#Non-Glare Glass Share

[istherewifiinhell]

2 things. 1. We did not manage to move any of that fucking product and the first batch of it [multiple boxes of 2 boxes each] is past sell by.

2. Fucking 5 dollar starbucks gift card rep is back. How many fucking companies he gonna work for

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.  

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a joint from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his joint before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his joint onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish" he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. It took everything within you to not push him away.

"How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There" he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonised screams as your orgasm consumed you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashed over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you harder, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and laboured, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

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Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

[yuwuta]

*TEST DRIVE — YUUTA OKKOTSU

❝I WILL NEVER LEAVE BY YOUR SIDE, DON’T YOU KNOW YOU GOT A RIDE OR DIE

pairings. okkotsu/reader, uhhh implied maki/nobara and sort of itadori/fushiguro but that’s not so important for now

warnings, themes. non-curse/modern au, marriage of convenience au, i thought long and hard about who would fit this trope best and all i can say is that i didn’t really pick just one in the end, so if this spirals in a wedding/marriage playlist, you’ve been warned, um… sort of implied possessive behavior on yuuta’s end but it’s only teased for now :)

word count. 2.5k i can yap about him all day

playing. test drive/ariana grande, going crazy/exo, heart of glass/blondie, idea/taemin, tipsy/chloe x halle 

“I just heard the funniest joke from Inumaki,” Nobara says, welcoming herself into your apartment. You’re not surprised, and continue with your dessert preparations. Yuuji, to your left, spares her a wave, before going back to diligently preparing the vegetables. 

Maki is the only one to respond by turning slightly in her seat to raise an eyebrow at Nobara when she walks up to the island, “Since when do you think Toge is funny?” 

“Not usually,” Nobara admits, taking the neighboring open seat. She crosses her arms atop the counter, and squints at you, “But he surprised me this time.”

Your eyes fidget to Maki, who seems equally confused by Nobara’s unnerving stare, then to Yuuji, who appears none the wiser, because he happily chirps, “Well, I wanna hear it! Tell us, Kugisaki!”

“He said that it was soooo kind of you to share your anniversary date with Yuuta and have us all over for dinner,” Nobara drawls, “Then I got confused, of course—but then I thought, ‘Maybe they’re secretly together and I just didn’t know. Wouldn’t be a huge surprise.’”

You flinch at that, “What do you mean that wouldn’t be a huge sur—”

“This is the funniest part, though,” Nobara squints, “He said that you’re actually married, and he meant that today is your wedding anniversary. He was pretty convincing, though. He’s very committed to the bit—even challenged me to ask you at dinner, but I figured I’d straighten it out now,” she drawls, reaching over to steal a cucumber slice from Yuuji’s station, “You’re not actually married to Yuuta, right?”

You pause, for too long. Maki’s disbelief shifts from Nobara to you, morphing into a threatening glare that makes you chuckle nervously. Yuuji keeps turning his head between you and Nobara, waiting for one of you to crack. 

It’s not her. “Okay… define married,” you mumble.

Nobara all but jumps across the island, standing up and slamming her palms on the counter top. “What do you mean ‘define married’—there’s only one definition!” Yuuji frantically sweeps his preciously sliced vegetables out of her range. “You’re either married to Okkotsu or you’re not, which is it?” 

You pause again. Too long this time. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Maki says, “It’s true? Toge says that shit all the time, how he can ‘still hear wedding bells’ when you two are around. Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

“Wait, you’re married?” Yuuji quips, “Since when? You should have told me, I would have gotten you a present!”

“Okay, okay—enough!” you yell, taking a step back, “It’s… true, but it’s not what you think. Yuuta and I are legally married, but we’re not together together.”

Nobara reaches to flick you on the forehead, “What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means, we’re married on paper only,” you explain, strategically placing your knife in the sink, far out of Maki and Nobara’s reach. 

“Say more words,” Maki demands, “Now.” 

You sigh. Even Yuuji has paused his preparations, blinking at you with those big, wide eyes, and you know for sure there’s no way out of this now. 

“It happened four years ago. I—”

Despite being the one who asked you to say more, Maki is the first to cut you off, incredulous, “Four years? You’ve been married to that beanstalk for four years and neither one of you twigs thought to mention it?” 

“Maki, let her finish,” Yuuji pitches in for you, reaching a comforting hand out to your shoulder, “Maybe she was dying and needed Okkotsu-senpai to sign her insurance papers so the government didn’t sweep her away! I saw that in a K-Drama once,” he smiles proudly. Nobara pinches her face in disgust, immediately refuting and calling Yuuji an idiot for believing everything he sees on TV. 

“Honestly, that’s not too far off. I’m not dying—and neither is Yuuta,” you hastily correct the worried faces peering at you, “But he was sick as a kid, and long story short is something got fucked up with his insurance when his parents died. It wasn’t a big deal, at first, but it spiraled into a bunch of issues, the biggest being the threat of taking his parents’ house away from him.”

Nobara pulls back, crossing her arms. “Why didn’t Gojo just do something then? That idiot has more than enough money to spare for some petty hospital bill, even with twenty years of interest.” 

“He did,” you assure her, “But then the house became its own problem. His parents didn’t leave the deed in his name, and the community board tried to say that Yuuta had no assets and wasn’t a favored candidate for their neighborhood, even if he was their son.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Maki interjects. 

“Yeah, totally not fair,” Yuuji pouts, “That’s his dead parents’ house and they wanted him to prove himself?” 

“Pretty much,” you sigh, “Basically marriage is something that helped prove his eligibility… plus some doctored philanthropic donations on Gojo’s end, and letters of recommendation from Shoko and her co-workers.” 

Nobara tuts her bottom lip out. “I don’t know, I’m not buying it.” 

“No, it makes sense. I’m sure by now all his parents’ neighbors are a bunch of uptight, old heads who didn’t want some kid throwing parties nearby,” Maki argues, “But once they hear he’s a young, married, nurse with a side hustle in philanthropy, I’m sure those geezers welcomed him with open arms. Sounds like some shit my family would do, too.” 

Nobara hums, factoring in Maki’s evaluation. “Okay fine. Yuuta marries you, he gets his parents’ house back and probably commits insurance fraud too,” she settles, “But what about you?—You said this was mutually beneficial, so what did you get out of it?” 

You probably should talk to Yuuta about revealing all the details of your marriage to your friends, but you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Yuuta’s parents’ death and the issues that came along with it weren’t a secret at the time, but your problems are something you kept private. It’s a miracle you’ve gone this long under the radar, and you know Nobara isn’t going anywhere with unanswered questions. 

“Permanent residency status,” you tell her, “Yuuta’s a citizen, so in marrying him, all my problems about finding a job in six weeks after graduation disappeared.” 

“But… you got a job?” Yuuji questions, head tilted. 

“Yeah, eventually, but I didn’t know I would, and it was either take that chance, or be forced to go back home, and my time was running out,” you reveal, twiddling your thumbs together, “Look, I would have said something at the time, but everyone had their own shit to deal with after graduation. I would have asked any one of you to marry me, but I knew Yuuta was the only one with a reason to say yes.” 

The kitchen falls quiet as the news sits with your friends. Nobara and Maki’s stern disbelief slowly morphs into empathy, and Yuuji’s bright eyes grow steely with concentration as he pieces your story together. 

Then he springs up, “Wait, I totally would have married you, senpai!” 

You laugh, a lightness easing its way back into the room. “Thanks, Yuuji,” you lean to give him a kiss on the cheek, but you’re met with Nobara’s outstretched palm instead. 

“Nuh-uh. Just because I think this marriage is insane doesn’t mean that I condone adultery.” 

“It’s not adultery. I told you, Yuuta and I are married on paper only—he’s free to date and kiss whomever he pleases, and so am I,” You roll your eyes, pushing her hand away and giving Yuuji a kiss anyway, which he happily accepts, sticking his tongue out in mockery at Nobara.

Maki scoffs, “Are we sure that Yuuta knows that?” 

“Of course he knows that.”

“So then why hasn’t he dated anyone?” Maki presses, eyes lowering into a teasing glare. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Who Yuuta does or doesn’t date isn’t really my business.” 

Nobara pulls at her hair, “Yes it is. You’re his wife.” 

“His contractual wife,” you correct. 

“Contractual?” 

“Wait—have Yuuta and Toge not totally kissed on several drunk, or am I the only one who saw that?” Yuuji interjects.

“No, that was you and Fushiguro,” Nobara says, “And nobody cares about you two right now.” 

You put a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, “I care about you, Yuuji. Please, tell us about your drunk escapades with our dear Megumi.” 

“Save it, Itadori,” Maki cuts in, crushing Yuuji’s bright demeanor, “You and Yuuta are way more pathetic. Keep talking.” 

“Since when do you even like to gossip?” 

“Since she met me,” Nobara gleams, proudly, “Now, keep going.” 

You give Yuuji an apologetic glance before continuing, “I just mean that by the end of this year, Yuuta and I can get amicably divorced without raising any suspicion. Our marriage can’t be contested as a sham, I’ll be eligible for citizenship and housing on my own, and all will be well.” 

It’s quiet again, for a moment. You bite your lip in anticipation. Ultimately, you knew that none of your friends would judge you and Yuuta for what you did, but it wasn’t exactly normal to marry your friends for legal benefits, and then hide your marital status from almost everyone you knew. Still, this conversation was going about as well as it could, until Maki starts laughing. 

Her laughter starts off quiet, then grows gradually, until it becomes concerning. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Maki actually laugh before—a few amused grunts, and occasional drunk giggles, yes, but full-on, blown laughter is a first. It’s scary, and as you glance at Nobara and Yuuji, you’re clearly not the only one worried. 

“You actually believe that he doesn’t feel anything for you—that’s rich,” she says through laughter, clutching her stomach, “God help you if you think you can just divorce him. You two are so fucked, you deserve each other.”

“Wait, speaking of rich, did you sign a prenup? Isn’t Yuuta totally loaded now that he’s a nurse and related to Gojo—I also don’t think that you’ll be able to divorce him that easily, but if you kill him, you could be an instant millionaire,” Nobara reasons. 

“That’s so shallow!” Yuuji exclaims, “Also, I’m a nurse, and I wouldn’t say I’m loaded.” 

“That’s because you’re not cute like Yuuta,” Nobara mocks, “If you were, then you’d make the big bucks.” 

“I’m cute!” Yuuji cries, turning to you, “I’m cute, right?” 

You reach to pat his head, “Yes, Yuuji, you’re very cute. And perfectly well off enough. Yuuta works inhumane hours for his money, don’t be like him.” 

“Itadori, you make, like, quadruple what the average person makes,” Maki reminds him, “You just spend it all just as quickly.” 

Nobara scoffs, “Which he can afford to do because he’s a nepotism baby.” 

“You just said I was poor and ugly, and now I’m a nepotism baby? Pick a story, Kugisaki!”

“I don’t have to pick shit. Nanami-san sponsors your entire life, and enables your bad spending habits,” she huffs, “Yuuta’s a nepotism nurse, too. In fact, you both make me sick.” 

“Okay, then by that logic Fushiguro is also a nepotism baby!”

“Well, duh. He’s, like, the poster child for nepotism babies all around the world.” 

You drown out Nobara and Yuuji’s argument, mulling over Maki’s words instead. Did she mean to imply that Yuuta would make your divorce difficult on purpose?—you don’t see why; Yuuta doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and it wouldn’t serve him any purpose. You didn’t sign a prenup, but you would never argue ownership over any of his assets, and you know that Yuuta knows that; he’d already given you so much, you would never try to take anything from him. 

In fact, getting divorced would only open more doors for him. You don’t know if Yuuta hasn’t dated in the past four years out of some lingering loyalty to your marriage, but if that was the case, then you don’t want to stand in his way for any longer than necessary, and you especially don’t want him to grow to resent you for it. He would no longer be unnecessarily bound to you; he’d be free, legally, to carry on with his life—you would be the only one indebted to him for his boundless kindness. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought much of your divorce throughout your marriage. You knew that after five years, you could get divorced without consequence, but you hadn’t pictured how that would go. The thought of it somehow messing with your relationship to Yuuta, and your mutual friendships makes your head hurt. Maybe you should have married Yuuji instead. 

“Are you kidding, Yuuta would have mauled him,” Nobara chuckles, “Plus he would have lost his childhood home.” You blink. Guess you said that last part out loud. 

Her words spark more bickering between her and Itadori, and this time you turn to Maki. It was evident that she was just as much in the dark as anybody else about your secret marriage, but, still, it seemed like she knew something that you didn’t. 

“Maki, does... you said I think that Yuuta doesn’t feel anything—then what does he feel?” 

Maki blinks, then shakes her head, “You clearly don’t know who you married. That’s for you and your husband to work out.” She continues, this time that same wicked laughter is back, “Just know that whatever your plan for divorce was, it’s not going to be that easy. Yuuta is stupid, clearly, but he’s not that dumb. At least, I hope not.” 

You pout, shoulders slumping. That was about the most cryptic and least comforting response a person could give, but you shouldn’t have expected more from Maki. Luckily, Yuuji moves to give your shoulders a comforting rub, forgoing Nobara’s exclamations of him being a homewrecking harlot. 

At this point, you can’t tell if their arguing or your overthinking is causing your headache. Maybe you should cancel this group dinner all together; there’s no way you and Yuuta won’t be the topic of conversation all night, and you’re not exactly looking forward to pairing Maki’s mystic messages with Toge’s public humiliation, unless you start consuming liquor now. 

Deciding that’s the best plan of action, you turn to your cupboards to reach for a bottle of wine, pawning off popping the cork to Maki when your phone buzzes, catching your attention. 

It’s a text from Yuuta, similar to one you’ve received on this day every day, for the past four years, with something a little extra tacked on this year. 

from: yuuta 🌟 — happy anniversary (and i’m not just saying that because the feds are watching) (＾∇＾) — cheers to us, and many more! 🖤

[romugh]

SENSUAL UNRAVELING- NR

pairing- gp!avenger!natasha romanoff x avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!gp!natasha, fleshlight use, blowie (n rcv), oral play (fingers; r rcv), slight humiliation, praiseee, i think that's it? :o nerdy'ish'!avenger!nat is my favourite i think guys

wc- 4.8k!

a/n- PART ONE [out of 2 for now; 2nd part out oct, 5th (kinktober list here)] requested! thanks for that, anon, loved writing it :p

request- hey, for nerdnatasha, i was thinking about yn gives a gift to natasha, that it was a fleshlight for when she misses her. So one day natasha was using it because she was feeling horny and yn caught her but she doesnt know, because yn was watching her and wanted to know if she could last enough time or if she would cum as fast as she does with her. and after that you could write whatever you want.

synopsis- you give natasha a gift, end up catching her trying to use it, and help her out.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @esposadejoyhuerta (feel free to shoot me a dm or comment to be added to my general/specific taglist!)

It had been a rare moment of peace—a quiet night off after days of non-stop missions, a time for you and Natasha to actually relax. You found yourselves in the comfort of your shared room in the compound, with no looming threats or world-ending emergencies. Natasha was nestled on the bed, her glasses perched delicately on the bridge of her nose, engrossed in a book. The sight never failed to stir something warm in your chest. She was so different from the image the world had of her—the fearless Avenger, the Black Widow.

To everyone else, she was a force to be reckoned with, the epitome of confidence and skill. The rest of the Avengers saw her as unshakable, always maintaining that sharp edge, even in the rare moments when she let her guard down. Sure, they’d seen her be softer around you, maybe even affectionate, but never like this—never this open, never vulnerable. This side of Natasha was reserved only for you.

You crawled onto the bed beside her, watching her for a moment, unable to suppress the fond smile that tugged at your lips. “Hi, Natty,” you said, breaking the silence.

You set a small, plain box down beside her. “Got you something,” you said casually, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Natasha blinked, glancing up at you and then down at the box, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What’s this?” she asked, already wary of your playful tone.

“Just a little something for when you miss me,” you said with a teasing smile, leaning back against the headboard as you watched her reach for the box.

Natasha set her book aside carefully, her fingers hesitating over the lid of the box for a second before she flipped it open. The moment her eyes landed on the fleshlight inside, her entire face turned beet red. Her hand froze mid-air, and she looked up at you in pure shock, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“I—” she spluttered, her cheeks bright red. “I... What is this?”

Her voice cracked slightly, and you had to bite back a laugh. The poor Avenger looked scandalised, staring down at the fleshlight as if it were some alien object. You knew, even at her most relaxed, Natasha always carried herself with an unbreakable facade around her teammates. They’d never seen her like this—completely disarmed, flustered, and shy. Only you ever got to witness this side of her, the part of her that wasn’t the world’s greatest spy or assassin, but just your Natty.

“Exactly what it looks like, sweet angel,” you said, grinning as you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for when I’m not around.”

Natasha’s mouth fell open, her eyes darting between the toy and you, completely flustered. She looked as if she were about to explode from embarrassment. Her hands fumbled with the box, and she quickly tried to push it away from her, glaring at you with wide, mortified eyes.

“You can’t just give me... this!” she squeaked, her voice rising in pitch. “It’s—it’s indecent!”

Now you couldn’t help but chuckle. The way she was trying to scold you, still holding the fleshlight awkwardly in her hands, only made her look even more adorable. She huffed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, which had gone as red as her cheeks.

“I thought it was a pretty thoughtful gift,” you teased, your grin widening. “You know, for those moments when I’m not around to... help you out.”

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, her brain clearly scrambling for a response. She shook her head, still holding the toy like it might burn her. “I don’t—You can’t expect me to use this!” she stammered, her voice dropping in embarrassment.

This side of Natasha—the shy, blushing woman unsure of how to handle intimacy—was something no one else could ever imagine. To the world, she was known for her strength and control, the embodiment of confidence. But with you, things were different. Your relationship was still new, though the feelings between you had been simmering beneath the surface for some time. Natasha had only recently mustered the courage to ask you out, stepping out of her comfort zone. Initially, she had tried to maintain her tough facade, but it didn’t take long for her to realise that you had already seen her softer, vulnerable side during your friendship. With you, she didn’t need to pretend. She wasn’t Black Widow, the skilled seductress; she was simply Nat, unpracticed and a little unsure when it came to intimacy for her own sake.

You leaned in, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, you’ll grow to love it," you murmured confidently.

She shot you a wide-eyed glare, but the effect was ruined by the way she couldn’t seem to stop blushing. “I will not!” she protested, though it came out far less convincing than she intended.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her flustered state. “We’ll see about that.”

Natasha shook her head, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but her hands kept betraying her. She was still holding the fleshlight, inspecting it nervously as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I wouldn’t even know how to...” She trailed off, cheeks practically glowing.

You softened, realising that this was still new territory for her. Natasha’s experience with her own body had always been limited, and when she had used it, it was only as a tool for her missions—nothing more. Pleasure was an entirely different concept. She had told you once, with a mixture of shyness and honesty, that she had never really thought of her body that way before meeting you.

But you were patient with her. Always.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “That’s okay, baby. You’ll figure it out.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her breath hitching at your touch. She glanced back down at the toy, still overwhelmed by the idea. “But... I’d rather have you,” she admitted softly, her voice so innocent it made your chest tighten with affection.

You tilted her chin up gently, making her meet your gaze again. Her wide eyes were still filled with embarrassment, but there was a flicker of curiosity there too.

“And you will,” you reassured her, brushing a strand of hair away from her flushed face. “This is just for when I’m not around to take care of you.” You leaned in closer, voice dropping to a soft whisper. “Think of it as practice.”

Natasha’s blush deepened even more at that, and she fumbled with the toy again, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I... I don’t think I need this kind of practice,” she mumbled under her breath, trying once again to push the box back towards you, but you could see the way her curiosity was slowly getting the better of her.

You chuckled softly, ruffling her hair affectionately. “You say that now, but trust me—once you get used to it, you’re going to love it.”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...”

“Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

She shot you a withering look, but there was no hiding the fact that she was fighting a smile. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the box, her eyes flicking back to the toy with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.

“You’re terrible,” she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe, but you’ll thank me later.”

Despite her embarrassment, there was no denying she was curious. You knew her well enough to understand that her inexperience and uncertainty just needed a little nudge—and you were more than happy to give it.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

It had been a long two weeks away on a mission, and your days were consumed by a flurry of burner phones, quick, coded messages, and just a few stolen moments of communication with Natasha. Calls had been scarce—limited to one every three days due to the high-risk nature of the mission. Whenever you spoke, Natasha’s voice had been warm but slightly strained, trying to keep her usual composed tone, though you could hear the subtle edges of worry creeping in. She had missed you, even if she wouldn’t outright say it. The way her voice would catch slightly when she asked, “You’re safe, right?” gave her away every time. She wasn’t used to missing anyone—not in this way.

And truth be told, you missed her just as much. Every message she sent—brief and seemingly innocent little texts like “Just thinking of you” or “Hope everything’s going okay”—made you smile. You knew they were more than they seemed. You could almost picture her sitting in your room, wearing your shirt, her glasses perched on her nose, probably curled up on your bed or buried in a pile of paperwork, trying to distract herself from the fact that you weren’t there.

But now, after those long two weeks, the mission was done, and all you could think about was getting home. The thought of seeing Natasha again, hearing her voice without the distortion of a bad connection, touching her after what felt like forever—it had kept you grounded through every challenge and fight. You imagined how her face would light up, how she’d probably try to hide that small, relieved smile she got whenever you returned from missions safe and sound.

As the lift doors slid open, you stepped onto the shared floor of the Avengers Compound, letting out a sigh of relief. The space was quiet—eerily so—considering you expected Natasha to be in her usual spot on the couch, her legs tucked under her, probably with a book in hand. It was her routine. Whenever you returned, she’d be there waiting, pretending she wasn’t counting the minutes until your arrival. She’d look up casually, as if she hadn’t been thinking about you the entire time.

But today? Nothing.

You furrowed your brow as you dropped your bag by the door, your eyes scanning the empty space. “Nat?” you called softly, half expecting her to pop up from somewhere in the apartment, maybe having gotten caught up in something in the kitchen or the bathroom.

No answer.

Your stomach twisted slightly, a brief flicker of disappointment settling in. Maybe she was out with the team, or training in the gym. It wasn’t like her to not be here when you came back, but you tried to push the thought aside. She could have been anywhere in the compound, after all.

Faintly, though, you heard something else—a soft noise, so quiet that if the apartment wasn’t this silent, you might’ve missed it. Your curiosity piqued, and you followed the sound down the hallway towards your bedroom, heart racing in anticipation. As you approached, the noise became clearer. Ragged breathing. A few soft gasps. And then your name, whispered so delicately it made your pulse quicken.

You froze just outside the door, heat already building in your chest. Natasha’s voice was unmistakable, but it was the tone—the need in it—that sent a wave of heat coursing through you. With a mixture of excitement and pride, you realised exactly what was happening.

Slowly, you inched the door open, your eyes adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom. There, on the bed, was Natasha. Your Natasha. She was sitting up against the headboard, her shirt bunched up around her waist. Her hair was tousled, and her glasses—those adorable glasses—were still perched on her nose, slightly fogged from her body heat, smudged, and slightly askew, as if she’d tried to adjust them earlier. The fleshlight was clutched in her hand, and she was trying, desperately trying, to use it. But the sight before you was more than just arousing—it was endearing in a way only Natasha could pull off.

Her movements were awkward, hesitant, and her face was flushed with a mix of frustration and desire. You could see it in the way they were clumsy, uncoordinated—she didn’t know how to use it properly. Her brow was furrowed in frustration, and her breath came in short, needy gasps. Her hips stuttered as she awkwardly thrust into the toy, but it wasn’t enough.

Natasha bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to work the toy over herself. But you could see it wasn’t working. Her hips stuttered, and her breath hitched, but there was no rhythm, no real pleasure in what she was doing. You knew why. Natasha had never been good at pleasing herself. She needed you—your touch, your guidance. Without it, she was lost. 

Her whimpers filled the air, soft and needy, as she tried to imagine it was your touch, your body. But it wasn’t. The toy couldn’t replicate the warmth of your hand, the slickness of your fingers, the way you knew exactly how to take her apart.

For all her skills as an Avenger, Natasha was unpracticed in this realm. She had never had to learn how to bring herself pleasure before you entered her life. She was still learning—still new to the idea that her body was hers, that it could bring joy and intimacy instead of just completing a task. You’d been patient with her, guiding her through these moments, helping her understand that she could be vulnerable, open, even needy, and it was okay. But now, you stood in the doorway, watching, knowing that she was trying to fill that space without you. The soft gasps escaping her lips, the quiet, frustrated whimpers—she was trying, but it wasn’t working. 

The pride in your chest swelled. Natasha had never needed anyone like this before. She had been fine for years on her own, never relying on anyone emotionally, let alone for pleasure. But now? Now she was here, lost without you, and the sight of her in this state—glasses fogged up, brow furrowed in frustration as she chased a release she couldn’t quite reach—was enough to make your heart race.

You watched, your heart pounding with a mix of arousal and affection. She was so desperate, so needy, and yet she had no idea what to do without your control.

You pushed yourself off the doorframe, a small smile playing on your lips as you approached her. “You know,” you said casually, breaking the silence and causing her to freeze, “you could’ve just told me when we called two days ago.”

Natasha’s entire body jolted, and her head whipped around to face you, eyes wide with shock. The toy slipped from her grasp as her hands flew to cover herself, her face turning a deep shade of red.

“Wha—” she spluttered, clearly mortified, her voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Her glasses had slipped down, askew, fogging up even more from the heat of the moment. “You-You’re home early!”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you took a few more steps into the room, feigning innocence. “Am I? Or am I right on time?”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed at being caught. She tried to pull the sheets up over herself, but her hands were trembling too much to do so properly.

“You didn’t have to do it all on your own, you know,” you teased, your voice soft but dripping with amusement. “I’m just a phone call away, remember? Isn’t that what I said when I gave you that thing?”

Her blush deepened, and she turned her head away, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath. But you caught the embarrassment in her eyes, the slight frustration as well, as if she’d been trying so hard and just couldn’t get herself there.

You took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed, your tone softening. “You tried, huh?”

Natasha swallowed hard, still refusing to meet your gaze, her cheeks flushed. “I... I didn’t know it would be... like this,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?” you asked, your voice soft now, coaxing.

She bit her lip, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s... different without you,” she confessed, her voice so small and unsure that it tugged at your heart. “I didn’t know it would feel so... empty.”

You felt a surge of affection for her in that moment. For the Avenger who could take down armies, outwit anyone, and yet here she was, vulnerable and flustered, struggling with something so deeply personal. No one else in the world would ever see this side of her, and that made it all the more precious to you.

“Well,” you said, reaching out to gently tilt her chin up so she could finally meet your eyes. “Good thing I’m home now, huh?”

You could see the mix of anticipation and nervousness flicker across Natasha’s face as she sat there, her body still flushed from the earlier attempt. Her breath was still shallow, and her glasses had slipped slightly down her nose, a subtle reminder of how overwhelmed she had been. You took a deep breath, the moment charged with a heady combination of tension and affection. “Close your eyes for me, Natty,” you said softly, your voice a warm caress. “I want you to just feel, okay?”

Natasha hesitated for only a moment, but the trust she had in you made her comply. Slowly, she let her eyelids flutter shut, her body relaxing ever so slightly as she surrendered herself to you.

You reached for the discarded toy, holding it up between the two of you. “So,” you began, your voice teasing but soft, “I’m going to show you how it’s done.”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes remaining tightly shut, just as you had asked. Though she couldn’t see the toy, you could feel the way her body reacted—still flustered, still embarrassed, but with a spark of curiosity that had driven her to try in the first place. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

You smiled, the warmth in your expression making her heart flutter even though her eyes stayed closed. “Good girl,” you praised softly, and the words sent a shiver down her spine. Her body tensed, but not from fear—rather, from the anticipation of what was to come. You could see the way her breath quickened, the way her hands trembled slightly as you moved closer.

Gently, you guided her back against the headboard, your fingers trailing down her arm as you coaxed her to relax. “First,” you whispered, your voice low and soothing, “you have to be patient. Let yourself feel every little touch. Don’t rush.” Natasha nodded, biting her lip as she tried to focus on your words, but it was clear that she was still nervous, still unsure.

You could feel her tension, the way her muscles were wound tight from the anticipation. But you were in no rush. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned down, your lips brushing against her neck as you murmured, “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your hand slipped down to her thigh, your touch firm but gentle as you parted her legs, creating space between them. Natasha’s breath hitched, her body responding instinctively to your touch. She was still embarrassed, still blushing furiously, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into you, her body seeking comfort in your closeness.

Carefully, you positioned the fleshlight, your fingers wrapping around its base as you guided it toward her. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes fluttering open slightly as she braced herself for the sensation. Her breath came in soft, shaky gasps as you slowly eased the toy over her length, your movements deliberate and controlled. You could feel her body tense, her hips instinctively bucking slightly as she tried to adjust to the sensation.

“Shhh, easy,” you murmured, your hand gently pressing against her hip to steady her. “Let me do the work.”

Natasha whimpered softly, her breath hitching as you began to move the toy, your strokes slow and rhythmic. Her body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the way her muscles quivered with every gentle glide of the toy. It wasn’t long before her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white as she tried to hold back the moans that threatened to escape.

“You feel that?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued the slow, deliberate movements. “That’s what you’ve been missing.”

Natasha’s response was a shaky nod, her lips parted as she struggled to catch her breath. She was still so shy, so uncertain, but you could see the way her body was responding to the pleasure, the way her hips bucked ever so slightly in time with your movements. She was learning—slowly, but surely—and the sight of her in this state, so vulnerable and needy, made your heart swell with affection.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, your voice filled with praise. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The sound of your voice seemed to soothe her, and slowly, Natasha’s body began to relax. Her whimpers turned to soft moans, her head falling back against the headboard as she surrendered to the pleasure. You could see the way her body responded to your every touch, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, “I love seeing you like this.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at your words, and she moaned softly, her hips jerking involuntarily as the pleasure began to build. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge of release.

And then, with one final, deliberate stroke, you pushed her over the edge.

Natasha’s moan was loud and unrestrained, her body arching off the bed as she came, her release crashing over her like a wave. You held her through it, your hand gentle but firm as you continued the slow, rhythmic movements, guiding her through every shudder, every tremor of pleasure.

When it was over, you discarded the toy to the side as Natasha collapsed back against the headboard, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her glasses had slipped down her nose again, but she made no move to fix them. Instead, she lay there, completely spent, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as you gently wrapped your hand around her still semi-hard cock. “See?” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. “Told you you’d love it.”

Natasha let out a shaky laugh, her cheeks still flushed from the intensity of it all. “You were right,” she admitted softly, her voice hoarse with pleasure. “I guess I owe you a thank you.”

You hummed softly, stroking her with care, feeling the way her body reacted to even the gentlest touch. “Mmm, you do,” you teased, leaning down to kiss her collarbone. Natasha’s breathing hitched, her body still hyper-sensitive from the release. “But first, let me clean you up, Natty.”

Her gaze flickered down toward her softening cock, still glistening with her own release, and you saw the way her face flushed in embarrassment. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “No need to be shy, baby. You did so well for me.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her blush deepening, but she nodded. She always got a little embarrassed after, unsure of herself. But you were never in a rush, and you wanted her to feel cared for. You kissed your way down her body, your lips ghosting over the planes of her chest, across her stomach, until you reached her cock.

The moment your lips brushed the tip, Natasha’s entire body shuddered. “Wait—” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m... still sensitive.”

“I know,” you replied softly, kissing the underside of her cock, your tongue teasing the slit just enough to make her whimper. “But I want to make sure you’re clean, okay? Just relax for me.”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her legs trembling as she tried to hold still. You were gentle, your tongue tracing along the shaft, cleaning the lingering slickness with slow, deliberate strokes. Natasha’s fingers dug into the sheets, her breath ragged as her body tried to process the mix of overstimulation and pleasure.

“Shh, baby,” you cooed softly, your tongue flicking over her again. “You’re so good for me. You can take it.”

She moaned softly in response, her hips jerking slightly, though she did her best to stay still. You felt her cock begin to twitch in your hand, and you grinned up at her, watching her as she tried to hold back the sensations overwhelming her.

As you continued, your hand slid up, brushing her lips with your fingers. “Open,” you commanded softly, your voice gentle but firm. Natasha hesitated for only a moment before parting her lips obediently, allowing you to slide two fingers inside her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tongue immediately lapping at your fingers.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing as you continued to clean her shaft, making sure not a single drop of her release was left behind. Your tongue moved with purpose, licking and slurping her clean, all while your gaze stayed fixed on her. The sight of her lips wrapped around your fingers made your heart race. “Such a good girl,” you whispered, the words slipping out like a soft caress, watching the way she responded to every touch, the way your warm breath contrasted her cold, damp cock.

Her moans were muffled by your fingers, but you could feel the vibrations as she sucked on them, her lips quivering with each gentle motion. You could see the way she was still sensitive, overstimulated but completely surrendering to you. Slowly, you added a third finger, watching the way her mouth stretched to accommodate them. You pressed against her tongue, feeling her throat constricting as she tried to adjust. Natasha whimpered around your fingers, her eyes squeezed shut, but she didn’t stop.

“Good job, baby, look at you take all three for me,” you whispered, your voice soothing as your fingers kept pressing gently against her tongue. “You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body quivering, but she nodded, determined to please you. She took your fingers deeper, her lips closing around them fully, and you could see the way she was giving herself over to you completely.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over her cheek as she sucked on your fingers, her moans soft and needy. “You look so beautiful like this.”

Natasha moaned again, her body trembling beneath you, her cock twitching in your hand as you slowly stroked it, relishing the way she reacted to your touch. Having cleaned her thoroughly, you now took her completely in your mouth, intent on keeping her pristine and ready for what was to come. You could feel her release building, evident in the way her hips jerked in small, involuntary movements, and you knew she was close. Your careful, deliberate movements brought her right back to the edge, and you were determined to swallow every drop.

You kept her in place, your fingers pressing deep into her mouth, feeling the slight gag and the way her throat kept constricting around you. Her entire body quivered as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, her release pouring into your mouth as you took everything, not letting a single drop escape.

When she finally came down, her body slumping back into the bed, utterly spent, you withdrew your fingers gently, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. Her breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, and her glasses, now completely fogged, sat crooked on her nose.

“There,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “All clean.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips. “Perfect,” you whispered, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Natasha blinked up at you, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but also something else—a deep sense of trust and surrender. “You didn’t have to,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but you heard the emotion behind it.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Besides, you’re mine to take care of.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with affection as she sank deeper into the bed, her body trembling with the aftershocks. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and content.

You kissed her again, slow and tender, as she relaxed fully into you, the taste of herself lingering on your lips and in your mouth grounding her in the moment. “No need to thank me,” you murmured against her soft lips. “You deserve all of this.”

[keresnotceres]

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐛 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: lars content yay! as far as i can tell, i'm one of the few to do anything on him, so i hope there's more than ten people out there interested in him

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: she blinded me with science—thomas dolby

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• This guy is a snacker

• Take one look at him. You can't tell me that he doesn't constantly skip out on meals in favor of research, usually just pulling a granola bar or stained tupperware from his desk drawer to eat while he works

• Don't get me wrong, Lars can still devour a good bit of food. Sometimes you like to make fun of him for how much good he'll get on his face in the process

• "You're looking at me weird." He frowned at you one day from behind the rims of his glasses

• "Uh, yeah. Wonder why." You grin with mild surprise, watching as leftover rice and beans from the burrito in his hands stuck to the corners of his mouth like glue. He was quick to wipe it all off, ignoring you as you laughed at him

• Aside from that, Lars usually keeps his workplace pretty clean. It's cluttered, sure, but you don't think you've ever seen him wonder where something went. He just always knew where things were. It was like he had a system in his head, and the more you thought about it, the more you decided he definitely did

• The one time someone had even tried to clean his place up, you watched as he immediately jumped in, convincing them that they were needed elsewhere and sending them off before they could mess with his set-up

• Often times, when it's just the two of you alone in the offsight lab, you'll bounce a tennis ball off the wall while Lars types away, only ever looking up to squint at you when the ball gets to close to his head

• "You should really give that to the possesor. I'm sure it'd appreciate it." He hums to you at one point while spinning around in his chair to reach something. Behind you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a metal chair tapping excitedly on glass, and you make a tsking noise

• "Pretty sure you just want me to stop distracting you with my awesome skills." You boast, attempting to do a trickshot only to smack Lars in the back. He glares at you, and you inch backward with a nervous chuckle

• "You know what, I think I'll give it to the possesor."

• "What a brilliant idea." Lars says monotonely. You were quick to get rid of the ball

• He hums while he works!

• It's not anything discernable. In fact, most of the time he isn't even singing real songs. Just little tunes he'll make up on the spot for himself; often as a way to pass the time and make minute tasks fly by

• You notice it quite a lot, but don't really say anything. It's quite entertaining, if you're being truthful

• "Sittin' and waitin' for food. Sittin' and waitin' for food.." He'd improvised once while waiting yet again for a t.v dinner of his to finish its cycle in the labs shared microwave

• "Wow Lars. Voice of an angel, you have."

• "Stuff it."

• Lars doesn't often need help with his work, there's a reason he landed the job after all, but when he does, you're always the first person he goes to. It's a side effect of having spent so much time with you at work, and even outside of it—if you counted lunch breaks and independent experiments as a non-work environment

• He likes being able to get a fresh set of eyes on whatever's stumping him, and it usually doesn't take long for the two of you to work around whatever was holding him up

• Overall, you couldn't think of a better friend/co-worker to have, and the same applies for Lars. Your relationship will only strengthen as time goes on, even withstanding the bizzar experiences that Garraka eventually brings later that year

• But that's for much later. Right now, the two of you are content to sit in the aquarium-turned-headquarters, watching as the hours ticked by without a care in the world

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter One

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[writingoddess1125]

Fight for Pleasure

Mihawk x FemReader

Now this is some true Kinky shit- 👍🏽 Enjoy 😉

Sorry it's late!

MUST BE 18+ TO READ!

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ Hard Sex, Unprotected sex, Biting, Blood drawn, Fighting.

Day 3. Hate Fuck

"Good Evening Ma'am" the handsome Marine bowed respectfully to you holding a arm out to you which you ignored and stepped off the dock of the ship and passing him. They constantly tried to do this, bringing the prettiest of their Marines in order to woo you into cooperation.

Being one of the Warlords on occasions you were summoned to nice places like this as a 'Show of Good Faith' in this case it being a resort which was emptied for the Warlords and paid in full. The World Goverment finding it cheaper to just let the Warlords indulge in whores, food and drink then letting them roam at times.

That and this was usually what they did in order to ask for some sort of favor which you imagined would be arriving by tommorow morning. Walking into the Resort you could already hear the Chaos- Mainly one source of it being the newest member Buggy the Clown.

Chaos which was the drunk floating clown having a field day with some booze and laughing with someone that was obscured- truthfully not wanting to bother checking.

You made a B-Line right for the bar. Seeing the other Warlords there already having their fill of paid for delights. Even passing by Boa who seemed just as unamused as you and you two gave a brief nod at each other.

Stepping into the bar you saw the lone Bartender, clearly not as heavily used since the bottles of ale, rum, and other strong liquors were out in the main resort area were most of your fellow Lords were gathered.

"A Daiquiri please" You asked, putting some berries in the tip jar. The Bartender smiling at this and quick to start making the order.

"Another bother of Tarapacá" You heard from the voice you loathed the most- Sending a glare up to your left to see non other then Dracule 'Hawkeye' Mihawk. Aka the stuck up asshole you were forced the share air with.

"You know a please to him wouldn't kill you-" You hissed in annoyance, Typically not caring for impolitness from your peers but Mihawk was an exception to this rule.

He sneered down at you, waiting for the bottle as he rolled his eyes not even bothering with you.

"Ah isn't it the tramp- Don't concern yourself with how I speak to others" He growled at you, But your own temper flaring at his insult.

"Tramp!? Oh you're one to talk- Everyone knows you probably have more spawns then Big Mom" You snapped back which made him glare hard at you, His yellow eyes staring hard at you as his face twisted up- The Bartender gently setting down the bottle for Mihawk then the Daiquiri for you.

"Let's not forget that little girl you keep on your island" You chime in a sing song voice, His hand clenching as you stood up with a smirk- You were one of the few who knew of Perona and while you were aware he most likely hadn't been intimate with her didn't mean you wouldn't throw it back in his face.

"How are you aware of that child?- Let alone got the incorrect idea of my relationship with her. Or My Island" He said hissing at you, You turned back with a sarcastic smile sipping your drink.

"I have my ways Hawkeye" You say sweetly, which made him grab the bottle and fling it in your direction which you dodged.

"You spied on me and went to my home?-" He guessed correctly which made you smile. Downing your drink you kicked one of the chairs in his direction which he snatched and tossed away, Marching towards you pissed. His eyes practically glowing at this imformation you toss the glass at his feet and glare at him- This making him stop.

"So tell me...What keeps me from killing you" He hissed out, rage and hatred pouring from his lips like venom.

"Cause you like me too much~" Hou chimed, walking from the bar completely- Warmth blooming in your stomach at how his eyes stared at you the sour taste of remembering it was Mihawk snapped you from those thoughts.

Walking down the hall to were your suite was, you tried to push away the small argument from Mihawk, whistling a mindless tune before the world spun- Feeling yourself slammed against a near by wall you glared hard as you saw it was Mihawk again- The smell of wine on his breath made you sneer.

"What do you think you're doing you drunk asshole" You hissed, reaching forward and roughly grabbing the collar of his shirt. After a moment of silence he crashed his lips into yours, Biting them roughly as he did so- Growling you pull him closer as the taste of blood and wine filled you senses. You pulled back to get air in your aching lungs and bit down on his neck earning a pained hiss from the fellow Warlord. "Perverted Bastard"

"Vile whore" Mihawk hissed at you- your hand shooting up and grabbing a handful of hair and yanked his head back which earned him growling moan. Quickly he yanked you towards the suite pulling at his coat as you practically tore open the hotel room door.

"F- Fuck!!" You screamed out, feeling him slam you into the nearest wall hard. Picking your legs up and wrapping them around his waist he glared hard at you in what could only be described as disgust, before taking his free hand and ripping your top open to see your exposed breast and attacking them with his mouth.

You moaned out as his hands ripped away at your bottoms, his teeth pulling and Biting your nipples as his hands dug into the flesh of your ass. Your own hands ripping away the wide brim hat and tossing it to the side which earned a glare from the Man. Smirking at this you take the opportunity and lean down, Running your tongue up his neck earning a rumbling moan from him, Until you bit down hard, feeling blood touch your tongue and him grab your hair to yank you away glaring hard as blood dribbled down the side of his neck.

"Fucking animal-"

Hawkeye mutter before harshly tossing you onto the large bed, earning a surprised yelp from you as you bounce on the bed- Glaring at his smug face as he followed after you and crawled towards you quickly moving to pin you but you slipped from his grasp. In a flash you grabbed at his pants and ripped them from the side with a smirk on your face and a scowl from him.

"These were expensive-" He growled as he tosses his ruined clothes to the side, his throbbing cock now on full display.

"Aww can't take what you dish out~" You tease gesturing to your shredded clothes on the floor. The two of you glared at each other at a stand still to see who would attach first- Mihawk suddently springing I to action as he dove for you once more, this time grabbing your leg and trying to pull you to him.

You laugh at this and instead scoot yourself close to him throwing him off completely as you pounce on him- knocking him to his back hard enough that the bed snapped and tilted in the directed of the force, You Sitting on his chest with a evil smirk.

"Not fast en- EEP!" You yell as he sits up suddently and grabs your waist keeping your upper body high as you fall against his stomach. He smirked down at you, seeing your face red before dived his mouth inbetween your legs.

Arching your back in pleasure as you felt him aggressively eat you out, trying to pull yourself up from the position but he only tightened his grip- The feeling of his hardened member pressed against your upper back from the upside position, as well as the head rush from the blood rushing from your head.

Moaning loudly as your legs tightened around his head. His fingers digging hard into the flesh of your hips as you came into his awaiting mouth and cut air from him. Feeling how he lapped at every drop you gave as your body shuttered and spasmed from pleasure. He then tried to pull away till you locked your legs keeping him from pulling back, a evil smirk on your face. He struggled for a few seconds, until you felt his mouth open again and his teeth brush far too close to your clit like he was going to-

"YOU BETTER NOT!" You yelped and released him quickly, moving yourself away from the cackling man as he ran his tongue over his teeth and lips like he savored the taste.

"Aw can't take what you dish out Darling?~" He growled out smiling at your defensiveness and suspicion. Glaring hard at him your hand shoots out and grabs his cock.

He grunted as your grabbed him roughly, your sharp nails gently running up the side of his shaft like a pleasurable and silent threat. Leaning down you place a long slow lick over the length of his shaft, earning a hissing moan at the sight and feeling.

"Aww you got quiet quick~"

You smile at his reddened face as you made him come undone your fingers squeezing on the swollen head of his cock earning a angry growl from him at your teasing.

"Don't tease me women" He hissed, grabbing your wrist and yanking you so you were on him your bare chest pressed onto his as he went to bite your neck once again pushing forward you headbutt him which knocked him back off the bed but he pulled you with him as you both landed and crushed the nightstand.

Taking advantage of your dazed state he rolled the two of you over on the rubble and pinned your hands next to your head, A dark gleam in his eyes at this.

Tossing your head back as you gave out a forced moan as he entered you quickly and hard. Still sensitive from the brutally forced orgasms of before as Mihawk snapped his hips to fill you body and soul, setting a brutal pace he began to fuck you like an animal. Your body sliding across the carpet as he fucked you as far as possible, your moans of bliss ripping through your throat at the speed. His fingers releasing your hands which fly to wrap around his back.

Mihawk grunted hard as he slammed into your hips again, ignoring your cry in bliss from the multiple orgasms at this point and his own hips losing its rhythm from his own coming undone, his fingers digging into the carpet around your head as he gave a few more powerful thrust- Your nails slicing into his back and drawing blood as you screamed to another hard orgasm drew him in finally. A howl in pleasure ripping through his throat as he stuffed you as deeply as possible, he fell onto you from the force as the two of you laid there a panting mess.

You foggy to the brain feel him run his tongue over the cut on your lips, parting your lips at the request you kiss him deeply in the after glow of it all. You two pulled back only when Mihawk finally gets the strength to pull out of you and roll onto his side with a tired sigh.

"Must we always fight in order to fuck?"

You question still exhausted and laying there on the carpet fairly sure you had some level of carpet burn on your back. You hear a questioning hum from Mihawk, Clearly not wishing to think of that question further as he laid there relaxing.

You sit up from the floor a familiar ache between your legs, seeing the destroyed furniture, the ripped up sheets and clear dent in the wall from were Hawkeye slammed you. In short it looked two beast had destroyed this room in either battle or fucking- in this case both.

"You're paying for the damages for this room" You point out, Mihawk opening one eye from his lounging position on the floor hands behind his head and comforbly dozing.

"Hmph.... fine-"

[kwanisms]

Accidents Happen — h.hyunjin, l.felix

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ witch!Felix × f!Reader × incubus!Hyunjin wc: 10.5k summary: While studying for a witches exam, Felix leaves his materials out where his girlfriend, Y/N, happens upon them. When she reads an incantation, an incubus is accidentally summoned. Deciding to make a spectacle of it, the demon forces Felix to watch as he seduces his girlfriend. genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural, witchcraft, and demonic themes, establish relationship (Felix), s2l (Hyunjin); non idol au, witch au, demon au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Felix practices witchcraft, alcohol consumption (Y/N has a glass of wine), Hyunjin is a menace and restrains Felix with his powers, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604  , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this one is kinda dark, not gonna lie so read with caution. This isn't a joke lol this is also kind of self indulgent cause I can. I used Google Translate again for the spell, so it might not be super accurate but I'm not really going for accuracy here lol it's smut. Thank you so much for reading, if you like this pls reblog or comment! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (demons don’t care lol but you should), somnophilia, auralism, mind break, cuckold, use of pet names (Felix calls her angel, baby, but Hyunjin calls her slut, whore, etc), Hyunjin is a menace and Felix is a sobbing mess. Let me know if I missed anything!

dialogue prompt: ❛ I’m going to have you screaming by the end of the night ❜ & ❛ do you really think you’re in a position to be giving orders? ❜

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Witches. Beings that have existed all throughout history and have instilled fear in communities for centuries. Practitioners of dark magic. Beings that worship the devil and sell their souls in exchange for mystical powers. This was how witches were always perceived.

Only it was entirely wrong.

Felix had heard a plethora of names thrown at him all his life. “Witch! Devil-worshiper! Heretic!” The words had been shouted at him from various sources but he knew deep down they were only scared because they didn’t understand.

He was misunderstood, his practices were misunderstood, and magick was misunderstood.

Felix didn’t stand around a cauldron, stirring in weird ingredients like eyes of newts or tiger claws or whatever other things fiction thought sounded bizarre and outlandish. Felix didn’t even own a cauldron. He wasn’t that kind of witch. He focused more on summoning and conjuring. That was his school.

But even the conjuration school of magick had special items he needed in order to do his spells. For that he had to visit Arcana Infinitum. The shop was located in the back corner of the town square, nestled between the ice cream shop and a beautiful and old antique store named Pandora’s Box.

Ignoring the weird looks he got from mothers as they pulled their children along and hurried across the street to avoid him, Felix continued on, the heels of his boots echoing on the stone sidewalk as he walked down past Marino’s and turned the corner.

Arcana Infinitum was a sight for sore eyes after all the glares and stares as Felix had walked from his home he shared with his girlfriend to the town square. He tried to not let it get to him but to see so much hate and disdain in one place made him wonder if moving here to this small town was worth it at all.

Not that he’d ever bring this up with you, his girlfriend.

He crossed the cobbled street and reached the door to the shop and opened it, stepping inside and finding solace in the warm interior. It wasn’t entirely freezing outside but the light mist really made the chilly air bite at his skin, his cheeks and the tip of his nose a bright pink.

“Welcome to-- oh it’s you, Felix!” a voice said and the blond looked up to see one of his favorite shopkeepers smiling at him from the back of the shop. “Hey, Joong,” Felix said as he moved further into the shop, meeting Hongjoong halfway. “What brings you in today?” Hongjoong asked, reaching up to brush some of his bright blue hair out of his eyes.

He wore a simple white button down shirt with bell sleeves cinched at the wrist and black slacks. Over this he wore a simple off white apron. “I’m studying for my exam,” Felix explained, reaching into the small crossbody he carried and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “It’s for my conjuration exam,” he continued, unfolding the sheet and handing it to Hongjoong. “I need these items.”

Felix watched Hongjoong read over the list, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as the older man muttered to himself. “I should have all of this,” Hongjoong finally said. “Look around while I gather your materials.” Felix thanked him as Hongjoong moved to grab a small wire basket and started walking around the shop while he walked over to look at a display of postcards.

Most of them were for the town and all of them were hand drawn. “Who drew these?” Felix called as he looked over the cards. “Oh, that would be Yunho and San,” Hongjoong replied as he moved behind the wooden counter and started searching through the shelves on the back wall.

Felix continued to look around. He had reached a bookcase with old tomes and spellbooks. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books, reading the titles until one caught his eye. A dark purple hardback with gold lettering in Hangul. He grabbed the tome and pulled it from its place. It was heavy as Felix looked over the cover.

“When did this come in?” Felix asked, holding it up to show Hongjoong the cover. “Oh a few days ago!” Hongjoong said as he set the wire basket on the counter and started to add everything up. Felix walked over with the purple book in his hands. “Is it for sale?” he asked softly as he reached the counter.

Hongjoong looked up and smiled before returning to his task. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” he retorted, adding everything up on the calculator before putting in Felix’s discount. “Add this on to my order,” Felix said, setting the book on the counter as Hongjoong started to bag everything.

He picked up the book and put it in the bag and told Felix his total as the latter pulled out his wallet. “Even with the book?” Felix asked. Hongjoong shook his head. “Book is on the house. Think of it as a little slice of home.”

Felix pulled out a few notes and handed them to Hongjoong who promptly entered the amount into the register and put the money away, grabbing Felix’s change. “Tell Y/N I said hey,” Hongjoong said as Felix put his money away and picked up his bag. “I will,” he said with a smile.

Exiting the shop, Felix shifted the bag in his arms as his phone started to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and smiled as he answered it. “Hey babe,” he said softly. “Hey,” came your voice. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his favorite sound in the world. 

“Are you home?” you asked.

“No,” Felix said as he started to walk across the street. “I ran by the shop to get some things for my exam,” he explained. “Hongjoong said to say hi by the way,” he added. You chuckled on the other side. “Of course he did. I’ll say hi next time I see him. Are you heading home now then?” you asked.

Felix could hear voices on your end of the line. “Yeah, hey, what’s that whispering?” he asked as he continued down the sidewalk, offering quiet pardons as he squeezed between other townspeople.

“Oh those are my coworkers and trust me,” you said. “They’re not whispering.” Felix heard a few soft apologies and snorted. “How’s work?” he asked and you sighed. “It’s alright. I wish I was home instead.” Felix laughed as he glanced up and down the street before hurrying across. “Don’t we all.”

You clicked your tongue in feigned annoyance. “You’re one to talk,” you replied. “I have a job!” Felix replied, sounding mildly scandalized. “I just don’t work in an office with a view of the city,” he added. You chuckled and no doubt shook your head. “When are you coming home?” Felix asked as he walked down the street towards your shared home.

“Soon,” you replied. “Cleo has told us she has an end of the day meeting we’re supposed to attend so we’re all in here waiting for that to start. It might run over if she’s any later. So I was wondering if you’d be able to swing by the grocery store and grab the things on the list?”

Felix stopped in his tracks at the bottom of the steps leading up into the house. “I just got home,” he murmured. “I can drop this off and go back,” he added as he started up the steps, sandwiching his phone between his ear and his shoulder and digging for his keys.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied. “I know you’ve got a lot of studying to do. I’ll just stop by on my way home. Dinner will just be a little late tonight,” you replied as Felix unlocked the doors and let himself in. He shut the door before Fanta, his orange familiar cat, couldn’t escape.

“Are you sure?” Felix asked as he walked past the living room and into the kitchen. “Mhm,” you answered. “Cleo’s just entered the room so hopefully this meeting can start and I’ll be out of here sooner than expected. Gotta go,” you whispered. “Okay, I love you,” Felix said quickly. “I love you, too!”

Felix smiled as he hung up the phone and turned to open a cabinet, grabbing one of the glasses and moving to the fridge to get some ice and water. Fanta jumped up onto the counter, letting out a croaky meow as Felix turned to look over his shoulder. “What have I said about jumping onto the counter, Fanta?” The animal let out a small meow before moving and hopping down.

Felix rolled his eyes, sipping on his water and scrolling through his feed. “The world is a crazy place,” Felix started as Fanta walked over to the back door and meowed, pawing at the wood. “You live in a nice warm house. You’re safe here. Why would you want to go outside where you could be killed?” Felix asked, walking over and picking up the cat.

Fanta meowed as Felix cuddled him close. “Oh, you’re so dramatic,” Felix muttered as Fanta struggled to get free before Felix let him hop down. “Fine. I try to show you love and you don’t appreciate it. I’m going to study.”

Felix set his empty glass in the sink and grabbed his purchase from Arcana Infinitum before heading upstairs. He set the bag on his desk and then headed into your shared bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed, reaching down to untie his boots. Had he been home, his mother would have hit him over the head for wearing his shoes all over the house but you didn’t seem to mind.

Once his boots were removed, he started changing into more comfortable clothes, tossing his black jeans and shirt into the hamper and pulling on some gray sweats and an oversized white tee.

Once he was comfortable, Felix returned to his study where he started to unpack the items he’d bought, setting them aside as he did so. He pulled out the purple Korean book of spells and opened it, eyes scanning the pages written entirely in Hangul.

Maybe he’d do a little light reading before studying. He’d gotten the book for free after all. Felix set the book on the chaotic and messy surface of his desk, turning the page, and started reading.

When you arrived home after stopping by the grocery store, it was much later than you liked. The meeting thankfully hadn’t gone on for very long and the bus to your small town on the outskirts of the city didn’t eat too much time either. It was when you arrived at the grocery store to pick up a few things that things went wrong.

As usual, one of the elderly ladies in the town had to stop you and lecture you about the uses of witchcraft and making deals with the devil. You had to explain for what felt like the millionth time that you weren’t the one practicing magick nor were you in the habit of speaking about your boyfriend like that. You reminded them that magick wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t like what the movies portray it as.

One lady in particular had held you up as you tried to check out until you told her to bugger off out of frustration, grabbing your bags and quickly leaving the store with your purchases. The walk back to the house wasn’t long either but it was still late as you let yourself in with your key, careful to make sure Fanta didn’t try another daring escape out the door.

You carried the bags over to the kitchen and started putting the cold items away. You’d picked up another tub of ice cream knowing you’d need some after the week you’d had. Once you had put most of the groceries away, you were working in the pantry when you heard a creak of wood above you.

“Felix?” you called, stopping your movements. When he didn’t respond, you decided to go upstairs and check on him. Climbing the steps one at a time you made your way up and at the landing, turned around the bannister and approached the door to his study.

You knocked softly but when there was no answer, you turned the knob and pushed the door open, peering in to find your boyfriend fast asleep, his head resting on his arms.

You smiled as you pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room. Reaching down, you brushed some of his blond hair back and then your eyes landed on a small strip of paper lying on the book he had open on the desk.

You picked it up and scanned the words curiously. It was in Korean, that much you could tell. Felix had taught you the Korean alphabet and how to pronounce the letters and he had taught you a couple words so you could at least read some things. You recognized one word on the paper but regardless you read the sentence aloud.

“Gajang gip-eun jiog-eseo neoleul bulleonae gyeolsogsikyeo jugessda.”

You shrugged your shoulders and set the paper back down before turning to head back to the door until something caught your eye.The flame of a candle, dancing inside the glass. Stopping in your tracks, you turned back to face his desk and shook your head as you moved to the lit candle on the desk, leaning in to blow out the flame. 

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you not to light candles if you’re going to fall asleep,” you murmured, gently stroking your boyfriend’s hair before exiting the room, closing the door with a click and returning to the kitchen downstairs to start dinner.

It had been a while since you’d made a nice home cooked meal, the two of you had been ordering out lately and you decided to do something nice not only for your hard working boyfriend but for yourself.

You seasoned and prepared the chicken, letting it marinate for thirty minutes as you prepared the vegetables and started your sauce in a pan. Once the skillet was oiled and heated, you added the chicken and let it sizzle for a bit before stirring it and added the veggies.

As you worked, you murmured the phrase you’d read earlier, turning it into a little song as music played in your head. You turned the chicken over again and finally poured the sauce in while some noodles boiled. “Okay, I need actual music now,” you said to yourself pulling your phone from your purse and turning some Mikazuki BIGWAVE on.

Felix awoke with a start, eyes snapping open as he looked around. He sat up, a loose page from his notes sticking to his cheek. He grabbed it and set it back on the desk before looking around. 

The door to the study was cracked open and he could smell something wafting through the air towards him. He looked down at his desk, the purple book lying innocently and looking back at him. Something was different. He noticed a small piece of parchment with Korean written on it.

He picked it up and read the sentence quietly. He didn’t like the words on it and shook his head, tucking the piece of paper away in the back pages of the book before marking his place and shutting the book. He could resume reading it later. He picked up the tome and set it on one of the shelves before getting up and stretching.

He pulled open the door, the smell of dinner getting stronger as he made his way out of the study and down the stairs. “Y/N?” Felix called. “In here!” He followed the sound of your voice and cooking into the kitchen where you looked up and smiled at him. He walked over, planting a kiss on your cheek, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“It smells really good, babe,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It should be ready soon,” you said softly, giggling as he moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Mmm, you smell good, too,” he added, pressing a couple soft kisses to the base of your neck. “I’m not for dinner,” you replied. “Hmm, maybe for dessert?” he whispered, sending a chill up your spine.

“Dinner first,” you retorted. “No,” he whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Yes,” you said with a laugh. “Dinner first,” you set the spatula down and turned in his hold to face him, bringing your hands up to cup his face. “Then you can help me clean up and get your dessert after,” you added, pressing a kiss to his lips. Felix chased your lips as you pulled back.

“Fine,” he pouted as you turned back to finish dinner, adding the cooked pasta and giving everything a good mix as Felix moved to grab bowls from the cabinet. “There’s garlic bread, too,” you announced as he set the bowls on the counter and then grabbed two plates.

“What is it?” he asked as he moved to stand beside you. “Just a chicken recipe I found on Pinterest,” you replied struggling. “It’s got zucchini, red peppers, a white sauce and then chicken,” you explained as you turned the range off and started to scoop some pasta and chicken up to place in the bowls Felix held.

“Next bowl,” you said as you waited for Felix but he leaned in. “Pay the tax first,” he said, holding back a laugh. You rolled your eyes, kissing him before he moved the other bowl over.

Once the food had been served and you both had glasses of wine, you sat down and started eating. “This is so fucking good,” Felix said, covering his mouth with his hand. “You like it?” you asked, smiling at him. “Yes! I love it,” he replied, taking another bite.

“Good,” you chirped, taking a bite as well. “Neomu masisseo!” you heard your boyfriend say and you smiled.

Felix was placing another forkful of pasta into his mouth when he heard you mutter something under your breath. 

"Neoleul bulleonae gyeolsogsikyeo jugessda." 

He froze in place and slowly turned to face you. You had picked up some noodles and placed them in your mouth, glancing up and smiling at him. He couldn't be sure if he heard you properly.

"What did you say?" he asked softly, making you glance up at him. "Hmm?" you asked quietly. "What did you just say?" Felix asked again. "Neoleul bulleonae gyeolsogsikyeo jugessda," you repeated.

Felix's eyes widened, leaning forward as you continued to recite the evocation he'd seen earlier. "Gajang gip-eun jiog-eseo--"

Felix clamped his hand over your mouth. He shook his head. "Don't," he continued. "Don't finish that."

Your eyes widened comically and you nodded as Felix finally let go and sat back in his chair. “Where did you even learn that?” he asked, watching as a look of confusion crossed your face. “From a paper in your study,” you replied. Felix mentally cursed himself for leaving things out.

He would just have to perform a spell of protection before bed.

“It’s just gibberish, right?” you asked, innocently. Felix forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. 

“Just gibberish.”

After dinner, Felix helped you clean up, washing the dishes and handing them for you to rinse and set aside to dry. His mind was reeling with thoughts of what you might have summoned. He knew that piece of paper was a summoning spell. ‘From the depths of hell,’ he thought to himself. ‘It couldn’t have taken,’ he continued. ‘She only recited the evocation. She didn’t do the entire ritual.’

Once the kitchen was cleaned, you set your gloves on the edge of the sink to let them dry and turned to Felix, smiling at him. “Well,” you started, drawing his attention as he pulled his own gloves off. “You helped me clean up,” you continued. Felix nodded, looking around. “I always do,” he replied.

You raised an eyebrow at his reply. “Don’t you want your dessert now?” you asked, reaching forward to grab one of his hands. Felix’s eyes widened. Of course, how could he have forgotten?

“How about a movie first?” Felix offered. He wasn’t quite in the mood now but with some coaxing, he knew his mood could change quickly. You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, connecting your lips with his. “Fine,” you murmured against his smile. “A movie first, then dessert.”

You pulled him from the kitchen, leading the way into the living room and over to the couch. Felix sat down, grabbing the remote and turned the tv on as you settled in next to him. He flipped through the options, settling on one and starting the film quickly.

It only took a few minutes of your fingers playing with his hair for him to pull you onto his lap, hands on your hips as you grinded on him, moaning into each other’s mouths. “Fuck,” Felix groaned, hand resting on the back of your neck. “You’re so fucking hot,” he moaned as your hips moved, grinding against his erection.

“I need you, Lix,” you whined, hands resting on his shoulders. “You need me, yeah?” he asked, looking up at you through heavy lids. You nodded quickly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Fuck, I better give you what you need then, hadn’t I?”

You scrambled off his lap, taking his hand and pulling your boyfriend up the stairs, heading for the bedroom where you shut the door after him. Felix was on you as soon as the door shut, hands grabbing your hips and guiding you to the bed before he pushed you back onto the mattress, discarding his shirt and climbing on top of you.

“You’ve been locked away in your study so many nights,” you whispered as Felix kissed a path down the side of your neck. “Have I been neglecting you, baby?” he mumbled against your skin.

You nodded, breathing heavily as you felt his hands move to undo your pants. “I’m sorry, angel,” he continued as he started to pull your pants and underwear down, discarding them on the floor before pushing your thighs apart, settling between them on his stomach.

Your walls clenched around nothing as he eyed your glistening sex hungrily, licking his lips before meeting your gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Felix awoke with a start, sitting up and gasping as he looked around the dark room. Light pattering against the window told Felix that it was raining. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pulled himself from the tangle of sheets, glancing back at you sleeping peacefully beside him.

Glancing at the clock, the red numbers read three thirty-three. ‘The Witching Hour,’ Felix thought as he slowly got up from the bed, careful to not disturb you. He walked towards the bedroom door, turning the knob slowly and pulling the door open.

The hall outside was dark, the pattering of rain was louder as Felix cautiously stepped out into the corridor, the wood creaking under his bare feet. He stopped just outside the opened bedroom door and looked around, the small plug-in lights creating a line of lights along the corridor floor.

As he started forward towards the stairs, Felix turned his head towards the study. The door was shut firmly as he had left it earlier. He headed down the stairs, looking over the railing into the living room. Upon reaching the landing, he turned and walked into the living room, glancing around.

His eyes strained, trying to see in the low light. He saw nothing out of the ordinary and let out a sigh, now truly wondering what woke him up. He started for the kitchen with the idea of getting a glass of water when he heard a soft creaking to his left. He turned his head quickly, finding the small door under the stairs ajar.

Felix moved to one of the end tables between the sofa and the loveseat, turning on the lamp and adding some illumination to the room. He continued forward slowly, keeping his eye on the door until he reached it. Taking the knob quietly, he pulled the door open and reached inside, pulling the string for the overhead light.

Inside the tiny storage space, nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything seemed to be in place. Perhaps you had gone into this space earlier and didn’t get the door shut completely. Felix tugged the string, throwing the space into darkness before backing up and closing the door, making sure the latch clicked. 

He turned and headed into the kitchen, moving to grab a clean glass and get some ice water. As he was sipping on the water, he heard what sounded like knocking and looked up before moving around the counter and into the living room again. He strained his ears, listening for any sound over the soft pattering of rain on the roof.

He walked over to the door and peered out one of the windows on the side of the frame. He saw nothing and turned on the porch light, still seeing nothing. Shrugging, Felix turned the light off and headed into the kitchen to set his empty glass in the sink before making his way to the stairs.

Just as he was about to take the first step, a series of slow, heavy, and evenly paced knocks rang out from behind him. He froze and turned around to look at the door, his pulse starting to beat more heavily. He moved slowly, walking back to the window and peering out. Through the glass he could see a dark shadow standing on the porch.

He pulled back and stared at the door. ‘Who could it be this late?’ he wondered. Deciding to take another peek, his eyes widened when he saw the figure was gone. ‘I really shouldn’t open the door,’ he told himself. ‘But as long as I keep the outside door shut and locked it should be fine, right?’

He took a deep breath, taking the door knob in one hand as he turned the deadbolt, unlocking it with a click before he turned the knob and pulled open the heavy wooden door. The outside door was locked still as it was when he locked up the house for the night.

Outside the porch was empty, just like it had been the last time he peered outside through the window.  Felix leaned against the door, looking to the sides of the porch the best he could before he let out the breath he was holding. ‘There’s no one here,’ he told himself. “You’re seeing things,” he whispered, taking a step back and closing the door and engaging the lock.

He shook his head, chuckling to himself before starting up the stairs. As he reached the top landing, his smile fell as his eyes landed on the door to his study. The door that he knew had been closed when he went downstairs not twenty minutes ago was now ajar.

Felix glanced towards the bedroom and then back to his study as his feet slowly and quietly carried him forward. He reached the study and carefully pushed the door open, looking inside. The lamp on his desk was on but other than that, nothing seemed to be out of place.

Felix let out an exasperated sigh and stepped into the room and turned off the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. He glanced out the window, doing a double take when he noticed a dark figure standing in the backyard. He rushed to the window but the figure was gone. ‘What is going on with you?’

Felix shook his head and pulled the sheer curtains shut. As he turned back for the door, his breath caught in his throat. He could see a dark figure standing in the corner. His heart rate increased, a cold chill breaking throughout his body and a shiver running up his spine at the sight.

A dark heavy feeling settled in his stomach as his mouth started to run dry. ‘Just ignore it,’ he told himself. ‘It will go away if you ignore it.’ He focused his eyes on the door and started towards it, pretending as if he hadn’t seen the figure. Just as he reached the door, his body betrayed him and his head turned slightly to look at the dark figure which was now next to the door and next to him.

Felix’s lips parted but before he could call out for you, he felt a hand around his neck as the figure grabbed him, lifting him clean off his feet and slamming him against the wall quickly. Felix clawed at the hand around his throat as the figure leaned in, sniffing him before he heard a deep, almost demonic voice say “it’s not you.”

It let go of his neck and Felix fell to his feet, coughing as he reached up to massage his neck. The dark shadow pinned him against the wall, growling dangerously. “Wh-what do you want?” Felix managed to croak out, his voice hoarse and weak. “What do I want?” the figure asked. “I was summoned here.”

Felix’s eyes widened. The incantation, the one he told you was just gibberish. It had brought this? Was it a demon? Before Felix could voice any of his questions, the figure spoke. “I know what you are, witch,” it said. “But I also know you didn’t summon me, so tell me,” the figure continued.

Before it could ask its own question, a voice called out and Felix’s heart dropped into his stomach. “No,” he whispered as the figure turned its head, letting out a chuckle. “You’re not alone,” the demon said. “It must have been her.”

Before Felix could protest, the demon dropped him, throwing him to the floor. Felix looked up but the dark figure was gone. “No,” he said, scrambling up to his feet and rushing out of the study, his feet thudding against the wooden floor as he made for the bedroom.

Upon entering, he looked around wildly as you sat up and turned on the lamp on your bedside table. “What’s wrong?” you asked as Felix looked around and finally moved over to the bed, making sure to check under it before looking in the closet. “Felix?” you asked softly as he moved to look out the window into the backyard but saw nothing.

“Felix, what’s wrong?” you asked again as he moved to the bed and sat back down. “Nothing,” he answered. “I thought I saw something,” he added before waving his hand and pulling the covers back and draping them over his legs. “Let’s just go back to sleep, love,” he murmured.

You nodded, turning off the lamp and settled back under the covers, Felix wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Goodnight,” you whispered as he placed a couple kisses on your shoulder. “Goodnight, angel,” Felix replied, his voice soft in your ear.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep but Felix awoke with a start, blinking rapidly as he looked around. He was no longer in bed. He was instead sitting in the chair in the corner of the bedroom. 

“What the-” he tried to push himself up but found he couldn’t move. ‘Sleep paralysis?’ he wondered before looking down and saw he was bound, quite literally, to the chair. White strips of cotton tying his wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, looking down and trying in vain to free himself.

“Don’t even bother,” a voice said and Felix looked up. The dark figure was standing in the corner, glowing red eyes looking at him and sending a chill up his spine. “You won’t be getting out until I’m done.” Felix stared back at the creature. “Done? Done with what?” Felix asked.

The figure began to move towards the bed. “Don’t,” Felix warned as the shadow stopped near the bed. Felix watched as the figure reached forward and turned on the bedside lamp near you. 

Expecting to see a grotesque demonic presence, Felix was shocked when a young man, seemingly no older than he, came into view. He had shoulder length blond hair that fell in soft waves, half of it pulled up into a ponytail with strands framing his face. He was tall and slim, wearing a fitted black suit.

“Don’t what?” the man asked, his voice smooth and clear. “Don’t touch her?” he continued. Felix struggled against the bonds holding him in place. “She summoned me, did she not?” he asked as one hand moved to take hold of the covers. “I said don’t!” Felix snapped.

The man looked up, his red irises burning into Felix. He moved around to the foot of the bed, bringing him closer to Felix’s position, and took a seat. “Do you really think you’re in a position to be giving orders?” the man asked, tilting his head to the side. Felix said nothing, only staring back at the demon.

“Don’t touch her,” Felix said again. The figure sighed and quick as a flash, the chair Felix was sitting in was pushed back, the demon had him in another chokehold. “I’ll do whatever I want,” he growled, his voice demonic and low again. “She summoned me. Not you.”

Felix stared up into the red irises. “So if I want to fuck her and make you watch, I will.”

Felix struggled to speak, spitting out the words. “Didn’t know--” The demon let go of his throat, watching as Felix coughed. “She didn’t know what she was doing. I’m the witch here. Not her. She doesn’t know what any of this is.” The demon let the chair fall back onto all four legs as he stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets. “What’s your name, witch?” he asked.

Felix looked up at him, the position he was in made him feel inferior. Like he was beneath this creature. “Felix,” he finally spat out, the contempt and fury he held for the creature finally surfacing. “Felix,” the creature parroted. “Nice to meet you Felix, I’m Hyunjin.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care what your name is,” he started. “My girlfriend isn’t a witch. She doesn’t understand what she was doing so you need to leave her alone,” he hissed. The demon, Hyunjin, smiled again. “Do you know what she said in that spell?” he asked, cocking his head.

Felix nodded, not needing to think about it.

“Gajang--”

“In English, if you would please, Felix,” Hyunjin interrupted, the smirk on his face never faltering.

Felix glared at the demon, mustering as much hatred as he could.

“I summon you from the depths of hell and likewise bind you to me,” Felix answered finally.

“Exactly,” Hyunjin replied. “But she didn’t know!” Felix countered as the demon moved from the foot of the bed. “She was just reading it! She thought it was gibberish!”

Hyunjin turned to look at Felix, now standing beside your sleeping form. “Gibberish? How could she possibly think it was gibberish?” he asked. “Because she doesn’t understand Korean. She can speak the words and read them but she doesn’t know what they mean unless I tell her,” Felix explained as Hyunjin walked back over. 

“Are you being facetious?” the demon asked. Felix shook his head vigorously.

“I’m not.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh and stood up straight. “Regardless,” he started. “I was summoned. I have to complete the ritual.” Felix struggled against his restraints as the demon moved to your side of the bed. “Stop it please! Stop!” Felix pleaded. Hyunjin held up his hand.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “You’ll wake her.” ‘That’s it! Wake her up!’ 

Felix opened his mouth to call out to you. To wake you up but Hyunjin was on him in seconds, taking Felix’s chin in his hand. “Do it and I’ll gut you then I’ll snap her neck” he warned his voice deep and demonic. Felix’s eyes widened and he nodded silently.

Hyunjin let go of Felix and returned to the bed, sitting beside your sleeping form once again. “Y/N,” he said softly. Felix watched in horror as the demon gently brushed his fingers along your arm. “Y/N, sweetheart,” he continued and it dawned on Felix that Hyunjin was speaking in his voice. Felix’s own voice was coming out of the demon.

You murmured in your sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand resting on your stomach and the other falling onto Felix’s empty space. “Y/N,” Hyunjin repeated in Felix’s stolen voice. “Baby.” Felix felt his blood boil as Hyunjin’s hand cupped your cheek. “Get your hands off of her!” Felix snapped.

Hyunjin looked up, red irises glowing as he glared at Felix. “I warned you once,” he said darkly. “Don’t make me do it again.” Felix felt a cold shiver run up his spine. Something in the demon’s voice made him freeze up. “I won’t hesitate to snap her neck,” he threatened.

“So stop talking.”

Felix nodded, looking from the demon’s eyes to your sleeping form.

You tried to open your eyes but your lids were too heavy. You weren’t sure what woke you until you felt a hand on your cheek. “Y/N?” you heard Felix’s voice. “Y/N, sweetheart,” he said again. You murmured, uncertain of the words leaving your lips. You heard a chuckle. “Shh,” you heard Felix say again.

“Felix,” you finally whined as you felt the sheets being pulled back. “I’m right here,” you heard him whisper, feeling his hand moving up your thigh to your hip, pushing your sleep shirt up past your hip. “Mmh, Felix,” you mumbled as his hand moved back down, dipping between your thighs.

“Oh shit,” you gasped, back arching as your fingers dug into the sheets. “Shh,” your boyfriend whispered again. “Let me take care of you.”

You felt his fingers push your panties aside, teasing your entrance, parting your lips and finding your clit. You let out a moan as he drew slow circles on your clit. “That’s it,” you heard him coo. “Part your legs for me.” You did as he asked, spreading your thighs. “Good girl,” you heard him purr. “So good for me. So obedient.”

Your lips parted in a moan as you felt his fingers sink into your heat. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, slowly pumping his fingers in an out of your cunt. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” you heard him whisper in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. “You want that?” he asked, chuckling softly as your walls clenched around his fingers. “Yes,” you breathed, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

You felt his lips connect with yours, moaning into his mouth as you felt his fingers curl upwards. “F-Felix,” you moaned, one of your hands moving to grab his wrist as he sped up his movements, thumb rubbing against your clit in time with the thrust and curl of his fingers inside you. “I’m gonna--” you gasped, thighs twitching as your orgasm approached.

“I know,” he replied. “So do it,” you heard your boyfriend groan. “Cum for me, baby girl. Come on my fingers.” 

Your back arched, a high pitched moan leaving your lips as you came around your boyfriend’s fingers. You felt his fingers slow to a halt before he carefully removed them, leaving your walls clenching around nothing. “Good girl,” you heard his voice.

You felt the bed shift as he moved. “Lix?” you called out, eyes fluttering to open. You felt his breath hot against your core. “I’m right here, baby,” he replied, hands resting on your hips. “Keep those pretty thighs open for me.”

You relaxed, head falling back against the pillows as your eyes struggled to stay open. You let out a whimper as you felt his tongue against your clit, slow deliberate licks until his lips connected with your clit, softly suckling, teasing occasionally with his tongue. 

Your body shuddered, sensitive after your first intense orgasm. The slight burn only added to the pleasure as your boyfriend continued to toy with your clit, bringing you to the brink only to pull back at the last second, leaving you teetering on the edge.

“Felix, please,” you whined. “Please let me cum.” 

You felt him chuckle against you. “Only because you asked so nicely, baby,” he murmured. Your hand moved, fingers threading through his hair as his tongue moved against your clit, each flick bringing you closer and closer until you finally came with a mewl, thighs threatening to close on your boyfriend’s head, but he managed to keep them open, allowing you to ride out your high until your body shuddered from sensitivity.

“Lixie, please,” you whined. You felt him press light kisses along the inside of your thighs, giggling when he playfully nipped at your skin. “That tickles,” you breathed. You felt the bed shift, Felix kissing up your hip, playfully sinking his teeth into your skin before continuing kissing up your body and the side of your neck. “God you’re so pretty,” you heard him whisper in your ear.

“Felix,” you giggled as his hands skimmed over your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You felt him smile against the skin of your cheek, breath fanning over your ear. “Crazy thing actually,” he said softly. 

“I’m not Felix.”

Your eyes snapped open. The first thing to greet you was the red lighting of the room. It was your room but it also wasn’t. You gasped as the man on top of you lifted his head and you finally got a look at his face. He was handsome, extremely so with plush peach lips and shoulder length blond hair. His red irises burned into your eyes and you found it hard to look away.

“Hello there,” he said, his voice no longer masked by your boyfriend’s voice. “What the f--” you started but he pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you. “Shh,” he said softly. He pulled his hand back, replacing it with his lips. You pulled back. “What’s going on?” you asked.

“Who are you?”

He smiled, tilting his head as he studied your face, before cupping your cheek. “I’m Hyunjin,” he answered, thumb stroking your cheek. “Where am I?” you asked, trying to sit up but his weight prevented you from moving. “You’re in your bed,” he replied. 

He turned his head to the side and you followed his line of sight where you saw a floor to ceiling mirror taking up most of the wall beside your closet. That definitely wasn’t in your room.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the mirror. The mirror clearly wasn’t reflecting what was happening around you. Instead, it was almost like a window to your room where you saw yourself sleeping peacefully in your bed, Felix beside you.

You turned your head back to look up at Hyunjin. “Is this a dream?” you asked and Hyunjin nodded slowly. “It is,” he confirmed before leaning down, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Doesn’t that make me a bad person? Dreaming about another man?” you asked, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

Hyunjin’s free hand had slipped between your bodies and was slowly dragging up and down your slit. “No,” he answered, shaking his head. “I’m merely a figment of your imagination, Y/N,” he explained. “When you wake up, you won’t even remember this.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt Hyunjin’s fingers push into your cunt again, lips parting as you moaned. “Oh f-fuuuck,” you moaned, back arching. Hyunjin chuckled, dipping his head down to kiss down the side of your neck. “That’s it, pretty girl,” Hyunjin whispered in your ear.

“Don’t worry about anything else. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

Felix glared at the demon hovering over you, his head was ducked, lips near your ear as he whispered. You were stirring in your sleep, whimpers and moans leaving your lips despite his hand not even leaving your cheek. “What are you doing to her?” Felix asked softly, knowing full well the demon could hear him.

Hyunjin pulled back and turned his head to look at him, his red irises glowing still.

“I can’t just physically take her,” Hyunjin explained. “I have to infiltrate her dreams first,” he added.

“Come on, Lix,” Hyunjin said with a smirk and Felix narrowed his eyes. “You’re a witch but you know all of this. This is amateur stuff.” Felix gritted his teeth as Hyunjin turned his attention back to you as you whispered a word. Felix felt his stomach drop.

You had whispered a name. Hyunjin’s name.

Felix felt a pang. A stab of betrayal but he couldn’t focus on that. He knew you were in some kind of trance. It wasn’t your fault.

“Perfect,” the demon said softly and moved his hand to grab the covers, pulling them back. “Don’t touch her, please,” Felix pleaded. Hyunjin ignored him, pulling the covers down to the foot of the bed. “Don’t touch her!” Felix hissed as Hyunjin slowly ran his hand up your leg.

“What are you gonna do?” Hyunjin asked, turning to look at Felix, a smirk on his lips. 

Felix struggled against his bonds as Hyunjin moved slowly, unbuttoning his top and shrugging it off. His skin seemed to have an aura to it and he glowed. Hyunjin’s hand moved to remove your shorts, pulling your underwear with them. “Please,” Felix begged, feeling his eyes burn as tears started to form.

Hyunjin scoffed as he discarded your clothes, pushing the hem of your shirt up to expose your chest adorned in soft pink lace that left little to the imagination. “She wear this specifically for you?” Hyunjin asked, turning to lock eyes with Felix who tried to free his hands.

His eyes widened as the sound of fabric tearing met his ears. Hyunjin had ripped the bralette down the center, exposing your breast. “Stop, please!” Felix sobbed, pulling violently at his bonds, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled. He heard Hyunjin click his tongue. 

“Now, now,” the demon said mockingly. “You’re going to miss it if you aren’t watching.”

Felix opened his eyes to glare at the demon, his lashes wet with tears that had finally spilled, staining his red cheeks.

Hyunjin’s smirk widened. “Great. Now that I have your attention,” he said as he undid his belt and pulled it free, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter, hands moving to undo the button and zipper of his pants.

“Enjoy the show.”

“This feels so wrong,” you whispered as Hyunjin kissed down the valley of your chest. “Oh,” he said softly against your skin. “But it’s not real,” he reminded you. You let out a sigh, moaning as he sank his teeth into your skin. “Then why does it feel so real?” you gasped as he kissed his way back to your lips.

“Are you telling me you’ve never had dreams that felt real before?” he mused, not giving you a chance to answer as he took your lips in a messy, wet kiss, tongue moving against yours languidly. “No, I have,” you replied when he pulled away. “But they’ve never felt like this.”

Hyunjin chuckled, pushing his long tresses from his face as he knelt between your thighs. You hadn’t had the chance to notice until now that he was entirely nude. Your eyes traveled down his chest, taking note of his slim but toned body already glistening with a layer of sweat.

Before your eyes could continue past his navel, he clicked his tongue, almost in disapproval and you glanced back up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” he asked teasingly. 

You felt your cheeks burn under his heated gaze as he chuckled, his hand moving to push your knees further apart, spreading you more for him. You glanced quickly down, your own body obscuring your view of his cock as he guided the tip to your entrance.

“And you promise this isn’t real?” you asked softly, causing him to look up from where your bodies were about to connect. He gave you a breathtaking smile and nodded. “I promise,” he replied softly.

“None of this is real,” he added before slowly pushing into you. You let out a gasp as his length glided easily into you, stretching you open yet you felt no pain. No sting that usually accompanied the stretch.

It was entirely unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. It was different from how Felix felt. Hyunjin was bigger, not just in stature. “Relax,” Hyunjin whispered, moving one of his hands to your thigh, rubbing soothingly. “That’s it” he continued as he glided further.

“Relax and let me in.”

“So f-full,” you murmured as you felt Hyunjin bottom out. He chuckled, his hand moving from your hip up to gently grope your chest. Your walls fluttered around his cock, gripping him tightly. “Such a responsive slut,” he chuckled and you moaned loudly. 

Hyunjin gave you a couple slow thrusts, allowing you to feel every curve and ridge of his cock before he set a steady pace, pumping in and out of you at a torturously slow speed.

“Faster,” you gasped as you felt his thumb brush over your nipple. “Faster?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Please,” you pleaded. “Want more. Need more.”

Hyunjin chuckled, his hand moving back down to your waist. “If that’s what you want,” he replied, picking up the pace, his hips hitting yours with each thrust.

Your back arched off the mattress, moaning wantonly. It wasn’t like you shared any walls with any neighbors and regardless, this was a dream anyway.

Felix watched Hyunjin parted your thighs. From his position, he couldn’t see much but the demon had you completely naked and spread out before him.

“Please,” Felix sobbed softly as he turned his gaze away. He could hear your soft moans and the thought of watching another man have you the way he had you, the thought of another man making love to you, had his stomach churning.

“You’re going to want to watch this,” Hyunjin called but Felix shook his head, refusing to look.

“Watch this or I’ll snap her neck,” the demon snapped, his deep gravelly voice enough to force Felix to look back. He could tell Hyunjin had bottomed out, cock shoved inside you. “Just stop please!” Felix cried.

“Why won’t you just leave us alone?”

The demon chuckled but punctuated it with a groan as he pulled back, hips snapping forward and driving his cock back into your walls. You let out a moan, eyes still shut as Hyunjin set a steady pace.

“She gave me permission, you know,” he heard the demon say and Felix glared at Hyunjin. 

“She’s asleep. How can she consent to this?” he growled, anger flooding his senses. Hyunjin chuckled, his hands moving to your hips and holding you in place as he continued you fucked you against the mattress.

“You like that, Y/N?” he asked, addressing you directly.

You moaned in response. “Words, sweetheart,” Hyunjin said, his voice steady and calm despite the way his hips moved. “Y-yes,” you choked out. Felix’s heart skipped a beat. ‘It’s not real. He has her under some sort of spell. She doesn’t know what’s going on!’ he told himself.

“She’s really enjoying herself,” Hyunjin said, addressing Felix now.

“Such a good little slut,” Hyunjin scoffed, giving you a harsh thrust, making you cry out. “Don’t hurt her!” Felix sobbed. “Please. Just… don’t hurt her,” he repeated. The demon chuckled lowly but said nothing else, slowing his thrusts to a roll. Your moans came from the back of your throat, deep and almost guttural.

“Hyun-Hyunjin!” you gasped. Hearing you say another man’s name had Felix crying harder. He felt entirely powerless. He could do nothing but sit there and wait for the demon to finish having its way with you and leave. He could do nothing but watch.

He hated the demon. He hated Hyunjin. And most of all, he hated himself for bringing that book into the house. Had he known, he never would have brought it in. He would have left it in Hongjoong’s shop for eternity. When everything was said in done, he would have to return the book to the shop in the morning.

“Oh fuck,” he heard Hyunjin growl. “She’s so fucking tight,” he continued. “Are you even fucking her properly?” Hyunjin scoffed, his voice strained. Felix felt anger and jealousy bubble up in his chest.

How dare he imply Felix didn’t satisfy you. The two of you had always been honest and communicated about your sexual needs with one another and never once had you expressed anything other than satisfaction. You often praised his performance. 

You let out a small moan, almost a whimper of pleasure and it made Felix’s heart sink in his chest. He hung his head, silent tears falling from his eyes onto the material of his gray sweats. ‘Please let this end.’

“Fuck you feel so good,” Hyunjin murmured, slowing his hips and pulling from you. Letting out a whine, you reached for him, protesting as you felt him leaving your walls empty and aching for his cock to return. “Come here,” he said softly, grabbing your arm and gently but firmly pulling you up and flipping you over onto your stomach, facing the mirror.

He was behind you, pushing your knees apart with his own and guiding the head of his cock back to your waiting hole. You moaned as he slipped back in easily, his hips meeting your ass as he buried himself balls deep inside you. “Hyunjin,” you gasped.

He leaned over your back, keeping himself propped up as he wrapped his arm around your chest and resumed thrusting into you, the new angle allowing his cock to hit deeper and making you cry out. “Oh sweetheart,” he panted in your ear. “I’m gonna have you screaming by the end of the night,” he murmured before throwing all caution out the window. 

Your fingers dug into the sheets under you as he pounded into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room but not covering the sounds of your whimpers and moans.

Your mind went blank, almost numb as all thoughts left your mind and the only thing you could focus on was the mounting pleasure in the pit of your stomach and the flexing of Hyunjin’s muscles around you as he tightened his hold on you, hips slamming against your ass. Your moans and cries growing in pitch. 

“That’s it,” Hyunjin grunted in your ear, his voice dropping an octave. “Scream for me. Say my name.”

“H-Hyunjin,” you sobbed, your body writhing under him from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins. “Louder,” he ordered. “Scream it.” You cried out his name as he rammed all of his length into you at once, driving the head of his cock as far as he could and you swore you felt it in your stomach. ‘Is it bigger than it was a minute ago?’ You were sure he wasn’t that big before.

“What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

You moaned, head lolling as he thrust into you harder. “Am I fucking you that good? Has your mind gone completely blank?” You moaned in response, eyes fluttering shut as your walls spasmed around his cock, gripping him tightly.

“Fuck, keep squeezing my cock like that and I’ll cum,” Hyunjin growled in your ear. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill this pretty cunt with my cum.” Your walls clenched around his cock again and his hand moved up, taking your jaw in his hand. 

“Open your eyes, slut,” he growled. Your eyes fluttered open. The reflection in the mirror had changed. You were looking at yourself. Facing yourself with Hyunjin behind you, his red irises glowing in the dark and burning into yours.

His appearance in the mirror had changed slightly. Half of his blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail and two black horns were protruding from his forehead, curving back over his head and the tips curling inward on themselves. Your eyes widened. What the fuck were you seeing? Was this still a dream or was this real? The line between dream and reality had blurred and you couldn’t tell anymore.

“What are--” Hyunjin tightened his grip, holding your jaw in place. His sharp, pointed nails digging slightly into your skin. “Stop talking,” he growled. “Just lay there and take it like the whore you are.” Your walls clenched around his cock at the degrading name he hurled at you.

“Look at you,” he chuckled lowly. “So desperate to get fucked you’d let any man have you, isn’t that right?” he asked. ‘No,’ you thought. ‘That isn’t true.’ The truth was that you only wanted Felix. You only wanted your boyfriend. Even with this stranger fucking you in your dreams, you wanted Felix.

“No,” you answered, trying to shake your head but the demon’s grip was too strong. “I wasn’t asking you, slut,” he scoffed. You met his burning gaze in the mirror. ‘Not asking me?’ you wondered. ‘Who could he possibly be talking to?’ It was then you noticed something else just on the edge of the reflection.

A body sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. Your eyes widened. ‘Felix?’ It was indeed your boyfriend. His head hung in shame, wrists bound to the arms of the chair and his ankles likewise bound to the legs of the chair. “F-Fe-lix?” you stammered. At the sound of your voice, your boyfriend raised his head, eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“No,” Hyunjin growled. With one final thrust, your eyes rolled back as your orgasm hit you. You felt Hyunjin tense on top of you, his own orgasm washing over him as he released inside you. You could feel the warm gush of cum enter your cunt and the stalling of Hyunjin’s hips as he buried his cock inside you before everything went black.

Felix woke with a start, sitting up and crying out.

It was morning. He looked around quickly, eyes scanning the room but he saw no sign of the demon Hyunjin nor did he see any sign of you. He glanced down and noticed he was naked. He looked around for his clothes. 

‘What the fuck happened last night?’ he wondered as he turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he covered his face with his hands. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, not enough to hurt but enough that the blackness of his vision was littered with stars.

He finally pulled his hands from his face and sat up straight, inhaling deeply before letting it out. His clothes were on the floor beside the bed and he snatched them quickly, pulling on his sweats and then the shirt. He made his way over to the door, turning the knob and opening the door.

He was greeted by the sound of sizzling and the smell of bacon. He allowed his feet to carry him into the hall and to the top of the stairs where he heard soft voices and your light laughter. He hurried down the steps and turned around the railing to enter the living room.

In the kitchen, you stood at the range, cooking breakfast. You looked up, smiling as you met his gaze.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” you said as he stood in the doorway. “We have a visitor,” you continued, nodding towards a figure sitting at the table, hidden from Felix’s view with a newspaper. Felix murmured an apology as he walked into the kitchen, scratching the back of his head as he moved around the counter and over to where you stood, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning,” he murmured and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, preparing it the way he liked before he sat at the table across from the figure. You moved to set a plate of food in front of Felix, a spatula in one hand and donning your pink apron. 

“You didn’t tell me your cousin was coming to visit,” you said, lighting patting his shoulder as Felix picked up his fork. His eyes widened as you turned away and headed back into the kitchen. Felix turned his gaze from your figure to the newspaper before him. ‘I don’t have a cousin.’

You prepared another plate and walked over to set it in front of the guest. “Oh,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank you,” he added in an all too familiar voice.

A voice Felix thought had been part of the horrible nightmare he’d experienced.

He watched in horror as the newspaper lowered and the familiar face of Hyunjin appeared with a smile. “It’s just like Felix to forget to mention me,” he said as you moved back to load the last plate and take a seat between Felix and the demon now sitting at his dinner table, enjoying a breakfast cooked by you, his loving girlfriend.

How did you not recognize Hyunjin after last night? Did you forget everything? If the oblivious smile on your lips was anything to go by, Felix could assume you’d forgotten the events of last night.

“We had a rough night last night,” you said, turning your gaze on your boyfriend and smiling at him sweetly. “I hope he wasn’t too rough on you,” Hyunjin joked and Felix watched the way you inhaled a sip of your water and started coughing. 

Before he could react, Felix watched with a mix of anger and jealousy as Hyunjin leaned forward and patted your back firmly, a look of concern crossing his features. “Are you alright, Y/N?” he asked. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “That was inappropriate of me.” You shook your head, taking another sip of water. “No, it’s okay,” you said, waving your hand.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Felix’s knuckles turned white, his grip on his fork handle tight as he tried to decide whether he should eat or stab Hyunjin in the neck. “I’m also sorry for dropping in like this,” Hyunjin explained. “Unannounced. It’s just that I’m passing through and haven't seen my dear cousin in so long.” Felix narrowed his eyes at the demon, wanting to smack that smug grin off his face.

You smiled kindly at Hyunjin. “Well you’re more than welcome to stay with us for a few days,” you offered and Felix felt his heart sink, his stomach dropping simultaneously as he looked from you to Hyunjin who was already looking at Felix. “That’s so kind of you,” Hyunjin replied, staring directly at Felix, his red irises burning into the latter’s eyes, holding his gaze.

“I think I’m really going to enjoy your hospitality.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[crazyk-imagine]

Soldier Boy

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x Supe!reader

Characters: Benjamin "Soldier Boy", Hughie, Billy Butcher, Frenchie, Kimiko Miyashrio, MM "Mothers Milk", Annie "Starlight" Janurary

Warnings: Angst, minor fluff, the boys show is a warning itself, things get rough, ben was brainwashed, reader was forced into hiding, ben loves you but sucks at it, reader wants to kick his ass, a lot goes on here lol

Word Count: 1.9k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry there’s another one of you?” Billy asks.

Ben grunts, furrowing his brows. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Frenchie and Kimiko share a look.

“Well- uh- there’s- there’s another supe that was… a part of your team?” Hughie adds with a calm and slow tone, as if he’s talking down a child throwing a tantrum.

“What do you mean? There wasn’t-” He pauses, thinking back to his time before the payback team was officially formed. “You’re lying.” He steps towards Hughie, causing Billy to stand before him.

“Watch yourself, mate.”

“Then his little fuck face mouth better start yapping.”

“Do you really not remember?” Hughie can’t help but ask.

“Does it look like I fucking know what you’re talking about?”

The non-supe jumps at his tone. “Okay, okay. Fair enough. Well,” he gulps, “before there was payback, you- you had a partner.”

“Oh shit,” Frenchie mutters. “The original woman.”

Hughie closes his eyes, slightly shaking his head at his buddy’s poor choice of words. “I wouldn’t use those words exactly but yes.” He turns back to Ben. “She was basically Wonder Woman before Wonder Woman but… cooler. She-”

“She didn’t play by anyone’s rules, much less Voughts.”

Hughie nods, “ex- exactly. You remember her don’t you?”

“Those little dick pricks.” He growls under his breath, taking another hit of his joint. “Fucking erased my memories.”

Billy brows rise to his forehead, “you mean to tell me those dickheads can erase our minds now?”

Ben huffs, “only those who can beat them. Where is she?”

“Uh- see that’s- that’s the thing. We- uh- we don’t know exactly.”

He narrows his eyes at the young man, knowing if he had laser vision, he’d use it.

“They put her away before you rose to fame, which is why her name isn’t familiar.”

-

He enters the bathroom and slams the door shut, causing the walls to shake, almost simulating an earthquake.

He stares into the mirror, reminiscing of a younger him, not that he’s aged but he’s battling an internal battle.

How could he have forgotten you?

Why did they take you away?

Why didn’t he realize it sooner?

He pulls his fist back and listens to the blood rushing through his hand as the glass shatters, falling into the sink, on the counter and to the floor.

He opens the door, pretending like nothing happened. “Alright, how do we find someone who’s been hidden?”

“I have an idea,” Annie adds.

“What’s the plan?” MM asks.

“And no explosions,” Billy adds, glaring at Ben.

“I’m not a fucking kid who needs to be told what to do.”

-

You moan in pain, the container gets colder.

Everything hurts.

You want to give up.

-

He slows down his pace, his body feels colder. He glances down, seeing nothing happening.

His expression hardens, he knows it’s you.

Those fuckers- he should have killed them when he had the chance.

He can tell by the way his heart hurts, it's you but the not remembering hurts him, but why does it hurt so much?

He can’t imagine the magnitude of your relationship having this much of an affect on him.

Fuck, why can't he remember?

-

You want to scream but it’s hard when the mask is snapped in place.

You hate them, hate Vought, hate what they made you.

-

He can’t help but ignore everyone’s wishes to quiet down as he kicks in the door.

His eyes scan around the room before stopping on your previous prison.

He turns, lowering his head; lips snarling at the sight of his precious girl in that damn ice box. “You fuckers have some unpaid debt, I’m here to collect.”

Kimiko pulls Hughie and Frenchie back, the heat already emanating off him before he could let it out.

The cries and plea’s to live and fear of dying do nothing, if anything it’s white noise.

-

More smoke enters your lungs, it’s harder to stay awake.

You don’t want to close your eyes but it’s been harder to hold your breath these last few months.

You don’t know how much longer you can hold on.

It’s like ice crystals are forming in your veins.

-

He lifts his shield and stares down at the bloody mess of what used to be a man- or a woman- he doesn’t care. He straightens himself and takes careful, rushed steps towards you.

He listens for your heartbeat, needing to know if this is all just some sick and twisted lie or if the woman he’s dreaming about is really here.

He leans over and finds your cold face.

The difference between you and him, he got hotter (in more ways than-) and you, you’re cold to the touch and he hasn’t even opened it yet.

“Baby,” he mumbles, the nickname foreign and so familiar on his tongue; it makes him sick to his stomach. He slips his fingers under the handle and lifts it, not caring if he breathes it in too.

“Holy-”

“We came all this way for a dead body?” Billy grunts.

“She’s not fucking dead.”

“Oh my god, they- they preserved her like-”

“The perfect doll they made her.” Ben takes a deep breath, not wanting to blow up… and potentially hurt you.

He can hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and knows you’re under; he doesn’t care how long, he breaks apart the container with his gloved hands.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He lifts your limp figure out and tosses it over his shoulder, keeping his shield in his grasp in case he needs to defend you. “Come on, pansies. Let’s get a fucking move on.”

“Are we really just gonna wait around and see if she wakes up? What if she’s like him but even more violent?” Annie asks.

“She wouldn’t,” Ben hisses. He thought it was interesting that a non-supe was fucking a supe but then realized two annoying people make his head pound.

“If you’re too scared to stick around and find out who she is, then get the fuck out of my face before I mess up yours.”

Hughie pulls her out of the room before she could say anything.

-

Ben turns back to your cold figure. “I don’t care how long it is until you wake up, I’m not leaving your side,” he mutters under his breath.

-

You didn’t realize how long it had been since you moved a muscle until now.

Air fills your lungs, seeming like you can breathe for the first time.

You open your eyes to find the room engulfed in darkness. Your eyes take in the room, stopping on the sleeping figure in the chair near the bed.

When were beds so comfortable?

You push yourself off and take a step towards him, almost collapsing at the sensation in your legs.

You close your eyes and take a moment to process everything.

Your eyes snapping to the left, where noise comes from on the other side of the door.

You glance down at Ben and back to the door, you move away from him.

The hinges squeak and you don’t care if he hears or not, the sound of people talking worsens your headache.

You stand in the hallway, covering your eyes at the lights above.

They stop and stare at you, jaws dropping.

The asian female next to the scruffy man, signs to him, asking what to do.

You sign back and ask her to tell the others to quiet down, all the noise hurts your head.

She owlishly blinks, unsure if she saw what she did.

Frenchie sits there stunned, happy his girl could have someone to communicate with but sad he can’t understand fully what it was you said.

You turn and almost bump into him.

He glances at you, wondering what’s going on inside your head and where you learned sign language. “Sweet-” He groans, staring at the broken dry wall particles floating through the air.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Billy groans.

You glance over at him over your shoulder, the light reflecting off your eyes, causing a flicker of bright light to emanate off them.

He furrows his brows at the sight, sharing a look with MM and Annie.

Ben pushes himself off the ground and glances at you, wondering where the hell this strength has been. He takes a deep breath, wondering what’s going on in your head. “What the hell was that?”

So much for mystery.

You glare at him. “Don’t fucking look at me like that,” you tell him with a raspy voice.

He’s stunned, you weren’t one to curse, even when someone pissed you off so much.

“What the fuck happened?” You aim for him, holding him up by the collar of his shirt. “What the fuck happened to me?”

He glances down at you, ignoring the stares he gets from the others. “I need you to let me down, baby so I can explain everything.”

Your blood boils at his voice.

The memories of the tape recorder playing as you entered that stupid fucking room.

The beginning of the end.

He furrows his brows at the sight of your red, glowing eyes.

Had he been a non supe, he'd probably shit himself thinking you were gonna blow his head off.

You tighten your grip on his neck and slam his head into the wall before letting him fall under your hand.

You walk away before anything can happen to them.

-

You enter the room you found yourself in and talk deep breaths.

You overcame this before and you can do it again.

Ben grunts as he follows you, wondering what the hell just happened. He enters the room and holds his head. He groans, rubbing the palm of his hands into his eyes.

He raises his head in time to see steam radiating off you.

He reaches for you only for his hand to fall at his side as you race to the bathroom.

The door slams shut.

He listens to you, the heavy breathing and the way your hands shake as you try to calm down. “Sweetheart?” He knocks once. “Let me in and I can explain everything.

“No,” you groan.

The shower turns on, you sit in the tub.

He opens the door, knowing you didn't lock the door.

His eyes fall on your figure and walks in, turning off the water.

“Flamer?” He whispers, smiling at your flaming body.

“Soldier?” You stare at him with a wounded expression.

He reaches for your cheek and you pull away.

He reaches for you again. “How could they keep you from me?”

You close your eyes and lean your head into his hand.

You're hot to the touch but he doesn't care especially as he watches the fire die down, his hand no longer engulfed by your tender flames.

-

After much talking, he got you out of the bathroom and comfortable on the bed as he explained it all, more or less dancing around the reason they pulled him out of his prison.

“Does anybody want to explain why the fuck there's ash in the bathroom?” Billy asks.

“I'll pay you back once we're done.”

The man with a plan rolls his eyes. 

[justsomewritingblog]

Misread

Request:  “I needdd more hufflepuff readers so can you do a draco malfoy x hufflepuff reader? it can be short or long i don’t really care” + “angst and maybe a tiny wincy bit of fluff also make the relationship one sided for the drama! 😈”

Requested By:  Anonymous

Pairing:  Draco x Hufflepuff!reader (one sided)

Summary:  Davidson has a huge crush on Malfoy, much to her best friend's confusion. An assignment is given and Draco chooses to be her partner, giving the Hufflepuff a sense of hope.

Warnings:  None?

A/N:  WoW, this took forever and is way longer than I anticipated. Not super satisfied with the title, but when am I ever?

Word Count: 3K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re staring again.”

I looked over at Olivia, a blush tinting my cheeks as I rolled my eyes.  “I am not.”

“Liar.”

I crossed my arms with a huff.  “Alright, fine; so what if I am?  Is staring illegal all of the sudden?”

Olivia took a sip of pumpkin juice.  “It might be.”

I deadpanned at her.

“I still have no idea what you see in that guy,” the dirty-blonde put her glass down on the table.

My gaze darted back to the blond.  “He has good qualities.”

“He’s an arrogant, self-centered, pureblood supremacist and a bully.  What’s to like?”

“He’s…” I paused.

Olivia raised an amused, but slightly judgemental eyebrow, placing her chin in her propped-up hand.

I glared at her.

“I’m listening.”  She didn’t lift her head from her hand.  “You were at ‘he’s’.”

“Thank you.”  I glanced back at the blond before returning my attention to my friend.  “He’s strong willed, confident-”

“Conceited.”

I barrelled on.  “-very passionate towards the things he cares about-”

Olivia snorted.  “Yeah.  Like picking on muggle-borns.”  She pointedly rolled her eyes.  “Super charming, Davidson.”

I huffed.  “And he’s gorgeous,” I gestured over at him.  “Look at those blue eyes.”

Olivia glanced over to the Slytherin table before looking back at me, holding her hand out in a shrugging motion.  “So?”

“So I think I’m justified.”  I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly from the table to give myself room to do so.

Olivia stared at me blankly for a few moments.  “You’re deluded, Davidson.”

My heart twinged.  I looked down at my plate briefly before looking back up at her.  “Well, at least I know you’re not competition.”

She let out a short laugh.  “You don’t have to worry about competition.  I think you’re the only non-Slytherin in this school that wants anything to do with that boy.”  She ran her finger along the rim of her glass.  “Unless you count giving him a piece of our minds.”

I frowned.  “Thanks for your support.”  Standing, I turned and walked out, ignoring the call of my name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My mood lifted slightly as I exited Potions, heading towards Herbology.

Professor Sprout was always so kind, and I enjoyed a break from the stone castle walls.

The naturally-lit greenhouse was a nice change of pace.

Sharing the class period with Slytherin probably had something to do with it, too.

Stepping into the greenhouse, my feet instinctively made their way towards my spot on the bench.  “Good afternoon, Professor,” I greeted with a smile, placing my bag down behind my seat.

Professor Sprout turned around, smiling once she saw me.  “Good afternoon, Davidson.”  She lowered her gaze to a book on the table before spinning back around, returning to whatever it was she had been doing.

Sliding onto the bench, I crossed one leg over the other, clasping my hands together and resting them on the table as I waited.

Students flowed in shortly, Hufflepuffs along my side of the table, Slytherins along the other.

A few minutes passed and Professor Sprout turned around to address the class.  “Hello, students!  Since you have to wait until your Chinese Chomping Cabbages grow, we’re going to do something in the meantime.”  She clasped her hands together, looking around the greenhouse.  “I’m going to have you divide into pairs, one member of each house in each duo, and you will need to write a paper.  I’m setting the due date for two weeks from today.”  Smiling excitedly, her gaze drifted across the students.  “Please write your essay on flesh-eating trees.”

Different sounds echoed in the greenhouse.

Some of excitement, some of mild interest, some of horror.

“I’ll allow you to choose partners instead of pairing you.”

A few moments of silence passed before the students jumped into action, realizing that the Professor was done speaking for the time being.

I lifted my head, gaze immediately searching for a platinum blond.

“Davidson, was it?”

Turning around, I locked eyes with Draco.  My heart skipped a beat and my stomach jumped.  “Yes?”

“Do you have a partner for this bloody assignment yet?”  He made a face, glancing up briefly at Professor Sprout.

“Not yet…”  I brought my hands up, picking at my nails.

He nodded, pursing his lips as he looked away.

Several beats passed.

I raised an eyebrow.

No response.

I cleared my throat.

Draco glanced at me.

“Did you want to be partners,” I asked, voice shaking slightly.

The blond looked back towards the front of the greenhouse.  “Sure.”

A large smile broke onto my face before I could stop it.  Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to speak, wiping the smile away.  “Okay, great.  How did you want to do this?”

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

I gestured.  “Do you want to research one kind of tree, and I can research another?  Or…maybe one of us can research the origins of the flesh-eating trees and the other can research their current behaviors.”  I placed a finger on my chin in thought.  “What’s our angle?”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Professor Sprout cut him off.

“If you all have partners, I’m giving the rest of class time to work on your essays.  Outside of that, and maybe another day or two at some point, depending on how the cabbages are doing, you’ll have to meet up and work on your papers in your own time.”

Draco slunk onto the bench next to me with an eye roll.

I looked down, busying myself with pulling out parchment and a quill.  “It could be worse…”

He let out a scoff.  “Barely.”

My mouth opened to ask what was so bad about the situation, but I thought better of it and pursed my lips.

Draco reluctantly reached into his bag, pulling out his Herbology textbook and searching the index before flipping to whatever page he wanted.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “What are you researching,” I asked in a whisper.

“Flesh-eating trees,” he replied shortly, with just a hint of bite to it.

“Sorry.”  I frowned.  My heart raced as another question entered my mind.  “Anything specific?”

“No.”

I pulled away slightly, taking in a shaky breath.  “Okay,” I muttered, unsure if he was able to hear me.

Whether he did or not, he didn’t respond.

I lowered my head, welcoming my hair falling in front of my face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I moved quickly to the library, determined to do well on this project.  Entering the room, I strode instantly to the ‘Herbology’ section, never breaking stride until I arrived.  My gaze raked across the book titles, my finger sliding along the bindings.

A burgundy book with ‘Carnivorous Plants’ written in gold calligraphy on the side sat between two green books.

I reached up, plucking it off the shelf and briefly scanned the remainder of the titles, looking for anything useful.  Grabbing another book about trees, I approached the counter, checking the books out, thanking the witch that told me they were due in two weeks.

Exiting the library and heading towards the Common Room, I made a mental note to go through the books as quickly as I could so that other students could use them for their papers.  Approaching the Common Room, I adjusted my grip on the books and tapped the correct barrel a few times.

The door opened and I strode in.

“Davidson.”

I looked to the left, seeing Olivia stand from her seat and walk towards me.  I hugged the books to my chest as she stopped in front of me.  I nodded curtly.  “Olivia.”

She sighed quietly, her gaze on the floor before she looked up at me.  “Look, I shouldn’t have said those things.  It…I…was wrong, and I’m sorry.  You’re a free person.  If you want to pursue Malfoy….I won’t stand in your way.”

I paused, searching her face for a moment.  I ran my tongue along my teeth.  “So you’re gonna help me ask him out?”

Olivia’s face fell even further.  “Don’t push it.”

A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth.  “Alright.”  I nodded.  “Thank you.”

A few beats of silence passed.

“He’s my partner for the essay for Herbology, ya know,” I said.

“Yeah, I saw.”

I eyed her.  “Who’s your partner?”

Her nose crinkled.  “Melvin.”

“Marvin Melvin?”

“Yeah.”

I grimaced, but a smile formed on my face anyway.  “That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it.”  She ran a hand along her face before groaning.  “I’m gonna have to do this entire paper by myself.”

“Well, at least you’ll know it was done well,” I offered with a shrug.

She nodded her head at me.  “How about you?  Malfoy helping?”

“He was taking notes this afternoon… I’ll try to ask him what our strategy is.”

Her eyebrows lifted.  “You don’t know?”

“He’s not the most communicative…”

She nodded.  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.

She pursed her lips.  “Sorry.”  Clearing her throat, she gestured at me.  “Well, you can always ask him tomorrow.”  Her eyes drifted to the clock sitting on the fireplace.  “Speaking of, we should probably get to bed.”

I nodded.  “Yeah.  Tomorrow, here we come.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking to the greenhouse the following afternoon, I kept my eyes peeled for Draco.

Opposed to me always arriving early to enjoy the sun a little more, the Slytherin never came until he needed to, and he was never alone.

I sat down in my usual seat, putting my books on the table.

“Good morning, Davidson,” the professor greeted.  “Or, afternoon, I should say.”

I smiled.  “Good afternoon, Professor.”

She snipped a tiny piece off a leaf.  “Have you started your paper yet?  I know I only assigned it yesterday, but I know you have a habit of getting things done early.”  Lifting her head to look at me, she cocked her head in interest.

“Draco and I were taking some notes yesterday during class time.”  I ran my finger along the planter in front of me.  “I want to talk to him more today about it.”

Professor Sprout hummed.  “Malfoy isn’t known for his work ethic.”  A large frown overtook her face as she placed her hands on the table in front of her.  “He always does what he’s supposed to, and it’s always on time, but I can’t help but feel like he doesn’t care.”  She picked up a bottle of something.  “He’d be doing better in the class if only he put more effort into it.”

My gaze stayed locked on my head of house for a few moments, seeing rather than watching her do something with the bottle.  Picking at my nail, I looked back to the planter, feeling a discomfort settling into my stomach.

The greenhouse door opened, most of the Hufflepuffs walking in.  The Slytherins weren’t far behind.

I looked up, eyes immediately locking on Draco’s form.

He glanced over at me briefly before turning back to the Slytherin he was talking to.

An anxious flutter dulled some of the discomfort I had been feeling.

Olivia sat next to me.  “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

I looked over at her, fighting desperately against my blush.  “Hey.”

Whether she noticed or not, she didn’t get to comment- Professor Sprout beginning to speak once everyone found their seats.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stood, collecting my books as class finished.

Olivia stood with me.  “Who knew Chomping Cabbages could be so cool?”

“I know, right,” I replied, though distracted as I looked for Draco.

Olivia began to move away from the table, heading towards our next class, continuing to talk.

I followed her but kept my eyes peeled.  Spotting the platinum blond also leaving, I figured this would be my best chance.  “Draco!”  I called, tapping Olivia so she knew I had a reason for bailing on her.  Walking towards Draco, Olivia in tow, I fought down my nerves.

He raised an eyebrow, looking me and Olivia over.

Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of him.

My gaze drifted to them before looking back at Malfoy.  “Is this a bad time?”

He hesitated.  “It’s about this essay, no doubt?”

I nodded.  “I-I was just wondering how you wanted to divide the work…” My eyes drifted to his friends before looking off to the side awkwardly.

He waved his hand dismissively.  “I’ll research, you can write the paper.”

I nodded.  “Alright, that’s fair-”

“What?”  Olivia’s face scrunched.  “That’s not fair at all!”

Draco’s expression shifted into one of challenge.  “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Corbyn.”

I reached a steadying hand out to my friend.  “Olivia, it’s alright.”  I looked over to Draco out of the corner of my eye.  “It’s fair.”

Draco smirked at Olivia.

She glared at him.

Draco nodded his head to the side.  “Come on, boys.  We don’t want to be late for our next class.”

“You’ve never cared about being late for class a day in your life, Malfoy!”  Olivia called after them as they strode away.

Once they were out of earshot, I turned my body to face my friend completely.

She looked over, her gaze scanning my expression.  “What?”  She gestured at their retreating forms.  “They’re jerks, and he is using you for a good grade!”  Placing her hands on her hips, she bent down a little to get closer to my height.  “And you know research and writing isn’t a fair divide.”

“It depends on what it is…”

She deadpanned at me.

“It does!”  I brushed some hair behind my ear.  “Researching isn’t too bad, as long as you can find the information, and writing isn’t too bad as long as you have all of the information there.”  I shrugged, gaze drifting to the side.  “So…”

Olivia ran a hand along her face.  “Alright, fine.  Whatever.”  She raised her hands in surrender.  “Do whatever you want.  I’ll just try to be glad he’s doing something.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought Malfoy was supposed to be doing the research.”

I looked up, seeing Olivia place a couple books down on the table, sitting across from me.  “Well, I figured I borrowed these books from the library; might as well use them.”  Putting a finger in the page I was on, I lifted the book, showing her the cover.  “Then I can give them back and let other students use them.”

The dirty-blonde hummed.

Silence filled the air in the Common Room as Olivia began flipping to a page in her book.

I picked up my quill, writing something else down.

“They’re grey.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking up at my friend.  “What?”

She didn’t look up from her book, writing something on a piece of parchment under the dim lamplight.  “His eyes.  You were on and on about how blue they were?  I got a closer look.  They’re grey.”

I blinked in surprise.  My mouth opened and closed a couple times before I ultimately decided I had no idea how to respond to that.

Olivia never even looked up.

Lowering my head, I tried to focus on my work.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lifting my head at the sound of the glass door, my eyebrows raised in surprise of their own accord.

Draco Malfoy walked into the greenhouse.

Early.

By himself.

“Mister Malfoy,” the professor greeted.  “Good afternoon.”

I could hear the confusion in her tone.

“Afternoon,” he replied shortly.

My eyes widened and my heart raced as I watched him walk over to me.

He placed a short stack of parchment on the table by my hands before he made his way to his seat.

I stared at him in bewilderment for a few moments before looking down at the stack, leafing through them.

They were notes on the flesh-eating trees, each one having exactly six items jotted down about them.

I picked up another page to look at.

Actually, this one had five.

Lifting my gaze to Draco, I opened my mouth but quickly shut it when the glass door opened again, the other students flooding in.  Tucking the papers into the pages of one of my Herbology books, I smiled at Olivia as she sat down beside me.

She eyed the papers briefly before smiling back.

“Good afternoon, students!”  Professor Sprout began to speak, and for the first time I had trouble paying attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on my bed, I leafed through the notes Draco gave me, one leg dangling off the side as I spread the sheets out around my space.  I pursed my lips, pulling out the handful of pages of notes that I had taken from the library books.  Pulling out some blank paper and my quill, I sighed as I began to write the paper.

Getting to the first body paragraph, I picked up one of Draco’s note cards.  My gaze raked over the words, reading the information again.  My eyes focused on Draco’s handwriting, noting how each letter was sized and shaped.

There were no ink splotches on the paper, and his handwriting was fairly neat.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I tapped the parchment against my other hand, pondering the care he seemed to take into creating the pages of notes.

Lowering my gaze back to the paper, I felt my stomach flip at an idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re going to what??”

“Shh!”  I leveled a look at Olivia.  “Everyone in Hogwarts will hear you.”

She scoffed, placing her fists on her hips.  “Well, everyone’s gonna find out, anyway.”

“Only if it works,” I countered.

“And only if he doesn’t tell everyone that you asked him out,” she countered back, raising an eyebrow.

Gut-wrenching panic gripped my heart.  I felt my blood run cold.  “You don’t think he would, do you?”

She shrugged, pursing her lips.  “I wouldn’t put it passed him.”

I picked furiously at my nail.  “Oh, gosh.”  My breathing picked up.  “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”

Olivia frowned, sighing.  She raised her hands in mock surrender.  “Look, I don’t know.  I don’t know him, so…” she pinched the bridge of her nose.  “I really can’t say.”  She gestured at me.  “He’s definitely been a little nicer to you than I expected, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

I frowned.  “What do you think I should do?”

Olvia huffed a laugh.  “I have….no idea.”  She tilted her head slightly.  “Really, the only one that can make this choice is you.”  She shrugged one shoulder.  “Just think about the repercussions if you do, as well as the ones if you don’t.”

Pursing my lips, I nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I’m going to try.”

Olivia lowered the book from her face and raised an eyebrow.  “Try what?”

“Asking Draco out.”

The dirty-blonde blinked a couple of times before she returned her attention to her book.  “Okay.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”  I picked at my nail.  “I was thinking maybe after Herbology?”

Olivia looked up at me out of the corner of her eye.  “Okay.”

“That’s usually the only time I see him, so…”

Olivia nodded.  “Okay.”

I huffed, dropping my hands to my sides.  “Will you say something besides ‘okay’, please?”

Olivia looked at me for a few moments before uncrossing her legs and pushing herself to be more upright in her chair.  She closed the book, keeping a finger in it to mark her spot.  “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything?”

Olivia chuckled, standing and walking over to me.  “Good luck.  You’re a special girl.  If he doesn’t know it, it’s his loss.”  She smiled softly.  “I hope it works out,” she said, turning around and moving back to her chair.

“You do?”

“Course.”  She sat down, opening her book and smirking up at me.  “He could use a good influence in his life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart raced as I walked to Herbology, my breathing quick and shallow.  I sat down in my seat, barely hearing Professor Sprout greet me.  Giving a distracted wave, I pulled out my books, staring at them once I set them on the table.

“Hey.”

Turning to my right, I watched Olivia sit beside me, briefly wondering how I hadn’t noticed her come in.

Or the other twenty students.

“Do you know what you’re gonna say?”

Ah.  That.

“Kinda,” I admitted, my eyebrows furrowing.  “Even if I had memorized a speech, I would have forgotten it, so.”

Olivia nodded.  “Fair.”

“I’m just going to try to be confident.  Guys like confident women, right?”

She deadpanned.  “Depends on the guy.”

“Alright students,” Professor Sprout turned to face everyone.  “Let’s begin.”

My gaze shifted to Draco before opening my textbook, trying to regain control of my heart’s rhythm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stood with the other students, beginning to pack up my bags.  Lifting my gaze to Draco, I watched him walk away from the table and head outside.  Letting out a gasp, I released my things, rushing out after him.  “Draco!”

The blond turned around, eyebrows furrowing as he watched me approach.  “Davidson?”

I came to a stop beside him, feeling my palms begin to sweat.  “Yeah.”  I hesitated for a few moments before forcing myself to speak.  “We did well on our essay…” I remarked quietly.

He raised an eyebrow.

Confidence, Davidson, confidence!

I cleared my throat.  “We make a pretty good team.”  My voice fell slightly.  “Don’t you agree?”

He shrugged one shoulder.  “I suppose.”  He eyed me, confusion all over his features.

I scuffed my foot against the dirt before forcing it to stop.  “I was wondering if you’d want to make it official?  Maybe…” I trailed off.  My brain function was leaving me.

“What?”

I blinked.  “What?”

“Are you trying to ask me out, Davidson?”

I blushed furiously.  “Well…”

He sneered slightly.  “I can’t be seen dating a Hufflepuff- I’d be a joke amongst my housemates, let alone my parents.”

I flinched back slightly.  “But…but you wanted to be my partner for the assignment-”

“I couldn’t be with a member of my own house and you’re always here when everyone else comes in, so you clearly like the class.”  He tilted his head.  “I was simply getting myself a partner I could trust.”

If he noticed the tears beginning to fill the brims of my eyes, he didn’t comment on them.

“But you helped.  You clearly put some effort into the notes you gave me.”

He shrugged again, rolling his shoulders back and standing taller.  “Well, I had to do something, didn’t I?  If I did nothing you might have told Professor Sprout that I didn’t participate in the assignment.”

A few tears fell from my eyes.  “Oh.”  I lowered my head, backing away a few paces before I turned around and walked as quickly as I could towards the back of the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olivia plopped my bookbag down next to me.

I looked up from my spot in the corner chair.

A few beats of silence passed.

Olivia sighed.  “I’m sorry, Davidson.  Malfoy……sucks.”

I pulled my knees closer to my chest.  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

She frowned down at me, tilting her head slightly.  “Do you want company?”

I shook my head.

The dirty-blonde nodded.  “Alright.  You deserve way better than him, anyway.”  She backed away a few steps.  “Don’t forget it.”  Turning around, she walked up the steps in the Common Room, heading to the dormitories.

I frowned, hugging my knees.  “That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: There it is, folks.

Tag List:

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 21

Prompt: Tentacles Pairing: roommate!Seonghwa x renter!reader   WC: 3k   Summary: So...that’s how he keeps everything so clean.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Seonghwa or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: unrealistic penetration, tentacle fucking, alien dick, “making it fit”, fem sex characteristics, overstimulation.

 The man was nice and the room was cheap. You know you’ve heard a horror story that began the same way but you can’t place which one or how it ended. He really didn’t seem all that strange except for one strange line in the sublease.  “Forewarn the roommate of any activity concentrated in shared living quarters between the hours of 1-5am.” You read aloud sitting across the coffee table from him.  “I’m extremely sensitive to light and sound, you see,” he leeds, apologetically hiding behind his bangs. “In exchange I take care of the cleaning of the shared areas. I think it’s fair, I like to keep things tidy anyway.” He laughs so non-chalantely it alarms you, staring into his big brown eyes.

 For the most part the arrangement was easy and the apartment was spotless. You didn’t see a need to be out in the shared areas any later than 10pm, slinking off to your room.  That night though, lying awake in bed scrolling, you broke the deal. You didn’t think much of it. It was a cough, you needed water. Surely you could get a glass of water at 2am. You really didn’t think much.  Door creaking open, the over-the-stove light in the kitchen shone like a beacon in the distance. It was a short throw from your door down the hall to the kitchen. You could see it. Nothing to disturb your roommate. Stepping lightly, you’re so focused on not making your own noise you don’t notice the soft rhythmic scratching of a melomane sponge against tile. Several sponges against tile.  Feet away from the arch you almost do a little dance out of glee as you think you’ve made it to safety. Instead as you round the corner you freeze. Seonghwa’s back is to you, pale and lean, with 4 thick purple tendrils stretching out to various surfaces. Two work in tandem on the stove, another scrubs the grout around the sink, and the last holds a small cup of tea out of the way.  You gasp.  Seonghwa wheels around to face you, both of you draining of color.  “Water.” You croak.  His eyes flash with anger. “It’s 2am.”  Your mouth moves but no words come out. Both of you stare at each other as the two tentacles working on the stove pause and reach for the glassware cabinet and fridge, pulling out the pitcher of water and filling a large glass. They flex and shimmer as they perform the task, but you’re unable to pull your eyes from his glare to look closer. Instinctively you reach for the glass as it passes in front of you, just out of your arms length. You want to let him know it’s okay. That really you saw nothing or would pretend if he wanted to pretend or if he wanted to talk you were equally as happy to do that. Instead he steps forward to claim the glass, appendages bobbing in place, almost as though they were watching the interaction with their own curiosity.

 Slowly he extends his arm to you, long dainty fingers wrapped around the offending glass which you snatch from him, nearly sloshing some of the precious water over the edge and onto the floor, or worse, his hand.  Shaking as you turn heel you hear him over your shoulder as you hurry back to your room.  “I hope it's as refreshing as you wished.”

 You can’t stop thinking about it, him, the tentacles. Strange and beautiful, like him. Millions of inappropriate questions invade your mind. Everything from the mundane to the horny. How did they work? Could he feel what they felt? Did he use them to jerk off? What do they feel like? Is it only the four? Can they change thickness? Screaming internally for the thoughts to stop you hold up in your room for the week, only dashing out quickly to grab cold leftovers and to use the bathroom. Anything to avoid him. To avoid his judgment. Avoid his wrath. The entire apartment is eerily quiet at all hours now. No jovial clink of utensils against the sink basin, no beeping of the electric kettle. Just silence.  Until there is a knock on your door. There the man himself stands, long strands of hair pulled up into a small ponytail at the crown of his head.  “You’re still here,” he states bluntly.  “I can leave,” you can’t look him in the face, instead opting to hang your head to the ground. “I don’t want to but if you- I-” your voice shakes. “I don’t mind them though. I would continue living here knowing. If you don’t mind me not minding.”  The slim man looks you up and down silently. Neither of you move from your spots.  “You can even leave them out when you want,” you hastily blurt under the burn of his gaze.  He shifts back on his heels, tilting his head in thought. Your eyes cast down, shoulders caving in on your chest, he can tell you’re not much of a threat to him.  “I just…need the room, I can’t afford to move right now-”  “If money is what’s keeping you here-” Seonghwa interrupts cooly, stiffening at the mention of finances.  “I like them,” you blurt hastily, embarrassment lighting your entire body on fire from your inside out. “They’re…interesting. I want to know more. I like you, you’ve never judged me. Fuck I like the neighborhood. And if it’s just the fucking uh…extra bits…that you’re afraid of me running around and blabbing to everyone about then you clearly don’t understand how few fucking friends I have.”  Heart skipping beats as you stand your ground, one hand on the door and one on the frame, bracing yourself in the arch, defending your small place of comfort. Slowly you see the forms of the tentacles weaving under his shirt, tips of two emerging alongside his arms and seemingly shaking themselves fuller.  Seonghwa nods, “okay, if that’s your choice.” He turns shrugging and walks back down the hall to the kitchen, “sad about the friends though. You should get a hobby.”  You nearly collapse at the door from relief. Barely able to contain your glee as you close the door quietly.

 Seonghwa does start to use his tentacles more freely around you for increasingly more mundane tasks. At first continuing to use them during his cleaning sessions only but cleaning now when you were around.  As he grew more confident, so did his physical comfort with you did too. Or, the tentacles comfort with you was maybe the right way to put it. Slowly you’d seen him start to spread out, leaving the semi-translucent appendages lolling about while he relaxed. You still hadn’t asked if they acted on their own or under his direction or a little of both. The more you observed the clearer it was that occasionally they’d simply take care of things for him, grabbing a glass of water while he cooked, fixing his hair away from his face, itching spots for him while he sat. Partially acting like a cats tail, tensing during action sequences in games and movies.  Oddly although he seemed to show no additional interest in you, they did. Slowly but surely creeping farther into your personal boundary. Not that you were innocently waiting for them. You too had started taking up more space, no longer hiding like a mouse in a hole. Instead lounging around the common areas more now, with less secrets to hide, letting your limbs slowly but surely make their way past the middle boundaries into sharing the space with his.  Until you finally touch.  Your foot twitches just so, big toe brushing against a lax tentacle laying to the side of your leg, tip almost reaching to your kneecap but careful not to touch.  Both of your heads jump from your phones to stare at the other as your limbs retract in a hurry, ironically answering one of your burning questions. He can totally feel through them.  “Sorry-” you both start to apologize to the other, Seonghwa reaching out his hands to you, eyes wide.  “I didn’t mean to invade-” Seonghwa tries to bully his way into apologizing first but you continue undaunted.

 “-my legs are just so tired-”  “-it’s just been so nice to spread out-”  “-I liked it, I just-”  Seonghwa pauses, brows raised. Finally ready to listen to you.  Taking a deep breath your fingers run nervously over your thighs. “I hope this isn’t overstepping and I swear it wasn’t on purpose. I worked out really hard and my legs are just still so sore and they just twitch sometimes. I just didn’t want to…offend you?”  He looks at you puzzled. “Offend?”  “Can I…touch…one?” You can barely look at him as heat creeps the side of your face.  Slowly a tendril bobs its way into your peripheral vision, it looks almost inquisitive as the tip points at you. Tilting your head towards it, you reach out the back of your hand like you would to an animal that was easily startled. Ever so cautiously you glance the back of your first finger over it. It’s softer than you’d imagined and not nearly as sticky. You try to hold back the slight gasp of shock.  “You okay?” Seonghwa tries to catch your eyes fruitlessly. “It takes a certain type of person to be both okay with and interested in this side of me.”  The admission that others had asked before, that others knew, you look up from your trance. “How many know?”

 “Enough,” he chuckles wryly, “probably too many.” Tentatively the appendage curls around your first finger as you pet it. “You’re doing well so far,” he clears his throat, “it’s nice to feel someone else for once, someone kind.”

 Once again a flood of questions burbles below the surface of your thoughts, tamped back by a dam of respectability. You purse your lips and unwind your finger from the tiny embrace to cup the thing in your hands. “It’s just so much softer than I thought. How can you grab things, it just seems like they’d slip-” your stream of thoughts bursts over the top, surfacing only the dumbest most inane questions in your roaster. “-how many are there? Can you make more or are there a set amount forever? Are they you or a part of you or like can they think for themselves-’

 The tendril turns and winds in your palm, flipping itself to the underside. Tiny suckers tucked neatly flush to the skin extend out, almost as an answer. Curling around the tip of your thumb one latches on for a half second, squeezing just enough to stop your babbling. Strong enough to make you gasp.

Seonghwa full belly laughs, his distant exterior cracking. “Do I need to make a powerpoint or would you like a demonstration?”

 “Demonstration,” you blurt. The tentacle in your palm twists itself around your thumb. It stretches to follow you as you level your hand in front of your eyes. It’s iridescent shimmer seemingly pulses through like blood being pushed through veins. The surface tenses and morphs, elongating to an elegant point, reaching towards your face. Cautiously it touches your lower lip, the smooth body has nearly imperceptible layer of film that clings behind. Seonghwa tries to hold back his expression, eyes rolling back with a small shudder.

 Pulling your lower lip into your mouth and between your teeth on instinct, a sweet flavor makes your taste buds drool. “Strawberry?” You search his face but he’s unreadable.

 “What else did you want to know?” His voice shakes.

 “How strong-”

 “How do you want me to show you?” The tentacle unwinds and waits. Bobbing quizzically along side him.

 “Strong enough to lift me?” You stand hesitantly and turn in front of him.

 Seonghwa chuckles softly. A second, heftier tentacle snakes from behind him, wrapping itself around your waist like a belt before fitting itself between your thighs. Your heart drops to your cunt as it throbs. “Brace yourself,” the man orders in a near whisper as he steps up closer to you. The appendage tightens and lifts you upwards, just enough so your toes leave the carpet. Your friend from before nuzzles its way into your hand to help stabilize your torso but your foot is already hooked around Seonghwa’s leg, pulling him closer.

 “You’re excited,” he barely breathes, tentacle wriggling against you. “I can-”

 “-do they help with that too?”

 His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard, nodding rapidly.

 Fingers slip below his shirt, bundles of shimmering tendrils seeming to materialize as you drag him free of it. Two of them slide along your sides to your chest, circling your breasts with their tiny suction cups kissing your skin creating sparkes of arousal with each motion. You barely notice as you’re lowered to the mattress, legs held aloft in two more of them.

 “We’ll go slow,” Seonghwa gulps, hands running over the winding trail of thigh and tentacle which glow light pink in response. His presence radiates quiet strength, you trust him. Head lolling back you close your eyes to simply feel him.

 You look so peaceful as your chest rises and falls, decorated by his soft pink pulsing swirls. Mouth watering, he crawls face first between your legs, his tongue is long and strong enough he thinks. At least to start. Thumbs spreading your slit he sighs, head spinning with the full force of your pheromones. Seonghwa dives hungrily into you, licking ferociously.

 The tentacles hold firmly against your sudden pleased writhing, allowing some movement but miraculously keeping your legs aloft and Seonghwa’s head uncrushed. The helpers on your chest nudge your pebbled nipples lightly, illciting a pleased moan of encouragement. Tiny suckers latch to the sensitive skin surrounding them. Swirling and sucking and moving independently yet somehow as one. It’s hard to tell if the strong muscle fucking into your hole is his tongue or yet another tentacle, if the pressure on your clit is his lips or a sucker. Not that it would really impact your enjoyment of the experience.

 “You’re just as delicious as you smell,” Seonghwa practically purrs as his hands wander your stomach. “Even more resilient than you look.”

 “Wanna-taste-you-” you pant. “Issnot fair.”

 A tentacle slides, warm, up your stomach, between your breasts, and stops hovering near your lips. “Didn’t get enough before?” Seonghwa chuckles darkly. He looks less like the shy, dodgy roommate you’d known, more animalistic. “Funny little greedy thing. You aren’t afraid? You know nothing of me. You think you can take me.”

 “I want to take you.”

 Your resolute whisper sends a shiver through every one of his appendages. Deadly serious. So he lets you, the tentacle moves closer, brushing over your soft lips, waiting for your next move. Your tongue flicks over the tip without any hesitation, pulling more of it into your warm mouth. The tentacle doesn’t so much as thrust but swell and taper, simulating the tension of the movement without the friction. It tastes like the most perfectly sun ripened strawberry, no overwhelming lingering tartness or disappointing watery afternote, pure sweet sun.

 Seonghwa doesn’t wait longer, his own senses fizzing and popping with each eager slurp. His eyes lock on your slick cunt as the blunt tip of his breeding tentacle presses against the entrance. Knobbly and stiffer than the others, a flicker of fear passes through your body. He watches as your lips part for him, stretching around to accommodate the thickness. Your stomach tenses and hollows as the dull ache hits you.

 “Just a bit more, I’ll make it fit,” Seonghwa barely manages to murmur, thumb passing over your clit and rubbing soft circles around it. “I don’t think this one can get your kind…” he trails off sounding almost a little disappointed.

 Your entire body is positively vibrating as more eases into you until you swear you can feel him in your stomach no matter how physically impossible it might be. Slowly you feel him move in and out, the knobs making themselves known to your tender walls. He’s so careful not to go too fast, to savor every drag. Seonghwa barely blinks as he watches you coat the tentacle in orgasm after orgasm, a ring of release forming. He doesn’t even mind the mess being made of his carpet. Your eyelids flutter open and shut, your full weight collapsing as your strength wains, lazily suckling the tendril between your lips.

 “One more, you can do one more, right? My good pet. You can.” His faith in the human form is unwavering, feeding off your relentless clenching around him. Palm pressing to your abdomend, to the spot where you swear he’s nearly bursting through, the simple caress melts whats left of your sanity. Carefully he slides his human cock in alongside the massive appendage, a soft whine vibrates your lips on him. The rhythm he sets is brutal, thrusting in and out opposite of the other. The soft silky warmth of your walls contracts around them weakly. Chasing his high, he lets the appendages have their way, a little harsher than he would’ve normally had them. The suckers leave small red spots in their wake, sure to bruise tomorrow. The tendril in your mouth thrusts deeper, popping past the ring of muscle in your throat and forcing you to gag. Spit bubbles around your lips as you gasp and wriggle, your body fighting exhaustion and overwhelming pleasure.

 Seonghwa’s hands hold your hips firmly as his hips stutter, releasing deep into your cunt with an almost pained high caught whine. His tendrils still and contract back, seizing and twitching. Sparkling with each jolt. His fingers trace over your worn hole, sensitive and puffy.

 “You humans are something.”

Idk if you can tell but I had a grander vision for this one and it burned me out severely because I couldn’t get the images in my head onto paper and it KEEELLLLS me. Anyway i’m sorry this one kinda sucks, it hurts because tentacles are my FAVORITE trope.

[madaqueue]

sugar and sea glass

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff (and a very brief whisper of angst). language, pet names (sugar, baby). 18+, MDNI.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this is my contribution for @storiesoflilies summer event ! inspired by the song "sweet / i thought you wanted to dance" x tyler, the creator

Hot wind rushes through your hair, each breath filling your lungs with sticky air. The sun glares overhead, music blaring through the crackling speakers of your car. Even the flowers along the side of the road wilt under the heat of summer, starved and sweltering.

Zipping through the empty streets, the trees cast a welcome shade as you make your way home, before a sudden obstacle appears along your path: a man walking along the side of the road, thumb held out. As you move to swerve around him, white hair catches your attention, the screeching of car brakes splintering the thick silence as you pull off to meet him.

“Gojo?!”

Turning to you, bright blue eyes catch yours through the dark shade of his sunglasses, a smile spreading across his face in recognition. “No way,” he smirks.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Walking towards your car, he leans his arms through the open window, elbows spilling into the interior. “Would you believe me if I told you my rental car ran out of gas?”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, did you fill it?”

His smile widens, perfectly white teeth catching the light. “No, but in my defense I thought the ‘empty’ light was more of a suggestion.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable.” A dramatic pout forms across his lips as he stares at you, tilting his head. “Get in,” you scoff.

He practically beams back the summer sun as he tugs open the car door, slamming it shut as he settles into the warm leather seat. “Thank youuuu,” he hums, batting his eyelashes appreciatively.

Even after all these years, it feels like no time has passed, easily falling back into the same banter, the same butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you. He looks shockingly similar to when you last saw him, the same boyish charm, the same cocky arrogance. Yet, it always worked for him, his dimples making you weak in the knees, unable to deny the way he made your cheeks flush and body run hot. There was always this silent back and forth, one neither of you dared to address, simmering just under the surface. When you parted ways after graduation you thought that was it, maybe he just wasn’t that interested in you after all, maybe your feelings were simply a result of your shared proximity.

Now, with the heat radiating off his bare arms, a faint floral scent lingering on his skin, it seems he’s pulled you back under his spell once again.

“You never answered my question, you know,” you pause coyly. “What are you doing here, in this city?”

“Oh!” He tosses his hands up - always a visual talker, always captivating in the way he moves. “I was here for a shoot - we finished up yesterday, but I really wanted to see the beach, so I extended my trip by a day. But obviously the fates decided I didn’t deserve it, maybe someone out there really hates me or something,” he laughs.

“A shoot?” you ask, confusing brimming.

Mischief twinkles behind his gaze. “I’m sure you can tell by looking at me, but I’m kind of a big deal now. I’m actually the main model for this new fragrance coming out, so we had to get some videos of me for advertising.”

A groan vibrates against your throat as you involuntarily roll your eyes. “There is absolutely no way you’re a model.”

“What?! You don’t think I’m pretty enough?” Leaning towards you, the cool scent of his cologne hits your nose as he sticks out his bottom lip.

Smacking his chest, you put the car back into drive, averting your gaze before you can react to his sudden closeness. “You’re plenty pretty, Gojo, but I just didn’t think you’d be pretentious enough to make a career out of it.”

Before he can respond to the backhanded compliment, your foot presses against the gas, accelerating your car down the barren roads.

Placing his elbow against the door, he rests his head in his open palm. “Am I pretty enough to kidnap?” he teases. “I’m not complaining, but where are you taking me, exactly?”

“To the beach, idiot. That’s what you came all this way for, isn’t it?”

A wide grin spreads across his features. “Even after all this time, you’re still too good to me, sugar.”

Briefly turning your head, you shoot him a glare. The nickname brings up too many memories, too many late nights spent with your limbs intertwined, too many lingering touches, too many brushes of your lips against his, too many please’s and I need you’s. Too many almost’s.

“Why do you always call me that?”

Turning to you, he placed a quick peck to your cheek. “Obviously because you’re so sweet, sugar. C’mon, I thought you were smarter than that,” he smirked.

“And here I thought it was just because you have the diet of a toddler and wanted an excuse to think about when you’re getting your next piece of candy,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

A toothy grin spread across his lips. “You know I’m not thinking of anything but you when we’re together, sugar.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your voice comes out icier than you intended, cutting through the warm air.

“Aww, don’t be like that, baby,” he whines, tossing his head towards you, his pale hair threatening to cloud your vision before you shove him off.

“Okay, ‘baby’ is definitely worse,” you complain, unable to hide the slight chuckle coming out concurrently. “You look ridiculous, by the way,” you tease, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.

An annoyingly thin linen shirt clings to his body, the top few buttons undone revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. Light blue shorts adorn his lower half, his muscled thighs peeking out from the tauntingly short cloth.

Crossing his arms, he obscures your view, forcing your gaze back to the road. “Well, my personal stylist thinks I look quite handsome in this outfit,” he huffs.

A giggle erupts from your throat at his theatrics, the absurdity of seeing him like this - he’s still the same Satoru you knew. Maybe some things really don’t change.

Leaning back, he stretches his arms behind his head, biceps flexing through the nearly transparent material of his top. Even though his personality may be the same, his body certainly isn’t, having filled out beautifully since you last saw him. “Is it always this hot in here?” he sighs, fanning his hand against his face.

“Are you always this whiney?” you taunt, rolling the windows down further. “The air conditioning is broken, so unless you’re throwing the cash at me to get it fixed, you’ll take what you can get.”

Wind blows through his fluffy locks as he melts further into the seat, running his fingers through his hair to reveal the slightly sweat-slicked skin of his forehead. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”

“And need I remind you, you were literally begging by the side of the road a few minutes ago until I picked you up.”

Smirking, he catches your lingering gaze from his periphery. “You’re my savior, sugar.”

Another groan echoes through the car as you navigate through backroads, cranking up the music and letting the warm summer air fill the space between you.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Aqua waves lap at the sand, small pebbles shifting beneath your feet as you make your way along the beach. Satoru immediately finds himself preoccupied, head turned downward as he scans the ocean floor. Reaching into the water, he pulls out a small blue orb, its edges cloudy and dull, proudly holding it out to you.

“Look! It matches my eyes!”

Stepping closer to him, your fingers gingerly wrap around his wrist, bringing his hand with the object in it closer to his face. “Hmm…it’s close, but not quite,” you observe softly. Turning your attention to the sand beneath you, you pull out another piece of sea glass, a slightly more vibrant hue. “See, now this matches your eyes.”

Gently setting it into his palm, you swear you see his cheeks blush, quickly brushing it off as a consequence of the summer sun. When his hand lingers on yours, slightly damp from the cool sea, your heart flutters in your chest.

The same damn Satoru.

Continuing your path down the shore, he makes a point to stop occasionally, collecting wedges of sea glass before shoving them into his pocket.

“Wait!” he suddenly exclaims, splashing slightly deeper into the water, now up to his bare calves. Rummaging in the sand, he finally tugs out another piece, holding it up to the sky and inspecting it. A proud grunt leaves his lips as he marches towards you, his fingers softly prying your hand open to place it in your palm. “For you,” he grins.

Glancing down, your mind processes the gift: the opaque shard perfectly matches your irises, nearly glowing against the skin of your hand. “Satoru…” you trail off, warmth flooding your face and up to your ears, burning hot.

His own heart flutters hearing you use his first name, a familiarity he had not often been afforded since you parted, one he didn’t fully appreciate how much he missed. Not only simply hearing his name, but hearing you say it - even in your bashful annoyance, the lilt of the vowels along the air makes him feel light, carried away in the soundwaves.

When his fingers hold yours a moment too long, you find yourself frozen, unable to move despite the gentleness of his grasp. Waves gently brush against your ankles, cool against the humid, stale air, a static crackling in the space between you. As his eyes meet yours, lightning shoots through your body, grounded only in the muddy sand beneath you.

“I missed you a lot, you know,” he murmurs, his voice soft, bare. Gone is the teasing sarcasm, the honeyed compliments, leaving only the raw truth behind.

Unable to hold his gaze, you turn your focus to the bubbling water beneath you. “I, um, I missed you too.”

Fingers grace your chin, tilting your head up. Finally forced to look at him, a new determination lies behind his movements, his jaw tensed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I’m sorry for leaving things how I did.”

Memories come flooding back - the empty bed, the handwritten note, the unread messages. Sighing, you desperately attempt to hide the tremor in your voice. “It’s fine, Gojo.”

Something flashes across his face, a momentary sorrow? guilt? before he continues. “It’s not fine. I should have called, I should have given you some form of closure.”

“I got closure in the years since then, after you didn’t even bother to text me. I don’t need anything else now.” Your tone is firm, steady.

Yet, the softness of his skin as his thumb lazily traces along your palm threatens to collapse the walls you’ve painstakingly built during his absence. “I know you don’t need anything else, but…” he trails off, stepping closer until you can feel the warmth radiating off his body, “what about what you want?”

You don’t miss the way your heart picks up, beating like the wings of a butterfly as it carries itself to the newest, brightest flower. When he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, your body reacts on its own, melting into him, the firmness of his chest pressing against yours. “And what do you know about what I want, hm?”

“Maybe less about what you want, and more what I do,” he smiles, attempting to cover his nervousness with smugness. Kneeling down, he holds the piece of sea glass in his hand, the ocean waves dampening the cloth of his shorts. Shock spreads across your face as you watch him take a proposal stance. “Sugar, will you please, please, forgive me?”

After the initial stun passes, a bright laugh erupts from your throat, tears welling in your eyes at the surplus of emotions surging through you, some mix of reluctance and relief. “You are insane, Satoru,” you giggle.

He just grins below you, allowing the waves to ripple against his skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Reaching out your arms you shove against his shoulders, sending him toppling into the shallow waters. His hands shoot up and grab you, tugging you down with him as you scream in surprise. Cold water covers your body as you both drag yourselves from the sea, sufficiently damp with your clothes hanging loosely off your bodies.

Walking back along the shore, sand crunching beneath you, he hesitantly intertwines his fingers in yours; when you fail to push him off, he squeezes your hand, a bright smile plastered on his face. Upon returning to the warmth of your car, he rests his head against your shoulder, his hair leaking small droplets of water onto your neck. With the windows rolled down, the summer breeze tickles your skin as he contentedly sighs.

“I think I’ll extend my trip a few more days, if that’s alright with you,” he muses.

Leaning your head against his, you chuckle, the sound light against the heavy humidity. Squeezing his hand, a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “I think I'd like that, sugar.”

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 6

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I don't think you guys realize how hard it is for me to write Hyunjin and Seungmin as rude and mean, I just love them so much. I promise it's not forever though. I'm going to start refiring to Felix as an omega as the pack does all see him as one. He is still completely a beta though.

Chapter 6

Y/n has been wandering around the house a little bit to have a better understanding as to where everything is while most of the pack is out or doing their own things. She avoids going into any of the bedrooms she knows about, not wanting to invade anyone's privacy even though all four alphas and Jisung and Felix told her she’s welcome in theirs anytime she wants.

She hadn’t realized exactly how big the house was originally until she started to explore. There’s an indoor and outdoor pool that is connected and just has a  small opening under glass that separates it. They have an at home gym, which is where Changbin and Chan currently are. There’s a game room with a pool table, foosball, video game set with several consoles and a large TV and a lot of seating. As well as a small wet bar that looks like has some alcohol and snacks. She really only had gotten to glance in there though since Hyunjin is currently painting in there and made sure he didn’t notice her. 

She saw their den just off of the living room and dining room, it having a large nest to be able to fit the whole pack. She already knows that it was Felix who had made it. And saw the other four guest bedrooms already knowing the fifth one as Hannah’s since she’s been getting clothes from the closet each day. She had planned to wander around outside and see how big the grounds are but there has been something about the second floor that has been bothering her.

She had noticed that there were ten bedrooms and five bathrooms. Minho had told her whose rooms were whose of the packs as well as who was sharing which bathrooms, she’s sharing a bathroom with Felix and Jisung gets his own since he’s too messy, no one wanted to share. But there’s that tenth bedroom that he had just walked past and didn’t say anything about, and she wants to know what’s in it.

She quietly goes down the hallway and reaches the bedroom at the end right next to Chan's room. She glances around to make sure she’s alone before opening the door. She walks in and sees a bare bed and there’s a few boxes around. No decorations on the wall or even a dresser or desk. And the closet is empty. She feels a little guilty for snooping but she can’t help but to look inside the boxes. 

There’s a bunch of pictures in one box, it’s all of the pack from when they were younger except there’s another guy in each one that she doesn’t recognize. She goes through each one smiling at how cute the pack was so young but she’s curious as to who the ninth person is and wonders where he is now. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” A voice scares her causing her to drop the pictures back in the box as she looks up to see an angry Seungmin. 

“I-I was just… w-wandering the house.” She tries to explain herself. “To-to get a feel for everything.”

“You’re a guest here, you don’t get to just go around snooping.” He growls and grabs her bruised wrist hard, causing her to whimper as he drags her out of the room. “Besides, this room is off limits.”

“No-no one told me that.” She holds back making any other sounds of pain. “I’m sorry.”

Seungmin pushes her down the hall a little causing her to stumble. “Know your place, omega.”

“Seungmin.” Chan growls, having witnessed what just happened, still sweaty from his workout with Changbin.

The beta just glares at his alpha, not caring about any consequences. “Don’t go reprimanding me, she was snooping when she shouldn’t be.” He motions to the now closed door.

“I’m so-sorry.” Y/n curls in on herself scared the alpha’s going to lash out at her. “I didn’t know the room was off limits. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay baby girl.” Chan reaches a hand out to place on her cheek causing her to flinch a little before leaning into his touch which breaks Chan's heart. “I’m not mad at you, you didn’t know, no one had told you that there were any off limits rooms. It’s okay.”

“Seriously?” Seungmin grunts throwing his arms up in the air and rolls his eyes causing Chan to glare at him.

“Go to your room, Seungmin.” The alpha growls and his eyes harden when the younger boy doesn’t move. “NOW.”

The omega jumps a little at Chan’s voice and cowers when Seungmin stomps past.

“I’m sorry if that scared you.” Chan rubs his thumb on her cheek. “And I’m sorry for Seungmin, did he hurt you?”

Y/n shake’s her head no not wanting the beta to get in anymore trouble for hurting her wrist more but Chan saw how hard he had a hold of her injured wrist.

“I’m sorry for snooping.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” He coos. “No one told you that we keep that room closed for a reason. And you’re just trying to get a better understanding of the house, right?”

“Yeah.” She nods before looking away from him. “Can I ask why that room is off limits? And… who is that guy in the pictures?”

Chan sighs. “That room used to belong to that guy in the pictures.” She notices how he clenches his jaw as though it's a hard subject to talk about. “Can I tell you more another time? It’s a complicated and delicate subject. And I need to deal with Seungmin.”

“Yeah.” She whispers and just after, the sound of the front door opening and Jisung yelling her name is heard. 

“Why don’t you go see what the pups have for you.” Chan smiles and hurries her along before he goes to the youngest beta’s room

Y/n walks down the stairs to see Jisung, Felix and Jeongin bringing in bags and bags of pillows, blankets, plushies, and two bags of clothes.

“What is all of this?” Her eyes widen in shock before she moves to inspect the contents.

“Nesting materials.” Jisung beams at her as he starts pulling out some soft fluffy blankets. 

“Some for the communal nest in the den. I want you to help me remake it.” Felix starts to explain. “And some of it is for the rest of the house to start getting all of our scents on it so you can use them for nesting, both in your room and for us when we need to update the den.”

“And I picked out some comfy clothes for this weekend.” Jeongin shows her the variety of sleep shorts and pajama pants, soft t-shirts, sweatshirts and crewnecks. “We plan to take you on a proper shopping spree later.”

“You guys didn’t have to do all of this.” The omega feels a wave of emotions overcome her as she tries to hold back happy tears.

“Yes we did.” Jisung pulls her to him, wrapping her in a big hug. “You needed some proper stuff, we just happened to go a little bit overboard with it.”

“A little bit?” Changbin laughs walking into the living room from the home gym as he wipes the sweat away with a towel around his neck. “It looks like you guys bought the whole store.”

“We weren’t sure exactly which materials she would prefer more, so we got several of each.” Felix pouts as if it was a logical thought to him.

“How thoughtful.” The alpha ruffles Felix’s hair, kissing his head before pulling both Jisung and Y/n to his chest as the beta was still hugging her.

“Eww, hyung, you stink.” Jisung tries to move them away. “Go take a shower.

“Only if you join me, baby.” Changbin smirks at how flustered the younger one gets.

“Binnie, not in front of the omegas.” Jisung wines before letting go of Y/n as he gets dragged away by the alpha. 

“Gross.” Jeongin scrunches up his nose at the two before turning to the two omega’s. “I’ll go ahead and get your new clothes washed so you can put them away in your room. Lix, where do you want all the nesting materials?”

“Leave them for now, whatever we don’t use in the den I’ll distribute between all of the rooms to get everyone's scent.” 

Jeongin nods before taking the bags of clothes to the laundry room as Felix drags Y/n into the den.

“Alright, let's strip this nest and rebuild it.” Felix starts before noticing the omega standing outside of it unsure. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never actually built a nest before.” She rings her fingers together. “I don’t know what to do or how it’s supposed to go.”

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here to help you.” He holds his hand out to her and brings her into the nest. “Your omega instincts are supposed to tell you how it wants it to feel like but I know yours are suppressed right now. So for now do it based on how you would want certain scents and textures where. Once the suppressants wear off and you're better we can redo it again with better instincts.”

Y/n nods and helps strip the nest before they get to work on rebuilding it. They use a mix of the old materials as they still have the packs scents on them as well as the new ones just bought as they both like how it feels. Once they were done they went around and distributed the rest of the blankets, pillows and plushies around the house. Felix took some to each of the members' rooms and Y/n placed some in the living room and the game room now the Hyunjin is no longer in there.

“I think we did good.” Felix beamed after they were both done and came back to the den. He grinned at the omega before tackling her into the nest, cuddling her. “Now I think it’s time for omega bonding.”

“You didn’t omega bond enough when you guys were making the nest?” Jeongin walks in with a basket of Y/n's new clean and folded clothes.”

“Not like this.” Felix pouts.

Jeongin smiles before motioning to the basket. “Where do you want me to put these, Y/nnie?”

“You can set them by the doorway, I’ll take them up to my room and put them away when Lixie lets go of me.” She smiles and wiggles against the other omega to make him laugh. “Thank you for washing them for me Innie, I could have done that later.”

“It’s no problem.” 

“Seriously?” Hyunjin walks in from the back door with some of his art supplies, stopping when he sees the two in the nest. “Now she’s contaminating our den?” Jeongin growls at the older member as the beta gets closer to the nest. “And did you guys let her remake the nest? There’s no way I’m doing anything in there now.”

“Jinnie, she needed to since she’s going to need to be in the den during her dry heat.” Felix sits up to reason with Hyunjin.

“Why?” He scoffs. “She can just stick it out in the room she’s staying in.”

“You stormed off when we were discussing everything about it so you don’t get to have a say on where she goes or how we go about this.” Jeongin crosses his arms trying to assert his dominance even though he's younger than the beta. 

“Whatever.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and walks away heading upstairs. 

Felix pouts, wishing both Hyunjin and Seungmin would come around to their omega, his scent souring a little which causes Y/n’s to also sour as she feels she’s the cause of all of this.

Jeongin crawls into the nest and pulls the two to him. “Come here.” He coos as he scents both of them trying to sooth them as much as possible before just cuddling them. “My omegas.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

When Minho got home from work and getting groceries he texted the other three alphas to help him bring everything in but only Chan and Chanbin came.

“Where’s Innie?” 

“I haven't seen him since he got home from shopping with Ji and Lix.” Changbin furrows his brows as he opens the trunk. 

“Y/n didn’t exactly know what she likes for food and drinks since her family limited her.” Minho explains as they start grabbing bags. “So I got different kinds of snacks and drinks and just some normal filling foods for meals for her dry heat to make sure she gets enough nutrients and then after I plan to just make meals as normal and we'll learn what she likes and doesn’t like.”

“God I’m hating her family more and more each day.” Changbin growls as they take all the bags inside. 

“I’m pretty sure all of us feel the same way.” Chan sighs as he sets bags on the kitchen counter.

“I also got her some heating pads to hopefully help soothe the cramps.” Minho pulled them out of a bag and was about to put them in the den when he noticed Seungmin and Hyunjin standing in the doorway of it with their arms crossed. 

All the alphas walk over to question what they’re doing when they realize Jeongin is cuddled up with Y/n, Felix and Jisung, who had joined after showering with Changbin, in the nest napping. This causes the three alphas to melt at the sight of it, especially when they hear both omegas purring. They don’t get to hear Felix purr very often.

Minho notices that Y/n’s bruised wrist seems to be worse than it was when he had put the bruising cream on it this morning and is a bit irritated causing him to frown and furor his eyebrows. He gets Chan’s attention and motions to his wrist before pointing to her. Chan realizes what he means and scowls at how worse her wrist looks before mouthing Seungmin’s name. Minho huffs and glares at the beta before angrily turning back to putting the groceries away. 

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Tag list: @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl @blindspot143 @sinfulfic @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55 @hwangrfrnd @pixie0627 @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound @galaxy4489

[aesthetic-bbyg]

LET THE LIGHT IN ~ Zoro

Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

IN WHICH the non-chalant pirate hunter cracked a smile for only you.

Nattie speaks: a Zoro fic was long overdue on my blog, I luv my brooding babe💋

ZORO WAS CONSTANTLY VIEWED as a quiet but moody man. He communicated through glares, punches, and the occasional words. It was known that the man hardly showed affection—no, he hardly showed any type of emotion at all. The straw hats knew that he was one to be left alone whenever a fight went wrong, or to leave as he napped in his hammock for the fifth time in one day.

To others, his muscly stature and three katanas glued to his side were enough of a warning to steer clear of the man’s path. It was fair to say that Zoro was intimidating, scary, even. His deep voice sent shivers down people’s spines, his eerie smirk when he was ready to cause mischief was terrifying, his incomprehensible strength was capable of killing people.

Zoro was dangerous, and it was known by all.

Yet there was a crack in his shell, right where his heart laid. He first met you in a village when he was on the search for pirate, the charming lady at the crystal stand, begging for passing pedestrians attention. He stopped, pretending to be interested in the many objects carved out of glass when he’d actually been attracted in by your looks. The beautiful puffy cheeks that had a natural red hue, the plump lips, soft eyes. You were beautiful to him. After hitting him with a few flirty comments, he’d finally told you the reason for his stop on the island. Luckily, you had all the details he needed to find the pirate and let him collect the couple million berries he was worth.

You offered him a date, disguising it as an innocent cup of tea, but the looks you two shared when you were alone spoke far louder then he’d ever dare to say. In exchange for ‘date’ you gave some information on the pirate he was searching for. In that moment you’d managed to slither your way through the crack in his chest and strike his heart, shooting a foreign feeling into his veins.

It was love.

The Roronoa Zoro had fallen for a crystal glass vender and her stupidly cute smile. He could hardly bring himself to leave you that night, spending the whole evening discussing far more then the pirate he was searching for. But he did, he slept that night with only you on his mind.

The next day, after he’d shoved the dismembered head of pirate into a sack, he went straight back to you, thanking you for the help and leaving a single kiss on the knuckles of you hand. You weren’t sure if you’d ever see him again as his ship sailed off into the horizon, but you knew that the love in your heart was enough to prove what once was.

The next time, Zoro didn’t have a reason to be there. No Pirate to hunt down, nothing. He only wanted to see you again, and he desperately hoped that you hadn’t found someone else to capture your heart.

You still stood in the same place as before, the time apart made you seem like you’d grown even more beautiful then the last time. Your hair was longer, he noted. But the smile you held as a little girl passed by, curiously looking at the shimmering glasses with wonder was familiar. He trudged up slowly, his heart beating straight out of his chest as he kept his eyes on only you, it was a strange sensation. He felt nerves bubbling up in stomach, a thin layer of sweat made his hands clammy and he hid kind with scrambled with the right thing to say.

“Do you know where I can buy flowers?” Zoro suddenly spoke up, making you shoot your head up from the little girl. A maroon shade had tinted your cheeks, mouth stuttering open as you gazed up at him.

“Uh..Mrs. Poppins can help you, right over there.” You pointed a shaky finger towards the stand just a few steps away, an old woman with a variety of flowers waiting to be bought.

“Thanks.” Zoro smirked, nodding as he walked off, not another word spoken.

“Is that your boyfriend?” The young girl asked innocently, round the staring up at you.

“No, no, he’s not my boyfriend.” You chuckled, staring over at where he was, exchanging some berry for a bouquet of tulips. You just watched in utter confusion, the man you couldn’t stop thinking about just casually dropped by to ask for some flowers?

Every since he left you’d been dreaming about marrying the man, but you just assumed he was a distant memory you’d hold on to forever. He’d remain your husband in just your own dreams, never to become reality. Zoro walked back, a his smirk now dripping into a nervous smile as he held out the bouquet.

“It’s nice to see you, do you have any more of that tea?” He asked so softly that if any outsider that knew Zoro would be absolutely flabbergasted at the sight of him being such gentle man. The fact that he was blushing, he was nervous, a love confession sitting at the tip of his tongue because you’d never left his mind since that one day.

You swallowed down heavily, shyly taking the flowers and probably blushing like a fool. You held a bashful smile, nodding in response as decided to close down your stand for the day.

“You sure he isn’t your boyfriend.” The girl whispered, super discrete, making you giggle and shake out head. You gently shooed her away, leaving the two of you alone while Zoro chuckled at her words.

That was only the first couple times he’d visited you, each time he’d open more and more. His cold exterior melted into a protective lover that kept you warm at night. You were very aware of his dangerous job and just how brutal it was, it definitely worked you but Zoro always brushed off your concerns. Each time he left to hunt down a pirate you’d constantly await, staring at the port whenever you walked past, it hoping you’d see a familiar boat.

As of recently, you’d been ripping your hair out with absolute worry. Zoro had promised that he’d be back home within a week, it was now approaching nearly three weeks. You were mortified, unable to know if he was dead or alive at the moment. You truly tried to rid your mind of the bad thoughts, you knew the sea was a complicated part of nature, it could throw any sudden hit that broke you down. Maybe that’s what happened, but despite tricking your own mind you still lived day in and day out with a anxious feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach.

Every night you cooked food that was just enough for two servings, making sure to be prepared in case he suddenly came home. You made sure his side of the bed was always made, yet every night it remained cold and empty. You’d dreaded waking up each morning without him there, and today wasn’t any different. You dragged yourself out of bed, got ready, made breakfast, ate as his empty chair glared at you from across the table, and went to sell some crystal glasses.

Your chants as pedestrian passed by echoed in the cluttered alleyway, people occasionally stopping, others giving you glared for your loudness. It was all part of the business, you served tea to those who’d spent the entire day wandering the hot streets. Or travelers that were curious, wondering how much of a difference a crystal glass made to a regular one.

“Pirates, incoming!” A bearded elder screeched, collecting a handful of working men to help dock the large boat. You didn’t even give it a second glance, you saw the Jolly Roger of a never seen before ship. They didn’t look to be threatening so you didn’t may it any mind. You would’ve been sprinting if it was a one of hose infamous crews that destroyed villages like the Buggy crew. Or, if you saw a familiar mess of green hair from ajar. But you saw neither, therefore it was best to continue serving the foreigner that had taken interested in a specific collection.

He eventually gave you some berry, placing the wrapped up pieces into his basket before he walked away. You sighed, leaning back against the chair and counting up how much you’d received. Some days were better then most, no glasses on the shelf, or you’d have all of them still waiting to be bought. Although, everyday you wiped them till they flowed in the sun and proudly showed them off.

You’d turned your to watch as the workers helped dock the ship at the small port, rushing around like madmen. It was a strange ship, it’s figurehead unlike any you’d seen before; a sheep. The Jolly Roger could hardly been taken serious, a very crooked skull with a hat atop of its head, nothing scream ‘not a threat’ more then that. It made you chuckle even more when a young boy in a straw hat skipped off, feet loudly clanking against the wood with a happy smile. He must’ve been the captain, his hat far too similar to the one on the flag to not be. He was

Followed by his crew, a unique set of people that you’d never even think to be on the same ship. A girl with fiery red hair, a boy with patched up overalls, a man in a slick suit, and finally a swordsman with a confident stride. You gasped, eyes focusing on the final man and his messy green locks. You bolted to your feet so quick that you’d nearly knocked over your precious crystals and shattered them on the cobblestone.

Zoro’s eyes scanned the village, a map of the whole place already embedded into his head as he searched for one woman. It wasn’t hard to find you, because you’d began sprinting for your life towards him which caught all of the crews attention. It was like miracle was suddenly born, a once in a lifetime moment seen, a one in a millón chnace of witnessing this.

Zoro smiled.

And not just a smug smirk he’d show off whenever Nami rejected Sanji’s compliments. Or when he’d defeated another enemy that had threatened the crew, nothing like that. His mouth completely widened, pearly teeth on display. His arms were wide open, inviting whoever you were into his warm embrace. You’d nearly tackled him, but Zoro was pure muscle and hardly even flinched as you tightly wrapped your arms around him, legs following but around his waist instead.

The same broody swordsmen they once knew was acting all sappy with whoever the hell you were. Your touch not even being questioned as it wandered from his neck to the tangled mess of his hair. It was truly a shocking sight to see, words unable to come out of the crew’s mouth.

“You had me worried sick.” You muttered into his neck, words muffled by the polyester shirt that smelt just like him. It filled your senses and relieved that pressure you had building in your stomach.

“I know, I’m so sorry, beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, leaving a light peck as your feet lowered from his waist to the floor. “But I always come back to you, don’t I?”

You smiled softly, hands resting against his chest as your neck craned up to look at his tall stature. “You do, and I thank the heavens everyday for that.” You glanced at the awkwardly silent crew behind him, “Who are they?”

“They, are the reason I’m so late.”

“We’re his crew!” A man in a strawhat happily said, waving enthusiastically as he bounced in the heels of his feet. “We’re on a mission to sail to the grand line so we can find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates!”

You stared in disbelief, a brow arched in confusion while the green-haired swordsman let out a loud sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM SO…” NAMI wasn’t sure how to pinpoint the word she was looking for as she watched Zoro casually chuckle and flirt with you in the kitchen. He new persona gave Sanji a run for his money, that glint of adoration in his eye far to familiar to the girl. “So…expressing?”

It was the best thing she could come up with. Never did she think that he’d be so loose and be smiling so much, especially towards a complete stranger he’d never even mentioned. There was years of built up love they’d never heard of from Zoro, and strangely, it was a lot to process. You’d been very kind and invited them into your home, allowing them to rest on the couch and use the running water for their needs while plating a few serves of your fresh soup. Nothing compared to the chef’s cuisines, but enough to soothe the hunger and give a comforting warmth that hopefully calmed any tense air.

After all, from what Zoro had told you, this crew was tightly knitted together due to all the strange adventured they’d gone through in the past month. Introducing yourself, an outsider, to them and immediately getting accept was unlikely. But it seemed as if one member was more then ready to accept, especially with the peace offering of food.

Luffy.

The young captain that lead them through their tough battles with a clown pirate, a man with an axe hand, a fast butler, and god knows what else Zoro told you about.

You nearly murdered him with your glare when he sheepishly told you about his battle against Mihawk. Huffing and rolling his eyes as you pushed past the fabric of his shirt and noticed the bandages wrapped around his torso.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re an idiot!” You hummed, walking past him to serve up the first plate to Luffy who’s eagerly ate more then half the fruits in the bowl adorned in center of your table. You gave him a smile as he thanked you, immediately gripping the spoon and shoving the hot meal in his mouth.

“You should join our crew!” Luffy muttered through a full mouth, “You’ll have the future King of the Pirates as your captain!”

“No, you should not.” Zoro immediately cut through, his tone stern and expression just as mean.

“That’s not a bad idea.” You shoot back quickly, walking towards the dish cabinet and opening it. “I always have to stay back, worrying for your safety as you sail for weeks.” You grunted as you attempted to reach for a bowl on the higher levels of the shelf. “Maybe being out at sea with you would be good for change.”

You suddenly felt the swordsmen’s warm presence clash against you back, toned arm easily reaching the said bowl. “I strongly disagree.” He placed a hand on your hip as you turned to send him a look.

That specific look where a message was sent in utter silence. By the furrow of your brow, the slight pout in your lower lip, the squint of your eyes, Zoro understood what you were trying to say. “I strongly agree.” You brushed passed him, filling up the bowl with your steaming soup, “but,” you set it down in front of the boy with the dark brown locks, Usopp. “We’ll discuss this later.” You whispered towards the green haired man, lightly patting his chest as you pointed up to the shelf.

After the dinner, you tidied up your shared bedroom, readying any blankets and pillows needed to make the crew comfortable for the night. The strawhats busied themselves with the kitchen, refusing to let you lift a hand after the delicious meal. Zoro walked in not to long after, recognizing his foot steps. Even without his boots his feet still dragged along the floor harshly.

“It is later.” He simply said as you rolled your eyes, folding up a fluffy, knitted blanket as he approached the bed. “I don’t think you should come along, it dangerous.”

“Do you want me to introduce you to my husband who’s capable of holding three swords at once, and even without them he can still kill someone in cold blood with his stare?” You looked up at him with a raised brow, “Because I feel like you two would get along just nicely.”

It was now his turn to roll his eyes, “I won’t always be there, y’know, I could be distracted with someone else and you could get taken from me.”

“Then I’ll learn to fight, besides, I already know a few moves just from watching your intense training lessons every morning.” You carried the load of blankets as you nodded towards the pillows, “Mind taking that, sweetheart?”

He immediately followed after you with the stack of pillows, “It’s not that simple.”

“It really is, you’re just making it harder then it has to be.” You reply over your shoulder as you set the blankets down, Zoro following just after. “Home knitted blankets for all, I have an open space in our guest bed room and on the couch!”

“Thank you.” Sanji gave you an appreciative nod, cupping your hands gently as he spoke. “You’re help has meant a lot.”

You took his physical gesture as a simple act of kindness, returning the smile he gave you before Zoro stepped in with an outstretched hand.

“Watch it, waiter.”

“I was only being nice, moss head.”

“This is my house you’re in—“

“Our house.” You separated the two before the blonde could spit out an insult, lightly pushing Zoro away and back into the bedroom. “Calm down, okay?” This action was just another thing to add to the list of strange occurrences. Nami and Usopp shared a mixture of shock and confusion. The you literally bossed around Zoro without an ounce of fear was…crazy. The swordsman, despite being very dedicated to the crew, was more of a independent man who made his own rules. He wasn’t one to listen, especially when someone tries to force him to do so.

But your light push and soft words immediately had him backing of, albeit a bit annoyed, but still complying. You sighed softly and turned back to the crew, smiling kindly. “I hope you all sleep well, if you need anything at all ask me.” You glanced behind you, making sure your husband was occupied with something else as you lowered you’re voice. “Don’t try to ask that idiot anything, trust me, he doesn’t know a thing.”

A mix of quiet chuckled and laughs were shared between the strawhats until Zoro appeared behind you with furrowed brows. “Did you say something?”

You shook your head innocently, placing your hands on his chest and making him walk backwards towards the bed. “Nope, just wishing them a good night.” You shut the door with one last wave to the crew before turning back.

He grumbled in response, rummaging through a small drawer for some sweatpants. You undressed and slipped on a short nightgown, a new one you’d bought not too long ago. You weren’t aware how a simple piece of pink Cotten had Zoro utterly entranced. His eyes burned a hole into your back as you smoothed out any wrinkles.

“Is that new?” He mumbled casually, climbing under the cold covers. “It looks good on you.”

You smiled bashfully, gaze lowering shyly while you played with your fingers. “Ya like it?” He hummed in responds, crawling across the bed to reach you and pull you by the waist. You giggled softly, collapsing onto the mattress, trapped in by his arms.

It’d been so long since you laid in bed and actually appreciated its coziness, how the blankets trapped in a perfect amount of warmth. You’d gotten so lost in the nights silence, but with the company of your husbands soft breathing and occasional peck to the neck you’d sunken back into a comfortable state. You no longer felt that aching loneliness, now you had him to keep you warm, it made you think back to the previous discussion.

Nothing was ever really discussed after Sanji got involved, no offical answer was ever thrown out. Though you knew that the aching loss of your lover wasn’t anything you ever wanted to experience again. It would be different now that he’s on a offical crew, a crew that was in a mission to a very dangerous place. And based on their current experiences so far he’d most likely be gone for far more then just a month or two. Whether Zoro wanted to accept it or not, the sea was just as much as a threat to him as to you.

You had to be with them when they left to continue their journey, even if you had to sneak on.

“WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT YOU NEEDED a shower last night this wasn’t exactly what I was referring to.” You mutter, smothering a handful of body soap onto your shoulder and arms. Zoro had decided that he’d join you for the lovely warm shower you were having that morning. Causally ripping open the curtain and stepping in like he payed the bills.

His sly hands came up to assist you in rubbing the soap, dragging in a painfully slow pace along your skin. His his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he spoke, “At least I’m doing it.” He mumbled, large hands cupping your tits which lured out a gasp. You melted under the warm water, unsure if the trickling of it was the cause for your the burning sensation pricking your skin. Or maybe it was his teasing touch, his light pecks against your neck, pinches to your sensitive nipples. You threw your head against his shoulder with closed eyes. “Can’t I just spend some time with you?”

“After these past months you can spend as much time with me as you want.” You could practically feel the smirk of his lips, he lowered his head to capture your lips, indulging in that fact that he could officially make out with you.

Three harsh slams to the drawer caught your attention, snapping your gaze to the side in confusion. “Luffy, please hurry, it’s my turn.” Nami shouted before her footsteps retreated away. You huffed, bending down for the shampoo bottle. This gave Zoro the opportunity to grip your hips, reminiscing on the nights he had you in the same position. Only the constant patter of the falling water was replaced with the slap of sweaty skin on skin. You shot him a smile over your shoulder, standing straight as you raised a brow.

“You heard her.” You teased, running your fingers through his wet hair while he rolled his eyes in response. “C’mon, the sooner we’re outta’ here the sooner we can have the bedroom to ourselves.”

With that he grumbled, leaning down a bit to let squeeze a blob of shampoo into his green hair. Despite his obvious hard cock, he’d hold back on any touches because of the utter relaxation that was your fingers scratching his scalp as you lathered the bubbly liquid. How smoothly you rang your hands through his tangled locks, giving him that innocent smile whenever he lets out a quiet moan. It’s like you knew the affect your touch had in him, which you probably did but chose to be a teasing shit about it.

His tender muscles were beginning to soften, he constant state of being on guard collapsing with each motion of your hand. You finally let the water rinse everything out after a while, continuing to detangle. His hair wasn’t too long, so it was a simple task that took less then ten minutes. He grumbled as your touch disappeared, going on to shampoo and condition your own hair.

There was a comfortable silence after, the both of you showered like it was any other, occasionally kissing whenever wanted. The only issue was that it took far longer then expected. By the time you twisted the knob and shut off the after Nami had returned to the door, now being even more agitated with her knocks.

“Luffy, seriously, I need to go!” She shouted, waiting a few seconds before groaning. “What the hell are you even doing that’s taking so long.” Another beat of silence. “Luffy!”

“Yeah?” The curly haired boy walked out the guest bedroom with a confused look, wondering why she’d been shouting his name in such a angered tone.

Nami face dropped, bries furrowing as she turned to the wooden door like it was doing to speak to her. “If you’re not in there, then who—“

Zoro swung the door open, toweled wrapped around his waist while water dripped from his bare torso to the floor. His eyes glared at the girl, brushing past her casually as you sheepishly followed after. Her eyes widened, mouth dropped open and words stuck in her throat, unable to say anything.

“Wha—were they..oh my god.” She stuttered confusingly, mind attempting to process what she’d just stumbled upon.

“Were they showering together?” Luffy asked curiously, “That’s really smart, it helps save on water.” He smiled widely, patting her shoulder before walking off into the kitchen.

“Gross.” The Orange-haired girl muttered, sighing as she finally walked into the bathroom and rethought her whole point of view on the swordsman.

That same day, the crew had begun packing all their things. Readying the ship with fresh supplies, food, and a potential new member. You’d already had a large bag prepared, determined on boarding the Merry whether Zoro liked it or not. Clearly, he didn’t, because he was throwing out every excuse to make you now walk any further out the house.

“What if someone breaks in while you’re not here, huh, all of our stuff and memories could be taken.” Zoro crossed his muscly arms, blocking the front door of the home.

“Zoro, this is a nice town, nobody is gonna steal from me, and they already know who my husband is, to even think about stealing from here foolish.” You once again attempted to walk further but were met with a solid chest, you hugged out a groan.

“Okay, but they clearly see me leaving so that would leave ab opportunity open—“

“Zoro.” You warned, “Stop.” The man let out a sigh, shutting his mouth and rolling his eyes. “I don’t care what you have to say, I’m going with you. I swear if I have to live another day waiting on an empty bed for you, not knowing if it’ll remain vacant forever or if you’ll come back, I will die.”

“I’ll write letters or something.” He countered, much softer now that he heard your sentimental reasoning. If he was being honest with himself, having you with him on the journey to the Grand Line would be amazing. Much more comfortable sleeping with you in his hammock then alone, but he refused to ever out you in a situation where danger could come any moment.

“Zoro, my love, please.” You whispered, staring up at him so beautifully, eyes gleaming with hope as your lips frowned softly. He examined your features, taking them in and finding any new details to burn to his memory. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” You lifted your left hand, gripping his own and showcased the rings. “We made vows, promises to each other, to always be together through anything.”

He eyes gloomed, leaning down to peck the stone on your finger. “I know.” He whispered, fiddling with your fingers as he went silent, mind attempting to finding another way, another excuse, but he couldn’t. The pros weighed out the cons in the on going battle of his consciousness. “Get your things, we’ll be leaving soon.”

The smile that took over your features was one that was more rewarding then any kind of berry he’d ever received. The way you jumped up and practically squealed, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek with the a constant repetition of ‘thank you’ was adorable. He cracked a small smile, because of you, chuckling softly at your excited state.

You’d taken all your pre packed bags and begun dragging them towards the boat, practically skipping with each step. Usopp was loading in boxes of supplies, glancing up at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“Woah, no way Zoro let you travel with us.” He smiled, taking your bags from your hands. “I’ll take these and out ‘em in his room, it’s good to have you with us!”

“Thank you, Usopp.” You nodded thankfully, looking back to see Zoro just a few feet behind you with a grumpy look. “Don’t mind his attitude, this wasn’t he choice..partially.”

“Why do you have her things?” Zoro asked, approaching the boy with a glare.

“Oh—I was just going to put in your room since she’s kinda new so she probably doesn’t know about the ship. But the great captain Usopp can help! Just being a good crew member.” The bit rambled nervously under the swordsman gaze.

“Yes, and I appreciate your help.” You said, emphasizing your words as you looked up at the man. “Now, would you mind showing me around, my love?”

Zoro let out a huff, allowing you to hook your arm around his as he trudged around the whole ship. He gave little explanations, simply stating what each part was and does, you had to ask questions for him to actually be specific.

“This is the kitchen, nothing special, no reason to be in here too long.” He walked in and was already stepping back out at the sight of the blonde chef cooking up a meal.

Sanji turned at sound of his voice, smiling brightly, but at you. He’d never dream of giving such a big grin to Zoro, “Ah, the Mrs, what do I owe the pleasure of?”

You pulled away from Zoro’s arm, who was clearly attempting to tug you away. “Just getting use to this place now that I’ll be on it for awhile.” You smile happily, “Smells lovely, can’t wait to get a taste of what everyone’s been raving about.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be sure to put in extra love for your meal, our newest member.” It was in the French mans blood to be such a flirt, his charming smile practically imbedded into his features.

You nodded in appreciation, though quickly frowned when you heard the man beside you let out a low groan. “I told you to watch it, waiter.”

“Only being my usual self, no need to be so protective.” The blonde replied casually, turning back to his sizzling work. “It’s not like we’re in your house, anyway.”

“What did you say?” Zoro growled, “You give her another one of your stupid smiles I’ll cut off your lips, you bastard chef!”

“You’re just mad because you know she had the misfortune of marrying you, algae.”

“Okay, enough is enough, let’s move on to the next part.” You chuckled with humorlessly, pushing the man out of the kitchen before a hot pot was thrown at his head. “Jesus, you two really don’t get along.”

He lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes, “He’s just an ass who knows how to make me mad.” The two of you moved across the deck, walking into a small hideaway with little decoration except for a hammock strung up. You noticed your things piled up in the corner, already placed there by the lovely Usopp. “I’m happy you’re sailing with us.”

You were a bit taken aback by his statement, his soft tone familiar but unexpected. Nonetheless, you smiled, wrapping both your arms around his neck and craning your head up to gaze into his eyes. “And I’m happy to be here, with you.”

“I’ll finally have someone to properly sharpen my swords.” He said with a chuckle as you rolled your eyes and slapped his chest, walking back out to look at the view of the beaming sun. The door cracked open ajar letting the light pool in.

I have risen from the grave and graced you with the longest fic I’ve ever written on this blog. It got a little outta hand bc I just had so much time to put in thought and effort for this one. Comparing to the others where I’d come up with an idea and pull words straight out of my ass. I so sorry and I’m def trying to do better in writing but ideas for writing have little crashed and burn. This leaves me to highly encourage everyone to PLEASE send in request, I’ll drop a post in a bit about everyone I’m open to writing!

Mwah💋 ~ Nataly

[emberfrostlovesloki]

11:11 [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@cheekycatlady) Center (@lockscreens-n-shit) Right (@@viciousclothing)

Prompt: Penelope and Derek play matchmaker after Emily meets the captivating and alternative reader who’s allegedly off the market at a shop where Prentiss is buying a gift for Garcia. A few weeks later, Emily and the reader have the chance to have what they’ve dreamed of for so long, a relationship, but will their differences and fears be too much to overcome? 

Pairing: Emily x Non-BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader, Alnterative-Goth!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word Count: 8.9K 

Content Warnings: Language, unwanted attention (reader and Emily), if I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins’s Pride Writing Challenge! I used the dialog prompt “Are they… flirting?” “Big time.” This fic is a lot more fluffy than my usual stuff, but it was nice to just write something romantic for Emily. The reader is described as a goth and a fan of horror, but if those are not your aesthetics, you can swap those parts out for what you like. I do mention a horror film scholar, but I try to explain her ideas accurately. Emily is a gem of a character and I hope I captured her well in this fic. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/c = your complexion 

y/f/d = your favorite drink (alcoholic, non-alcoholic, soda, you decide) 

Emily pulled into the small strip mall a thirty-minute drive from her house. It wasn’t what she’d expected exactly. It seemed… boring. Em sighed and thought, ‘Aren’t all strip malls boring? This is a strip mall, not a strip club, and you're here for Penelope, not you.’ With a hint of a smile, Prentiss got out of her car and pulled her purse and iced coffee from the front seat cup holder. She yawned and put her glasses on as the mid-afternoon sun glared down on her. She had stayed up late from another mid-date last night, thus the tiredness. It hadn’t been bad per se, just boring. After talking about shared interests, the man she’d seen started talking about his exes and how Emily reminded him of each of them. The only good thing about the man was that he’d taken them to a nice bar and promised to pay the tab. So Emily had gone overboard with her drinks. When she’d gotten a glass of the nicest champagne on the menu, she realized she could just sit and listen to this man ramble on and call it performance art the next day. However, even the Advil she’d popped last night after she’d gotten home hadn’t cured her hangover. 

The little bell on the door rang as Emily entered the store. It took a second for her to put down her coffee on a small table by the door with some pamphlets encouraging a yarn crawl next month and remove her sunglasses to see the inside of the store properly. Prentiss was here to get Penelope a small gift after she’d admitted to feeling down after a rough case. It seemed Garcia’s girlhood hobby of crochet had come back to life after she’d seen a cute sweater online, so Em was going to get her some good quality supplies, or at least a gift card if she couldn’t pick out what felt right in the store. The fiber arts weren’t really her thing, and as she saw the front display, pastel rainbows of yarn skeins, and a sample shawl to celebrate Pride Month along with a variety of needles and hooks on the adjacent wall, she felt lost. More lost than if she was at a crime scene. 

The soft, “Can I help you find something?” had Prentiss whip around on her heel and see the woman she hadn’t noticed as she walked into the store. Em blamed her hangover, but couldn’t say the same for when she opened and closed her mouth once or twice as she took in the employee behind the counter. Perhaps Emily had expected a little old lady or a mom type to work at a place like this, but she hadn’t expected a young woman standing in all black and what could only be described as vampiric-looking makeup and accessories. The words, whatever she was trying to say or might have said to this type of person escaped her. 

The woman behind the counter seemed to flush, but it was hard to tell with her dark blush, given her y/c and intentionally washed-out tired look. It was the type of look Spencer had unintentionally. The employee looked behind the counter to get the pretty woman’s eyes off of her for a moment. y/n hadn’t expected to be visually dissected this afternoon. She wondered if she had something in her teeth and how embarrassing that would be in front of someone as pretty as the statuesque woman on the other side of the counter. 

Emily finally recovered and coughed slightly, now her blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry. I suppose I didn’t see you there when I walked in. I haven’t been to a place like this before. I’m trying to get some things for my friend. She’s into crocheting I think. I googled yarn stores in town and apart from the big craft store this is the only one that came up…” Em stopped talking when she realized that she was rambling and the woman moved from behind the counter letting out a chuckle. It looked strange on someone who dressed so severely. y/n said, “Well, welcome in. I can show you around and make some recommendations if you’d like. Does your friend have a favorite color? Do you know if she wants to make something in particular?” Emily let out a sigh, relieved that her behavior and lack of knowledge weren’t mocked. She guessed that there wasn’t a ton of gatekeeping in the crochet community, but she didn’t know. Em swallowed and said, “Well my friend loves pink or any bright colors. As for her projects, I only know she likes working with bigger threads. She says it makes the projects go faster?” 

y/n nodded. This poor, but beautiful woman was out of her depth here. However, y/n never judged. Knitting and crocheting wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Often people just thought it was for the geriatric, though that was far from the truth. y/n had to correct the woman, she couldn’t stop herself as she said, “Yarn.” The customer looked up and said, “Huh?” softly, and y/n felt herself heating up again as she said, “It’s yarn, not thread. Sorry I can’t stop myself from correcting people when they say that. I’m, y/n. What’s your name?” y/n didn’t mean to sound condescending as she corrected the woman, it just slipped out. She tried to recover herself by asking the woman’s name; she was striking. 

Thankfully, after a split second, Emily extended her hand and said, “Emily. I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you y/n, and don’t apologize. I’m sure I sound like an idiot, so correct me as much as you need or feel like it. I won’t be offended.” y/n smiled and shook Em’s hand twice already enjoying her sense of humor. Emily couldn’t help but look at y/n’s long dark nails that matched her clear glossed, blood colored lips. y/n let Emily’s hand go and pointed toward the back right side of the store and said, “I think this side of the store is what you’ll be looking for. It’s our DK and bulky weight yarn section.” Em nodded like she understood what that meant and followed behind y/n looking at all the pretty skeins and knit and crochet samples on display. Even though Prentiss never thought this would be her niche, it was a very calming and pretty environment. It helped that the playlist that was on in the background had already played music she liked. Emily looked back for a moment at the comfy-looking chairs by the window and could picture herself sitting there for a few hours. 

Emily came back to the moment and realized she was getting distracted. She was firmly in the right section now as the yarn on the shelves looked like Penelope would love them. There was hot pink, yellow, and some purple yarn with sequins already threaded in the yarn. Emiy’s eyes looked around and y/n said, “I’ll let you look around for a bit. The yarn on the middle shelf is our most popular, but if you’re looking for something that’s a bit more affordable, because this stuff can get expensive pretty fast, is on the left and it’s still good quality too.” Emily nodded. She hadn’t even looked at a price tag yet. Money hadn’t crossed her mind. She had been too busy looking at the pretty colors, chairs, and sales assistant. y/n brushed past Em and back up toward the counter and said over her shoulder, “Hollar if you have any questions or if you need anything.” Prentiss turned her head and said, “Thanks,” as she watched y/n move back toward the front counter, her high-top Doc Martens giving her an inch in height that she didn’t have naturally.  

Em tore her eyes away once y/n was just out of sight. It wasn’t a big store, but the shelves that housed the yarn made it impossible for her to see y/n. Emily now turned to the skeins of yarn and picked up the hot pink skein that had first caught her eye. y/n’s comment about price made her look at the price tag, and Prentiss whistled under her breath. ‘$35.00 for some yarn?’ she thought. ‘What are they doing hand-picking sheep and making them eat strawberries until they turn pink?’ That sarcastic line of thinking did take her to the real conclusion, however, that unless yarn was cheap and mass-manufactured in a store, it must take a lot of time and effort to get that kind of color and quality. With the prices in mind now, Emily picked between five yarn colors that looked like Garcia’s favorites and picked her top three from the bunch. She decided on the hot pink, the purple sequined yarn, and a lime green tucked in the corner of a shelf. Happy with her choices, Emily moved around the store to look at the rest of what was there. As was natural for Prentiss, she was drawn to the jewel tones and more delicate yarn. The deep and rich colors reminded her of fall, her favorite sweaters, and hot lattes. She let out a sigh of longing for it to be cool again. For a second she felt eyes on the back of her neck, and she turned her face up sharply to see y/n just move her head toward the front door as if she was expecting someone to walk in. Emily turned her head again and bit the inside of her mouth. Why was y/n so cool? She tried to pinpoint why the woman at the front was having such an effect on her. 

She attributed it to three things. The first was the attitude. y/n had a very nonchalant attitude -- one that said that anything could happen and she wouldn’t be phased. Secondly, there was the confidence to wear what she wanted. Not that Emily had a choice, she was forced into the confines of business casual, but even if she wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d have the confidence to wear what y/n was. Lastly, y/n just seemed to be a really good person. It was based only on a feeling, but being an FBI profiler did have its advantages like getting a good reading on people. Prentiss let out a sigh, she was being silly and she knew it. She took one last look at some of the items displaying what the yarn could make and do before she moved to the counter. y/n smiled at Em and said, “Those are some pretty colors, I bet your friend will love them!” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’m sure she will. I’m happy I know about this place now, this could be good for gifts for some people I know.” Emily paused before asking, “Do you own the shop.” y/n chuckled and nodded her head no replying, “No. I just work here part time. I kind of grew up here though. It’s very special to me.” Em could tell. She wanted to ask more, but it would be awkward, so she didn’t. 

y/n sensed the shift in conversation and said, “Alright, well do you want these wound into cakes, or do you want to keep them in skeins?” The look of incredulity on Emily’s face had y/n laugh, pick up the pink yarn, and say, “So see how this is twisted into something that’s easy to hold?” Prentiss nodded yes, not having even thought about that. y/n continued, “So in order to work with this yarn, you have to unwind and rewind it into a ball, or you can use a machine to create what’s called a yarn cake. It’s easier to work with, but you, or your friend, can to this at home too.” Emily bit the side of her mouth and couldn’t think about what Garcia would want. She went on the safe side and said, “I think I’ll just take them as they are for now. If she brings them back would you still wind them for her?” y/n replied, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to. She or you can come in anytime.” Prentiss looked up at y/n a bit surprised by the woman’s tone, and y/n winked at her. Again, Emily found herself a bit speechless and y/n continued like nothing had happened, “Okay, can I get anything else for you? Some hooks of needles, or is it just the yarn today?” 

Emily recovered just a bit out of breath, and said, “Um, that’s it. Thanks. You helped me a lot.” y/n smiled and said, “I’m happy to help. It is literally my job, as much as I’d like to just sit here and knit or read, life seems to have other plans.” There was a pause, like y/n was thinking about something and continued putting the yarn in a plastic bag before saying, “Because it’s your first time here I’m going to give you some free stitch markers and a crochet hook size gauge.” Emily nodded her appriciation. She could guess what the stitch markers were for, as for the guage device, she didn’t, but she was sure that Penelope would. Em took a closer look at y/n who was looking at the screen to ring up her total. The shape of y/n’s face and lips were alluring. Her dark eye shadow and long lashes fluttered open and closed as she concentrated. y/n caught Emily looking for a split second but looked back at the computer, a ghost of a smile on the edges of her lips. The small interactions between the two of them sent a thrill through Em. When y/n had given Prentiss her total, she handed over her card and in a moment, they were done. y/n handed Emily her bag and said, “Thanks for stopping in. I hope I see you again soon.” Prentiss nodded, moved toward the door, and said, “Thanks. Me too, y/n.” With that, Emily left the small shop and walked back into the sun. Prentiss made it to her car and sat down, putting her sunglasses back on. As she turned the key in the ignition, in the very back recesses of her mind, she hoped she’d see y/n again tonight in her dreams. Em heaved a sigh and decided she’d grab a smoothie or a juice on the way home, her hangover long forgotten. 

Penelope was thrilled when she opened her impromptu gift from Emily the next week. Garcia’s smiles, thanks, and hugs would make anyone feel good, Em believed. This was helpful to Em as she felt the loneliness of life creeping back into her bones. She really wasn’t one to believe in biological determinism, but the more old friends and co-workers from school that started getting married, or more likely, having babies, the harder it was to come home alone all the time. Alone to an empty apartment, and an even emptier bed. She sighed into Penny’s hug, hoping the feelings would stick for a while. It’s not that she was desperate for attention, or heaven forbid a child, but she wanted someone to be with, to share her bad jokes with, or rest her head on. Of course, Emily knew she could do this, life, by herself, she just didn’t want to. Emily pulled back as Garcia asked, “Where did you get these, there’re so beautiful. I want to get like twenty more skeins. God the color saturation is perfect, p e r f e c t, Em. you know me so well.” Emily smiled and said, “It’s this small shop on my side of town. I was shocked that you hadn’t been there before.” Pen sighed and said, “Well to be honest I have a huge yarn stash already, so I decided to just try and use up what I had a home, but now that you’ve gotten me this stuff, I have an excuse to go and get enough new yarn in the same colors so make a sweater.” Prentiss chuckled at her ability to influence Penelope’s financial choices, but it was all in good fun. 

That good fun had Prentiss and Morgan in Garcia’s car two weeks later moving from brunch toward the yarn store. Prentiss’s thoughts flashed to y/n, and she wondered if the pretty woman would be working today. She hadn’t expected to be back to the store this shortly, but the idea of a space to just relax and be from her first time at the shop flashed in her mind, and of course, if y/n was there, it would be nice to see her again too. Emily was sure Penelope would take Derek around the shop for a good hour, much to Morgan’s faux chagrin at his ‘time being wasted.’ 

The trio arrived at the yarn store, Love and Needles, and Morgan made a quip about the kind of love the patrons got. He, as Em could tell, had very much made the assumption she had about knitting as a hobby before she’d gone into the store and seen y/n. That the clients were old. Emily was please when she stepped in to see y/n sitting at the desk. Penelope had already started a lively conversation with her and Derek was standing back a few steps his mouth open in shock. 

y/n looked past Garcia at Morgan and gave him a small smile, showing a flash of her teeth which had the strong agent close his mouth quickly and stand up straighter. This made Emily duck her head as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She raised her head when y/n said, “It’s nice to see you again, Em,” with a small wave of her hand. Derek’s eyes danced between Emily and y/n and he tried to hide a small cough but didn’t do it well. Prentiss elbowed him in the ribs, and he stopped making noise. Emily rolled her eyes and Penelope retook over the conversation they had started and said to y/n, “Well I’ll come back and harass you about those shoes in about an hour. For now, I’m going to oooh and aaah at yarn, and probably spend my whole paycheck too.” Garcia took a split second to look at Emily and the blush that was still painting her face read and took Derek by the hand and said, “You, Mr. Morgan, with me. Maybe one day you’ll date a knitter, and you can impress her with your knowledge of the fiber arts.” Derek raised his hands in surrender and let Pen lead him farther into the store.

Emily looked after her friends, not sure to follow, stay planted, or maybe test out those comfy-looking couches by the window. She was pulled from her thoughts as y/n said, “So, how have you been? I think your friends are keen by the way. I wish I had some like that.” Em let out a small breath and replied, “Yeah, In terms of how friends go, they’re about the best you could ask for.” Prentiss cocked her head to the side, wondering why, and how it was possible for someone as magnetic as y/n to not make friends. Emily remembered the first half of y/n’s conversation starter and said, “And I’ve been okay. Nothing too exciting. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and a few bad dates. How about you?” 

y/n gave off the vibe that she went to raves or drank red wine in a speak easy. y/n moved from behind the counter and leaned on the opposite side of where she’d just been. y/n studied Prentiss for a moment, taking in her outfit which consisted of a white shirt, corduroy pants, and a small kitten heel. It didn’t match y/n’s heavy-looking platform shoes, black tights, and dress. y/n was wearing the same makeup as the first time Em had seen her, except maybe the lips were darker today. After a moment y/n replied, “I’ve been fine. Nothing major to report.” There was another pause before y/n continued, “Maybe you could get off the apps for a bit? I found when I decided to take a hiatus it gave me some peace of mind. I had no hypothetical woman to please. I could just be me for once without any expectations.” y/n sighed and pivoted the conversation back to Emily, self-conscious to be talking about her struggles in front of someone as pretty as the tall brunette. Instead, she said, “I suppose I didn’t see you working a corporate job. I think I’d die if I had to do paperwork all the time.” Prentiss wanted to correct y/n, that she was more interesting than a corporate job. That she was a profiler in the FBI, that she knew how to shoot a gun, and spoke five languages. 

But Em stopped herself, even if y/n was on the dating market, which she had just said she’d taken herself out of, and even if she did date women, Emily could see herself pulling at strings. That her heart was moving faster than her head, and if she didn’t slow it down, she’d make a real fool of herself. She’d done that one too many times this year, losing both her sense of discretion and judgment sleeping with men most or women who gave the short time of day to fuck. They’d be gone by the morning, or she would be. Not wanting commitment, but not wanting to be alone either. It was the aloneness that she blamed the most for her choices, and she wasn’t going to repeat that now. So Emily replied, “Well it’s kind of a corporate job if you count working for the government as corporate.” y/n let out a low whistle and said, “That’s the most corporate of corporate. I don’t envy you.” There was a pause and y/n said slowly, “So, do you have any secrets you can share?” As hard as Emily tried to keep her mind off of y/n that way, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing again at how her statement could be interpreted provocatively. Just as Em was about to answer the question, the phone behind the counter rang and y/n moved to answer it. Emily could tell the way y/n was speaking, loudly and slowly, that it was an elderly client, and the conversation might take a long time, so she moved to the couches to sit down. 

Unknown to Emily and y/n, Penelope and Derek had been looking and listening to the pair for a few minutes now. When the phone call had interrupted their conversation Garcia motioned for Morgan to follow her to the far corner of the store. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Derek leaned down and whispered to Penelope, “Are they… flirting?” Pen nodded in an exaggerated manner and whispered back, “Big time.” They both leaned over to look past the displays of yarn to peak at y/n and Em and then hid again like teenagers behind a locker. Garcia said, “They aren’t even talking and you tell they're flirting. What type of Timewarp have we gotten ourselves into where Emily is openly making eyes at someone?” Derek sighed and rolled his eyes responding, “One where she probably doesn’t ever make a move. You know Em, she’s as stubborn as an ox if she wants to be.” Garcia dropped her eyes to the ground and said softly, “Yeah. It’s fun to imagine though.” Morgan nodded and replied, “Well, if it seems okay, maybe we can pull some strings? Nothing huge, but they could be friends at least. They seem to get along well, but I doubt they’d run into each other in other circles, so we might have to nudge them in the right direction?” Penelope feigned being shocked and said, “Mon Cheri, are you suggesting a blind date?” Morgan held up his hands and said, “Well not that drastic, but it Emily seems okay with a chance meeting then I don’t see how it can hurt.” Garcia faked a pout and said, “You’re no fun.” 

After another moment of snickering from the duo of friends, Morgan and Garcia moved back to the front of the store and like they’ve known each other for years, Penelope chatted with y/n sharing the best shoe, accessory, and makeup brands. Meanwhile, Derek moved to sit next to Emily. She smiled at him and asked, “So, are you ready to woo a woman with your knowledge of crochet?” Morgan smiled and said, “I’ve already done that. My mom crochets, so I at least know the difference between crochet and knitting, and that weaving in the ends is the worst part of a project which is more than most men I know.” Emily gave him a small smile and replied, “Morgan, you really are a lady's man.” Derek chuckled and gave a little salute of appreciation. 

After a few more minutes, the trio left the shop and it didn’t pass up Morgan or Garcia that after y/n had said goodbye to them, she said specifically to Em, “It was good to see you again, Em. I hope to catch you around sometime.” Everyone piled into Pen’s car with Emily taking the passenger seat while Derek smushed himself in the back. Once everyone was safely buckled up, they moved toward Morgan’s apartment first. As they sat and the Spotify played Garcia’s favorite playlist, Derek teased Emily by saying, “I didn’t know you went for the Abby from NCIS characters, Prentiss.” Em twisted in her seat and said, “Morgan give me a break. Even  you thought she was hot and you can’t deny it.” Derek let out one of his low laughs that reverberated though his chest. The kind that could make anyone laugh if they were having a bad day. Em loosened up as Derek replied, “I’m not denying it. She was hot. I just didn’t realize she was your type.” 

Emily sat back in her seat and closed her eyes as she said, “Neither did I.” She meant it to sound like a funny retort or quip, but in reality, there was a longing that neither Penelope nor Derek had heard from her before. Everyone remained quiet and just let the radio play until Penelope pulled up to Derek’s house. He hopped out of the car, then hugged Garcia though the driver’s side window, and then moved to Emily’s side and said, “Keep your chin up Em. You’re a real catch.” Prentiss thanked him; she knew she wasn’t teasing, or being facetious. When Morgan was real, he was real and that was why he was such a good friend. He was never afraid to be honest with his emotions which was a rarity in men. Derek waved at his friends and then moved into his house after calling out, “See you on Monday!”  

Once Derek was at this door, Garcia pulled away from the sidewalk and toward Emily’s apartment. There was a silence for a while before Penelope turned to Em and asked, “You doing okay? You know Morgan and I don’t mean anything cruel when we ask you about the people you like. You just hardly show interest anymore, and you used to be so excited to be going on dates, or when you found someone attractive.” Prentiss sighed and said, “Because I used to be excited about those things, Pen. I used to love the thrill of a first date, or seeing someone hot on the street, but I’ve tried so much and I just don’t seem to be anyone’s someone. I’m too bitter, or busy, or gay. I’ve been fetishized for being bi and shamed for having dated men. I just, feel like I’ve lost that spark, that rush that I used to get. To be honest, I gave myself away so much this year, that I think I need a break, and besides that, I don’t know if I’m y/n’s cup of tea either. She’s alternative, and that makes her stand out, I do think it’s very attractive, but I don’t want to fetishize that part of her either. I don’t want to put her in a stressful positon. She told me she’d taken herself off the dating market today at the store, so asking her out seems like pressing her boundaries, even if it is fun to have her wink at me.” Emily ran her hands through her hair in frustration and said, “I mean listen to me. I sound like a high school cheerleader trying to date the budding artist. It just sounds silly.” 

Penelope looked over at her friend and said, “Yeah, well it might feel and sound silly, but your feelings still matter. You feeling lonely and wanting someone to be with still hurts. I know that as well as anyone, even if I’m good at hiding it with all my sparkle and banter with Morgan.” Emily nodded and looked at Penelope. As opposite as they were in demeanor, they both shared the deep long for belonging somewhere. They just hid that want in different ways. Em let a small smile cross her lips as she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye before Penny could see, and she replied, “Thanks, Garcia. Thanks for being my friend and making me laugh. I don’t deserve you.” Pen let out a bright laugh and said, “You’ll never get rid of me girlfriend. And don’t give up hope. Things change, everything changes with time.” The rest of the ride was mostly quiet as both women thought about their feelings and shared in the mutual pain that most women felt at some point in their lives. When Garica pulled up to Emily’s house, the tall agent leaned over and hugged the Technical Analyst, holding her tight, then she pulled back and said, “Listen Pen, if I start adopting cats, promise you’ll still hang out with me?” Garcia smiled and said, “Darling, I’m already giving them a name.” With that, Emily got out of the car and went inside. She turned on her record player and poured a glass of wine. She’d just bought a new book and decided to relax and read for the rest of the day. 

It was a month later, and Penelope and y/n had started spending more time together. Like most people, y/n liked the brightness that Garcia brought to a friendship, and how real she was. It was safe to say that y/n was shocked when she found out what Emily and Derek did for work. As she and Garcia walked around an outdoor mall, boba in hand, y/n said, “Wait, Em’s in the FBI? You’re in the FBI! She told me she worked for the government. I thought she meant like the IRA or something.” Penelope nearly choked on her drink as y/n said this. After coughing a few times Penelope responded, “No wonder she doesn’t get close to anyone. She’s lying by omission about how awesome she is.” y/n gave Pen a pat on the back and they kept walking. y/n started asking more questions about the team. After more window shopping and trying things on, Penelope said, “I should tell Emily to be more honest. Really.” y/n stopped in her tracks and said quickly, “Please don’t. At least don’t say I was part of it.” Garcia stopped and looked up at y/n. y/n had the corner of her dark lip inside her mouth and was wearing a face of concern. It was the first time Penelope had seen her like this. The fluorescent lights of the store made her look more ghostly than ever, her darker tones striking against her makeup and dark hair. The shine on her black shoes glistened. Although Penelope wasn’t a profiler, she’d hung around the BAU long enough to know that the quick and urgent tone from y/n meant something more. It hadn’t gone past Pen that y/n seemed to casually bring Agent Prentiss up in conversation. y/n seemed to notice her new friend's change of attitude and said, “I mean, I assume that Em has a reason for not telling me that. Like I don’t want her to think she was holding out on me. I don’t tell everyone everything when I first meet them either. It’s like when douchebags ask me the meaning behind my tattoos in an attempt to get to know me. Am I supposed to tell them my whole life story or just lie and say it’s for aesthetics because honestly, both are true? And yeah, I just don’t want Emily to feel any pressure to explain herself, at least not to me.” y/n flushed. She hated that when she got flustered she used so many qualifying words, ‘but,’ ‘like,’ and ‘and’ flowed out of her mouth like she was sixteen and figuring out her sexuality again. 

Garcia smiled and nodded. Maybe y/n didn’t see it, but y/n was down bad for Emily, and it made Pen’s heart swim. It didn’t hurt that Emily asked every Monday afternoon, when Em made a pitstop at Garcia’s office with a soda to ask if she had seen y/n at all over the weekend. It was funnier because Prentiss was much worse at hiding her crush than y/n. It was still another week before y/n texted Garcia: Is Emily seeing anyone right now? Does she like… you know… women?” Penelope let out a squeal and moved to find Derek and share the news that y/n was asking about Prentiss. Even if Morgan had kept a further distance from Garcia’s matchmaking, he loved the drama of it. The pair spitballed responses, and they finally settled on, “No, she’s currently not seeing anyone. And yes. Solid yes.” They both waited giddily for another response from y/n. It wasn’t until the end of the day that y/n said, “I want to hang out with her, but I’ve only met her twice and I don’t know a lot about her. She doesn’t have much on social media. What are some things she’s into? Music? Movies? Food?” Penelope chuckled and sent a few options: “Books, Queer Films, Lectures, Good Wine and cheese.” y/n shot back a thank you and then asked if she could steal Emily’s number from Penelope, promising that she really wasn’t a stalker or serial killer in disguise. Garcia happily replied with Prentiss’s number. 

It took y/n a week of research and building herself up before she found something that she thought she and Emily would enjoy. A local college was hosting Carol Clover, author of Men, Women, and Chainsaws to give a talk about her famous construct of the Final Girl. This would meet Emily’s love of queer film and academia and give y/n a chance to hear about the horror genre, which she enjoyed. Then there was the fear of actually texting Emily. The FBI agent had seemed so kind, and yet at the same time intimidating. Surely she couldn’t like someone as non-tradition as her? Not when she got dirty looks in public, frowning parents shielding their child's eyes from her body. Was it so profane to want to be yourself? Pushing her doubts aside y/n texted Emily saying that she had gotten her number from Garcia and that she was interested in going to a lecture next weekend and if Em would be interested in joining her. 

When Penelope heard a knock on her doorframe, she looked up to see Emily holding her phone up. Before Garcia could read what was on the screen, Prentiss said, “Pen, did you give y/n my number?” Penelope nodded and said, “Yeah, did she text you?” Em seemed to relax and say, “Yeah. I think she’s asking me out, maybe? Or maybe I’m just reading into it? She said she was on a dating break the last time I saw her, which was like last month. I kind of assumed she might have forgotten about me. I don’t know why she’d be interested in someone as boring as me?” Garcia could see the doubt in Emily’s face. The want for it to be more than just hanging out. That feeling that she and Derek could feel in the yarn shop. Em was questioning that. Even if Penelope had a good idea that y/n liked, liked her friend, she didn’t want to set her up with false hope. So with a steadying breath, Garcia said, “Em. I don’t know y/n that well. We’re not at telepathy levels of friendship yet, but I will say I don’t think she’s asking you to hangout for nothing. Like I said, things change and you won’t know if she’s trying to get to know you that way unless you go and find out. Or, you could be a stick in the mud and just tell her no, which would send a pretty clear signal from your end.” Em sighed and knew that Garcia was saying if she wanted clarity, then she needed to be clear. To take a risk. However, the hesitation was still there. To be let down again would be so hard. So painful. But not knowing, that would kill her more. If she missed someone as charismatic as y/n, then she would have really missed, so she gave herself the day to make a choice, be a coward, or give it one last chance. That’s what Emily said to Pen, and frustratingly, Penelope didn’t think that she was going to hear more about it until much later that evening when y/n texted her: She said YES! It was safe to say that both y/n and Penny spent the next hour freaking out over the news. 

Emily looked around the lecture hall. It was big and fancy, and already filling with people. Prentiss had struggled to find parking and ended up having to go into a parking garage across the street. y/n had already texted her that she was inside and had saved them seats. Em looked at the quickly filling seats. There was an odd mixture of people assembled in the modern and sleek room. There were film bros, students, and more none-descript people milling around and looking for a spot to sit. Emily let out a relieved sigh that she hadn’t over, or underdressed. She had opted for a maroon shirt and a knee-length skirt with nude tights on underneath. Unlike the last two times, Emily was wearing heals. They were black and elongated her legs. She wasn’t trying to send any strong signals that she was more than excited that y/n had reached out. Prentiss was starting to get worried because she hadn’t seen y/n yet. Em’s past fears of being stood up creeping back in her. She clutched her purse strap fiddling with the zipper. Finally, a larger man moved into the aisle, and Emily caught sight of y/n. y/n was looking around for Emily as well with a nervous glance. When their eyes met, y/n’s face brightened and she smiled and waved. Prentiss let out a breath and moved toward y/n. 

y/n had felt the same anxiety Emily had. She’d dressed down a little. She didn’t want her style to stick out like a sore thumb. She’d opted for black mary-janes and tights along with some shorts, a black turtle neck that was too hot for the weather, her toned-down makeup with a blood-red lip, and lots of silver jewelry. She hoped it wasn’t too much. y/n was less worried about her appearance as she beamed at Em. She was glorious as normal. y/n might have dressed in an intimidating way, but Emily was the one with the confidence. The one that could move through a crowd seamlessly. The power she held with just her presence. y/n thought for a moment about Emily’s job. About what she did every day to keep people safe. y/n still hadn’t told Em that she knew about her real work, but y/n expected Emily would have figured out she knew by now. And if she didn’t, then she’d let Em bring it up on her own time. For now, y/n extended her arms slightly at her sides and she and Prentiss hugged lightly. y/n breathed in Emily’s scent for the first time, floral and bright. y/n pulled back and said, “Thanks for coming.” y/n wanted to ask how her day was, and if anything interesting had happened since they’d last laid eyes on each other. And maybe why did you agree to come out with me? But all of that was made impossible by the host of the lecture tapping on the mic and the lights being lowered in the hall. Em and y/n quieted, as did the rest of the audience and everyone took a set. 

y/n was excited for the lecture, she loved horror, so getting to spend this time sitting next to Emily had the blood rush in her ears and her heart beating in her chest, even though she wasn’t sure if Em liked her like that. There was a clear energy between the two women seated near the back left of the room, like an electric current passing between them. Both Em and y/n listened with rapt attention. Emily perhaps a bit more at y/n than Clover. She loved to see y/n, so excited and happy. Plus the content was interesting even if she didn’t understand all of it. Every so often Prentiss would lean down and ask y/n a clarifying question which y/n happily answered in a whisper. There was one moment in the lecture where Clover mentioned the other characters in horror films apart from the Final Girl, the ones that die, stating, “The Final girl is chaste and tom-boyish. But the first victims are often popular or outcasts. The loner, the cheerleader having sex with the football player. And unfortunately, the queer characters. Remember, this was the 80s and even if the trope of ‘bury your gays’ hadn’t been coined yet, it was still heavily used.” At hearing this, y/n couldn’t help herself but lean over to Emily and whisper, “Wait, is this fucking play about us?” Emily almost choked trying to hold in her laughter, and y/n had to pat her on the back to help her calm down. Em was beet red at the comment and her reaction, and they both got a tut-tut from the people sitting next to them. y/n smiled and didn’t make any more comments, however, she did move her right hand out on her leg turning her hand palm up, and when Emily took it in her own, she was filled with a warmth that no turtle neck or sweater could give her. 

After the lecturer, y/n and Emily moved to a bar because they hadn’t had any time to talk before hand. Emily drove them there in her car, but it was y/n’s recommendation. As soon as Emily walked into a bar with y/n holding her hand, she knew it was a gay bar. Not that that was a bad thing, in fact, it was comforting. Emily didn’t go out much, and if she did, she hadn’t really thought to go to a place like this. On her dates, she did coffee or dinner, and no one, not even the women she’d seen had recommended a gay bar. So Prentiss drank it in. Not that it was very different from other bars, but there was more space on the floor for dancing, plus the music choices were different. While Emily was looking around, y/n led her to the bar and the bartender said, “Hey, y/n. How’ve you been. I haven’t seen you in months,” over the music. y/n smiled, and in her normal nonchalant manner, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “You know, alright I guess. How about you, Blaine? You holding up?” The man smiled and replied, “Oh, I’m good. It’s good to know you’re well. Now, what will you and your friend be drinking tonight?” y/n turned to Emily and got her order for a cosmo, and she got y/f/d. The cold glasses were ready in a few minutes, and y/n started a tab before heading to a table. 

The surface of the table was slightly sticky, but neither woman cared. They set their drinks on napkins and talked about their days, what they liked, and just life as a woman. As a woman wanting things. y/n looked past Emily for a moment as she said, “Sometimes I think wanting as a woman is a curse. Is there anything I can desire without being shamed, guilted, or ignored?” Emily frowned slightly. They were both two drinks in, and she could feel a slight buzz making her body warm and flushed. Not overthinking it, Em moved her hand across the table and placed it on y/n’s cheek, brushing the pad of her thumb down her jaw. y/n swallowed at the feeling as her stomach did somersaults. Emily watched y/n’s pupils dilate and she said, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting things. Even if other people make you feel that way.” Em paused and took a breath before saying, “I, I want to spend time with you. I have since the first day that I saw you. And I felt bad for that, and I feel bad because you said you weren’t looking, and I wasn’t honest. And even though I feel bad about that, I still wanted that and I’m not going to beat myself up about it. It’s okay to want. I’ve kept things from you too.” y/n looked at the table and then back up to Emily saying, “I wanted to be with you too. To know who you are. What makes you such a good person, so strong? And it’s okay to keep things hidden. Maybe not forever, but there’s a comfort in that. I understand.” The tone with which y/n said she ‘understood’ told Emily that y/n knew what she’d kept hidden. Her job. It felt silly now, but y/n seemed to get it and would indulge her for now. Em would tell her for sure if they kept seeing each other after tonight, but it was nice to feel so free. 

After a moment, Prentiss asked, “So is there something you want now, y/n?” y/n nodded, suddenly shy, and replied, “How about a dance?” Emily smiled and nodded, extending her hand out for y/n, which she took. The pair moved on to the dance floor which was crowded, but the bodies felt less pressed together than at a normal bar. There just seemed to be less pressure to be so close, instead Em and y/n just let loose and let their inhibitions let them move close to each other. At one point y/n helped Emily do a little twirl which she loved. After Em had straightened from being dipped down, a man tapped her on the shoulder and asked, “Might I cut in?” The fun Emily was having was instantly cut short as she said, “No. You can’t. I’m with someone right now.” Prentiss watched y/n change her face to one of disdain, it looked natural on her, pretty, ethereal even. And y/n leveled that look at the man who had cut off their shared joy. The man didn’t seem intimidated by y/n and he scoffed brushing harshly past Emily he asked y/n, “how about you, Babe? You down for a dance. You look like you need to lighten up. Maybe get laid by a real man?” y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed and said, “In your dreams, Babe, Now if you don’t mind, you can fuck off.” The man puffed his chest, offended to be rebuffed twice, but y/n didn’t back down with her glare and finally, the man moved away muttering something about ‘stuck up bitches,’ under his breath. 

y/n moved closer to Emily and took her hands in hers, checking in. “Hey, sorry about that. I swear to God I’m like the worst man magnet. Would you check and see if there’s a sign on my back that reads, ‘Lesbian, step right up?’” y/n turned around and Emily let out a laugh, turning y/n around by the shoulders leaning in and kissing her. y/n’s eyes opened in shock, but the warmth and scent of Emily so close to her had her relax and lean into the kiss. It wasn’t super long, but Chappel Roan was playing in the background, and for y/n and Emily it was like all the hurt they’d felt for not being wanted for whatever reason washed away. y/n moved her hands to Emily’s back and preseed herself closer to Em taking in the moment so she could keep it forever in her mind. When y/n and Prentiss pulled away, Emily’s phone went off with a chirp. She flushed and pulled it from her purse. y/n was still close to Prentiss when she pulled out her phone, she stepped back to give Em some privacy. Emily looked up at her and said, “You don’t need to worry. It’s nothing super personal. Just Penelope being nosy and asking how it’s going.” y/n pursed her lips playfully and asked, “And… what are you going to tell her?” Emily shook her head and replied, “Well, I’ll let you know when I have an answer. So far, pretty good” Em was going to say “don’t you think,” but stopped herself when she saw the time. It was 11:11 and she continued speaking, changing her train of thought saying, “Quick y/n, it’s 11:11, make a wish?” 

y/n titled her head to the side and asked, “What?” Emily moved forward took y/n’s hands in hers and said, “close your eyes and make a wish, quick.” y/n did as she was told and closed her eyes. She scrunched her face in concentration as she made a wish. y/n opened her eyes and said, “Well I did it. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” Em smiled and said, “I’m kind of neurotic about it. Like a superstition. If I see it’s 11:11, I have to make a wish.” y/n nodded and they stood for a moment before Prentiss asked, “So, what did you wish for.” y/n chuckled and replied, “Come on now Em. you know if you say your wish out loud it doesn’t come true.” Prentiss smiled and said, “Well now I’m interested, how about you write it out for me?” y/n felt her chest constrict with excitement and apprehension. Could she? She wanted to, desperately, but it was so fast, too fast for someone like Emily. y/n looked at the woman she’d been brave enough to ask out and it was like she already knew. Em gave her a reassuring nod, and y/n moved back to their table. She pulled out a pen and wrote on her palm. y/n took a deep breath before placing the pen back in her purse and lifting her hand. 

The room was dark, the lights low as the light on the ceiling reflected off several disco balls. Emily had to lean in a bit to read the all-caps, slightly smudged: WILL YOU GO HOME WITH ME? Prentiss felt her heart swell, as she nodded her head. It was fast, yes, but it also felt right for the first time in so, so very long, Emily had waited for that, and she knew now was the time. y/n was smiling now and it wasn’t until she put her hand down that Em noticed that her nails were cut short. She moved in again and kissed y/n, her tongue sliding over y/n’s lower lip. y/n let her in, sucking in air while she could before their mouths closed around each other in a more passionate kiss. y/n let out a hum as they parted. She was half-breathless taking in air as she said, “How about we get out of here?” Em nodded, pecking y/n on the nose before taking her hand. They both grabbed their things from the table. They stepped out the door just as Teenage Dream started playing. Wish on hand, Em and y/n moved toward Em’s car, ready to find a place just for them. A place that was accepting and forgiving unlike how life had been for them before. Together, they could make that place.

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