be as easy as Sam had hoped. Apparently his reputation only precedes him so far.

Dean sets a hand on the back of the demon’s chair and leans in. “Alright. Let’s just cut the small talk then. Why was Lilith here?”

“Looks like you made it out of the pit, that’s a real shame, Winchester.” It’s subtle, but Sam sees Dean tense. Cas takes half a step forward. “Heard you were a real prodigy. Think you can get me to talk?”

Dean leans closer, pulling Ruby’s knife from the pocket of his…well…Cas’ coat. With a start, Sam realizes he had almost forgotten about the thing.

“Actually, I think I can.” He sneers.

At some point, Sam knows he’ll have to step in. He’ll have to bite the bullet and show Dean what he’s capable of. Pray he understands that it’s the only option. But Sam’s prayers have sat unanswered in some heavenly mail box long enough to collect their weight in dust. No. He’s going to make Dean understand.

He ignores Ruby’s warning look, closes his eyes and focuses on his breath, tugs on the dark thing deep inside him until he can feel it all the way to his fingertips, buzzing with power. He raises his hand. The squeezing starts to build inside his skull, like he’s standing on the roof of a plane with an unholy sinus infection. The demon’s voice barely cuts through it.

“Exorcise me if you want but Sebastian here has taken quite a beating. I leave, he dies.”

Sam lets his arm drop to his side, shrugging off the confused look Dean gives him. They’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.

“What was Lilith doing here?” Ruby pipes up.

The demon possessing Sebastian chuckles. “That’s above my pay grade, sweetheart. I thought you’d know that.”

It’s Dean’s turn again. “You can lie all you want, but we’re going to find out about it one way or another. Let’s do this the easy way. Give her up now. Working with a demon like that is only going to cause you problems.”

Not-Sebastian looks confused.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Well if he’s lying for her, maybe there’s a good reason, Dean! He knows how you’d react if he told the truth! He’s not some kid you need to protect anymore!”

Dean spins around. “Oh, so this is my fault?”

“You’re doing the exact same thing! You only think you’re better because he’s an angel and you can’t accept that this isn’t as black and white as it seems!”

Not-Sebastian looks incredulously between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

It’s remarkable how fast Dean wipes the embarrassed look off his face and turns back around. “What did Lilith tell you?”

“Nothing. Just doing her annual press tour.”

Castiel chooses that moment to step in. “He’s telling the truth. He does know anything.” Before he can speak, Cas slaps a hand onto Not-Sebastian’s head, not flinching when a blinding light pours out of his eyes. The demon slumps in his chair. “It could be a trap. We aren’t prepared for Lilith to bring the fight to us. We need to leave.”

And just like that it’s over. Sam doesn’t bother trying to talk to Dean again. He avoids Ruby’s glare from the back of the room, glancing between the scorched eyes of Not-Sebastian and Castiel. She brushes past him on her way out the door and down the street. There will definitely be complaints later. For now, she leaves the impala behind her, not wanting to follow Not-Sebastian.

He can barely make out Dean’s voice from inside the diner.

“Think the health inspector must have missed this place. Maybe they barbecued him up Whistlestop Café style.” A long stretch of silence. “It was a joke, man.”

Sam finally breaks the silence halfway through the drive. Why Dean let him drive again is beyond Sam, but it’s good to have his hands on the wheel and his mind on the road. Even with the welcome distraction, he can only last so long. “Can we just talk about this in the morning?”

Dean sighs. He looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes easier to see when he’s not dedicating every moment to hiding them. “Fine. But we’re talking about it.”

“Deal.”

The quiet is softer after that, underscored by faint music from the radio. It doesn’t take Dean long to slump into Cas’ shoulder, asleep faster than Sam has ever seen, maybe because of the protective arm Cas has tucked around his waist. Dean seems gentler like this. Almost happy. It brings a smile to Sam’s face.

Sure things are messy, but they’re the Winchester’s. He expects nothing less. And maybe if things work out for Dean, if he can actually be happy like this, it will be okay for Sam too.