#but I’m here to make it more fucked and gruesome

[goosewizard]

thinking about tommys death and resurrection. thinking about dream, with no access to anything outside of what is in his cell. dream, bludgeoning tommys corpse and tearing apart skin and muscle to grab at his new tools. dream, with bone shards for scalpels and sewing needles, with tendon for string. tommy wasn’t using it right anyway. dream, who puts tommy back together piece by piece, just to destroy him again. and tommy, who is broken and made anew over and over, tommy, who paradoxically loses as much flesh as he gains, tommy, who is never whole but retains all the pieces, tommy, who’s cracks are not filled with gold but his own flesh, twisted and wrong, tommy, who’s broken and ugly, tommy, who walks with a limp now, tommy, whos bones never set right, tommy, who never fully left the prison, tommy, who is still sitting shiny and new on dreams countertop.

[starmapz]

wolf in sheep's clothing || s. gojo

❦ satoru gojo x female monster hunter reader || werewolf au

❦ oneshot

❝ most parents tell their children stories of fake monsters to scare them into staying in bed at night. your father told you stories of real monsters to train you for your career hunting them. it's that career that brings you to a small town reporting disembodied limbs and missing people. it's here that you spend your days flirting with the cute coffee shop owner with stunning blue eyes during the day, while your nights are spent setting traps and preparing silver bullets. of course, life has a funny way of making things complicated, as your day life and night life begin to collide unexpectedly. ❞

❦ content ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. f!reader. little bit of angst. hurt/comfort. graphic depictions of violence and death. use of guns and bear traps. rough sex. dominant!gojo. feral!gojo. neck kissing. nipple play (f! receiving). biting/marking. oral (f! and m! receiving). fingering. spitting. throat fucking. choking. implied edging. manhandling. unprotected. hair pulling. dirty talk. dacryphilia. use of pet names (detective, sweetheart, pretty girl, gorgeous, love). praise. creampie. stomach bulge. cervix mention. restraint (using hands). impact play. mating press. doggy. overstimulation. sort of monsterfucking? descriptions of minor medical procedures. no use of y/n. happy ending. kinda porn with plot? gojo's a lovable dumbass <3.

❦ words ; 22.4k.

masterlist

It’s not unusual for your phone to ring in the dead of night. Such is the life of owning a private investigation firm.

It is, however, unusual for that phone to ring.

Your eyes flicker to the landline that rings in place of your cell phone. You keep it paid and connected for the more gruesome side of your business. Sure, you do take regular jobs, after all, you have to keep the bills paid, but the true purpose of your business is a far more dangerous practice.

Your fingers glide along the smooth plastic of the phone as you answer with your name.

“Hey there, um, I’m hoping I’ve reached the right number.”

You sit upright in your chair, pulling your feet down from your desk. “That depends. What service are you looking for?”

“I- well-” the masculine voice on the other side of the phone stammers, at a loss for words. “I don’t know, honestly. I was referred by Higuruma.”

The man can’t see the way your brow raises at the sound of your former client’s name, intrigued. “Go on.”

“I own a forestry business. A week ago my employees began disappearing. The cops can’t seem to find anything and I’m down twelve employees,” he explains. “This morning I found- uh-” he hesitates again. “I found limbs.” His voice is hushed, as though he believes you’ll pin the crime on him.

“Sounds like my kind of job,” you purr over the phone, pulling out a pen and notepad. “My rates aren’t cheap,” you warn.

“I’m… aware.”

“I assume you aren’t in the city.”

“No,” he confirms, giving you the name of a small town a couple of hours away. “I’ll pay for your hotel.”

“Great,” you confirm. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a dramatic clang, you replace the phone in its rightful spot, gather your belongings, and grab your briefcase. Popping it open, you evaluate your options. Given the time of year, you pack an extra case of silver bullets and tuck your gun into its shoulder holster beneath your brown leather jacket before taking off.

–

Sunlight warms your skin as you exit your client’s office. It’s clear he’s aware that he’s likely dealing with something he’s never seen before and he’s reluctant to admit many of the details. You don’t often get clients who aren’t nervous, between the inherent danger of your job and the situations they’re likely in. Not to mention the hefty fee you demand.

Your client had given you permission to take a look around the property, as well as the location of the limbs, though he wasn’t willing to join you. Again, not unusual. Nothing jumps out at you about the property itself apart from the remote location. You assume in the early mornings and dead of night as employees are getting into work or leaving, they’re likely coming across their assailant with little to no defense.

The sight of limbs doesn’t bring you the same horror as it does your client. Throwing on your leather gloves, you shift the disembodied arm to get a better look at just how it was severed. Sure enough, the telltale sign you were expecting to find is there.

Bite marks beyond the size of even the largest bear, flesh torn so viciously no animal could have done it.

A werewolf.

The closest thing to a malicious animal. With the full moon having just passed and the season turning from winter to spring, it’s not unusual for the beasts to begin popping up, specifically ones that are unable to keep themselves under control.

With the sun still high in the sky, you figure there’s no use waiting around in broad daylight for a monster to show up and head back into town. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone and you’re certain you stick out like a sore thumb. There seems to be one central road with most of the businesses laid out along the street and houses and motels extending off of the street on either side.

It’s a cute little town. In another life, you could picture yourself settling down and enjoying somewhere like this, maybe owning a bakery or a small tourist shop of some sort.

But your dad raised you to kill monsters. Not bake bread.

You shake your head at the thought, perusing the nearby shops until you come across a small bakery and cafe, which sounds pretty good right about now. Maybe in another life you could have worked here.

A small bell rings above your head as you enter the shop. The overhead lighting is warm along the autumn brown walls with deep red accents. Fresh-baked buns and other treats line the shelves along the walls and a counter extends along the back of the shop. Stools line one half of the counter and a couple of tables sit along the far wall. There’s a comforting sort of air to the shop as the smell of sugar, wheat, and coffee paint your lungs.

A small smile pulls at the corners of your lips as you make your way to the counter. The shop is empty as far as you can tell, which makes sense for mid-afternoon in such a small town, though you can faintly make out shuffling sounds in a back room.

Barely a moment later, a tall man clumsily makes his way out of the back room with a tray of fresh pastries, still hot from the oven, laid across it. The pastries smell of cinnamon and saccharine sweet sugar, though not as sweet as the man himself looks.

White hair cascades over his head, falling just past his eyes, which are the most enticing shade of blue you’ve ever bared witness to. He’s tall, shockingly so, and his bicep muscles pull the fabric of his pale blue button-up taut in a way that has you shamelessly staring.

“Sorry, didn’t hear the bell!” He apologizes, setting down the tray on the counter and brushing his hands off on his apron. He runs a hand through his hair in an effort to get a better look at you. “You’re not from around here,” he comments, eyes trailing just as shamelessly across the length of your body.

Well, now this trip got a little more interesting.

“I’d take it you don’t get many tourists here…” you trail off, your eyes flickering to his name tag. His name is scribbled in messy handwriting. “Gojo.”

“Can’t say we do,” he confirms, a smirk donning his sharp features. “Can I interest you in something sweet?” You catch the not-so-subtle connotation laced in his words as he leans forward with his palms splayed over the counter and a smug grin.

Returning his smirk with a lidded expression, you tilt your head. “What did you have in mind?”

There’s a shockingly bright gleam in his eyes as though he’s thrilled you’re playing along. He has a sort of boyish charm to his happiness. “Well,” he hums to himself, turning away from the counter to pick up a powdered donut. “I think you might be a fan of our custard-filled donut,” he grins, his voice lowering somewhat as he continues, “they’re my personal favorite.”

As he holds the donut, he squeezes it and the white filling oozes from the holes his fingers make. The double-meaning behind his words isn’t lost on you as you roll your eyes with a scoff.

“Does that one work on every woman who comes walking in here?” You ask snidely with a raised brow.

“Guess not,” he chuckles somewhat bashfully, taking a bite of the donut himself before setting it down on the counter. “I’ll take that one off the list.”

“Good call,” you agree. “You’re lucky that wasn’t your first line with me, I would have walked out.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry about that,” he chuckles, “give me another chance?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Gojo.”

He grins, an infectious laugh rumbling his chest as his muscles pull the fabric of his shirt taut. “Great! Now, how’s an apple fritter or a cinnamon bun sound?”

“You know what, an apple fritter sounds great,” you agree, “oh, and a coffee please!”

“You got it, take a seat.”

The white-haired man turns away from the counter, washing his hands of the powdered sugar and custard from earlier as he busies himself with your drink and donut.

“Oh, shouldn’t I pay first?”

His head flips around as he shoots you the most handsome smirk, eyes crinkling at the corners happily. “Nah, I owe you for my shitty joke,” he chuckles.

You take a seat at one of the stools at the counter, curiously watching the man make your coffee. He moves deftly, flipping cups and switches with practiced ease and a calm expression you find yourself admiring.

It’s impossible to deny that he’s handsome, maybe even too much so for his own good given his horrible attempt to seduce you, though it was harmless in the grand scheme of things. All in all, he actually seemed rather sweet, much like the shop.

“Alright, one coffee, cream and sugar, and an apple fritter. On the house, of course.”

He flashes you that dashing smile, watching happily as you take a bite of the fritter. When your eyes light up and you tilt your head, his smile widens to a grin.

“This is good,” you tell him with a satisfied hum. “Did you bake it?”

He nods. “An hour or so ago.”

“Great suggestion,” you compliment between bites. “Maybe start with this one next time.”

He chuckles again, momentarily avoiding your gaze. “Noted.”

Comfortable silence falls over you both as you make your coffee to your liking, before bringing it to your lips. “You know, I’m starting to think your talent is wasted on a shop in such a small town.”

“Yeah?” He grins, perking up. “As much as I’d love to bring my shop elsewhere, I uh, don’t think I’m suited for the city.”

With a tilt of your head, you hum questioningly.

He just shrugs, glancing off to the side.

Ignoring the way he dodges your question, you change the subject. You’re not about to push a stranger for a response. “Wait, your shop? Do you own this place?”

He nods. “I have help on the weekends but otherwise it’s just me.”

“That’s impressive,” you comment, watching the way he perks up again at the compliment. He has a horribly puppy-like quality about his unabashed happiness that makes you want to pinch his cheeks. That, coupled with his striking blue eyes and gorgeous white locks- you might just be getting a bit ahead of yourself here.

Enjoying the bitter taste of the coffee in your hands, you take a moment to bask in the silence, letting Gojo return to his work. As the man busies himself with cleaning up and moving pastries between ovens, you pull out a folder with information on the case you’re working on.

Returning from the back room of the bakery with a fresh batch of donuts, the shop owner eyes you curiously. “What brings you out here anyway?” He asks as he begins shelving the fresh donuts.

“I’m a private investigator,” you tell him without looking up from your papers. It’s only a partial lie, mostly the truth in reality. Besides, it’s not like the average person believes in monsters.

His brows raise in surprise. “And here you thought I was the impressive one?”

You shoot him a glance, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” you brush his words off, keeping your head down to hide the obvious effect he’s had on you. Apparently you don’t hide your blush well enough, though.

“Not sure I believe you, detective,” he comments slyly, your cheeks further heating up as you’re unable to hide your smile.

“Not a detective,” you correct him. “Are you like this with all of your customers?”

He chuckles, though it comes out somewhat in the form of a scoff. “I think the old ladies would have my head if I called them anything aside from ma’am.”

You wrinkle your nose playfully. “I’ll have your head if you call me ma’am.”

“Detective it is,” he grins playfully as he finds a spot across from you again. He toys with the string for his apron as you narrow your eyes at him, but you don’t mind the nickname in truth so you let it slide. “So, looking into the disappearances, I’d take it?”

“Private Investigator, Gojo,” you scold him for prying, but he doesn’t let up as he grins at you.

“Nothing happens ‘round here, sweetheart. If you were looking into anything else, I’d be shocked.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. It’s clear that Gojo isn’t letting up, and in reality this side of your job doesn’t demand confidentiality, but you still don’t love to go around discussing details.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for night to fall to go back to work,” you admit, returning your gaze to the handsome man who’s now sitting at the counter across from you, pen in hand as he writes down numbers you can only assume have to do with the shop.

Unexpectedly, his oceanic blue eyes meet yours, swirling with something you aren’t able to identify. He almost looks nervous? “Night?” He repeats after you.

“Yeah…?”

“Alone?”

You roll your eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

His eyes widen as he realizes his words came across offensively. “No, I- I’m sure you can! I just-” he pauses, running a hand through his mildly disheveled hair. “Just be careful, yeah?” He sighs.

You tilt your head, your brow knitting together momentarily as you contemplate his words and mannerisms. Slowly, you nod, deciding to crack a joke to lighten the mood. “This isn’t Twilight Gojo, it’s not like there are sparkly vampires and pretty wolves out there to hurt me. Maybe a fox or deer, though.”

Gojo fumbles suddenly, his pen falling to the floor. He mumbles a curse under his breath, sighing as he picks it back up, clicking it twice. “No, no. ‘Course not.” He agrees, not looking you in the eye as he scribbles something over his notepad.

Huh, tough crowd. Odd.

“Listen, I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

He shoots you a half-baked smile, the atmosphere of the room suddenly strangely tense and you feel the need to escape.

“I should probably go,” you hum, glancing at the time on your phone.

“Oh?” Gojo seems somewhat surprised despite the sudden change in the air between the both of you. Regardless, he shoots you a more genuine smile. “Well, thanks for dropping by. I’d love to see you again.”

You pause, examining his features mid-way through shoving your documents into your bag. He seems serious and the odd tension is beginning to dissolve, so you let your shoulders relax, the tension slipping from them easily as the comfortable silence returns while you contemplate his words.

“I’ll drop by when I have some time,” you agree, smiling. The gorgeous blues of his eyes light up as you agree.

“See you around, detective.”

–

Flipping your flashlight towards the small painted marks you left on the ground earlier where the severed limbs had been laying earlier, you note that they’re now gone. Either someone found the crime scene, or the wolf assumed someone was onto him and cleaned up after himself.

Your grip on your pistol tightens as you point both it and the flashlight around the scene. The wolf is clearly experienced. There are no tracks, either pawprints or shoe prints, left behind and no blood either.

It’s strange, for a wolf so experienced to suddenly start causing problems in such a small town. You would have thought this would be an easy hunt, some new wolf that didn’t know what they were doing getting messy, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Opening your bag, you grip the flashlight between your teeth and pull out a number of traps.

You set up a number of bear traps, careful to make a note of where you’ve placed them, before also setting a dart trap with a tripwire in small clearings, alongside a number of cameras.

Deciding you won’t get very far for the night if you haven’t already found evidence, you head back to your motel to get some rest.

–

The next few days are quiet. No traps are triggered, the cameras only trigger for the occasional rabbit or deer, and for that reason you find yourself conducting some interviews with the locals during the day before finding yourself at the bakery again.

The shop was much busier on the weekends you found, which makes you happy to see that it isn’t always so empty there, but it also left Gojo’s attention split between the shop and you. Of course you don’t mind, but you’re growing to enjoy his company, and even seek it.

Despite his unideal first impression, he’s a great conversationalist and undeniably attractive. You don’t make a habit of hooking up on the job, especially when you’re only here for a short amount of time, but it’s nice to not be so alone for once.

You expect it to be busy when you enter the shop on a Saturday, but to see multiple staff and nearly every table taken is unexpected. You order a coffee from a young girl at the counter, catching a glimpse of Gojo’s silvery white hair in the back room and smiling to yourself, deciding to take a seat. Maybe you can find a moment to talk with him later.

Setting yourself up in the corner, you pull out your laptop and a number of files as well as a recorder. Now that you’re able to plug the interviews into your laptop alongside some headphones, you can evaluate whether you missed any sign that someone may have been lying to you.

Going through the audio footage multiple times, while crossing all of your data together to see if everything matches, your day slips away from you and before you know it, the only light keeping your work table illuminated is that behind the counter.

So caught up in your work, you don’t even realize what time it is, nor that both young employees in the front have just said their goodbyes to the cafe’s owner after checking again if he’s sure he doesn’t want them to kick you out.

He’s sure.

You lift your head to your handsome counterpart as he pulls out the chair across from you with a smirk and slowly sets his large hand on the back of your laptop, pushing it down. Sitting behind your laptop, you can now see two plates with sandwiches on each. You blink up at Satoru, tilting your head.

“I didn’t order-”

“I know,” Gojo interrupts matter-of-factly with a warm smile. “But I also know you got here around-” he glances at his watch “-eight hours ago and haven’t eaten a thing.”

“Oh.” Your lips purse, continuing to form an ‘o’ as it dawns on you that you have been here that long. “Um- let me pay-”

Gojo shakes his head, smirking. “We’re closed. Consider it on me.”

Your gaze moves between the sandwiches and the smirk pulling at Gojo’s lips. His eyes sparkle in spite of the growing dark circles under his eyes after a long day. His hair is slightly more disheveled than usual and his apron is draped over the chair behind him. You don’t like to see him tired, but the disheveled look is surprisingly sexy on him. The blue shirt he wears has a couple of buttons undone and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, muscular forearms an easy distraction for your tired mind.

You don’t even mind that he catches you staring as he clears his throat with a satisfied smirk. Blinking, you return to the present and glance around the shop as it occurs to you just what he’s said.

“Wait, you’re closed? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should get out your-”

Leaning forward on those muscular arms, he sets a veiny hand on your forearm. “Stay, detective. Consider this paying me back for taking my extremely valuable corner table.” He grins with lidded eyes.

He’s all too easy to give in to and you sit back in your chair, accepting the plate he pushes towards you. Letting your shoulders fall to your side, you pick up the sandwich, observing it quietly before taking a bite, your brow raising cheerfully. “This is really good, Gojo.”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?” You stare at him quizzically.

“My name. It’s Satoru.”

You smile, grateful for not only his hospitality but his presence as well. Though the folks around the town are friendly enough, you really are thankful for his company. You don’t get to keep many familiar faces around in your line of work and bounce from location to location so quickly that any relationship you form isn’t particularly meaningful. You can’t help but feel as though you don’t want this to be the same.

Maybe it’s selfish to feel that way, but you can’t help it. Satoru’s presence is a respite from the harsh world you live in, one that’s free of the worries of what monster will sink its teeth into you next.

“Well in that case, Satoru, this sandwich is really good.”

His eyes light up with mirth as he grins. “I’d hope so. I make a living off of ‘em.”

Casual conversation finds you both easily as you fall into your usual routine of chatting with the handsome baker. It’s as though time stands still when you’re with him, suspended in a moment of contentment.

“How’s your case coming along?” He inquires curiously as he stands with both empty plates, eyeing you from behind the counter.

You sigh in exasperation. “It’s not. Everyone I’ve spoken to has an alibi or their story matches enough that I don’t think it could be them.”

Returning to his seat, Satoru curiously eyes the notes laid out across the table. “Well it’s not her,” he laughs as he points at a photo taken of an older woman.

You blink questioningly at him. “She’s cheating on her husband. If she was gonna murder someone, it would be him.”

You playfully smack his hand. “That’s awful, Satoru.” You reprimand his terrible attempt at a joke.

He grins cheekily, looking over other photos of people from around town. Come to think of it, his help could be useful if he knows everyone. “Is there anyone around here I should be talking to?”

Something flashes in Satoru’s eyes, gone so quickly you wonder if you imagined it. Hesitation? “Honestly, no.”

You grimace. “No one makes you think they might…?”

He shakes his head, a strand of snow white hair falling over his eyes. “Nah. The folks here are older for the most part anyway, a bit beyond kidnapping and murder.”

You run your hands over your face in exasperation. “This is easily the worst time I’ve had on a job.”

He pouts playfully, leaning over the table on his elbows. “C’mon, at least you have handsome company.”

“Real subtle, Satoru. Humble.”

“What can I say?” He grins, a proud look on his features.

You can’t help the smile that mirrors his as you give in to his incessant playfulness. In truth, it’s a breath of fresh air from the knowledge that hidden beneath your jacket lies a pistol loaded with silver bullets.

He’s a respite from the reality that you could very easily be devoured by a werewolf if you miss any details. Of course, you’re confident in your abilities but that is the reality of your line of work.

Still, as you look over the photos of nearly everyone in the town that you’ve spoken to, you’re somewhat at a loss. Werewolves don’t make a habit of hunting far outside of their homes, so it wouldn’t make sense for it to not live nearby. After all, werewolves aren’t like real wolves. They can’t live with ease in the forest, they still yearn for a real bed and human company.

You have explored the idea that maybe it is mostly feral, but you should have caught a glimpse of it on the cameras if that’s the case.

“It’s been nice,” you mumble after a moment’s silence. Gojo tilts his head, gorgeous blue eyes glinting in an almost inhuman way, but you suppose he likely gets that comparison a lot given just how striking his eyes are. “I mean… Having you around.”

Sitting straight, he smirks. “Gonna fuel my ego so easily, sweetheart?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

He gets to his feet suddenly, extending his hand to you. You tilt look up at him quizzically. “C’mon. Let me take you out.”

Your cheeks heat up as you struggle to hide your smile and take his hand. Satoru grins easily, attempting to tug you along. “Wait wait, let me clean up!” You insist, giggling to yourself.

Satoru groans chidingly, staring at his watch as though you’re taking up his time. Once your bag is packed, you attempt to sling it over your shoulder, only for the man at your side to intercept and throw it over his shoulder.

You shoot him a thankful grin, taking his hand again and letting him lead the way out. “Where are we going, anyway?”

He glances back at you, his eyes glinting inhumanly again. Your eye twitches as you wonder whether you imagined it or not, pushing aside your doubts. Satoru is sweet to you, you have no reason to doubt him.

“There’s really only one place still open,” he smirks, batting gorgeous white lashes at you with a smirk.

“If you say your house or something stupid-”

“Ouch, first of all,” he chuckles at how low you expect him to go.

You scoff impishly. “Need I remind you of the donut incident?”

His cheeks heat up as he scratches the back of his undercut. “No need,” he chuckles. “Anyway, there’s an ice cream place a couple of blocks away that’s open late.”

“Taking me for ice cream, Mr. Gojo?”

“I mean, my house is open as-”

You smack his arm mischievously and he laughs heartily, the sound rumbling through his chest. The sound spreads warmth through your veins and you inadvertently find yourself walking closer to him.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Mostly,” he shrugs, unapologetic as he eyes your ass, though you decide to let it slide this time.

Turning the corner, a single shop with the lights still on comes into sight. The street is filled with broken neon signs and you recognize your motel just down the street, one of the few businesses with signs still lit. ‘Vacancy’ glows at the end of the street, a sight that feels like it may have been eerie without Satoru at your side.

Focusing on the little ice cream shop, you realize you were here yesterday interviewing the owner. She was a kind older woman, just as most of the townsfolk had been, although you had paid little attention to her occupation.

Getting a better look at the shop, you realize the decor is 80s themed, or more specifically it hasn’t been updated since then, although it seems well maintained and cared for. Blue striped walls and a cloth overhang welcome you into the dainty shop, soft serve machines lining the back and buckets of ice cream in a freezer at the front.

“Satoru, it’s good to see you, son!” The woman exclaims. He grins, greeting her in return. They exchange casual niceties and you realize Satoru likely does have a good idea of who everyone is if they’re all coming in and out of his bakery as much as today would have you think. “What can I grab for you?”

Satoru motions towards you as you gape up at the menu.

“The soft serve’s the best, sweetheart.” He purrs, leaning into your ear as he loops an arm easily around your waist. The contact sets your heart racing, keeping you warm in the cool shop.

“I’ll have- uh- the salted caramel soft serve, please,” you smile politely at the elderly woman, who pulls out a cone and begins to swirl the ice cream into the cone, handing it to you. She doesn’t even take an order from Satoru, repeating the process with ice cream so blue you can only assume it’s cotton candy or something similar as she hands it to the man.

Heading up to the counter, you pull out your wallet to pay. Satoru clicks his tongue, pulling your wallet straight from your hands and holding it well over his head as he pays with his other hand.

“Satoru! Give it back!” You giggle, hopping in an effort to reach it, but between his height and his lanky wingspan, you’re nowhere close to retrieving your belongings.

The kind woman across the counter chuckles in delight, her eyes shut and wrinkling at the corners happily. “Enjoy, darlings.”

You smile thankfully at her, resting a hand on Satoru’s very built chest that has you reeling mentally as you reach for your wallet. Grinning at you, he finally relents, handing it back to you. “I invited you out, you aren’t payin’,” he reprimands you with lidded eyes that flicker down to your lips as he gets closer to you.

Taking your wallet back and shoving it in your coat pocket, you smile gratefully at him. “Well, thank you, then.” Eyeing his ice cream, your brow furrows. “What flavor did you get?”

“Superkid.”

Wide-eyed, you stare at him. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” he pouts in mock offense.

You can’t help the laugh that bursts from your chest as the handsome man beside you, your date, orders arguably the most embarrassing flavor. Somehow the man competently running a successful bakery and cafe is the same one standing before you with a boyish pout and a mouthful of the bluest ice cream you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“It’s good!” He insists, brow furrowed. “‘Sides, she ran out of my usual yesterday.”

“Your usual? What’s that, cotton candy with sprinkles?”

His eyes narrow. “Mochi,” he insists as he tugs you along to a bench just outside the store, pulling you down alongside him. He rests an arm over the back of the bench around your shoulders, nudging you to lean into him.

He’s warm despite not having a jacket in the autumn air. It’s not overly cold, but he certainly runs hot based on the heat radiating from his body.

“Moving on from my taste in ice cream,” Satoru remarks with playfully narrowed eyes, “tell me about yourself. What made you want to be a private investigator?”

“My dad was one,” you begin, staring out at the empty streets of the small town. The area near your bench is lit only by a streetlight a short distance down the road and the glowing neon of a busted sign for a pharmacy that closed hours ago. “He used to bring me along on trips with him from time to time, so it came naturally,” you explain most of the truth, only leaving out the portion about monsters and strange creatures. He doesn’t need to know that part, it’s safer anyway.

“He used to bring you with him?” He asks, somewhat bewildered. After all, it’s not exactly the most child-friendly job.

“Times were tough,” you shrug.

Taking that as a sign to quit pushing, Satoru nods.

“What about you? Have you always wanted to bake?”

He chuckles. “Nah, it just came naturally and was sorta to spite my parents.”

“Spite them?” You tilt your head up at him, admiring the sharp curve of his jaw.

“Gojo Corp. My parents own it, I was supposed to take over,” he frowns, fixing his eyes on the street light.

“In Tokyo?” You gasp, having not made the connection between his last name and the massive corporation.

He sighs. “That’s the one. I was meant to take over but that’s just… not for me. There were some other things that made it tough but either way, baking comes naturally to me so it just made sense,” he explains with a shrug. He stares down at the ice cream in his hand, eyes glimmering with the memory of his past.

“I think the bakery suits you,” you tell him. “You clearly have a talent for it.”

He chuckles, an easy smile finding his lips as he rolls his shoulders backwards and relaxes. “Thanks.”

As he speaks, you catch a glimpse of his tongue and lips and have to hold a hand over your lips in an effort to stifle your laugh, but your date feels your body shake with the held back chuckle.

“What?” Narrowed eyes examine your expression as he watches you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“Your, um, lips.”

He blinks inquisitively at you before the realization hits him. “They’re blue,” he deadpans.

“They’re blue,” you confirm between giggles.

He sighs in exasperation, unable to hide his embarrassed smile. “God, I didn’t even think about that.”

“No, no, it’s nice. It matches your eyes. It’s like lip gloss,” you simper.

“Great,” he groans with an unamused expression, though the glimmer of joy in his eyes tells you otherwise. Even as he attempts to be unimpressed, he can’t help the laughter bubbling in his chest. Conversation, spending time with one another, silence, it all seems so easy in his presence.

As the night grows late and the elderly lady bids you goodnight as she closes her shop, you’re reminded that you’re here for a reason and glance down at your watch. “I should get going. I need to do some work,” you tell Gojo.

His eyes flash with disappointment, but he nods. “Let me walk you to your motel?”

“How gentlemanly.”

He grins, offering you his bicep. You take it happily as your cheeks heat up. Of course you don’t want the night to end, but you can’t miss your chance to do your work.

As you reach your door, Satoru turns to you, taking your other hand in his. Lidded eyes glimmer as they rake your figure, hungry and eager. A shiver climbs your spine like lightning as heat pools in your stomach. Although goofy and carefree, there’s something undeniably alluring about Satoru.

“You know, detective,” he purrs as he leans in closer to you, eyeing your lips. “You haven’t interviewed me yet.” He takes a step forward, resting his hands on your waist as he examines the way your body molds to his, pliant to his suggestive touch.

“Is that so? I seem to remember asking you some questions at dinner,” you tease, playing his game.

“I’m pretty suspicious, you should see my taste in ice cream,” he insists, eyes flickering to your lips hungrily. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer, his warmth radiating against your skin.

“That is pretty suspicious,” you agree, tilting your head to give Satoru access to what you both yearn for. His lips capture yours, moving softly as his sugary taste invades your mouth. He deftly wraps an arm around your lower back, one hand raising to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as he tilts your chin with his thumb. You slide your arms up his chest to his neck, loosely wrapping them over his shoulders.

You press your thighs together, a light gasp escaping your lips when Satoru pulls away. His pupils are blown, the blues of his eyes nearly invisible behind their lust-filled glimmer.

He examines your expression, searching for something, anything, whether it’s denial or an invitation. He hopes for an invitation.

“Satoru?”

He hums.

“My key card. Back pocket.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he groans, sliding his arm from your waist to squeeze your ass before he pulls the card from your pocket. You let your fingers explore his undercut, fisting a handful of his hair when the door behind you swings open and Gojo pushes you in, pressing you against the closed and locked door. His lips don’t leaves yours as your bag slides off his shoulder to the ground with a thump.

“Jump,” he commands into your lips, voice darkened with lust. You hold tight around his shoulders, jumping into his arms as he supports your thighs with strong arms when you wrap your legs around his waist.

Finally parting from your lips, he presses sloppy and eager kisses up your jaw before nibbling on the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. He pulls a whimper from your lips, that one sound acting like fuel to the fire that is Satoru. His teeth sink into your neck, breath coming out in huffs as he stumbles to move you to the bed.

You gasp at the feeling of his teeth marking you, raking your nails down his clothed back. You move to unbutton his shirt, eyes raking the length of his toned figure. He’s muscle as far as the eye can see, far more built than you can possibly imagine for a baker.

His chest heaves with want as he leans back down, gripping the sheets beside your head in his fist. He runs his tongue once soothingly over the mark he’s left on your neck, returning to your lips.

He slips his hands under your jacket before pausing, confusion flooding his features. “Is that a gun?” He asks, breathless.

Sitting up on your elbows, you shuffle out of your jacket and unbuckle your holster. “I’m a PI, Satoru.”

“Right. Yeah, sorry.”

You set it aside carefully, examining the way Gojo seems somewhat shaken by it but one look at the tiny tank top that’s the only layer between him and your chest has that dark look flooding back into his eyes.

He moves slowly, almost teasingly, as his fingers hook beneath the straps of your tank top, slipping them off your arms before sliding the tank top over your torso. He lets out a terse breath, admiring your curves and the way the moonlight flooding the room glistens on your gorgeous skin like glass.

“Shit, I’m one lucky man,” he whispers, letting you pull him down for a sultry kiss before exploring your chest with his lips. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you moan as he nibbles and sucks on skin, leaving marks all across your chest until he reaches the swell of your breasts.

Like a beast let loose, his teeth suddenly sink into your plush skin, pulling a cry from your lips in surprise at the feeling. Even more so as it feels good when the warmth of the flat of his tongue soothes the pain so gently afterwards. He looks up to you to make sure he hasn’t truly hurt you, before continuing with his ministrations as he sucks your nipple between his lips.

His tongue swirls the sensitive hardened bud, your moans like music to his ears that drive him on as he flicks your other nipple with his free hand. Your name leaves his lips in a moan when you tug on his hair. Completely drunk on you, lidded eyes lift to meet yours. He admires your blissful expression only for a moment before moving upwards to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Do me a favor, detective,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath fanning your face between each word. “Take my belt off.”

You do as you’re told, not needing to look at what you’re doing to tug the leather strap from its buckle and let it drop to his feet. You follow suit with your own clothes, pushing your pants down to your ankles and kicking them off.

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear, nibbling on your lobe momentarily as he easily undoes your pants, pulling them to your ankles before tossing them aside. You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around Satoru’s waist and tug him closer. He shoots you a lustful grin, wasting no time in grinding his hardened length against your soaking wet core.

Moaning, you press your thighs into Satoru’s sides, bucking your hips in an attempt to relieve the pooling heat growing steadily in your core, soaking your panties. “Shit, you’re wet for me, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, S’toru,” you whisper breathlessly, bucking your hips again. Leaning over your figure, he grins as he watches your eyes roll back when he grinds his pulsing cock against the swollen lips of your cunt again.

“Make me,” he taunts in a low, almost animalistic, growl.

You waste no time carding a hand through his hair before gripping a fistful of snow-white strands. You push his face down until he’s eye to eye with the wet spot pooling in your panties. Satoru breathes in shakily, eagerly licking a stripe up your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he breathes, hooking two fingers beneath the fabric as he attempts to pull it aside, ripping it in the process. “Oops,” he mumbles unapologetically, pulling what remains of the material off and tossing it aside.

“Wh-”

Before you have the opportunity to question him, he dives in like a man starved, a long and skilled tongue ripping a gasp from deep in your throat as you arch your back beneath him. Satoru’s tongue moves deftly deep in the chasm of your cunt as he explores your folds, pussydrunk eyes watching your every reaction to see what makes you squirm.

You wouldn’t have imagined the baker of a small town in the middle of nowhere to have the tongue of a god, but he may as well be ruining all other men for you already.

Plunging his tongue deeper into your entrance, he nudges your clit with his nose, eliciting a loud moan from you as you gasp his name like a mantra, one fist tightly holding his head flush to your core while your other fist grips the sheets.

The way Satoru moves his tongue sends you diving quickly towards an orgasm, the knot in your stomach binding and tightening every second as your thighs tighten around his head. He groans at the feeling, tugging your thighs down with strong arms until you’re completely at his mercy, unable to do anything but buck your hips.

No man has ever eaten your pussy quite like Satoru and he knows it. With one last slow ministration, he pulls his tongue from within your core, licking his lips with a pleased hum. He pulls back only for a moment, eyes focused on your expression as he spits onto your cunt, blowing on your entrance like the tease he is.

“T-Toru-” you gasp, arching your back further. He grins, dipping back down to suck your clit so perfectly you almost come undone right then and there. When your whole body jolts from sheer pleasure, he lets go with a pop before using the flat of his tongue to bring you back to the edge, slower.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans against your clit, moving one hand from its place holding down your thigh to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick as you whimper at the friction. “Cum on my fingers,” he goads before licking one slow stripe up your clit.

As you whimper out his name while writhing beneath him, he takes the opportunity to slip one finger in your cunt, curling it as he watches how you arch and squirm so pliantly for him. His middle finger easily glides into your core with a squelch that has Satoru groaning against you, setting your entire body alight. With two long fingers, he curls them until he finds the spot that has you singing his name, your eyes rolling back as you cling to him, to the sheets, to anything your fingers can find.

“Sa- toru-” you babble, earning a groan in response when you tug on his hair. “‘M so close.”

“Let go, gorgeous,” he purrs, the vibration of his voice sending electricity up your spine as he quickens his ministrations. The knot in your stomach tightens and with one final ‘come hither’ motion, applying just the right amount of pressure to your g spot, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Your whole body trembles in his grasp, your legs quivering around his head as he works you through each jolt, each wave, of your release as you whimper helplessly.

Laid out so pretty beneath him, he can’t help the pussydrunk grin he shoots you, resting his cheek against the plush of your thigh. “I could get used to hearin’ you scream my name,” he comments slyly, getting to his feet and giving you no time to come down from your orgasm.

You yelp when he grabs you by the ankles, tugging you to the edge of the bed. You’re too blissed out to notice the way his pupils glint in the moonlight as his voice lowers, suddenly dark. “On your knees,” he commands with a smirk.

You obey, entirely pliant to his touch and too fucked out to resist his dominant commands. Your lidded gaze doesn’t leave his as he eyes you needily, palming his erection through the tent of his pants.

You waste no time as you free his cock from the confines of his pants and boxers, letting both fall to his ankles on the floor before you as his cock stands alert. Your eyes widen as you take in the angry red of his cocktip, leaking and twitching for you. He’s long, and thick, protruding veins pulsing with need that goes straight between your legs, already dripping for the man before you.

“Look ‘t me,” he growls, letting his tongue glide over his lips as you run the flat of your tongue up the base of his cock, flicking the slit. He hisses, his head falling back in pleasure as he lets you tease him, swirling your tongue around his tip erotically. His mouth falls open, panting heavily with lust.

In truth, you could tease him for hours if it meant getting to see the way his body shivers and jolts with your touch, but with each minute movement, you know he’s one step closer to fucking your throat himself.

Bringing your hand up to the base of his shaft, your fingers not meeting as they around his thick length, you pump your hand up and down painfully slowly as you purse your lips. Smirking, you place a teasing kiss over his frenulum, pulling a guttural growl from the man.

Gojo’s fingers tangle in your hair, fisting it as he moves you back to his fat cock. “Don’t be a tease, gorgeous,” he groans, positioning his fat cock against your pursed lips. “Now be good,” he instructs. You whimper as you hollow your cheeks, sinking down on his cock and swirling your tongue around it.

“Shit,” he pants out a moan, not daring to let his eyes leave yours. You moan around his length as he finds the back of your throat, and just like that whatever restraint he had snapped. Like a predator staring his prey down, his hand in your hair pushes you into the mattress as he holds you still. Sinking his cock into your throat, he tests your limits as saliva slips down your chin, tears forming in your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises as he gives you a moment to adjust, pulling back to let you breathe with whatever restraint he has left. Gone as quick as it came, he snaps his cock back into your throat, prodding the back of your mouth and ignoring your gags, meanly using your throat for his pleasure.

His grip on your hair loosens and you use the opportunity to bob your head forward, moving in time with his thrusts as tears stream down your cheeks from the way you choke on his girth. Satoru growls, darkened eyes admiring the way you look up at him through fluttering lashes.

Satoru’s thrusts speed up, growing relentless as he approaches his high, his cock twitching as his thrusts grow sloppy. He releases your hair as he reaches his climax, holding your hollowed cheeks gently as his cock jerks between your velvety lips, his seed seeping down your throat.

“Swallow.” He pants out commandingly, tilting your chin to watch you better. A hint of a smirk pulls at the corners of your lips as you follow suit, your throat contracting around his member. His entire body jerks with the feeling of your throat closing before he pulls out. You loll your tongue out for him and he grins.

“Shit, you’re hot,” he whispers with a hint of disbelief, shaking his head. As you catch your breath, he leans down to kiss your cheek gently in a stark contrast to the way he roughly used you moments ago. He follows suit with the other cheek, kissing away your tear before using his thumb to wipe away the trails left behind.

Pulling you up carefully by your waist, he sets you on the edge of the bed, tilting your chin up to him. “Not too rough, sweetheart?”

“No, just fuck me already, Satoru,” you goad, pulling him down by his neck to capture his lips in a kiss. Your pussy is already pulsing in need of him and you aren’t about to waste any time when you’re still absolutely dripping for him.

He pulls back an inch only to chuckle slightly. “You’re gonna drive me crazy, y’know that?” He draws your lower lip between his teeth, gently biting down as he easily picks you up without disconnecting your lips and plops you further up the bed. With your head now on the pillows, he lines himself up at your entrance, pulling back only to look to you for consent.

Your hips buck involuntarily as you nod your head when you feel his tip brush your clit. Whimpering, you hardly hear the way his voice lowers again, growing commanding and impatient. “Words, detective.”

“Y-yes, Satoru,” you mumble breathlessly, gripping his shoulders tightly. He’s gentle at first as he glides past your puffy lips, biting his lower lip with a sharp canine. He’s slow as he sinks in, filling you up as he stretches your walls around his thick member. He’s slow to bottom out, sure not to lose control as he lets you adjust to his size.

He leans down to kiss your neck, nibbling softly in the tender area he’s already bruised a harsh marking into your skin. When you whine, he laps at it softly and places a gentle kiss on the purpled skin. Leaning over you, he holds himself up with his elbows and whispers in your ear. “Y’ take me so well, pretty girl.” His white hair drapes down over his forehead, tickling the sensitive skin he’s marked.

Just as he whispers such sweet songs in your ear, he begins moving and elicits a moan from you with his slow ministrations. His cock brushes your g spot with each and every thrust that sends you reeling as pleasure climbs your spine and pools deep in your stomach.

When you throw your head back with a whimper of “T-Toru don’t stop- please-” he absolutely relishes in the way you beg, setting his senses alight with need once more. Holding himself up on only one elbow, he runs his thumb over your lower lip, pleased when you part them willingly for him, taking his thumb between your lips and swirling your tongue around it with a moan.

Satoru groans gutturally, pulling his thumb from your lips with a pop and swiftly pulling out of you.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to finish your question as he flips you onto your hands and knees, pressing your upper body into the pillows before his hand lands on your throat. You have half a mind to wonder if you feel something sharp dangerously close to your pulse, but the feeling’s gone before you can think too hard on it and you’re too fucked out to care either way.

Placing gentle pressure against your throat, he holds you in place by your neck and positions himself behind you again, prodding your entrance with his tip. Without warning he slams into you, nudging your legs wider apart for him until he can reach your cervix, bullying his cock into you.

Your toes curl, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he restricts your air, pleasure and pain mingling so deliciously as you teeter dangerously close to the edge. “I’m- hah- close,” you babble, gripping at the sheets beneath you for purchase.

“Give it to me,” Satoru moans, cock jerking within you. “Wanna feel you cum ‘round my cock,” he pants, relenting on your throat as he moves his finger up to his lips, wetting it and sliding his hand up your stomach, hissing as he feels the bulge of his thick length bulging in your stomach.

His slicked finger finds your clit as he rubs circles around the hardened bud in a practiced motion, pushing you closer and closer to your climax when it hits you like a tsunami. Your body writhes, legs quivering as you struggle to stay arched while Satoru’s name pours from your lips.

“Toru- T-Toru, god I-”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he coos, continuing to fuck you through your high as he chases his own. You squirm at the overstimulation as your cum forms a ring around his base, but he holds your hips firmly in place with a bruising grip as he picks up his pace. His nails dig into your skin, strangely sharp until he begins to grow sloppy and with one final thrust, unloads into your dripping cunt, painting your walls white.

He pants as he falls over your arched form, placing gentle kisses along the bottom of your spine.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

You chuckle breathily at his kind words. “You’re not so bad yourself, Satoru.”

“I think I was starting to like Toru, actually,” he whispers against your back, inhaling through his teeth as he pulls out. He stands back for a moment, watching your body slump to the bed as his cum leaks from your pussy, glistening illustriously in the moonlight.

Tiredly, you flip to look at him with a lazy smile. Satoru leans down, caressing your cheek before sliding his hand down to the swollen marking at the base of your neck. Your eye twitches, giving away how tender the skin is.

“I’m sorry, love,” he mumbles, kissing the skin with soft lips.

“It’s alright Toru, I can hardly feel it,” you smile reassuringly at him. Of course, you have yet to see just how marked up your entire body is.

Satoru hums, capturing your kiss-swollen lips with his in another soft kiss. “Is it bad of me to want another round?” He growls dangerously as his breath warms your face.

“Give me a day at least,” you laugh playfully, still feeling the effects of his bruising grip on your hips.

He smiles against your lips, but pulls back to grab a towel and get you cleaned up. When he returns, he’s careful to be soft and gentle with you, kissing your thighs as he cleans up the liquids leaking from between your legs.

He tosses the towel aside, standing with a furrowed brow as he stares around your motel room. His eyes trail from the deep red of the old blinds to the tacky forest green comforter you lay on.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I-” he pauses, seemingly gauging your reaction as he examines your expression carefully. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you tonight.”

You blink in surprise. You’d  honestly expected him to return to simply flirting at the bakery and keeping casual sex on the side. It’s not like you’re from here anyway, it doesn’t make sense to pursue anything more than casual, but the look on his face tells you otherwise.

You shouldn’t get attached, either, you have a job to do and you should be heading there now. Hell, you should have been heading there an hour ago. By all accounts, you should let go of Satoru and forget this ever happened.

Your eyes rake his body once, admiring the peaks and valleys of his sculpted abs and the sharp edge of his collarbones, landing finally on his face. He’s deathly serious for once, the knit of his brow such a cute sight that you’re not sure you can resist him anyway.

Besides, you would be lying if you said he didn’t just dick you down better than anyone in your life.

That aside, he’s handsome and sweet, has his life figured out and the idea of having feelings for him isn’t that absurd. You’ve spent a fair bit of time with him over the course of the week and everything felt easy with him.

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “Then stay.”

His eyes light up, swirling with galaxies of mirth and calm as he pulls his boxers back on and sits on the edge of the bed. “And for the record, I’d like to take you out.”

“Didn’t we just go out?” You ask, though you aren’t opposed to going out again.

“For dinner, not a sandwich I made or ice cream.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your features. “I’d love that. Are you sure you don’t want to add bright green ice cream to the menu for our next date?”

“I’d sooner take a bullet to the chest,” he pouts, playfully sticking out his lower lip. The blue has been long gone since before you got to the motel, but you can’t resist teasing the poor man.

He runs a hand through his mussed hair in an attempt to fix it to no avail, getting to his feet to pick up your shirt and toss it to you to sleep in. You pull it on over your torso, crawling under the covers and holding them up for Satoru to get into the bed beside you.

“Tomorrow night? For our date?” He asks through a yawn, pausing suddenly. “I uh- wait, no, I have to work late tomorrow for a catering order on Monday. How about Monday night?”

“Sounds good to me. Will I still see you tomorrow?” You ask as he settles in with you, tugging your body to him by your waist until you’re flush to his stomach.

“I won’t leave without saying bye.” He kisses your forehead. “‘Sides, you can join me early if you want. Sit on the counter while I prep,” he suggests, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

You wrinkle your nose. “Sounds unsanitary.”

“I’m capable of cleaning, detective,” he snorts with a playful roll of his eyes that you can’t see. He kisses the crown of your head once more, lingering for a moment.

“Give me a half hour before you leave, I’ll come with you.”

“Wanna eat you out in the back room,” he mumbles into your hair through a yawn.

“That sounds unsanitary.”

He sighs dramatically. “Maybe.”

Comfortable silence falls over the both of you as your consciousness begins slipping, warm in Satoru’s arms. It’s the first time you’ve had the time and luxury to enjoy someone’s presence like this in a long time, and you’re thankful to be safely enveloped in his embrace.

“Goodnight, Toru.”

You’re met with his soft snores, held tightly to his chest. He feels like heaven.

–

Although your plans have moved back a day, with no movement spotted on the cameras you set up, you likely didn’t miss anything last night.

Trailing a small distance behind Satoru with a yawn, you aren’t sure you mind either way. As the sun rises and gleams off his snowy locks, you can’t help but admire him. His skin seems to glow, a smile set into his features and he walks with a pep in his step. He’s almost ethereal in the radiance of the warm morning sun.

He swiftly unlocks the door, locking it behind you and throwing his apron over his head. You pause at the counter as he ties it behind his back. Taking note of your hesitation, he smirks as he pulls you around the counter by your hand.

Easily lifting you to sit on the smooth surface, he plants a kiss on your forehead. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to the massive purple bite mark he’d left on your neck, something he seems all too proud of.

“So what’re you catering?” You ask to create conversation, struggling not to yawn. You may be on a job, but it doesn’t mean you have any reason to be up this early normally.

“Catering?” He asks, realization dawning over his features. “Oh-! Right, sorry. It’s just a business lunch but they requested enough sandwiches that I’ll need to stay late for the buns to bake,” he explains as he begins turning on appliances and getting the shop ready for the day.

You hum, not fully registering his words as you feel dangerously close to dozing off. “Do you have help today?” You query.

“Yeah, one of the part-timers should be here in about an hour.”

“I’m glad you don’t need to run this all alone.”

He slows his work for a moment, blue eyes examining you quietly. “Why’s that?”

You shrug, idly kicking your feet. “It’s a lot of work for one person. You deserve to be able to take a break.”

He straightens his posture as he grins at you. “You worried about me, detective?”

“You’re ruining the moment, Satoru,” you yawn, rolling your eyes as he kisses your nose. Returning to his work, he pulls out risen dough prepped yesterday and sets it to the left of you on the counter.

Whether it’s because you’re tired, horny, or both, who knows for certain, you can’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away from his muscular forearms as he kneads and works the dough into the shapes he desires.

Catching you in the act, Satoru chuckles. “You’re fuckin’ my arms with your eyes, sweetheart.”

“I’m not gonna stop now,” you mumble with a smile.

A faint tint of pink dusts his cheeks and he chooses to distract you by booping your nose with his flour-covered finger. You wrinkle your nose, playfully shoving his hip with your foot whilst you wipe the flour from your skin with the back of your hand.

The morning is quiet as Satoru works with practiced ease while you bask in the light that filters through the large front windows. You begin to fight off your drowsiness when you’re handed a coffee with just a bit too much sugar, something you’ve noticed the white haired man has a habit of doing.

With each sip, the caffeine coursing through your system brings you back into the waking world, just in time for one of the part-timers to knock at the door.

Flipping around to face the door, you hop down from the counter as Gojo asks you to open it for the young man. He’s dressed somewhat similarly to the shop’s owner sans apron, though you suppose that’s likely waiting for him. He has spiky black hair and a rather unamused expression.

His brow lifts when you unlock and open the door for him. “You’re looking different today, Gojo.”

“Ha ha,” Gojo rolls his eyes. “Grab your apron, the buns in the back are just about ready to go in the oven.”

The boy shoots you a more earnest smile after giving Satoru a hard time, which you return. As the young boy heads into the back, you turn your attention back to the white-haired baker.

“He’s got spunk. I like it.”

“All three of ‘em are like that,” he tells you with a smirk, though his eyes shine proudly as though he’s looking at his own kid. “Good kids, though. They work hard.”

You smile, glancing at your watch. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll drop by tomorrow morning after you open.”

“Sure, love. Be ready for our date tomorrow night.”

With an excited nod, you pull him to you by the apron, capturing his lips in yours. “See you later, Toru.”

“Careful out there, detective!” He calls after you.

–

For the first time in days your motion cameras are set off. Sitting at the edge of the forest with your flashlight held between your teeth, you kneel over your briefcase, loading your second gun with silver bullets to add to your holster. You strap a silver dagger to your thigh, covering yourself in dark leather in an effort to conceal your presence.

Shutting the briefcase, you pocket some extra silver bullets and toss the briefcase aside, making a mental note of where it’s stashed.

The forest is deathly silent in the dead of night. Even birds and bugs don’t seem to dare to interrupt the cool still air of the night. Once you’ve broken the treeline and entered the first layer of trees, you move carefully in an attempt to avoid disturbing the brush at your feet. Your flashlight flicks off as you rely on the moonlight, gun loaded and finger on the trigger.

Keeping your back to the trees, you keep your eyes steady as you move towards the camera that was triggered. You had already pulled the footage before arrival, but it didn’t give you much to work with. You could faintly make out the shape of a paw before the footage cuts out.

Approaching the camera, you now see why. With a frown, you pick up the crushed electronic, flicking on your flashlight to get a better look at it. Punctures through the lens tell you that claws were used to damage it. Looking it over, you aren’t able to make out any saliva or blood that you could test, but you figure you can get a better look at it later, pocketing the small device.

Turning the flashlight around the small clearing, you can’t find any other signs of the wolf you’re hunting and your wire trap is still set. Grimacing, you flick the flashlight off and begin the slow and careful journey to the clearing where you had first investigated the disembodied limbs.

A loud bark-like yelp suddenly sounds where your bear traps are, shattering the forest’s silence as suddenly birds erupt from the trees and the night seems to come to life. Using the noise as an opportunity to move faster, you shine your light through the trees and dash towards the wolf.

Flashlight held tightly in your hand directly above your pistol, you shine the light at each bear trap, but in spite of the cry of pain, your monster is nowhere to be found.

When your light comes to rest on the furthest trap, you notice it’s been triggered and fresh blood drips from its teeth, fur wedged between its metal jaws. You smirk, striding easily towards the trap.

As far as you’re concerned, the wolf is finished. You’ll run DNA on its hair and blood and track it down once you have its identity. The hard part is finished.

Pulling a vial from your belt, you take a sample of the blood, using tweezers to grab a sample of hair and shoving them both into your pocket.

With that taken care of, you take a moment to examine the fur yourself. The fur is white as snow, an unusual trait for werewolves, especially those that don’t retreat to a home at night, which you can’t make the assumption that this one does based on what you’ve observed of the townsfolk.

Shining your light across the rest of the clearing, nothing else catches your eye so you reset the trap, cover it in leaves and debris, and head back to your hotel to run tests.

–

Waking up on your own time in the morning is refreshing after the previous night, although you would take an early morning with Satoru any day over a late morning alone. It’s hard to shake the feeling of missing his arms around you.

In truth, you feel selfish for seeking him out and wanting him by your side. You aren’t terribly far away, but if you were to pursue something with him, you would still be long distance. Not to mention how often you travel for work. You frown at the thought. You’re also only a few hours from completing your job realistically, the blood sample has almost finished processing and although you should be happy to be nearly finished with another job, there’s a pang in your heart at the idea of leaving Satoru behind.

Maybe you should quit pursuing him. Leaning over the desk of your motel, staring at the processing blood sample, you chew on your lip. Maybe today should be the last time you visit him, to lessen the pain of leaving. Either way, you need to speak with him.

Throwing on your holster under your jacket, you make your way towards the cafe a few blocks away. It’s a Monday, which you’ve noticed is slow for Satoru, and although it’s selfish, you’re grateful to see him standing alone behind the counter, staring blankly at the wall.

A small bell rings overhead, pulling his attention to you.

“There she is,” he grins at you, leaning forward against the counter on splayed palms. “Your usual, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you grin, smile faltering as you fiddle with the zipper of your jacket. “Hey, um, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Sensing the seriousness of the discussion from your tone, Satoru’s expression falls flat, worry flashing through his gorgeous irises.

“Listen, I don’t think I’ll be in town much longer.”

He frowns, averting his gaze. “Got a lead?”

“Something like that,” you hum, sighing. “I don’t want to lead you on when I’ll be leaving soon. You’re a great guy Toru, and you deserve-”

“How far?”

“Hm?”

“How far is the drive?” He asks, continuing to lean forward on the counter. Given his tall stature, it looks somewhat uncomfortable, but he doesn’t budge.

“About three hours,” you shrug.

“Then you’re not getting out of our date that easily,” he grins. 

Wide-eyed, you give him a surprised stare. It’s then that you notice that he looks… Unusually tired. There are dramatic dark circles beneath his eyes and beads of sweat form at his forehead, his chest rising and falling quickly.

You may not truly be a private investigator by trade, but given that it’s your business’ facade, you do have the required skills to be one.

And in this moment, you know Satoru is hiding something. He’s sweating bullets, avoiding your gaze, and most noticeably, he won’t move.

“What’s going on, Satoru?”

“Hm?” He hums nonchalantly, tilting his head as he forces a bright smile. You see right through him, taking a step forward as your eyes rake his figure.

“Why are you sweating?”

“It’s hot in here,” he lies, avoiding your gaze as your brows pull together.

“Do you wanna lie to me again?” You accuse, too confident in your ability to see through him to be worried that your accusation is baseless.

His jaw tenses, teeth grit as he clicks his tongue. “I’m not lying, detective. I’ve been in front of the oven all morning.”

You examine his eyes when he finally meets your gaze. They’re steely, determined. Yet another expression he wouldn’t need if he was telling the truth. You straighten your posture, eyes trailing along the walls of the bakery. For him to be so nervous, you had to be missing something.

Taking a couple of steps, you pace in a small circle as you look over your surroundings, making a mental note of exits and weapons as you mentally prepare yourself to pull your gun should you need it.

Has he been playing you this whole time?

Surely not, after all, you hadn’t noticed anything particularly animalistic about him, it was usually easy to tell for someone like you. He would have no other reason to hide anything, unless he was hiding the wolf. Could one of the part-timers be it? You hadn’t met any besides Megumi and hadn’t bothered to interview anyone beyond the adults given that the tooth and claw markings you had noticed were on the larger side, but it is possible, you suppose.

You let your shoulders fall as you exhale. You may not have known him long, but you do know that Satoru isn’t the type of man who would kill someone. Certainly not twelve someones. There’s no reason to distrust him, surely.

“Just a coffee I guess,” you order, eyeing him over once before you turn to head to a seat at the coffee bar. “Sorry, Toru. You just… don’t seem yourself. My work got the best of me,” you excuse yourself with a sigh, rubbing at your temple. God, it’s barely morning and you can already feel a headache coming on.

Satoru leans over the bar to set your coffee down, an easy smile returning to his face. “S’alright, sweetheart. Just had a long night of prep.”

“Oh yeah, how did the catering order go?” You ask, taking a sip of your coffee.

Satoru keeps his palms splayed over the counter as he leans forward while he chats with you. “Pretty good. I’m having Megumi drop it off for lunch, but the order’s all good to go.”

You nod, distracted once more by his veiny forearms, planted firmly in front of you.

“So the uh- the disappearances. You found a lead?” He asks, busying himself with cleaning the surface in front of you.

You eye him, brow furrowing. Now he sounds nervous too. “Yeeeah. I should have it figured out by noon.”

“That’s great. You must be excited,” he comments, shooting you a brief smile before he returns to cleaning the counter in front of you. You hum as he tosses the rag aside, stumbling awkwardly as he brushes his hands off on the apron against his thighs.

The air between you hangs in an uncomfortable balance. You can tell something is off, but you can’t place what it is.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you let the feeling go once again as Satoru grins up at another customer. Pulling out your phone, you pull up the number of your client to send an update, occupying yourself with that as Satoru takes the order of an older gentleman.

You glance up as the baker returns from the back of the shop with something fresh for the man, just in time to see something that makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

You move slowly, standing up from your seat and moving your hand under your jacket, letting your palm rest on the loaded gun in your holster. You grip it tightly, eyes wide as they come to rest on Satoru when the older man walks out of the bakery.

“Satoru.” Your voice trembles, something you mentally berate yourself over. You’ve never hesitated in this line of work. You’ve never needed to. Not when you’ve seen the remains of those who did hesitate. You don’t normally have that luxury. “What did you do to your foot?”

He pales, swallowing heavily as his eyes flicker to your hand hovering over what he knows to be your gun. “I fell,” he lies through his teeth.

“You fell,” you repeat his words as he nods blankly.

Your free hand drops to your belt, gripping your flashlight. Satoru’s eyes follow your every action intently, his chest rising and falling quickly as though struggling not to pant.

A click punctures the air as the flashlight comes to life and you shine it in his eyes. They gleam and reflect the light in an undeniably inhuman way. You shut your eyes for a moment, processing just how much of a fool you’ve been.

He’d been playing you since the beginning. You wonder if he knows your gun is loaded with silver bullets. You wonder how long he knew you weren’t a private investigator.

“You fell,” you repeat again, lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze again, flashlight lowered. “What are the odds you fell in the forest?”

He doesn’t respond, his pupils mere pinpricks.

“Your cast,” you question further, taking a step closer to glance at the massive boot around his leg. “Is there much left of your leg under there?”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

Your gun clicks and Satoru stumbles a step backwards as you draw it.

Even with a gun to his head, he looks beautiful. He looks like heaven, images of his body wrapped around you glued to you like the sweetest honey. You suppose in your line of work, you shouldn’t expect to find someone so seemingly perfect for you. Someone willing to drive three hours just to make things work.

At the end of the day, you live a life where monsters are real and love is a fairy tale. What kind of cruel irony is that?

“There’s enough,” he replies, strained.

“They’re intended for bears, y’know. Not wolves.”

Vocalizing it makes it seem so real, and clearly he knows the charade is up as he finally averts his gaze, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as he exhales heavily. “I’m not who you’re looking for.”

You scoff. “You’ve been playing me since I got here and you expect me to believe that?” Your hand shakes as you continue to hold the gun up to him. You’re not sure if you can go through with firing it if it comes to that.

You suppose you may not have a choice if it’s you or him.

“I was never playing you.”

“Then what do you call this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you with your chin.

Slowly, he brings a hand up to card it through his hair. He inhales sharply. “I didn’t realize what you were ‘til I saw your gun. By then though-” he pauses, examining your eyes before he stares at the trembling gun you hold out to him. “I’d already caught feelings.”

Your jaw trembles and you grit your teeth. A muscle in your arm twitches and you disarm your gun with a click, shutting your eyes again as you groan. The silence in the air is palpable, the dullest of knives could cut the tension between the both of you.

Your hand falls down to your side. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Satoru? I- I can’t-” you rub your non-dominant hand over your face, trying to make sense of the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

Even if you were just a private investigator, Satoru still played a dangerous game getting so close to you. He still played you like some sort of toy, which undeniably hurts, but worse still is the fact that your heart aches for his touch still. It aches for his kindness, even if it comes with a side of cockiness. It’s all so undeniably him and draws you to him.

Your heart aches for a monster. A creature responsible for the deaths of many of his own townsfolk, his own customers. What a fucking mess. What a fucking joke.

“It wasn’t me,” he repeats again, his tone now tinged with concern, bordering on desperation.

You shoot him an incredulous look. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that. I’ve interviewed everyone here, I’ve done my due diligence. If it wasn’t you then what were you doing out there last night anyway?”

“I know and I don’t know who it is but-”

“So you have no alibi and no proof that it’s someone else? What a fucking joke.” You scoff in disbelief, heading to the counter to pick up your bag and phone. Shoving your phone in your pocket and hauling your bag over your shoulder, you turn towards the door, leaving Satoru standing in complete and utter guilt, at a loss.

“Listen, please, I was looking for proof that it was someone else-”

“Satoru!” You interrupt him, raising your voice as you turn back to stare at him in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake stop lying, I need to go fucking-” you make a hand motion in the air, searching for words.

What do you need to do? You can stop the DNA sample, for one. But then what? You can’t cover up the evidence, some monster hunter you would be if you covered up after Satoru and returned to your client empty-handed.

Yet… you don’t want to kill him. You’re not even sure you can. Not after seeing such a gentle side of him. He claims it’s not him you’re after, but how are you meant to trust his word? He’s a killer, and he played you. So why does it hurt to think of killing him?

“I- I can help, it wasn’t me, I promise!” He raises his voice to match yours, stumbling another step forward on his cast with a visible wince as he pushes himself.

Shaking your head, you turn away again. “I need to go figure out what to do.” Your mind is rattling with frustration that you fear will turn to red-hot anger if you’re here any longer.

You can hear him shuffling behind you as you reach for the door. “No, no, no- detective please, I-” His hand comes to rest on your arm in an attempt to keep you from leaving.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Gojo!” You hiss, eyes full of malice as you turn towards him. Hurt flashes through his eyes, but he drops his hand shakily, finally letting you leave as your anger bursts through the seams of your composure.

When you’re long out of sight, Satoru hobbles slowly back to the counter, splaying palms over the surface as he stares down at his hands. With teeth grit and eyes shut, he groans. The image of your gun pointed square at his forehead is burned into his brain as he wondered if he could have done something differently to prevent this from happening.

No, at the end of the day, he’s just a werewolf who was naive enough to fall for the exact person out to kill people like him. With eyes shut tight, he rakes his fingers over the counter until his hands are balled into fists beneath him.

He lets out a sigh, long white lashes fluttering open finally. He frowns as he takes in the sight before him. Eight long trails are carved through the wood of his counter, freshly dragged through the grain by the claws of a predator.

Stumbling back, he stares at his hands, having not realized his claws were out.

Is he truly no better than you make him out to be?

–

As the afternoon sun washes over you, you return your pistol to its holster and sigh, running both hands over your face. Beginning a slow trek back to your motel, you decide the best course of action is to clean up after yourself and leave. You’re compromised and at the end of the day, it’s better to hand this off to someone else. You’ll have to deny payment, but you can make suggestions. Someone who won’t hesitate.

Your hand falters even as you reach your door. You don’t want to be an accomplice in Satoru’s murder. It doesn’t matter how much he lied and led you off-track. To some degree, you care about him.

Maybe even more than you’d like to admit.

Unlocking your door, you toss your jacket and holster aside.

“Fuck!” You toss your bag carelessly, letting it slam against the wall with your laptop. You can only imagine the scolding you would be getting from your father if he knew what was going through your mind.

Your eyes flicker to the tests you were running, now complete. It doesn’t matter anymore. You found your wolf. Unfortunately he’s caring, charming, and you’re hopelessly into him.

Laying back on the motel bed, you shut your eyes and curl into yourself, letting sleep take you.

–

The snap of a bear trap fills your ears as you set off the first trap you need to clean up from a safe distance. Your brain is foggy with doubts and frustrations and despite the setting sun keeping you warm, a shiver runs up your spine.

You sigh, tossing a rock at the next bear trap and dragging it along the ground with you. Even in broad daylight, the forest seems to hold its breath. There’s no rustling of leaves surrounding you, the birds are silent, and there’s no idle buzz of insects. It’s almost as though it’s taunting you for your naivety in believing the wolf hidden right in front of your eyes.

You toss the rock, letting the third trap snap shut. The sound pierces the air and the forest shudders. Picking up the trap’s chain, you drag it along with the other two.

The walk back to your wire trap is a slow one, burdened by the traps in your arm and the pit in your stomach. You almost feel sick to your stomach at the idea of turning down a job. Exhaling heavily, you wonder if Higuruma will recommend you to a client again after this nightmare.

Probably not.

You’ll have to pay back what was already paid to you. Likely pay for the motel as well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you lean down to disarm the wire trap. As the wire loosens and you begin to coil it up, rustling nearby catches your attention.

You lift your head, scanning your surroundings, but nothing in particular seems out of the ordinary. Likely a fox or a deer. Probably no big deal.

You finish coiling up the wire and tug the traps along, heading to the next site where you had traps set.

When you reach the bloodied trap, you stop, staring at it. Within the forest it seems the only lively area is right over the trap as flies buzz and lower themselves over the bloodied steel trap. You take a step back and toss a rock, letting it snap again.

It’s eerie, the sound of the snapping metal in an otherwise silent forest. Staring down at it, a shiver runs down your spine. You hadn’t seen it in daylight yet, but with the amount of crimson coating the jaws of steel, it must have done a hefty amount of damage. Enough to make you feel guilty.

Fuck, even after everything he pulled, you still feel guilty.

Yanking the chain of the trap, you toss it over your arm with the rest.

Stupid. So stupid.

Turning to the next trap, something catches your eye. It’s a split-second, but you see a flash. Blinking, you back yourself carefully up to the tree behind you, hand hovering over your pistol.

You had to be imagining things. Or maybe it’s just some harmless animal. A coyote or fox.

Still, you don’t let your guard down, slowly surveying the area.

“Satoru?” You question, keeping your voice low. You’re met with the sound of rustling, and another flash of eyes.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest as thoughts race through your mind. Were you so foolish that not only did Satoru slip past you unnoticed as the exact creature you’re hunting but you also didn’t believe him when he was telling the truth? 

Well, you’re fucked now.

You pull your pistol from the holster, snapping it in the direction of your new assailant as he slips between trees before you with an eerie grin. He’s human, for now, but his eyes tell you all you need to know.

“So you’re the lil’ monster hunter they sent after me, huh?”

The man’s stature is tall, similar to Satoru’s, though he carries himself with menacing pride. Raven hair falls over his eyes, emerald green and filled with confidence. A tight black shirt is pulled taut with every step he takes, very little of his broad shoulders and muscular torso left to the imagination. His lips quirk upwards into a smirk, a scar at the edge of his lips the only sign he’s ever taken damage in a scuffle.

“Y’know, you reek of wolf. Woulda thought they’d send someone a bit better at their job.”

You swallow in an effort to hide your wince as he hits you right where it hurts. Steeling yourself, you remain silent, focusing your narrowed eyes on him as you evaluate your target while he taunts you.

He’s confident you won’t hit him if you shoot now, that much is clear. He wouldn’t stand at such a close range if he thought you could hit him. It means he’s fast, and he’s clearly muscular too. That doesn’t leave much for weaknesses, but he’s cocky enough that at some point he’ll surely slip up and you’ll find an opening. It’s always like that with the overconfident ones.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” The tall man chuckles, taking a step towards you. Dropping the chains of the traps dangling from your arm, you discreetly shuffle to allow yourself room for an exit, all of your instincts kicking in at once.

You were so caught up in your anger with Satoru that you didn’t prepare for this. Your dagger is on the side table in the motel room. Your extra bullets are in the pocket of your other pants. Your extra gun is on the bathroom counter.

Your gun has ten bullets remaining.

It’s enough for a young or inexperienced wolf, but he’s smarter than that. He’s been watching you, he’s waited until your traps are all disarmed. He’s waited until you’re alone and vulnerable without your weapons. He’s cunning.

“Countin’ your bullets?” He sneers, taking another step towards you. He holds his hand out in front of you, sharpened claws decorating the tip of each finger as he counts aloud. “Two, four,” green eyes flicker up to your face as he smirks, “six, eight, ten.”

You slip around the tree, giving yourself an exit route, but the wolf moves too quickly and he’s blocking the area you had mapped for yourself. He’s been hunting you the whole time, right under your nose.

“Poor thing. No way out n’ only ten bullets,” he chuckles darkly, rolling his broad shoulders back. His eyes narrow. “Let’s see what ya got f’r me, hunter.”

He dashes forward, so quickly that your heart nearly leaps from its cage as you barely manage to duck and roll beneath his claws. They collide with the tree behind you and he snarls, pushing off of the bark as he bares long fangs at you.

Shit, he’s not even transforming. He doesn’t even consider you a worthy opponent. It’s almost humiliating, not to mention the genuine fear coursing through your veins for the first time in a long time. Doubly humiliating.

Keeping a careful count on your bullets, you know you need to devise a strategy. As the man lunges forward, you grab one of the disarmed bear traps, launching it at him as you grapple around a tree trunk to avoid his jaws.

The wolf recovers quickly and turns on a dime to follow you. Firing off a shot, you force him to veer away.

“One,” he growls in a low chuckle.

He’s playing with his food. You’re better than this and you know it.

Inhaling, you take a breath to level your head. The wolf peers down at you like prey from a tree above and you know you have to catch him off-guard if you want any chance at living through this. That, or you needed to find a way out.

Your chest rises and falls heavily with each breath as you keep your eyes locked on your target.

With your gun held steadily in front of you, you feign making a dash for your mapped escape, grateful when your assailant takes the bait and you’re able to double back in time to grab the three disarmed traps piled on the ground.

His head tilts curiously, focused on your movements.

With the ends of each trap’s chain held tightly in your hand, you divert his attention with a carefully aimed shot that chips away at the branch just above his head as he ducks out of the way. The fact you weren’t aiming at him goes unnoticed, you think.

“Two,” he growls.

Not taking your eyes off of him, you deftly hook the chains together.

As he darts forward, you slide beneath him, firing off two shots in an attempt to make yourself look desperate. In reality, you are, but you need him to know that.

Either way he’s too fast and the bullets go flying past him.

“Four,” he hums, turning on his heel to launch himself at you from off a tree with claws outstretched.

Another bullet flies through the air, careening past him, but he twists and manages to slice his claws through your arm.

Hissing through your teeth, you tighten your grip on your gun, letting your adrenaline carry you forward.

Exhaling through your nose, you lift your gun again, the branch that you’d previously shot now directly behind your enemy again. Three more bullets fly out, two hitting the branch squarely while the other zips by the raven-haired man.

“Eight,” he grins, eyes narrowing as he herds you back against a tree trunk.

Two bullets left to make your escape. Your only chance.

With your back to the wall, you wait for the wolf to dive forward, shooting your ninth bullet straight for his head. He dodges to the side at the last second and your last chance opens up. You take your chance, putting your gun back in its holster as you fling the chained traps up at the branch you’d been shooting. The weight of the traps manages to pull the branch down behind you, just as you’d hoped it would.

The crackling of the branch snapping sounds off louder than any gunshot as it crashes down behind you. You hear a surprised huff, followed by a growl as you run for the treeline.

Your chest heaves, adrenaline coursing through your veins as it keeps your focus from the crimson that stains the sleeve of your torn jacket. The sting of his claws is nothing in comparison to the humiliation of this hunt, but worse still is the dread that tears at your chest when you hear the rustling of steps behind you.

They’re too fast. He’s too fast. You pull your gun back out, but it’s no use. You have one bullet left. You’re dead and the wolf knows it.

He tackles you to the ground, a pained grunt parting your lips as his full weight pins you to the ground.

He grins, one set of claws digging into your shoulder as he pins you down, forcing you to drop your gun, while his other clawed hand is held steadily at your neck. “So y’r the best they got, huh?” He chuckles darkly.

You let out a pained gasp as his claw pierces the skin of your neck. Your eyes shut tight as you wait for death to come, when suddenly his weight is lifted from you.

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of a pained yelp and all you can see is a flurry of white fur as your assailant is sent flying straight through a tree. If the sound of the branch snapping was louder than a gun, the sound of the tree snapping in on itself is like thunder. You recoil from the noise, pushing yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at what’s happened.

Fur as white as snow decorates the figure standing in front of you from head to toe, a long tail swaying back and forth as its ears point straight towards the other wolf. Though his features are primarily that of a wolf, when he turns his head towards you, the shimmering blue eyes that find you are undeniably those of a worried Satoru.

You can only stare, hand still gripping your gun as Satoru stands over you protectively, balling his clawed hands into fists.

As the other wolf gets to his feet, he chuckles in amusement, spitting blood in the dirt. “Knew I smelled another wolf on ya. Didn’t know it was the Gojo kid.”

Satoru’s ear flicks as he growls. “What do I call you, then?”

“Fushiguro Toji,” the mutt answers as he pushes himself to his feet.

Satoru straightens slightly at the name, but he shakes his head, steadying himself to take on the wolf. He barely looks steady at all, and that’s when you realize just what’s hampering him.

Of course, his leg. The cast has held steady, somehow managing to stay on even in this form, although he’s trying to stay off of it, balancing precariously. He’s down a limb and you’re down to your last bullet, all the while Toji has a few splinters and that’s about it.

Well, shit.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you take cover in an effort to evaluate the situation as Satoru snarls at Toji, now taking the form of a lupine. He stands just as tall as Satoru, his pelt as dark as his raven hair.

“What’s some rich heir doin’ out here anyway?” 

“What’s the father of the year doing out here?” Gojo rebuttals, a prideful smirk crossing his canine features.

With a furious bark, Toji leaps at Gojo in time for you to duck behind a tree. The way Toji fights tooth and claw against your savior isn’t like how he fought against you. He dashes around, bounding off of trees as he attempts to confuse and out-speed Satoru, who only lashes out his claws when necessary in an effort to defend himself.

Still, you can’t help but feel as though to some degree, Satoru is enjoying this just as much as Toji clearly is. A twisted smirk dons his fanged mouth, curling upwards as he slams a forepaw into Toji, sending him flying through the trees.

With Toji temporarily down, you make a dash for the branch that you had pulled down earlier, gritting your teeth as you keep an eye on your peripherals while you attempt to untangle the traps.

As you fiddle with their chains, Satoru barks out a warning as Toji leaps forward again, landing them both in a tussle. Tooth and nail collide as barks, growls, and whimpers pierce the air to your left while you desperately fumble with the traps, though you fear it may be of no use.

Swallowing hard, you roll out of the way when Toji’s claws extend towards you, but Satoru drags him back. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as your ragged breaths come quicker at just how narrowly you’re managing to escape the feral wolf.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, waiting for the wolves to separate for a moment as Toji resets himself for an attack that Satoru fends off easily. Now with an opening, you slink back over to the bear traps, when a shrill yelp suddenly pierces the air, pulling your attention to the wolves.

Satoru’s shoulder is caught in Toji’s jaws, blood trickling out from under his fangs as neither wolf moves. Satoru’s blue eyes are wide as Toji’s claws lift, a snide grin curling at his lips even as he holds Satoru down with his teeth.

BANG.

The forest grows silent again. The birds and insects have long fled, the deer and foxes peer from between the brush in an effort to catch a glance at what’s happened. The wind no longer whistles and the trees hold their breath.

Your chest heaves as you lower your gun.

“Ten,” you mutter just loud enough for Toji to hear as his emerald green eyes find you for the final time. Blood trickles down between his eyes and around his snout, dripping down his jaw into Satoru’s fur beneath him.

“Gojo,” Toji grunts, barely holding himself up, “don’t let those assholes take the kid,” and with that, his eyes lose their luster as he slumps forward. Satoru pushes his body to the ground, laying flat on his back for a moment as he catches his breath.

Your gun clatters suddenly to the ground as you scramble over to Satoru, kneeling hesitantly beside him.

“Believe me now, detective?”

You swallow hard, running a hand over the shoulder where Toji’s teeth sank in. He hisses, pushing himself up. Even sitting up, he towers over you in this form. Your every instinct tells you to run, all except for one, as your heart tells you that this man would never dare hurt you or anyone else.

Your lips part to reply but all you can manage is a shaky “are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” he grumbles, “but I’ll be fine. I’ll lick my wounds or whatever dog analogy you wanna use.” His ear flicks in amusement at his own lighthearted quip and you can’t help the relieved smile that spreads across your lips. “Are you okay?”

You quirk your head to the side in an effort to figure out what he could mean only to realize blood is still dripping down your arm from where Toji sliced you, not to mention the sting of his claws in your shoulder and neck. Adrenaline still courses through your veins, keeping the pain at bay for now.

“Oh, yeah. I can’t feel it right now.”

Satoru hums as he pushes himself up, pupils mere slits as he reaches for you. He may be a hulking and monstrous werewolf, but somehow he’s still so Satoru. His blue eyes are tired, but they glimmer with that familiar swirl of mirth that always seems to come out around you. He still carries himself confidently with an air of goofiness that lightens the silence between the both of you, although much remains unsaid.

Clawed hands delicately reach for the hem of your shirt, easily tearing a portion of the fabric off. He takes your arm carefully from your jacket, pulling it from the confines of the sleeve and wraps it around your wounds tightly. Thankfully, you still can hardly feel the pain.

“You should go to the hospital,” he grunts, sitting back on his haunches.

“I’ll be fine,” you brush him off, “you look worse than I do,” you comment, looking over several claw marks and the chunk torn from his shoulder, not to mention the blood coating his fur.

“Can’t exactly go to the hospital for things like this,” Satoru shakes his head. “I’ll stitch myself up later.”

“Let me do it,” you blurt out.

His head tilts. It’s such a dog-like movement it’s almost adorable. His ear flops slightly, tail twitching. “I thought you wouldn’t wanna be around me.”

“I was wrong,” you blurt out without a second thought. “You never lied to me, you never played me. I just didn’t listen.” His ears perk up, his tail twitching as though he’s struggling not to wag it. It’s hard to deny just how adorable he is like this.

In the same way that Toji grew more menacing covered in fur, Satoru somehow felt more like putty in your hands, unable to hide his emotions now that so much of his body language gave him away.

“I wanted to be honest with you,” he admits, “but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“I wouldn’t have,” you agree, reaching forward to cup his cheek. It’s a foreign feeling, so covered in fur, but somehow familiar as he leans into your touch. “But I think I might be bad at my job,” you chuckle, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your head. Pain jolts suddenly through your arm and you hiss, staring down at your blood-soaked upper arm. The blood was beginning to soak through the material of your shirt that was wrapped around it.

Pushing himself up on his feet, Gojo tests his weight on his broken ankle before making a move to pick you up. Werewolves heal unreasonably fast in comparison to humans, but you still don’t love the idea of him carrying you while in a cast.

“I can walk,” you insist. “Stay off your foot, Toru,” you push yourself up, glancing at his broken foot.

This time, he can’t help it. His tail wags. Like an excited puppy, it damn near knocks you over with the way it sways. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat as you have to side step to avoid his powerful tail.

“You really do like it when I call you that, huh?” You tease with a grin.

You’re certain he would be blushing if he could. “It sounds pretty comin’ from you.”

Though there are still things left unsaid, the silence that settles between you as you make your way back to the treeline is an easy one. You’ll need to come back for Toji’s body and the traps left behind, so you leave your briefcase behind as well. You can’t imagine many of the locals make a point of going to the forest anyway these days.

As you reach the edge of the forest and the town comes into view, something occurs to you.

“Why haven’t you changed back?”

Slits of pupils surrounded by oceans of blue flicker towards you. “My clothes are shredded.” He’s grinning at you, something of a suggestive grin on his wolfish face.

You can only groan at that. “How the hell do we get you to my motel then?” In truth, you aren’t sure you can afford to wait for night to sneak him through the town as your adrenaline is quickly wearing off. Between the blood loss and the pain, you’re growing more light headed by the moment.

“I could pretend to be a dog,” he suggests, but one look from you tells him otherwise. Even on all fours, he’s absolutely massive and he’s far too humanoid to ever look even remotely like a full canine.

Not to mention, you had been hired by someone in the town to hunt his kind. He couldn’t get caught.

You cast a glance at the setting sun, frowning.

“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up when it’s dark.” Clearly, he’s on the same page.

You shoot him a hesitant glance. “I don’t want to leave you behind,” you admit, voice nearly a whisper. The moment has a certain sense of déja vu as you think back to Satoru being unwilling to fuck you and disappear. You can’t help but feel as though you’re somehow betraying him by parting ways, even if it’s only for an hour.

His ear flicks as he examines your features, an understanding expression passing over his lupine features. “I’m not hurt too bad. Honestly your trap did more damage than Toji.”

Guilt floods your body at the reminder that his ankle was likely nearly torn from his body by a trap set by you.

“Stop worrying about it. We can talk later, get to the motel.”

You nod, making your way back.

–

Using your teeth to pull the final stitch of the second claw slice tight, you lean back in the chair at the window, draping your arm tiredly over your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t stitched yourself up before but it doesn’t make the pain any less daunting.

You jolt as someone knocks at the door, moving the curtain aside in time to see pupils flash.

Dashing to the door, you grab a towel and use it to twist the knob in an effort not to spread your blood everywhere given the current state of your hands.

Satoru ducks into the room, shutting the door behind you and glancing around until troubled eyes find you, slumping back in the chair. You look queasy, blood pouring down your arm and coating your fingers in crimson.

Glancing around the room, massive paws reach for a towel and you watch in awe as his bones jolt and twitch, shifting to a human size. His fur recedes into his skin, leaving behind only a bloodied mop of white hair on his head. He wraps the towel around his waist before turning to face you.

The bite mark on his shoulder doesn’t look anywhere near as bad now in this form, the injuries having shrunk along with his body. You suppose he was right to say his wounds weren’t as bad as they looked.

Your eyes shamelessly rake across his body after evaluating his wounds. For a werewolf, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t have more scars than the ones that will surely be left behind from Toji. His skin is nearly flawless, marred only by crimson stains that cover him from head to toe, drying strands of his usually snow-white hair together.

For how much damage you thought Toji did, he seems mostly unaffected.

You, on the other hand, look worse for wear.

With the towel wrapped soundly around his waist, he approaches you slowly, grabbing the chair across from you and moving it until he’s sitting before you.

“Let me help,” he insists. You don’t have the energy to fight him and give in immediately, handing him the needle and thread and a bottle of alcohol. With warm hands, he douses the wound in antiseptic, frowning when you flinch. He mutters a ‘sorry’ as you lean back and throw your other arm over your eyes. “You better not pass out on me, detective.”

“I won’t,” you grumble, taking a breath as the needle pierces your skin.

Satoru is surprisingly deft in his motions as he stitches you up, the first of the remaining two deep slices complete fairly quickly and with little blood loss in comparison to the ones you had managed to do on yourself. Not to say they were done poorly by any means, you had the skills necessary to patch yourself up, but doing so with one arm had proven to be a challenge.

“Why did Toji mention his kid? Was he talking about your employee or something?”

Satoru lets the questions hang in the air for a moment before replying. “He was,” Satoru confirms, replying with his own question that doesn’t seem to have a connection as far as you can tell. “What do you plan on doing after this?”

You hum thoughtfully, too tired to question his thought process. “Dunno. I don’t think I can call myself much of a monster hunter at this point.”

“Why not? You killed Toji,” Satoru points out.

“I guess,” you mumble, lifting your arm to stare at the ceiling. Even if you dealt the killing blow, it still felt like Satoru’s kill. You let the silence hang for a moment as Satoru works on your wound. “You know, even if it had been you, I couldn’t kill you.”

Your voice is meek as you admit this to him. He knows already, but the statement still hangs in the air, the tension interrupted only by a hiss as he continues his ministrations, giving his latest stitch a tug to pull it taut.

“Maybe that makes you a better monster hunter.”

You lift your head, carefully observing his expression. “How?”

“Not every monster is heartless,” he shrugs, brow furrowed as he keeps his gaze focused on his movements. “The world could use more people like you to look out for those of us that aren’t so bad.”

You blink at him, somewhat unused to the very serious but also very genuine advice he’s giving you. His usual goofy demeanor seems to be on pause as he finishes up the last stitch before taking an alcohol wipe to clean the wound once more, carefully running the wipe along the holes left by Toji’s claws in your shoulder and throat as well.

You can’t help but gasp as the alcohol burns on your arm. You inhale sharply, pushing through the pain. “Wouldn’t I be more of a monster lawyer then?” You chuckle, voice strained.

Satoru’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Maybe. I could get used to calling you ���lawyer’ instead of detective.”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your throat, keeping your arm held out for him as he wraps it in thick bandages. Once he’s satisfied with his work, you half expect him to turn tail and leave. You don’t deserve his kindness after lashing out at him, but in truth you know there’s more to what pulls you and Satoru together.

Despite the obvious differences between the both of you, there’s a strong connection that ties you both together already. One that you want to explore, one that feels forbidden. A monster hunter and a werewolf? It can never work. To make matters worse, even before the revelation of his secret, you already were on your way to end things just based on distance.

It just won’t work.

But still, you owe it to him to at least make things right before you leave.

“I’m so sorry, Satoru.”

“It’s alright,” he brushes you off with a grin. There’s no hesitation as he accepts your apology without a doubt in his mind. Bile rises in your throat as it becomes glaringly obvious just how much you don’t deserve this kindness. He only further proves the point as he takes a face cloth in one hand, pouring alcohol over it and wiping it over your blood-encrusted fingers to clean them. He’s so gentle with each movement that it makes your head spin.

Maybe that’s just the blood loss. You can blame it on that for now.

Shaking your head, your brow furrows. “No, no it’s not. I judged a book by its cover and that’s not fair at all to you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and even when you found out I was here to hunt you- or, well, not you but I thought I was hunting you- that didn’t change how you saw me and I should have extended that same courtesy to-”

Satoru’s thumb brushes your lower lip, effectively shutting you up as your heart palpitates. “I forgive you. We both kept secrets.”

Still, you can’t help the guilt that boils in your stomach as he’s so quick to forgive you.

“Oh! And while we’re airing secrets I should probably let you know my employees are all werewolves,” he grins as his expression turns to a cheerful one.

“What?” You gape in disbelief.

“Yeah. Megumi is Toji’s son. I took him and his sister in a while ago, something about Toji’s family rejecting them when his sister wasn’t a wolf. Dunno, Megs doesn’t talk about it much. Oh, and then the other two as well-”

He talks so casually you nearly have to pick your jaw up off the floor.

“I’m so bad at my job,” you groan, earning a laugh from Gojo. He has a funny way of easily flipping a serious conversation to a lighthearted one.

“Nah. You were right the whole time. You weren’t hunting me or the kids anyway,” he shrugs easily, taking in the scene around him as he finally realizes just how bloodied both of you are. “We should shower.”

You hum, leaning back in the chair again. He’s right, but your head is still spinning and your arm is throbbing.

“Tell ya what. I’ll shower, then I’ll grab you some food. It should help with the blood loss. You shower while I’m gone.”

You nod slowly, watching the bare-chested man get to his feet. “I have some sweatpants and a big shirt for pajamas in my suitcase. You can use those.”

He grins thankfully before disappearing into the washroom.

–

You’re surprised to find that Gojo has already returned when you leave the washroom, feeling refreshed albeit sore. Laid out on the table by the chairs you’d been in earlier is an assortment of pastries and sandwiches. It figures that nowhere would be open at this time besides corner stores, so he’d likely just pulled something together from the bakery. How he’s managed to hobble around so competently on a broken ankle is beyond you, even if werewolves heal faster than humans.

Satoru is in the clothing you’d offered him, a pair of sweats that ride up past his ankles and seem fairly tight at the waist, and a pink t-shirt pulled taut with each movement of his bulky upper chest. It’s a sight to behold and you can’t help but to smile.

Catching sight of you in his peripherals, his blue eyes brighten. “I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I-”

“You brought the whole bakery?” You chide, sliding down in the chair beside him.

“Well I left the custard donut behind, actually. So not the whole bakery,” he chuckles. “I’ve been told that one wasn’t my best.” His fingers card through his white locks, pushing stray strands of hair from his eyes.

“I dunno, I might have wanted to give that one a try,” you hum as you grin up at him through long lashes.

He scoffs, playfully nudging your uninjured shoulder. “Okay now I know the blood loss is a problem.”

You giggle, picking up a croissant and taking a bite with a pleased smile. “Thanks for doing this, Toru. I thought you would just pick up a snack from the corner store or something.”

“Have you checked out the corner store? Guaranteed you’d get food poisoning.”

You barely make it a quarter of the way through the spread of food he’s brought before leaning back in the chair with a wince. In an instant, Satoru’s at your side, finger running delicately over the bandages he’s wrapped as he searches for a sign that his stitches may have come undone.

“Satoru, I’m fine,” you mumble, weakly shoving at his chest. The man doesn’t budge as his hand trails down your arm, sending goosebumps up your skin from his feather-light touch. It sends a shiver straight up your spine, one that you’re certain doesn’t go unnoticed when you find yourself staring straight at pupils so dilated that the blues of his eyes are hardly visible.

Like pools of lust, they beg for your attention and you don’t stand a chance of resisting. That’s just the kind of effect he has on you.

Balling the fabric of the shirt he’s wearing into your fingers, you pull him down. He melts against your lips, electricity shooting between the both of you like lightning, followed by the thunderous growl that Satoru doesn’t bother trying to mask like the last time you had had sex.

Suddenly the biting, the marking, the guttural groans and near-growls and him effortlessly ripping your panties the other night all makes sense. Satoru didn’t lose control at the first smell of blood or on the full moon, he lost control to your intoxicating touch.

His fingers move from your arm to your waist and down your hips, before lifting you into his arms, large hands supporting your ass. He stumbles slightly on his broken ankle, dropping you unevenly on the bed with a charming laugh as he does his best to hold himself and you up on his ankle, failing somewhat. You can’t help but to laugh along with him as he crawls on top of you.

His lips are back on yours in an instant, and it’s in that moment that his self-control begins to slip away. He deepens the kiss, smirking when a whimper leaves your parted lips, swallowed in the landscape of his tongue.

Acting on instinct, he ruts his already rock-hard length against you, pulling a whine from your pretty lips at the delicious friction of his cock against your bundle of nerves. His eyes are a wildfire of lust when he pulls back, eagerly leaving kisses and nibbling on the uninjured sode of your neck. As any sense of control slips, each kiss grows sloppier and each bite grows harder, until you feel fangs graze your skin.

You gasp at the foreign feeling, securing your arms around his neck as he bites down on your shoulder. He wouldn’t dare break skin, even fucked out of his mind he would never intentionally bring you harm. As pain and pleasure mingle together, you drag your nails down his back.

A guttural groan leaves his throat as he continues to grind hard against your core, your slick soaking through your panties and driving his enhanced senses crazy. In a haze, he moves to grip your shoulder in an attempt to move you up the bed, but his grip on your arm causes you to yelp in pain.

Satoru goes rigid, completely frozen as his pupils narrow to pinpricks, taking in your expression before he realizes what’s happened.

“Shit, sorry baby,” he pants, eyes wide with fear. “I forgot, I promise I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, Toru. I know you didn’t mean it,” you reassure him with a smile as he creates a suitable distance between his hand and your arm, pressing a languid kiss to your forehead.

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt anyone,” he whispers, sitting back on his knees. The look he’s giving you tells you everything you need to know. He’s more than just desperate for you to believe him, he needs you to trust him.

People like Satoru don’t get chances at love. Werewolves are old wives’ tales, fake to the general public and the admission of monsters to most was enough to scare even the most open-minded people off. He counts himself lucky that you didn’t put a bullet between his eyes, but even in the moment he knew it wasn’t luck. Just like it wasn’t luck that he heard gunshots go off and rushed to the forest.

It wasn’t luck that Satoru was there for you.

Satoru wants to be there for you in more than just life or death situations. In fact, he’d prefer to be there for you mostly outside of those situations.

“I know you won’t. I trust you,” you breathe.

His toothy grin is still fanged, perfect rows of teeth bared in a sparkling grin in spite of the sharp canines that decorate his smile.

He’s gentler as he leans forward, parting your legs to make space for him between them. Gentle fingers trace your jaw, tilting it to give him the optimal angle to press soft lips to yours.

“Detective,” he whispers against your lips. His white lashes flutter as he rests his forehead softly against yours.

“Yeah, Toru?”

“Let’s try this.”

You pull back slightly to get a better look at him, amused. “Try what, Satoru? Sex?”

“No,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Let me make you mine.”

Your eyes widen. “Yours?” Your heart races in your chest, pounding at the confines of your ribs as though it stands a chance at escaping. “Toru, it’s my job to hunt you.”

“So? You’re under me right now, what difference does it make?”

“I-” you hesitate, glancing at the curtains of the motel room as though they’ve suddenly grown more interesting than the man in front of you. “I’m not really good at anything else, Satoru. I can’t quit, and what if you get caught? I work with other hunters.”

“I won’t get caught,” he mumbles against your skin as he continues his ministrations of leaving kisses along your jaw. He’s soft this time, each kiss more delicate than the last.

“What if you do though, Satoru? I’m serious,” you insist, gripping tightly to his shoulders in an effort to get eye contact. His expression hardens as he examines your expression.

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

You’re almost shocked by the solemnity of his voice. You want this just as he does but the odds aren’t in your favor and he doesn’t seem to realize that.

“I can’t put you or the kids at risk,” you pause, brow furrowing, “you shouldn’t have told me about them, by the way.”

“I trust you,” he shrugs, pouting, “you won’t put us at risk. You can visit us between jobs and if things work out, maybe we can move your office here.”

It’s a big ask, effectively a long distance relationship between an unlikely duo. It’s not like Satoru can uproot his life and leave the kids to fend for themselves but you can’t uproot your life for someone you met last week.

Still, it’s not unreasonable. It’s not like long distance is impossible given you’re only three hours away, and fuck, you can’t deny just how much you’ve enjoyed being around him for the past week. Even before you knew he was a wolf, you struggled with the idea of ending whatever it was between the both of you.

As if to help your decision, Satoru moves a warm palm over yours, lifting your hand to rest over his heart. It’s pounding, his chest not just warm but hot to the touch. Just the thought of you saying no has set his entire body on fire, stressed at the idea of your rejection.

Just for once, Satoru wants to be selfish. He hopes you’ll be selfish too.

“One condition, Toru.”

His eyes gleam hopefully as he leans in, listening intently.

“You owe me that dinner date,” you grin.

He chuckles happily, leaning forward to capture your lips once more. “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

His hands are back on you in an instant, exploring every inch of your body with the fervor of a man starved. Something brushes your leg and you gasp, holding his shoulders tight.

“Y’ scared of the big bad wolf?” Satoru grins with lidded eyes as you stare past him at the fluffy white tail flicking back and forth wildly.

“That might be the cheesiest, most embarrassing thing I’ve ever heard,” you groan, rubbing your palms over your face.

“Get used to it,” he chides against the skin of your neck, nipping on the sensitive skin just above your collarbone, opposite your already very purpled hickey he’d left the other night. His hands come to rest on either side of your head as he leans over you, effectively pinning you to the mattress under his weight.

He mutters praise against your skin with each nip and kiss like a mantra, the feeling of your hips bucking desperately beneath him sending him spiraling once more into a lustful state of desperation.

Whimpers fall from your lips with each drag of his hardened cock against your soaked pussy, each moan sinful as you beg for more. You cling to his shoulders for purchase, ragged breaths and pants filling the cool air of the motel room.

With each roll of Gojo’s hips, his fingers grip the sheets tighter until claws are tearing through the fabric, a huff leaving his lips. You slide your fingers down his torso, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He obliges, tossing it to the floor across the room and leaning back to discard the sweatpants you’d lent him, careful not to hit his ankle.

With no boxers, he’s bare before you, a sight to behold as his cock stands at attention, tip flushed and angry with pre-cum spilling from the tip. He wastes no time in stripping you of your clothes as well, eagerly tossing your pants and shirt aside.

“Easy, Toru,” you warn as his clawed hand grazes your injury, but he’s careful this time, intertwining his fingers in yours as he passes control to you by flipping you on top of him.

Gojo would give anything to pound you into the mattress with his fat cock, but in relinquishing his control to you, he knows he won’t hurt you. He’ll be soft for only you.

The feeling of his length twitching beneath you pulls a gasp from your throat. Leaning forward on his chest, you cast a glance at the tail flicking wildly from where it’s curled on his left side, brushing your thigh every so often.

Veiny hands find your waist as he holds you in place while he bucks his hips upwards, pulling a ragged moan from your sweet lips. It’s then that you finally start moving and Satoru’s head falls back against the headboard in bliss as your slick folds coat him in arousal.

A groan tears through Satoru in time with your moan of his name as his tip grinds against your clit. His fingers hold you in a bruising grip, his claws dancing along the surface of your skin, though they never pierce you.

“Shit, Toru-” you breathe, glancing down as you line yourself up over his cockhead, lowering yourself onto him.

His jaw hangs slack with pleasure as your walls grip him tightly, fluttering with desire as you lower yourself slowly down on his length. Bottoming out, you brace yourself on his chest as you give yourself a moment to adjust to his girth that stings and stretches your walls.

“Fuck, y’re tight, baby.”

As the pain shifts to pleasure, you roll your hips, pushing off of his broad chest to gain momentum as you bounce on his cock. He sits back, his fluffy white tail twitching as he resists the urge to thrust up into you, allowing you to set the pace.

He fills you up so much that each bounce on his length causes your thighs to shake in bliss, the vibrations of your trembling sending pleasure straight through the man sitting beneath you. His cock jerks as your shakiness causes you to slow your ministrations and he can’t help it anymore as he holds your hips in place and fucks up into you.

Satoru wants control.

His pace is cruel, his cock tip brushing the depths of your cunt. Each thrust brushes your g-spot so deliciously as though he already knows your body inside and out, because he does. Satoru has memorized each and every one of your moans, burned into his brain to tell him exactly what you want and need, all from your first night together. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t make use of it.

The babbles of his name that fall from your lips are so pretty that he can’t help the way he roughly grabs your chin, tilting your fucked out expression to face him. The eye contact sends him into a frenzy, flipping you both once again to push you into a nasty mating press.

He’s careful of your injury as he presses your knees into your shoulders, his cock buried into your cunt as the new angle sends sparks of pleasure straight to your stomach, coiling tightly as your release nears.

“Toru- hah- please-” you beg him as you near your release and oh how pretty he thinks you look with pleading glazed eyes looking up at him. He loves to have you folded so beautifully beneath him as he fucks you relentlessly.

His own climax fast approaches as he pounds you into the mattress, letting out a guttural growl. “You take me so well, pretty girl,” he praises you, compliments falling from his lips so easily. “Love the way you say my name like that,” he continues lowly, lowering his head to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. 

“‘M so close, Toru.”

“Atta girl,” he hums, running his tongue along the bruised skin on your collarbone as he leans over you further, reaching down to rub circles over your clit with the pad of his finger.

“Toru-!” You gasp as the coil in your stomach releases suddenly when he introduces the friction of his finger and your walls clench around him. A wave of pleasure crashes over you like a tsunami and you throw your head back into the pillows, scratching harsh red lines into the muscles of Satoru’s back.

He doesn’t slow his pace as he rides out the pleasure with you, feeling each wave of your orgasm as your walls squeeze him and milk his own orgasm from him, sending the same euphoria through his own body. His muscles tense and contract over you as he holds himself up, his body jerking and jolting in time with yours as he paints your walls with his cum, the mixture of both releases pooling and dripping down your ass.

Barely managing to hold himself up, he hisses from the overstimulation as he pulls his throbbing cock from your pussy, a ring of white coating his length. With a groan, he rolls to your side and off the bed to grab a towel. With a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, he cleans the pooling arousal from between your thighs and crawls back into the bed. Immediately, he pulls you into his chest, cradling you so softly you would hardly know he had you in a mating press moments ago.

You bury your face into his neck, giggling when you feel his tail brush your leg. “Do you have no control over that thing?”

“I do,” he hums, “but it makes you laugh so I’m not bothering.”

You grin against his skin, sweat-slicked skin sticking to his as you enjoy his presence in the afterglow of sex. The room is silent save for quiet pants and the occasional thump of Satoru’s tail against the bed.

As you both catch your breath and the air around you grows serene, the quiet thumps of Satoru’s tail eventually come to a halt. The arms that encircle you are no longer clawed, his teeth dulled in his somewhat parted lips.

He looks angelic like this, white hair mussed and lashes fluttering very lightly as your breath fans his chest. There’s a sort of charm to knowing that even if you can’t see it, there’s a happily wagging tail that isn’t all that metaphoric hidden deep within the soft man before you. It’s funny to think of him as a clawed and fanged monster when he’s as goofy and sweet as you’ve come to know him.

You know it won’t be easy to manage a relationship with everything working against you, but somehow you think it just might work. Maybe it’s knowing you can’t possibly go through worse than being attacked by another wolf, maybe it’s how safe you feel wrapped tightly in his arms as his legs tangle with yours, or maybe it’s the fact that you so selfishly want it to work, but you think a future with Satoru sounds like heaven.

If it means becoming a ‘monster lawyer’ or whatever silly idea Satoru would come up with, then you were willing to give it a try for him. Anything for one more moment tucked tightly into the valley of his chest.

masterlist

❦ a/n ; i honestly had a lot of fun with this one and hope you did too ♡ kinda obsessed with werewolf!gojo tbh. fangs make me feral or sm idk. anyways likes/reblogs/comments are always super appreciated! ♡ ❦ taglist ; @ackermendick

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

[tvgirlie24]

Not Enough pt.2

After that gruesome training session Alexia desperately tries to fix things between the two of you, you’re having none of it.

Angst (some fluff?)

part 1

The first thing that you felt upon regaining consciousness was an unbearable headache. You didn't think you've ever experienced anything like this. You were uncomfortable, in pain and overall just really confused. The last thing you could remember was someone telling you to keep your eyes open everything else was pretty much a haze. You've made the mistake of trying to open your eyes now, but you were immediately blinded by the intense light of the room and quickly closed them again. The rest of your senses were slowly coming back as well, as you could hear someone quietly talking close to you. There were more voices as well, but you couldn't quite tell who it was. You tried moving your arm as you could feel a needle poking your skin but the second you moved someone held your arm down.

"You're awake! Oh, thank god, you had us scared for a second." Ingrid? Again? Not that you expected anyone else really but even Ingrid being here with you was surprising enough. Despite knowing that she stood up for you yesterday it still didn't make sense why all of a sudden she was so interested in providing you support. Maybe she felt sorry for you?

"Uhh, what the fuck?" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

"You passed out, like an hour ago, we were starting to consider taking you to the hospital if you didn't wake up. Do you not remember?"

"I just remember feeling really dizzy and that’s pretty much it."

"You should've said something if you didn't feel well you know, that was pretty irresponsible, you could've hurt yourself." Whilst you knew Ingrid’s scolding came from a place of worry you really didn’t appreciate her words right now. As if it was your fault. Partially yes, but no one stepped in when Alexia was taking it too far. No one stood up for you, and you were at fault? 

“As if me saying I didn’t feel good would’ve done anything.” You murmured and Ingrid gave you a sympathetic look. 

You slowly sat up, with the help of Ingrid and looked around. A physio was next to you, checking your vitals and on the other side of the room was the last person you wanted to see right now. Alexia, looking all guilty and it seemed as though she wanted to say something but kept changing her mind at the last minute. 

You got tired of waiting after she opened and closed her mouth for the fourth time. “What do you want?” You snapped.

“I, uh, I just-, I’m sorry, really, I didn’t mean to take it so far. I didn’t know you felt sick, If I did I-“ 

“You would have done the exact same thing, we both know that.” You interrupted, not really interested in hearing any of her excuses.

“What? No! No, really-“

“Are you sure? You’re saying that if I came up to you and said I’m not feeling well, you wouldn’t have told me that I’m just slacking off?” You asked, though you already knew what the answer would be. 

Nothing, no response. Just as you thought.

“Thought so. I really don’t understand what your problem is. I would understand if you just had some doubts about me, everyone does, I’m used to it. But you have absolutely no reason to hate me and I’m really fucking tired of it. I do everything that I can and yet you always have something to complain about. I’ve had enough of this, I don’t want to do this anymore. I fucking heard you yesterday. I know you think I don’t belong here, I know you think I’m not good enough, but fuck you didn’t even give me an actual chance and I’m sick of it. I don’t fucking deserve this.” You didn’t even realize that tears were streaming down your face or that with each sentence you voice kept getting louder and louder until you were practically screaming in her face but you didn’t care. It felt nice to let it out, all of the frustration you have felt for the past couple of weeks. She kept taking her frustration out on you, now it was you turn. 

She was about to say something but you had no interest in hearing what she was about to say. Whatever she was about to tell you would never warrant her behavior towards you. 

“No, I’m not doing this right now, I’m leaving.“ You stood up abruptly and felt yourself get dizzy again, Alexia reached out her arms to steady you but you quickly steadied yourself and walked past her to the physio. 

“Get it out.” You said while giving him your arm, where an IV was administered, but the physio didn’t move and just looked hesitantly at you.

“Get it out or I’m going to rip it out of my arm myself, I don’t care, your way or my way, you choose.” You barked out. You knew you were being unfair, and unnecessarily mean, the man didn’t do anything to you. But you were so angry with the whole world right now that you couldn’t care less about who was on the receiving end of your outburst. You needed to get it out and most importantly you needed to leave, if being harsh meant you could get out of there sooner then you had no problem being a bitch. For once you just didn’t care. 

The man grabbed your arm and carefully pulled out the IV from your vein, while staring at you very disapprovingly but you didn’t give him a chance to say something, quickly turning around and gathering your things.

“You should have someone drive you, it’s not safe for you to drive yet.” Spoke out the man, despite knowing you were probably not going to listen to him. 

“I’ll be fine.” You dismissed. 

“I can dri-“ Tried saying Alexia but you didn’t even let her finish the sentence, too worked up to let her finish.

“No, there’s no way in hell I’m getting into a car with you Alexia. I would rather crash my car into a building.” 

“Then I’ll drive you.” Offered Ingrid but before you could refuse, she started talking again. 

“Really, please, let me give you a ride, I’ll have María pick me up. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive.” She pleaded and you were too tired to argue with her. “Okay, fine, whatever.” And with that you walked out of the room, with Ingrid closely behind you. Not sparing Alexia a single look.

The ride home didn’t take too long, despite having to give Ingrid instruction, given that you lived pretty close anyway. A fact, which you were grateful for because you physically couldn’t wait for the moment you lied down on your bed. This also meant that it didn’t take Mapi too long to pick up Ingrid, not that you weren’t enjoying her company, but right now you were much too eager to finally get some rest, so when you saw her pull up in your driveway you quickly hugged Ingrid goodbye and shut your front door, leaving both women standing outside confused.

You didn’t do anything else for the rest of the day, still not feeling too well, but also so mentally drained that all you could do was just bury yourself under blankets and order you favorite take out after taking a much needed shower, finally somewhat content after the horrendous day you just had. And as you were slowly falling asleep you couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of your stay in Barcelona would be like this. Hopeless and miserable, filled with unpleasant trainings and you questioning why you even came here in the first place. 

__________________________________________

When you woke up the following day you could feel dread completely consuming your whole body. You were terrified of going to training today, but there was no way you could skip training when you were scheduled to be starting in the match tomorrow. Physically you felt okay, you were rested and the dizziness and headache from yesterday were gone. But mentally you were everything but okay. You didn't know what to expect but each second you were becoming more of a nervous wreck. You didn’t know what today would be like and that was what freaked you out the most.

Walking in wasn't any better, everyone was nice but you haven't had to chance to see the one person you dreaded seeing the most, but it appears as though luck was on your side today because you ended up not seeing Alexia all the way to the locker room. Strangely enough the only two people that were there were Ingrid and Mapi. You greeted them quietly and started changing, not saying anything else but as you sat down on the bench to tie your shoelaces you noticed just how hard your hands were shaking. You let out a frustrated huff when even on your third try you still couldn't manage to tie your laces. It was irrational, the way tears started to cloud your vision but you were overwhelmed with every negative emotion that there is and all of a sudden even a simple thing like inability to tie your shoes has immediately put you on the edge. 

Just as you were about to try again someone appeared in front of you, but you refused to raise your head and let whoever it was see just how much of a mess you were. 

"Need a hand?" Ingrid asked gently. At this point you should've expected it would be her. So far, she's been the only one to offer you any support. But through your life you've only ever been met with a cold shoulder, so anyone being there for you just wasn't something you were used to. You don't think this is something you will ever get used to. 

"No thanks, I got it." You actually didn't, but it was easier to struggle alone, it's all you've ever known. No one ever taught you how to accept help, constantly reminding you to not rely on anyone.

"Let me help, please." She asked again. And as much as you wanted to refuse, you didn't have it in you. So, you just pulled away and let her tie your shoes, like a little kid but you were way past the point of caring. You still kept your head down, not wanting her to see you crying. 

"There you go, hey, hey, what's going on?" 

"No, no it's nothing don't worry, i'm fine." You said frantically trying to dry your tears, though unsuccessfully.

"Look, you don't have to tell me, but you don't need to lie to me, I can see you're not fine." With how gentle she was being it was basically impossible for you not to tell her. You couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to you like this, maybe, when you were a kid and your mom was comforting you after you fell from your bike, but even that memory didn’t  feel as warm as this. So, you decided to open up to her, just a little, even if everything in you told you not to. 

"I'm just freaking out a little. These past few training sessions have been hell and I just, I guess I'm just nervous. I really don't want to mess up again." You admitted, already regretting saying anything at all but Ingrid just gave you a soft smile, lightly squeezing your leg, offering you a bit of comfort.

"Hey, no don't say that, you haven't messed up anything."

"That's not what Alexia thinks." You murmured. "It doesn't matter what she thinks." She argued.

"But it does, she's the captain." You argued weakly, because it did, it would always matter what she thought. And if she thought you were not worth being here, then everything was doomed.

"Look, she will come around I promise. And especially after yesterday I don't think she's going to be so harsh anymore." She kept trying to convince you and you weren't sure if it was because she was actually speaking the truth or because she was just trying to calm you down. "I'm having a really hard time believing you, to be honest."

"I get it but I promise, it's going to be okay, really."

"Thank you. Again. You've really been saving my ass these past few days." Both of you let out a small laugh at that. 

"You don't have anything to thank me for, really. I'm just being a decent human being." 

"Trust me, that's more than I usually get. So, I appreciate it, and you." She gave you a sad smile at that. You didn't mean to sound so depressing, but that's how it was. You really didn't feel like sugarcoating the truth just for the sake of not sounding like a complete loser. 

You didn't say anything afterwards and neither did Ingrid, she just offered you a hand and helped you stand up. She kept her hold on your hand and slowly pulled you in for a hug. You froze momentarily, not really expecting it, but quickly relaxed and hugged her back. 

"I know you've had it tough and I'm really sorry about it, but I'm here for you, for anything you need. I know what it feels like when you think you're all alone, but I promise you're not, at least not anymore." Tears clouded your vision again but for an entirely different reason now. God you really were a wreck today. You didn't trust yourself to speak so you just squeezed her harder, hoping that she understands your gratitude. 

__________________________________________

You wouldn't say you were necessarily calm after your conversation with Ingrid, but at least you were not on the verge of a complete breakdown anymore, so that's a win. That changed the second you saw Alexia approach you. From experience you knew not to expect anything good from her, so her next words left you completely speechless. 

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked simply, her face not giving you any indication of what she was thinking. Out of all the things she could've said to you, you really didn't expect her to care about how you were feeling. So, you just stared at her, not knowing what to say. She raised her eyebrows though, silently telling you that she was expecting an answer.

"Uhm, I-, yeah, I'm fine." You stuttered, internally cursing yourself for sounding like a complete idiot. She didn't didn't say anything else, just giving you a faint nod that was barely noticeable before turning around and leaving.

The beginning of the training was all formalities, and you were pretty much spaced out until you all started running laps, not really paying attention to anything else, but just as you were about go run the extra laps that Alexia always orders you to, you could hear her shouting. 

"What are you doing?" She asked sternly and you braced yourself for another scolding. You didn't know what you've done wrong, again, but you were definitely not about to argue with her.

"Uhh, I'm about to run the extra lap? Like always?" You said, rather hesitantly, not really knowing what to expect next. 

"No, it's okay, you don't have to, go stretch." She replied and you gave her a simple nod, absolutely flabbergasted.

Since you came here, she always ordered you to run extra laps, to repeat the drills, her telling you not to felt way too weird. For a second you wondered if it was a joke, or if she just went crazy, because this was not the Alexia you knew. But she kept on surprising you today, because each time you were about to do something she kept on stopping you, reminding you to take it easy and repeatedly asking you if you felt okay. 

You were confused at first, not understanding what her point was at all. But that confusion quickly started turning into anger, why did she decide to be nice to you now? She could've been nice to you this whole time and she would've saved both of you a lot of trouble. Why did it take you passing out for her to come to her senses and actually start treating you like a human? So, the next time you heard her tell you to slow down you really had to bite your tongue because you got dangerously close to telling her to fuck off. You were positively furious, your blood was boiling and you kept having to remind yourself to stay calm. 

Breaking point came when she handed you a bottle of water that you could’ve easily gotten yourself, a simple innocent gesture. Under any other circumstances you would’ve just said thank you, but in this very moment that was the last thing you wanted to say. You hated it, how all this time you wanted her to treat you like a human and that’s what she was doing, yet it was only driving you crazy, and against your better judgement you ended up snapping at her.

“Okay I really don’t understand what you’re trying to achieve today, but it is driving me insane. You mind explaining to me what the fuck you’re doing?” You snapped with a frown on your face and you could see the colour draining from her face as she looked as you as though she has seen a ghost.

“I-, uhm, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know, after yesterday and you know…” she trailed off, awfully shy for someone who was yelling in your face less than 24 hours ago. 

“Well, I’m fantastic of course! How do you think I’m doing? I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be around you and I certainly don’t want you making sure I’m fine! It’s too late for it now, I don’t care if you feel guilty it’s your own fault Alexia! You don’t get to treat me like a piece of shit and then act all nice hoping that will make up for it.”

Maybe if you weren’t so angry you would’ve felt a bit sorry for her because she truly looked like a kicked puppy after that little outburst. But she didn’t say anything and with a scoff you turned around and left. You didn’t even bother changing, just slumping your bag over your shoulder and escaping to your car as fast as you could. You were lucky you left a bit early and the parking lot was still empty, otherwise everyone would’ve seen and heard the yell you let out once you got into the car. 

That woman really is going to be the death of you. 

__________________________________________

So, the match really didn’t end up that well for you. You ended up winning 3-1 so it wasn’t that much of a disaster for the team, but your performance today was less than good. You were all over the place, but never where you were needed, completely missing passes and none of your shots came even close to a goal. It was painful to watch and you really weren’t surprised when you came off in the 63rd minute. You couldn’t stick around and keep watching it, too angry with yourself so you immediately went inside to take a shower, hoping that a nice cold shower might calm down not just your body but also your mind. 

Once you got out of the shower you could tell that the game was over since some of the players were already inside while some stayed out on the pitch. You hoped to have a bit more time to pull yourself together before everyone would come pouring in. The shower did absolutely nothing to help you and once you started crying there was no way you would be able to stop. Maybe Alexia was right, maybe everything really was just handed over to you and maybe you really weren’t that good. 

You tried to avoid everyone’s stares while you took your bag and excused yourself, leaving the locker room and hoping to find some quiet place to cry it all out. You tried several doors, most of them locked but you managed to stumble open a door that was unlocked and once you opened it you could see it was just a small conference room, abandoned a long time ago given how empty it was. So, you threw your bag and the floor and made a beeline for the corner, slumping down and burying your head in your knees, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The first sob you let out was rough, so rough it actually hurt, but it felt way so good to finally let it out. You cried so hard that you could feel your whole body shake, and each second it was becoming harder and harder to breath.

You completely forgot to keep a track of time, knowing that you were due to leave soon, but in that moment that was the least of your worries. All of a sudden, you could hear someone open the door but you refused to raise your head, much too comfortable in your little bubble, so you couldn’t tell who it was.

Please be Ingrid, please let it be Ingrid.

“Hey..” 

Oh God, no.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Alexia tried again after she got no response from you. 

“Go away.” You pleaded but instead of turning around she just got closer and on instinct you tried to push yourself closer to the wall to create more space between you. “No please, please go away, please I don’t want you here.” 

She didn’t go away, instead she slowly lowered herself onto the ground until she was sitting in front of you, not too far but not too close, which you appreciated. If she were to disturb your personal space in your current state you would probably just freak out even more. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She asked softly, you’ve never heard her speak like that, let alone to you, but you didn’t let that break you. “No, please, just let me be.” You cried, even harder, wanting her to get away from you as soon as possible.

“I will, once you tell me what’s wrong.” She didn’t get a response from you, all that could be heard in the quiet room was your ragged breathing.

“Is this about the game? Is that why you’re so worked up?” She kept her voice gentle, and it made it hard to keep ignoring her, but you weren’t quite ready to talk to her yet. So, all that she got in response was just a whine, one that resembled an agreement. 

“Look I get it, no one likes bad days, but they’re a part of what we do, we can’t have a perfect performance all the time, as much as we want to. It is not the end of the world, I promise.” She tried to comfort you, not realizing she was doing the exact opposite.

“It is when everyone around you thinks that you don’t deserve to be a part of the team and you constantly have something to prove, then it pretty much is the end of the world.” Your voice was rough and you looked like a mess but you still raised your head as you spoke, wanting her to understand that the biggest reason why you were crying was her own doing. You didn’t necessarily feel secure at Barça before, but it definitely wasn’t as bad as it is now, and it was mostly Alexia’s fault. 

She frowned, thinking about what to say next. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I was an arrogant asshole and I took it too far, but none of what I said is true. I did think it was but I don’t anymore and I don’t want you thinking it’s true. It is not, you deserve to be here, okay?” 

“But that’s not what you thought 3 days ago.” You murmured, Alexia barely hearing you.

“No, it’s not. But a person that gets everything handed to them doesn’t train until they actually pass out, you know.” Again, no response from you, but she refused to give up. At least now your sobbing subsided to just small hiccups.

“I know I messed up, and I will forever feel sorry about it, but I don’t want you to doubt whether you deserve to be here or not. You do, you work hard and I didn’t see it then, but I see it now, okay?” Alexia said firmly, and it was hard not to believe her, with how gently but convincingly she was speaking. “Okay.” 

She gave you a soft nod and slowly stood up, offering you a hand and even though you felt like you shouldn’t, you accepted her help. She carefully helped you stand up, holding you up when you wobbled a little from your legs falling asleep. 

“Come on, they’re all probably waiting for us.” She gave your hand a light squeeze and let go and you followed her out of the room.

All of a sudden you didn’t feel like the world was ending, everything that was going on now seemed almost manageable and you walked out of that room with a small, barely noticeable smile on your face.

__________________________________________

Yaaay I finally finished the second part🥳 Sorry for the delay I wanted to get this out over 2 weeks ago, but I hope you liked it anyway :)

@marvelwomen-simp

[san8ny]

hey girlll, i’m like literally ovulating right now 😭 could you write about sneaking up on ellie and pulling her away for a quickie?? (to feast on her pussy)

THANK YOUUU XXXX

I Treat You Well-ish

!: haven’t written anything in a bit with classes and clubs but i needed to complete ur requests, hope this is somewhat digestible im sorryyy- ?: Oral, and brief alluding of Ellie being seen as just a fwb..

-

“Mm, and here I thought you couldn’t stand me..” She murmurs tiredly, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose as she tilts her head down, an olive-toned hand woven into your tresses from where you kneel before her, a throbbing ache pooling inbetween your legs as you continue fumbling with her drawstring—“Never meant it like that.” You retort under your breath once she finally gives you a hand, strumming 2 slender fingers inbetween the tight loop to undo the difficult knot easily. Me next!

“I’m pretty sure ‘I hate Ellie!’ can only be interpreted one way, but i’ll let it slide per usual.” She sighs once the damp-warmth of your drooling tongue meets first contact with her cotton boxers.

Eager, weren’t you?

“Easy…” Ellie’s breath seemingly hitches, dark bags under her eyes as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of her confines rather impatiently, “Sorry, I haven’t done this since our last time so i’m a bit rusty.” You reply softly. Ellie hates how your words can be interpreted as exclusivity— who exactly was she to think so, or get happy at that?

“I’m gonna finish early if you say that shit.” She groans, turning her face away as it reddens slightly. So much for getting homework done tonight..

What even was this anymore? It seemed oddly distorted from the idea you once brought to her when your good-for-nothing partner had dropped you out of the blue, Ellie still remembering how out of it you were during that entire time-period.

‘Look, we both hate eachother but how about trying it out? It’ll relax us both, no?’

Wrong! Ellie hasn’t had one calm night since you started making appearances in her fucking dreams, which has now become a nightly occurrence for her. Even the strongest of melatonin couldn’t ward your evil off

You were a walking contradiction in her eyes, acting like you wouldnt touch her with a 10inch pole, yet sending back-to-back messages detailing in the most gruesome way the stuff you’d let her do to you if she just pulled up to your dorms right now. Which, let’s not get shit twisted, she has a few times here and there

A true slut you were, but she wasn’t too far behind either

“You only ever call me when you need me anyways.” Duh. She finally yawns, leaning down to thumb your lips apart as she initiates a deep kiss, that is, before shoving you inbetween her own legs, locking you in with her knees as she mindlessly reaches for your cellular device

It’s seem like she’s sighing for the upteenth time in a row, lomg-sought bliss displayed on her face while you award her with kisses all around her pussy, an exceptionally long one on her hidden-away clitoris, awarding it a few laps as you smile

Speaking of which, You really weren’t lying when you said you needed it, Ellie scrolling to find your only recent contacts making up to be yourbparents and close friends she somewhat knew of, however, her face immediately drops when she stumbles upon an unsaved number, scoffing when she sees the strings of clearly unreciprocated paragraphs sent on the persons end, your responses not even being more than 3 words each— She wants to laugh, but she really can’t. She’d been in that losers shoes before, not like you see her any different with or without the sex, or so she thinks

A stifiled moan escapes her once you begin pinching at her inner-thighs, your own expression shifting into clear annoyance when you realize Ellie’s attention isn’t all on you currently. “W-what? Am I not doing this right or something?” Before you know it, she’s accidently clicking the random contact, throwing it onto the bed while she practically steers your head in accommodation to the tempo she wants, the tension she has on your hair bringing slight tears to pool at your pretty waterline— didn’t you want her attention?

Each time your mouth slams onto her gushing pussy, it gives you the lightest wafting of her scent, though you’re way too pussydrunk to really identify it— she reminds you of laundry detergent in the best way however, like the cliche advertisements you’d see about smelling like a fresh load of laundry. You don’t even notice the periodic moments Ellie has to physically move your head herself because of how dazed you are..on her damn smell..

Clearly unbeknownst to either of you, the recipient on the other end of the phone is listening in on your businesses

“OUCH!” You yell out abruptly, clicking back into reality— Ellie had managed to sneakily reach a hand down to pinch your puffy breasts through your thinly-veiled tanktop, causing you to briefly come up for some needed air and a scolding, “You’re being mean! Touch them nicer, ‘arright? They’re sensitive.”

She chuckles at your reasoning, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before immediately furrowing her eyebrows together close-knitly, an all too familar elasticity beginning to snap in her lower stomach, “S-shit, baby, i’m about to— i-in a bit, you still hungry?” She teases, overstimulation washing over when you immediately return to work in an even desperate manner to get her off, “Almost!” You slur, burying your face deeper into her center, almost feels like the air in your lungs was being sucked out

Wouldn’t be the worst way to go out..

“Well, i-im gonna need your highness to hurry it up..” Ellie faux-mocks, toes curling when you unexpectedly ram your fingers into a certain spongy spot rather harshly, “S-shiiit…

“Cum for me? Pretty please?” You attempt to match her whines, leaning up to bury your wet face against the burrow of her neck, all while your digits make play inside of her, “I wanna make Ellie happy.” You pathetically admit, raising your head from her nape to, instead, lick the outer shell of her ear

Ellie’s body immediately shudders at the combination of words and actions, slightly convulsing as splashes of electrifying arousal pulsate across both of your own body; her grip on you doesn’t ease up either, with blunt nails digging into your plush sides, threatening to draw blood if they hadn’t already,

“Did..you?..” Ellie rasps, not being fully able to complete her sentence, sweat pooling in crystal beads at the meeting point of her hairline when she catches her breath and something she’d noticed

“Did you just orgasm untouched?”

“D-don’t push your luck!” You hiccup embarrassingly, grabbing your phone where it lays besides you on her comforter to check how lomg you two had been at it, surely your roommate had to have texted you about your late-night whereabouts, though the nearly 1 hour call in-session feels like an ice-cold bucket thrown at you instead

“Oh my—“ Immediately ending it, you embarrassingly shove your face into a pillow to scream. Ellie looks at you bizarrely, leaning over to meet your face more directly, “Sex so bad you’re trying to..suffocate yourself?” She has the audacity to joke,

“You called my building RA!”

She pauses, crossing her legs as she scratches the back of her neck, “Wait— so— ..no, that makes sense— ah, forget it! I, uh, thought it was some dude you were messing with or something.” Ellie sheepishly admits, “Given the stuff you say, I just thought you had other people or ‘somethin.”

“Wait, what do I say?”

“you know, like the whole thing about me not being your type ‘n all.”

You hate how a small frown shows on your face. Despite how you act, you couldn’t help feeling like a coward for how you tried evading your feelings for Ellie by just ghosting her all those weeks after you’d been the one to even start this.

Instead, you lay back down where you both were sprawled and cup her cheek, “I don’t think anyone buys what I say anyway, even you.” You murmur, kissing her cheek gently

[urfavlarry]

Heyyy:)

I’ve been reading every single SBG Post you have, and I kindly wanted to request something👉👈

Sooo (reader) who’s main weapons are fireworks/explosives(cuz light, and well explosions) And they somehow get hurt by them one day?

(Preferably gn/fem reader, with Ben, Aiden and/ or Tyler) 🧎🧎

Sooo thx for reading this:) You’re so cool!

A/N: oo love this!! thank you for requesting<3 and btw idk why Aidens is so long I think I blacked out while writing for him :,)

warnings: bl00d, swearing, bad grammar, explosives, fireworks, mentions of gagging and throwing up

scenario:

You’ve been playing around with explosives ever since you were little. You lived with your older brother who was experiences with these things and since he couldn’t teach you how to fight, he chose to teach you how to work with explosives. Whether it was fireworks, dynamite, grenades, you knew how to work it. One day while fighting off a phantom your own weapon, well, backfires.

Ben Clark 🎧ྀི

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎧ྀི ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You throw the grenade at the phantom, another in hand waiting to be thrown. You don’t realize you already pulled out the pin from the grenade and it explodes in your hand. You feel numb, eyes wide from the sudden explosion and ears ringing. You feel a really bad pain in your arm, well at least whats left of it and scream. Everyone turns in your direction and either gasp, scream, or full on start to gag. Ben rushes to your side and pick you on on his back and runs with you to the graveyard along with everyone else, Ashlyn yelling a quick; “Everyone back down.”

Your vision starts to get blurry and someone hits your cheeks; “Y/N, you need to stay awake, okay? Don’t pass out, Y/N, Y/N!” You keep your eyes open but look away from the gruesome sight and start to sob. “Everything will be okay we won’t let anything happen to you.” You hear a robotic kind of voice and look into that direction seeing Ben with the most worried expression, Aiden standing there next to him to somewhat calm him down. You smile weakly but instantly hold back a scream of pain as someone starts to clean your wound.

“Fuck..” You groan and look at the night sky, hoping for this pure torture to end. You sigh as they finally start to wrap your ‘arm’ and finish the little procedure. After that Ashlyn goes away, probably to throw up or something. You don’t blame her, that was really a gruesome sight. You feel a presence beside you and look towards the person, smiling when you see Ben. “Hey..” You say and he nods, pulling you a bit closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, trying to sleep the trauma off. It was funny, you were taking it more lightly than you thought. “Ben?” You say and he looks down at you. “Isn’t it funny?” You smile and look up at him, making him raise a brow; “That everyone is taking this so harshly while I’m here literally not even crying? Well yes I did cry but that shit really hurt and I—” You shut up when you get embraced into a hug. You relax and let the tears fall, Ben patting your back. “Let it out.” He whispers so only you could hear. You were one of the only ones except Aiden and his family that heard his voice. It wasn’t often but when he did speak a warm feeling welled up in your chest.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He says in a raspy voice and you sniffle, pulling away from the hug. You look up at the stars, trying to ignore your aching arm. “Thanks, um, for being here when I need you.” You say and he nods, kissing your cheek and puts an arm around your shoulder. “I’d do anything for you, I’m just sad I couldn’t stop this whole thing from happening.” He thinks to himself and just stares at you lovingly, leaving you to rest.

Aiden Clark

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎸 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Everything hurt like hell. You could hear a faint buzz in your head as you tried to quickly move away but a sharp pain pierced through your entire body. Tears started to fall from your face. “Why am I crying?” You think to yourself not knowing how to stop the bothersome tears from coming down your face. You look down at your body and your eyes widen, brain forever traumatized by the gruesome sight. Your leg was completely torn off and your side was bleeding as well. Fire was forming beside you where an explosion once erupted from your fireworks. You look at the sky, just hoping for the clock to strike 7 like it usually did and end this horrible nightmare. You feel your body be picked up by someone and just close your eyes, shoulders relaxing as your whole world turns into a black void.

You jolt awake, looking around frantically, quickly relaxing when you recognize your little safe space; your room. You groan, your side and leg feeling numb and tingly. Looking up at the ceiling you contemplate whether you should go to school or not, but you know that would worry your friends and even Aiden even more than you already did. Slipping from under the covers you get ready and walk down to the kitchen where your brother was making you breakfast, your favorite. He smiles at you warmly and kisses your forehead; “Tough night?” He knew what has been going on, you told him just a few weeks after Savannah. You were the first out of the group to tell anyone and your brother of course believed you, knowing you as a person to not make up such things. You frown at the thought of last night and decide to not tell him, knowing he would take the blame, saying something like; “I should’ve taught you better.” or even going as far as saying “I shouldn’t have taught you at all.” You sigh and put on a fake smile; “Hey I’m fine! Everything went well last night.” He smiles and ruffles up your hair; “Okay kiddo, if you say so. Now get to school you don’t wanna be late.” He says and you nod, quickly going upstairs yo gather some last minute things and rush to catch the bus, not really being in the mood to walk to school.

You get to the bus and see a very tired and worried looking group of kids, aka the group. Ben was comforting Aiden who was more quiet then usual, Tyler looking more pissed then ever, Taylor being the complete opposite and put on a fake smile, and well Ashlyn had a poker face on like usual but still looked pretty worried having her head rested on the window looking at god knows what. “Hey.” You say and everyone looks up, Taylor rushing to hug you and Logan who you hadn’t noticed did as well, all of them bombarding you with questions. You sit down and turn so your back is against the chair in front of you and legs towards the back of the seat you were sitting on. You were facing the group and everyone waited for you to speak, but only Aiden caught your eye. He wasn’t looking in your direction and was fiddling with his fingers, something very unlike him. You tell everyone you’re fine and tell them you can talk about it later, grabbing Aidens shoulder when you get off the bus. “Guys go on ahead, we will be there in a minute.” Everyone nods and Aiden tenses up and looks down.

“Hey hun, everything okay? You’re more quiet than usu—” You get taken by surprise when Aiden raises his voice at you, tears in his eyes and a very worried but angry expression on his face. “Okay? Y/N I really am not okay. I saw my s/o get blown up by fireworks, do you know how that feels?” You go to speak but get cut off again and just stay quiet from then; “I’m glad you’re okay but I’m not, oh but wait! I’m totally fine! I just saw the love of my fucking life get blown up but thats totally fine! Is that what you wanted to hear Y/N? Well too bad.” He says and you furrow your brows, fist clenching and face going a bit paler than usual.

“That’s nice Aiden, but you are forgetting who actually suffered here. I’m the one who got hurt and you don’t understand how fucking painful that shit is, getting blown up by something you’ve been taught to use ever since you were little by your own family. I didn’t only suffer physically, but seeing that shit fucked me up just as much as it did you. But yeah if it makes you feel better then you’re the one who suffered the most Aiden.” You say and run off into the school, Aiden watching you disappear in the crowd of students who were rushing to get to class. Your words really got to Aiden, he taught about them more and more as he went to class, where you would be. He sits down and puts on a facade for the others, making himself look like he was okay when he really wasn’t. Ben knew something was off but knew better than to interfere in your guys’ situation.

After school you go home, laying in your bed and look up at the ceiling, salty tears pouring out from your eyes making them sting. You hear a knock on your door and you quickly sit up and wipe your tears; “Probably my brother.” You think to yourself but your body tenses when you see a weakly smiling Aiden with flowers and a teddy bear in his hands. You let him in and close the door behind you, facing him. He sets the gifts down and slowly approaches you, opening his arms for a hug. You tackle him in a hug and you both fall to the ground with a loud thud, making both of you chuckle. You stay on the floor like that for quite a bit, Aiden rubbing your back to soothe you as you cry your eyes out, mumbling apologies and ‘I love yous”. He sits up with you in his lap and kisses your cheek and then nose. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you like that it was so uncalled for and I should’ve realized how painful that must’ve been for you. I hope you can forgive me even tho a simple sorry won’t really make up for what I did and said.” He says and looks you in the eyes, cupping your cheek in his hand. You contemplate what to say, knowing what he did was wrong but you could have handled it better yourself. “I let anger get the best of me again, that fucking realm has been rubbing off on me more than usual.” You think to yourself and sigh, hugging him and put your chin on his shoulder. “Aiden I get it, you were angry, sad, quite literally traumatized. You’re.. no, we’re still just teenagers, that shit was gruesome and I really understand that it upset you, yes the things you said were upsetting and could’ve been handled better but just so you know, I don’t hate you for it.” You say and get squeezed in the hug, making you pat his back; “Yeah, yeah, okay jeez Aiden chill.” You say and he chuckles; “No I’m never ever letting you go.” He says and you smile, looking at the time; “8 more hours..” You say and frown; “Aiden what if I just won’t be able to walk again in that realm, even if you somehow manage to stitch me up, that doesn’t guarantee anything.” You say and get shushed by a kiss on the lips; “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Tyler Hernández

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🥀 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“So basically what you’re telling me is I have to be the look out while you guys go for the jeep?” You say and raise a brow as you throw your dynamite in the air letting it fall back in your hand and repeat that like a hundred times. Ashlyn nods and you sigh, grabbing the pitch of your nose; “You know I could potentially explode the jeep? You know dynamite isn’t exactly the best weapon for close combat.” I say and cross my arms over my chest, hoping that Ashlyn would come up with a better plan. Tyler nods along and sits down next to you on the floor of the bus. “Yeah and that shit is pretty dangerous if it explodes near you so what if a phantom attacks Y/N really close? She could get hurt.” He says and Ashlyn sigh, furrowing her brows since you have been planning this for about a week and suddenly the plans would be changing. “Everything will be fine, we have necessary recourses if anything goes wrong.” She says and everyone gets up, apart from you. You sit there and think about all the worst possible outcomes, knowing your own brother once got hurt by dynamite but recovered and still lives a fulfilling life.

Tyler stops in his tracks and looks at you, walking back to you and crouches in front of you. He lifts your chin to look at him and smiles at you; “Everything will be fine, you’re talented Y/N, not everyone can work explosives like you do.” You smile and stand up, hugging him tight and give him a quick kiss on the cheek; “Well, let’s knock these bitches dead.” You say and grab your dynamite and lighter, putting them in your pockets. Aiden ordered some suits online and bought a different one just for you since your weapon was dynamite. You can store them in a belt you have or pockets. It was nice of him but you really couldn’t stop thinking about how anything could go wrong. You finally shake off the thoughts and leave with everyone except Logan who would be near the base with a gun. Everyone runs to the house as “Party rock anthem” were heard in the background.

You smirk and get your dynamite in hand; “Let’s get this party started!” Aiden cheers and Tyler rolls his eyes, making Taylor laugh. “Take this seriously guys.” Tyler yells over the music and you just smile sheepishly as everyone runs into the house except for you like the plan was supposed to go. You turn on your headlamp so the phantoms can’t get that close. You see a group of them standing near the speakers where the song was playing, but you knew you didn’t have that much time before it stopped playing. You hear commotion behind you and see Ashlyn getting pulled up by a phantom. “Shit!” Aiden was standing there trying to get up to help her so you boost him up since you can’t really help unless they want an exploded house and a dead Ash on their hands. The commotion atracted a group of phantoms and they were a bit far because of the light you had turned on. You smirk and light your dynamite throwing it right at them. You cover your ears and let it explode, knowing that probably attracted more phantoms so you take another one out. Eyeing the area closely you hear the song end but see tha Aiden and Ashlyn managed to kill the phantom some how. You smile and give them a thumbs up.

You walk a bit farther from the entrance of the house and the jeep, lighting another dynamite and throw it at another group of phantoms. You walk back a bit so you don’t get exploded but don’t hear Ashlyn yelling for you to watch out when a phantom sneaks up on you. Your eyes widen and you shine a flashlight on it but you stumble back and start to hear loud ringing in your ears. You feel a warm liquid run from your upper leg. You look down and see a huge gash in your leg, maling you scream. You cough as dust and ash starts to fly around from the explosion. You sob and crawl closer to the jeep, seeing that phantoms were getting into the house; “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whisper to yourself and sob, sitting down next to the jeep, keeping an eye out for your surroundings. You tie your wound with a ripped piece of your pants and groan in pain as it tightens around your leg. You see everyone get out of the house and Tylers eyes widen when he sees you laying there, bleeding. “Holy shit, Y/N!” He yells and picks you up, everyone getting into the jeep fast as phantoms start to swarm the car. You sob into his shoulder as Taylor applies more pressure to your wound.

Everyone gets out of the car once Ash swerves into the graveyard and get you out of the car. Sobs and sniffles were heard as you cried your heart out from the pain. Tyler had your head in his lap and brushed hair from your face. He whispered sweet nothing into your ear and things like “It’s almost over.” “You’re doing great mi vida.” making you relax just a bit. Ashlyn was stitching your wound and that was the worst pain ever. “Okay, it’s done.” Ashlyn says and packs up the first aid kit, cleaning the blood off your leg and leaves so you and Tyler can be alone for a bit. You try and sit up but your arms give out, making you fall back into his lap. He puts an arm under your shoulder and lifts you up so you can sit next to him. He looked worried but had his brows furrowed and also looked a bit angry. He was mumbling curses in Spanish and sometimes mumbling something about the phantoms.

You lay your head on his chest and he kisses your head letting you rest after that traumatic event. You smile and start to talk; “Sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” You say and he chuckles a bit; “Yeah you should’ve, but things happen and you’re so brave for getting through that.” He says making you smile. “I should’ve been there to help although I probably would have made things worse, but still you get the point.” You nod and he stays silent for a while before he speaks up again; “I’m glad you’re okay, you really did such a good job at protecting us and don’t you think other wise you hear me?” He says in a stern voice and you nod, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, if you think so.” You say and he pulls you closer “I know so.” He says and kisses your soft lips, making you forget all of the pain you once felt.

[trivia-yandere]

fuck it, a look into "the beast of busan" with jungkook, apart of my valentine's day masterlist

you’re the only reporter who wasn't scared of documenting the valentine's day crimes of jeon jungkook - a notorious serial killer known as the beast of busan.

“On Valentine’s Day, Busan has endured one of the most heinous crimes imaginable on a day that is supposed to be about love. It was dubbed “The Valentine’s Day Murder’s” by some for how gruesome the crimes were of the couples slain that night. However,” there was a pause as your eyes flicker to Jungkook. His eyes meet yours and he smiles proudly. “the murders had not stopped on the Holiday and instead, there was a serial killer tormenting the people of Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly and you feel disgusted. It’s as if you weren’t speaking about him - as if you and he weren’t in the same all white cafeteria in the prison he resided where he was deemed a psychopath for his lack of empathy. You are positive he was reveling in the fact that you were here - in the same sundress he told you to wear - and interviewing him.

It makes your skin crawl.

“For the following months, the serial killer continued tormenting the people of Busan, killing any and everyone who he deemed fit that caused a panic throughout the city. No one knew if they were next - me included.”

Jungkook tilts his head, lips pursing a bit at your last comment.

“The serial killer was given the name…the Beast of Busan. And today, I’m interviewing him to get a deeper, more introspective outlook on why. Starting from the very beginning.”

Jungkook is excited, never having been interviewed like this before - at least not one with someone so beautiful such as yourself.

“Jeon Jungkook…” you gulp after saying his name. “...please introduce yourself.”

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. People of Busan know me as the Beast of Busan.” Jungkook chuckles, completely unfazed and lacks any empathy of why he got the name. “I was born and raised here. It’s my home. I love Busan.”

It was Jungkook’s idea to have camera’s set up facing him as he speaks into the microphone. He said whoever supports him would want to see footage of him - a vain statement. 

“You cannot love it that much, surely. You caused a panic.”

Jungkook licks his lips. “That I have.” he nods in agreement. 

--

Jungkook’s eyes trails over the sundress, admiring the way it sits against your body. “You look very pretty today.”

“I’ll have to edit that out.” you sigh, but your body reacts for you, heat radiating throughout. 

“Sorry.” Jungkook flashes a smile that would cause your heart to beat faster if he wasn’t a serial killer who lacked empathy. “Would it be sad to say…that I didn’t have a reason?”

Jungkook’s skin appears to glow in the camera, your eyes flickering to the way he leans a bit closer, his jaw appears chiseled and you understood why he had a bit of fangirls. Maybe it was easier to be attracted to a killer when he was behind bars - still, he was just that. A killer. 

“Maybe I was bored?” Jungkook says with a careless shrug. “Maybe what people were saying was correct. Maybe I was lonely and took it out on couples.”

You remain silent as Jungkook speaks.

“Or maybe I just did it, just because. To see how far I’d be able to go.”

Jungkook’s tone gets deeper and deeper as he speaks, his eyes more cloudy. That familiar switch turns off and it’s as if the Beast is emerging. 

“Maybe…I wanted your attention.”

You can feel the hair begin to rise on your skin. “Excuse me?” you murmur. “I didn’t know you prior to-”

“I knew you, Y/N.”

Your eyes begin to widen slowly. 

“Maybe you were the reason why I killed them.”

“Stop.”

“I wanted to get your attention any way I could. Any attention from you is good attention in my eyes.”

“Stop.” your teeth grit, heart pounding so loudly.

[mykoreanlove]

channie's way of helping you relax

“Sweetheart, can you come here for a minute?”

Chan was sitting on the living room’s floor with his back leaned against the black leather couch. His hands motioned you to come sit in between his legs, fully positioned in the safety of his embrace. You felt his strong arms wrap around you and leaned back against his broad chest. A warm feeling overcame you, like finally sensing the first rays of sunshine after a gruesome winter.

“I want you to close your eyes”, he said gently. You did as he told but only for a second as your curiosity got the best of you. He instantly noticed and scolded you for your behavior.

“Ah ah, bad girl. Close your eyes, baby girl. Be good for me.”

This time you obeyed – with eyes closed you leaned even deeper into his body.

“Good girl. I want you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? Deep breath in through your nose and deep breath out of your mouth.”

You felt his chest rising as he demonstrated the breathing and joined him, getting calmer and calmer by his side.

“In and out”, he calmly orchestrated.

“Can you feel yourself relax some more, baby?”

A sweet smile formed on your lips, deeply touched by his care for you.

“Now breathe normally and just listen to my words, okay?”

Your breathing stabilized and you felt peaceful, like a wave of calmness had washed over you, taking away all the stressors of daily life. You surrendered to the moment and only focused on Chan, simply listening to his deep and raspy voice like he wanted you to.

“I am so in love with you, y/n”, he declared softly.

“Like, crazy in love with you, baby.”

“Do you even realize that? Do you even realize what you’re doing to me?”

“I’ve never met someone like you. Someone so beautiful and captivating, so smart and charming. I feel like I am dating my best friend. My goddess. My soulmate…”

“You make me a better person, baby. Thank you for that.”

“Thank you for always staying by my side and forcing me to sleep and eat and relax.” A small giggle escaped your lips.

“I wanna take care of you forever. I wanna make sure you’re safe and that you take your vitamins and get a bite to eat. I wanna make sure you’re hydrated and in good spirits.”

“I wanna make you feel loved, y/n.”

“Every. Single. Day.”

“I love you, y/n. Like so fucking much.”

“Our love is special, don’t you think? It’s not only sexy and passionate but also nurturing.”

“I won’t ever let go of you."

“In fact, I’m going to marry you some day.”

“I’m going to take this delicate hand of yours and put a ring on it. Not just a simple ring, no, the most beautiful and shiniest diamond I can find. One that’s so special that your friends’ jaws will drop at brunch. That kind of ring.”

“Because that’s what you deserve, baby.”

“You deserve to be taken care of. And spoiled. All the riches in the world belong to you as long as you’re with me, sweetie.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Will you make me the happiest man on the planet?”

“Say yes, baby.”

“Please, say yes.”

“Please?”

[bkglovergirl]

♡𓂃Oversized teddy bear?

Bakugou X Reader

𓏲Things start getting into motion after Bakugou set some ground rules for him to be your husband. Now, Bakugou doesn't retaliate against you in the dorm, but what happens when the couple has to train and battle together? Will Bakugou slowly start breaking down his rules? And you are under mental stress on why Bakugou is acting so weird.

Word count; 3.3k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

You groan, stretching. It’s so bright, and this has to be one of the worst nights you've had in ages. You turn and face the TV, forgetting you passed out watching movies. “Why the hell are you out here?”

“Not too loud..” you sit up yawning.

“I wasn't even loud!” you winch giving him a death stare. He’s in the kitchen washing the dishes and he has.. an apron on? You can’t help but stare because he in fact doesn't have a fucking shirt on!

“No fucking way.”

“What!?”

“Are you wearing a fucking apron?!” You laugh at him which seems to be a pattern now.

“HEY I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE AND DO THE DISHES FOR YOU!” The scoreboard goes up a point 

“You just keep surprising me with how much of a big dork you are!” Bakugou quickly wipes off his hands and makes his way to you. You try catching your breath but seeing him in full view makes you laugh even more. He makes a low growl and pushes you down onto the couch, moving himself to sit on you. Not putting so much pressure as his weight would clear your windpipes but enough to make you trap. You stop laughing admittedly and stare right up at him, going quickly from finding everything hilarious a second to go, to now being turned on. “What are you doing dipshit! YOU ARE HEAVY!”

“It made you stop laughing at me, and frankly, I’m getting tired of it being a daily occurrence!”

“It's not my fault; your face is very funny!” Bakugou moves down a bit so that your faces are face to face, giving you a glare, and your face gets hot quickly. You chose to rationalize it that the heat is coming from him and not because you are blushing.

“Is my face funny now?” 

“As a matter of fact, it is.” You quickly glance over his body and look back at his face. You look like a full-on house husband.” Now it’s Bakugou’s turn to blush, and you decide to use this to your advantage. You put your arms around his neck. “Aww, does someone want a reward for doing the dishes?” The scoreboard shows four now.

“No. what your husband wants is for you to stop laughing at him!”

“I think we can achieve that ONLY if you do the dishes all the time.” You smile, “with the same outfit you are wearing now.”

“I thought you said I was a stingy bitch for having rules.” you move one of your hands to trace down his apron.

“Oh you still are.” and you push him off you. Bakugou blushing caught off guard mess falls on his ass and you quickly run to your room and slam the door before he could do anything else. You take a deep breath falling onto your bed, the heat on your face is overwhelming and you curl into a ball.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

An hour passes and you step back into the living room after changing into fresh school clothes. “I’m going out early for a workout,” Bakugou says putting on his shoes. You quickly grab his training bag and hand it to him. “Ok, you don’t want breakfast?” you're kinda happy he’s leaving and acting like nothing is happening. 

“No it’s fine.” he grabs his bag and gives you a kiss on the cheek before walking out notably quickly. You blush hearing the score go up another point marking you guys at having five. Maybe things didn't go back to normal.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

You and Midoriya are sitting in the common room, he is sitting extremely close to you as you said you wanted this to be top secret as you put it. “Do you remember how Bakugou gruesomely rejected me in middle school?”

“Yeah and you had sworn to me he was your number one enemy.”

“Well.. you know how he’s my Husband..” Midoriya nods, “He uh... Kissed me on the cheek this morning..”

“WHAT?” It looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head, “Our Kachan?”

“Don’t call him ours!” You hit his arm, and with an ouch, he held your hand down. Being both your self-proclaimed best friend, he’s had to watch this fake rivalry, and in his words, it’s been physically painful on him. As you both, without knowing, take your tension out on him, he has no complaints. This way, though, he knows more than both of you combined. 

“What caused him to do that?” he lets go of your hand and you put your shoulder on his head.

“Shoto gave me this idea-”

“Shoto?”

“ANWAY! Shoto gave me this idea because Bakugou wanted nothing to do with this whole situation. It was to make this as competitive as possible. I threw you in there, and BAM! He’s in with a few rules, of course. He seemed not interested at all. I was doing things to get us points, and he just went along with it, with the most effort he could put in. I didn't do anything! He just did it.” He hums in agreement and lets you know he's listening and he starts braiding a strip of your hair. Just like when you were kids he lets you rant while he plays with your hair, it makes him think better when trying to come up with solutions for your problems. “He rejected me. I know I asked him just to take this a little bit seriously but that!? What does that mean? You're a boy what does that mean?!”

“What it means in simple boy logic is he likes you.”

“Simple boy logic?! He’s not a simple boy! He’s Bakugou!” He laughs at you.

“True. But Katchan wouldn't just do that.”

 “I wouldn't just do what?” Speak of the devil, Bakugou walks in placing his bag on the table near you and Midoriya. He looks at the both of you. You two cuddled close with your head on his shoulder and Midoriya playing with your hair. This is normal. This has been normal since middle school but for some reason, the itch is back and his face gets hot with anger. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope! I was just leaving.” With that Midoriya stands up but you pull him back down.

“No, you weren't!” 

“Yes, I was!” 

“You both are a bunch of children.” Bakugou puts his two cents. Which weren't needed.

“Oh, were children? Let’s just bring up the chair, shall we?” You stand up, trying to intimidate Bakugou. To show that it doesn't work, he crosses his arms, but his shoulders are tense. “Or the fact that Midoriya here is points ahead of you.” Midoriya hearing his name be mentioned scoots away but you and Bakugou both give him a look and he stays still. 

“Why should I care how much he has?!” 

“Because someone can’t handle the fact he’s not number one at something! Clearly, he’s a better husband than you are.” Bakugou drops his arms in defeat. He’s ticked off, and it’s taking everything in him not to blow something up.

“If Deku is so great why don’t you be his wife!”

“I would but our points are so low I can’t!” Rolling his eyes he grabs his bag off the table and stomps off. You fall back down onto the couch and Midoriya itches back over to you.

“Well that could have been worse.” you kick him putting your face into your own hands.

“Shut up.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Of all the days these training scenarios could have happened, today was the worst day. As All might put it, we had to work out balancing Hero work with your “partner.” The first scenario involves working on a team against another couple, and the second involves fighting a villain with a high risk of a “married couple” losing a partner, and we don’t know who is getting picked as the ‘victim.’ Your quirk and Bakugou’s quirk do NOT get along and the efforts to make them mash together at all are zero to none. Your quirk controls plants, much like Shiozaki but a lot more advanced. You can control all plants and the lighting effects which plants you can use and how effective they will be. If you make the plant prick someone you can give them a negative or positive association with the plant. Now you see why Bakugou and your quirk don’t mesh well together, he can set your pretty plants on fire. You and Bakugou got dropped into a dark area with pipes and wires all around you both. You have no way of knowing where the other team is which is Shoto and Yaoyorozu and that gives you guys a big disadvantage. You start growing cast iron plants and slowly they glide into the pipes and start exploring them meanwhile Bakugou grumbles around stomping trying to find anything that could give him an advantage. He doesn't and it causes him to let off some explosives which causes your plants to shrivel and burn. “What the hell man!”

“What?!”

“Don’t do that I’m trying to find them! And you're making them find us!”

“Can’t you use Mushrooms or something so I don’t gotta fucking tiptoe around your stupid plants?!” You glide the cast iron plants back through the pipes.

“Well, one mushrooms aren't plants they're fungi dumbass and two my plants aren't stupid!” you shiver, “found them.” 

“You did?”

“Yep, and no thanks to you.”

“Shut it.” You start running, and Bakugou follows behind. As you run down the corridor, ice starts forming all around. “STUPID ICYHOT!” Bakugou yells blasting the ice that's made his way towards him and only him. You let out a frustrated sigh and start using Lampranthus to move you around the ice having it attach to your feet and arms. It was going well, You see Shoto and Yaoyorozu and move closer to them but Bakugou blasts toward them and past you causing the plant to shrivel and causing you to fall. You panic not knowing which plant in the moment could handle the intense elements. The fall is big and over huge ice. You close your eyes and hug yourself but you overhear Shoto yell something and Yaoyorozu yell something. Instead of landing on hard cold ice, you land on a... Oversized Teddy bear? You look up and see Shoto smiling at you and Yaoyorozu gives you a thumbs up. Bakugou was right next to you. It looks like Shoto got to saving you before he could and he’s fucking pissed. His shoulder tense and so does his jaw. “DIE!” Bakugou blasts toward them with Shoto making an ice shield but with the blast's heat it doesn't do well and causes the pair to fall back. Shoto quickly incases the room with ice and causes some ice to form around Bakugou’s hands giving them time to escape. “Fuck!” he stands still trying to get enough sweat but it doesn't work, “Mother fucker!”

“Chill out! You are the reason they got away with the stupid impulse attack!” you run up to Bakugou looking at his hands.

“OH, I’M THE REASON?!” he looks at you like you just wished hell on his mother. “You're the one that let the enemy team save you!”

“Yes, because did you hear me say, Hey Shoto, save me? NO!” You open up your palm and grow a Deadly nightshade. “When I say now, you take this and eat it,” you grow the cast iron plants, and from your feet, they sprout, moving around trying to find the other team. “Got them.” Ignoring Bakugou’s grumbling, you start running, which he follows admittedly. You stop putting your hand out to stop Bakugou and before he can say anything you put a finger to your lips shutting him up. He’ll get you back for it later. Bakugou looks down at you, the purple plant wrapped around your hand and fingers like it’s home. He finally takes a look at your hero outfit. So engrossed in the fight he doesn't even realize that the new one you have been designing has finally arrived and don't ask why he knows you've been working on one. The dark green shirt is tight onto your skin and the sleeves go down enough to make gloves. The cut of the shirt shows off your chest and all over the shirt is little lines the plants could hold onto. You went from pants to a black shirt which is now really noticeable to Bakugou. The skirt's top and bottom also has attachments for your plants. You’ve always complained about your shoes and how they don't support your quirk and if you ask Bakugou why he knows this little fact he’ll say you complained about it so much it’s bolted into his brain but the truth is you only complained once. You have heel boots now and a normal person wouldn't want heels on your costume but you made sure you had them. The heels of the boots have a hole at the bottom, so one of your plants could slitter down and into the ground instead of having holes on a flat shoe which has always made you and your plants uncomfortable. You also changed your hair, it's half up from its normal ponytail. Bakugou knows why you made this change and it’s all for your plants. “I’ll distract them. Now eat this and when you feel the sweat break free and attack.” You hand him the flower and by hand, you bring it up to his mouth and he bites down. “Don’t eat it yet.” and you run out. You start spreading out Caladium, or heart-to-heart. You make the plant swarm around Shoto and hold down Yaoyorozu. Which works for a minute before Shoto shoots ice around your feet not causing you to get stuck but causing your plant to wither and even wither underground which was holding down Yaoyorozu. “NOW BAKUGOU.” And Bakugou trusts you. Bakugou trusts you so he eats the plant. Bakugou trusts you so he starts getting hot and sweaty but he also starts getting dizzy. Either way, Bakugou runs out and with the fever running through him, he’s able to break free from the ice and because Bakugou trusts you he sends his quirk full force which knocks out Yaoyorozu completely and causes Todoroki to stumble You take advantage of the heat caused by his quirk and send out the plant again, the heart to heart plant wraps Yaoyorozu and Shoto capturing them. A ding goes off and an announcement is heard claiming you and Bakugou as the winners. You celebrate smiling and run up to Bakugou, and in his confused dazz he smiles back before passing out.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Bakugou groans the pain in his head is unbearable. He turns his body and suddenly he smells… lavender? He slowly opens his eyes. He squints just seeing bright white and slowly his eyes adjust and see you. Your head is resting on your hand and your eyes are closed. Lavender is growing out of your hair and it's looped around like the flowers were meant to be there. He smiles taking a deep breath before, “Hey!” You open your eyes and his smile is gone, He regrets yelling as his head hurts right away. 

“I am so sorry.”

“What are you on about?”

“I’m sorry! Aizawa chewed me out, and he’s right. I totally should have told you the repercussions of the flower you ate, and you wouldn't have taken it if I had. He took all our points as punishment, and if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be here, and we would be on to the next scenario training!” Bakugou stares at you, dazed.

“The fuck are you talking about? I trusted you so I ate it. Stop tweaking out, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't wanna. Simple.”

“But our points… and you won't get to train.” You grab your hair, causing some lavender petals to get all in it. Bakugou slowly sits up and starts picking the petals out of your hair.

“I said it’s fine, and we won anyway, so it's no big deal.” You smile at him.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Never mind it was a big fucking deal because why the fuck is that stupid fucking Teddy bear in your dorm? Bakugou feels like the bear is staring at him tauntingly. “Why the fuck is that here?” he points at the teddy bear. You were in the kitchen cooking dinner and you peek your head out to see what he was talking about.

“After the battle, Shoto gave me it.” So while he was dead weight, Shoto comforted you and gave you the bear that saved you when he should have. That was the cherry on top.

“Shoto, Shoto, Shoto.” He mocks sitting on the couch, huffing like a child. That’s all I ever hear!” You let him pout like a baby and finish cooking dinner. You bring the plates out and sit in front of the couch, placing them on the table in front of you both. A point goes up on the board and you are back to one. 

“And your problem is?” You look at Bakugou as he quickly starts eating. He shakes his head and he keeps eating so you reach over and grab the remote. Or you try and grab the remote. Bakugou catches your hand and gives you a glare.

“No remote until you get rid of that stupid teddy bear!” You roll your eyes and laugh. Standing up, you grab the bear and walk into your bedroom. Bakugou watches you intently. You throw the bear on your bed, and with its size, it takes up a lot of space. “Not on your bed!” You look at him quickly.

“Why!?”

“Because I said so!” 

“You are crazy!” You shut your bedroom door and walked back over to the couch. “What is the issue?” He ignored you, and his hand was tense around the remote. “So protective of the remote,” you mocked, eating your food. You heard a grumble from him, and you two sat quietly, watching one of his shows and eating. After you two finished, you got up and grabbed the plates, suspecting that he’d keep being protective over the remote.

“What are you doing?” 

“Cleaning up?”

“Why?”

“Because you wanna hold onto the remote like it's life or death.”

“I’ll clean up, that’s my job.” He stands up with the remote. He goes to take the plates out of your hands but struggles with one of his hands being occupied. So he puts the remote to his mouth and he bites down and grabs the plates. You look at him funny.

“Are you for real right now?” Bakugou ignores you and walks into the kitchen. He starts cleaning. “You are so stubborn; it’s annoying.” You sit back on the couch and notice the point board showing two. You smile. Once Bakugou is done he comes and sits back down, he left the remote in the kitchen so you both are stuck watching the News. “I’m getting the remote. I don’t wanna watch this.” Before you can stand up Bakugou lays on on, you blush with your hands hovering over him. “Get up.” he ignores you. “Bakugou get up.”

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Call me Katsuki!” You stare at him before slowly placing a hand on his back.

“Why? I thought you didn’t care for the first-name bullshit.”

“Well, I’m tired of Todoroki getting the special privilege! I’m your husband, not him!” He sits up a bit, and your faces are close together. Your hand falls onto his.

“Alright, Katsuki.” He blushes and looks at the kitchen.

“Yeah, whatever Y/N.” You smile. He has had enough and gets up, walking into the kitchen. He comes back out and throws the remote at you before going into his room. The scoreboard shows five.

Tags and notes;

@andysdrafts @eyesforbkg @kukikoooo

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War IIII

Author's Note: I hit a massive writer's slump, thank you for all your patience! Have some Smut, as a treat!

Content Warnings: SMUT with Some Plot I Swear--Masturbation, I guess there's kinda a hint of hate-fucking here but only if you squint, Exhibitionism, Thigh Riding (it's always the hands and thighs of this man I swear it's all I think about); Canon Typical Violence, Character Death (Unnamed), Mentions of Starvation/Abuse.

Summary: Reader grapples with her feelings towards Rhysand and what she has to do to save her people.

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

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Rhysand is the enemy. His hands have spilled the blood of thousands of innocents. He’s most likely torturing people as we speak. He. Is. The. Enemy.

So why do I lie awake, hours after he’s gone, still thinking about how his hands had felt on my skin? Why do I lay here, tracing the path his lips had taken down my throat and collarbones, around my chest and sides, imagining what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted?

He is the enemy. I plan to seduce and destroy him. I will make him pay for all the pain he has caused me and my people.

But who is supposed to tell my body that everything that happened tonight isn’t real? That it’s all part of the plan to get him to let his guard down, I’m not actively interested in sleeping with him. I’m not! 

It’s just that I haven’t slept with anybody in a long time--that has to be it right? What other explanation do I have for the lingering ache between my legs? For the wandering thoughts of what those hands might have felt like between my thighs?

Every time I close my eyes I replay that moment: The feel of his warm body atop mine, callused hands roaming my skin, lips sucking marks into my throat. Gods I let Rhysand give me hickeys!

I’m going to die of shame.

If the need boiling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t take me out first.

I absolutely refuse to do anything about it! I won’t. Selling my soul to get information is one thing, to try and get off while imagining my enemy is a whole other evil. I can’t! It’s all kinds of fucked up.

I think there might actually be something wrong with me, because the more I try and tell myself it’s wrong, the more wetness I feel between my legs, the tighter the coil in my belly grows. My body actively wants something my brain refuses to let me acknowledge, and so I lay there in a bed that smells so much like him, trying to keep my hands off my still bare skin. I should, at the very least, get up and find where Rhysand had thrown my sweater. He’ll get the wrong idea if he comes back to find me still topless in bed. The middle of the night’s a hard time to get information out of anyone, there’s no reason to try and pick up where we left off tonight. I should just go to sleep.

I pull the pillow over my head and try to imagine all the gruesome, brutal ways he’s probably torturing his captives so I’m no longer laying here thinking about his body. It should work like an ice bath, right? But my mind will not linger on thoughts of blood, only how hot he’d looked scrubbing it off those swirls of ink around his bare chest earlier.

He’s going to be the death of me!

It’s like I can’t escape him. The scent of him is all over the bed, no matter where I lay or how many blankets I shift around. His touch lingers on my skin, the more I try to fight it, the more I find my hands trying to replicate the feeling. I roll my nipple between my fingers, imagining the feel of his calluses against my sensitive peaks. My other hand slides down my stomach, slipping easily beneath the worn waistband of my pants.

This is wrong!

I pull my hand away with a groan. I cannot be doing this.

He is the enemy.

I am doing the seducing. Not him. Me! And I have to have more willpower than this. I can’t be so Cauldron damned horny that a couple kisses gets me this worked up! Seriously, how does one male have this much sway over me already?

I can fight this. I am stronger than this…

I make it all of five minutes before my hand is once again sliding beneath my waistband, tracing its way down to the pool of wetness gathering between my thighs. 

He is the enemy.

Yet he would have found no resistance if he stayed. I would have easily surrendered under his touch, let it ignite a wildfire beneath my skin until I’d willingly spread my legs and let him take whatever he needed from my body. I hate the very thought of it, but I know, as my hips buck feverishly against my own hand, that I would have done it. 

“Rhys,” the whimper slips past my lips before I can bite it down, pleasure licking white hot down my spine. I’m too far gone to even be mortified at this point, chasing that high while my imagination runs wild with all the things that might have been tonight. 

It’s unfair that the sheets smell so strongly of him, only fueling my imagination, all the way to the edge of such jarring bliss. Only then does my body finally relax, my thoughts satiated for now. I can be mortified in the morning. Surely, I’ll hate myself in the light of day, but tonight, tonight I’m exhausted and I finally feel comfortable enough to sleep.

----

My dreams are full of my people hurling rocks at me, chasing me out of the Grasslands, calling me a traitor and a whore, Tam telling me never to come back; I try to visit my parents grave, but can never find it, as even in death they cannot bear to be near me.  The guilt I feel upon waking is worse than I imagined it could be. How could I be doing this? How could I want it?

The guilt  makes my skin itch. Every bit of me feels like it needs to be scrubbed down to the bone. I climb out of the bed and go to the basin of water to attempt to get clean. There’s a small mirror hanging from a string against the wall, the worn glass giving a spotty view of the bruises across my throat. I’d let Rhysand give me, not just one, but four hickeys, trailing down past my collarbone. There might have been more were it not for my appearance. I trail the damp towel down my torso, fingers ticking against my ribs like piano keys. I’m so godsdamned thin. It’s not unusual, most of my people are, save for Tamlin and his riders--riders always get first dibs on supplies, the rest of us get the scraps, especially when we haven’t been claimed--but I’d never thought about how bad it might look to someone outside of camp. With the scars I bear from my father’s temper, this looks intentional.

I glance up at the circles under my eyes, my reflection in the mirror hollow as a chill runs through me. Supplies have been thin lately, but… Dear old Dad had intentionally withheld supplies from the un-marked in camp as an incentive to get them to bend the knee, Tam knew that, was trained to do it, and he’d been so miserable lately, it wasn’t intentional, right?

I give myself a shake. Tam’s cold even on his good days, but he’d never intentionally do that to me, no matter how unruly I’ve been in the last couple weeks before this mess. Lucien would always sneak me snacks for him on days he was too busy to come see me; I’m just being paranoid. Being here is messing with my brain.

I toss the dirty towel in a bin and untie my hair. There’s no brushes around so I use my fingers to comb through the knots and tie it loosely behind my head. It’s only when I’m done and half way into my discarded sweater that the tent flap blows open and Mor storms her way in.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” She says by way of greeting.

How is she so perky all the time?

There’s a large bag in her hands that she hurls at me with surprising strength. “Time to get dressed! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“What’s the occasion?” I should feel excited with the prospect of getting out there and getting new information, but what are the chances we’re going right to Rhysand? How am I supposed to look at him after last night? No I think it’s for the better if I just sit right here in this tent and continue to torture myself with my thoughts. 

“Dress first, talk second,” she returns, hands reaching to help untie the bag since I’m moving too slow for her liking. Bits of dark cloth poke out, the bottom of the bag heavy and lumpy in a way that makes me think I’m holding a pair of shoes. 

Mor pulls out a top, the material as dark as her own, though hers has sleeves, this has none, just a band across my torso. The inside is lined with fur at least. I don’t even have time to question it before she starts pulling the other stuff out and rushing me to get dressed. There’s a moment where I think she might actually start undressing me if I don’t start moving, so I dip behind the bed for some privacy, clothes bundled under my arm. 

The skirt 's more loose fabric cinched around my hips than an actual skirt, nearly all my legs on display. I stare at the vast expanse of my skin and then up at Mor. “Please tell me there’s pants to go with these?” I don’t want to sound ungrateful since my clothes are barely holding on as is, but I also really don’t want to be walking around camp mostly naked either. 

“You’ve got nice legs,” she says, eyes roving over me approvingly. “You’ll look hot.”

“I feel naked,” I retort.

“You’ll adjust. Now hurry up!”

The top is warm but it leaves my arms bare, and even the fur lined ankle boots don’t keep me as warm as I would be if I had a pair of pants. “I really don’t want to sound ungrateful-”

“No time for second thoughts, you’re committed to it now.” Mor interrupts, ushering me over to the mirror again to adjust my hair. 

Her delicate fingers brush over my throat as she works and she grins at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Have some fun last night, did we?”

A blush makes its way across my cheeks. “Well, um…”

She laughs as she braids, blue eyes twinkling as she continues to watch my reflection. “I see now why he picked this top. Gotta show everyone your his.” Mor rolls her eyes. “Males! Always so territorial. Though, if I were you, I’d give him a few back in return.”

“Why do I have competition?” I blurt out. That’s a stupid question to ask. Look at him! Of course I’d have competition. But, despite myself, a flicker of jealousy worms its way into my chest.

“Oh there’s quite a few people in camp who’d literally kill to be you,” she returns as she pins my hair to the top of my haid. Using her fingers, she pulls a few loose strands free to frame my face. “He’s been eligible for a long time now.”

“How come?” I ask as she grabs my shoulders and turns me around so she can apply some dark makeup under my eyes.

The amusement in her eyes fades a bit as she says, “His wife…” She clears her throat and turns away to find where she left a tube of lip color. “Feyre. She was killed a couple years ago by Amarantha.”

My breath catches in my throat, chest heavy with the thought. “Oh.”

“He’s been a ghost since she died,” Mor gives herself a little shake as she turns back with the color and dabs a bit of maroon on my lips. “I’ve watched all these females throw themselves at him and it’s like he can’t see them. Usually the males in my family move on quick, you know? Gotta keep the bed warm somehow, right?”

I nod, having seen it well enough back home. 

“But Rhys…” she sighs. “I thought Rhys died that day too, but now you’re here and I can see a little life in his eyes again. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Gods the guilt is coming back! I should be glad that this monster got a fraction of the pain he caused others inflicted on him, but instead, my heart only aches for him, as if I can feel that pain in my own chest. The female he loved was dead and the monster that killed her was once again knocking on his doorstep. No wonder he’d asked for a distraction last night! And I’d planned to take advantage of that vulnerability.

My stomach turns. 

Mor grips my hands tightly. “I’m glad you’re here. I think he needs you, ya know?”

Please, Mother, kill me! Strike me with lightning or let the ground open up and swallow me. I am a horrible, terrible person.

“You’re too kind, Mor, really I don’t think-” but she doesn’t let me finish as she gives herself a little shake to collect herself and starts ushering me towards the door.

“Now we gotta hurry! We’re gonna be late!”

The early morning light rushes to meet us, such a stark contrast to the darkness of the tent. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, her hand on my wrist leading me along, oblivious to how blind I am. Once I can finally see, I try to take stock of my surroundings and get my bearings. The set-up is a semi-circle of tents, all open and bustling with activity. Fae of all shape and sizes hurry from their tents, the males wearing fighting leathers, the females wearing variations of my own get-up. No one even glances our way, save for the lone male stalking towards us. He’s massive, a head taller than everyone he passes, a giant sword strapped between his tightly tucked wings. I recognize the sword as one I’d seen on one of Rhysand’s riders, though I hadn’t gotten a chance to glimpse his face then. He’s handsome, his dark hair tied back out of his face with a long string. A bit of stubble dusts his jaw, barely hiding a scar that cuts his way across his cheek. 

“Y/N, this is Cassian,” Mor introduces, no trace of her earlier seriousness to be found. She is once again all smiles. “He’s Rhys’s general.”

General. He certainly looks the part. He could crush my head with his biceps alone if he wanted! 

I don’t know how to move in these stupid skirts, let alone curtsey or bow in any sort of way as I would have back home so all I can manage is to dip my head in greeting. “Hello.” I hope it's enough to not offend this hulking mass of a male.

Despite his size, an easy-going grin cuts across his face. “Glad to officially meet you, Y/N!” His voice booms, even under the din of the rushing crowd. “We should get moving, he’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” I ask Mor, wrapping my arms around myself as a breeze hits me head on.

“You didn’t tell her?” Cassian returns.

“He told me not to,” Mor retorts as she loops her arm through mine to help lead me forward. 

This is not instilling anything but anxiety in me, but this is my chance to look around  so I have to take it. Not that the cold helps. It’s an effort to try and count the tents as my teeth start chattering. 

We follow the crowd down the hill, past a set of sentries that guard the path at the bottom as we head into the main encampment. Some of the people around whisper to each other in a mixture of languages, but there is too much moving and noise for me to get a good grasp on what’s being said. Mor doesn’t say anything either, just keeps one arm looped in mine and the other in Cassian’s to keep us from getting separated.

Once inside the main encampment, past another set of sentires, the path splits and becomes rows of tents, laid out like city streets. I’ve never seen a camp look so methodically laid out, each space like a well groomed and planned street. There are even amounts of tents on each side, firepits and places to sit breaking up the road between them. It’s all very homey and… permanent. A spike of envy rises in my chest as I take it in. This is not a camp that ups and moves frequently. It is settled and intentional in its spacing. It might not be the cities the Night Court once boasted in the days before Hybern, but it is still far more a city than the Grasslands had ever seen. I try to count them as we pass, but lose my train of thought after fifty, when the road starts to thin and people push in around us from every direction. I will have to get back another time and recount. 

The path continues forward, for some time, growing smaller and smaller until we come to a standstill. Mor huffs something about being late as we’re forced to wait under the rising sun as whatever is ahead of us gets closer, one step at a time. Eventually, a large amphitheater comes into view, set deep into the ground like a giant, stone step flanked pit. It must have taken months to dig this deep, let alone shape the stones into such smooth edges. How long has this encampment been here? 

It takes what feels like an hour to reach the flat edge at the top where holes have been drilled into it so that banners can be held aloft, each massive pole waving a different flag. There are multiple Night Court black flags, the shimmering triple stars over matching mountains, but there are others too: Twin Wyverns chasing each other’s tales, their golden maws open and ready to snatch and eat the other; A set of bat-like wings open and extended across a crimson flag, an eight point star at its center. Under each banner, crowded atop the steps are fae of all shapes and sizes, all separated into sections, their clothes matching the color of the banner they sit or stand under. I’ve never seen anything like it. I want to take a second to take it in but I can’t focus on any of it. Not when, at the heart of the pit, standing over two bound figures, is the male that claims to be my mate.

My breath hitches in my chest when I see him. 

He is the enemy. 

This is the male that stormed into our camp all those years ago, this is the male that slaughtered my people in cold blood. Any warmth I had ever seen in those, nearly glowing, violet eyes is gone, only cold indifference remains. Atop his raven hair sits an obsidian crown, the pointed centerpiece glittering with three gems in the center, a nod to the stars marked on the arm of every person crammed into the amphitheater. He wears fighting leathers, but not the ones he’d worn into battle, these are all black, polished to a shine in the early morning light. And his wings! By the Cauldron, I’ve never paid so much attention to anything as I watch the massive membrane flare out behind him, decorated in swirling patterns of violet and blue ink, the patterns a twin to the tattoos that circle over his exposed biceps. He looks every bit a Lord. No, every bit a Dark Prince. Wisps of darkness slither off his shoulders, twining over his fingertips, dancing around his hips and thighs. I feel the power of him in my veins as Cassian leads us down the steps.

No one pays us any mind as we pass, their attention and anger, judging by the shouts they throw, are all honed at the males kneeling at Rhysand’s feet. They’ve been stripped down to their underthings, bare chests slashed with even, precise lines of a blade, the blood long since dried. Both have short, dark hair and eyes so black it looks like all pupil. There are more slashes beneath their eyes, the marks fresher than the others, a few droplets of blood dripping down their cheeks like tears. 

Cassian leads us to the bottom row, where I recognize the shadowy figure of Azriel, saving us a spot. The other male stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the dagger he’d been spinning in his hands last night now safely strapped to his thigh. I shiver as he puts a hand on my back to motion me into a seat between him and Cassian, with Mor squeezing her way in between him and I so we remain together. The shouting of the crowd grows louder with each passing second, the volume and anger making my hair stand on end. I find myself reaching out for Mor’s hands, huddled beside her for both warmth and protection. 

Up until this point, Rhysand has been pacing, hands clasped behind his back, wings flaring behind him. Only once I’m seated does his gaze flick to me, eyes roving over my new attire and I hate the flutter in my stomach the look brings me. I should want him to be looking at me like that, but after what Mor had said, after what I’d done once he’d left… I look away quickly, torn more than ever on what I’m supposed to do here. 

I feel, more than see, the little smirk he gets as his eyes linger on the marks he’d left on my throat, but am spared from any more thoughts about last night when he finally looks away to address the crowd. It’s first in Illyrian, then in Basic. The change in languages makes his voice deeper, huskier; I’m more drawn to it than I’d like to be. Many things about the male are attractive, I’m not so blinded by disdain for him that I don’t notice them, his voice among the top qualities. There are quite a few females around me who lean forward in their seats, enraptured with his every word. It’s almost distracting enough that I forget there are two bound men at his feet.

Almost. My eyes flick to them. Their wounds are precise, methodical, not so deep it’ll kill them, but not so shallow it doesn’t hurt. They keep their heads to their chest as Rhysand speaks, dark eyes darting around for an escape. They say Amarantha’s men are worse monsters than the Illyrians, but they certainly don’t look terrifying now. They’re scrawny, like someone had plucked them off the street, no scars upon their skin to reveal any past battle wounds. I can’t decide if that means they’ve never seen a battle until now or if Amarantha’s fighting men have such an advantage that they’ve never been injured in one. 

“Amarantha thinks that she can do whatever she wants,” Rhysand’s voice booms across the amphitheater, the worn stones trembling beneath us. Darkness mists off his body, violet eyes glowing like starlight in his tan face. “But Hybern and his General have no power here!”

The crowd roars in agreement, some of the fighting men on their feet now, stamping the butts of their spears against the ground. 

“These are our lands!”

My ears ring under the din of the crowd. Mor grips my hand a little tighter to keep me steady. At least she’d been right about one thing: The amount of bodies packed into here makes the cold a little bearable, but I press as close to her as I can all the same. 

“We have bled and died for it!” Rhysand continues. “And we proved last night that we are not to be underestimated! We proved that if Amarantha thinks she can come here and take what is rightfully ours, that there will be blood to pay!”

A shiver runs up my spine as he speaks. Not just at what he says, but the truth of it. There is no mourning here. The injured in the crowd are few--only a handful of males sport bandages, no blood seeping through the white linen as if even the wounds that had landed were superficial and healing, not the open, bleeding mess I’m so used to seeing--and he’d said last night that his men had no casualties. Not only were their numbers greater than I had anticipated, but their powers are far beyond what we feared they were. Rhysand himself is a living testament to that. There isn’t anyone among us who doesn’t feel the reverberations of his power in our veins. His darkness doesn’t just flow from him, it ebbs into us, brushes against every person present like it’s introducing itself to us one by one. I don’t need to see him in battle to know that he can easily blow Amarantha’s men away by himself. He won’t even need an army.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Am I prepared to go up against a one man army?

“And we will make sure that is a lesson that bitch never forgets!” Rhysand roars as stars glitter around his outstretched hand, twinning between his fingers. His wings flair out behind him, the apex talons at the tip growing sharper, the violet of his eyes deepening, I swear I see fangs forming in his mouth. He’s not just powerful, he’s something wholly other.

The crowd jumps to its feet demanding the heads of the two males bound before them, and their Lord obliges, using a glittering trail of starlight to separate their heads from their shoulders, blood splatter across the stones. 

Rhysand lifts their heads up by the hair, admiring his work with nothing but pure satisfaction as he calls Azriel over to him. “Why don’t you deliver these to their doorstep?”

The shadowy figure of Azriel doesn’t even break stride as he grabs the heads from his lord and vanishes into shadow with them.

Interesting, so they know where Amarantha’s camp is? Tam had never been able to track her. Or maybe he’d never tried. 

Rhysand flicks the blood off his hands as he looks to the crowd and says, “We can expect a swift response, so let us be ready.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. He can’t really be trying to take on Amarantha, can he?

“Bring all your un-marked forward, let us ensure the protection of those within our borders before we prepare to strengthen outside it.”

Shit!

I’d forgotten about that part. Why else would this outfit they’d dressed me up in not have sleeves unless they needed to mark me? It should have been obvious from the beginning but I’ve been so in my head I haven’t even stopped to think about the reasons behind all this. 

Mor grabs my arm gently, but I feel the strength hidden behind it regardless. She thinks I might try and run. Truth be told, I want to. How am I supposed to go home with Rhysand’s mark? Even if I manage to get all their numbers and weaknesses, that mark is permanent. It might literally be the signature on my death warrant, no matter what information I take home.

But it also puts me right in the middle of all important matters here. Rhysand said he wanted me to ride out with him. The things I could see if I do that! I’d know how many fighting men he has, would learn battle strategies and weak points, all things no one back home has ever been able to touch. 

Thankfully, Mor helps me stand, my shoes feel like they're full of sand. Even if I’m ready to face Rhysand, am I ready to face Tamlin when this is all said and done? 

Around me, males and females all step forward. A few struggle against it, having to be pulled down into the center of the amphitheater, others go alone, heads high. They’ll have to go through the blood littering the floor to get there, which is clever on Rhysand’s part. Swearing fealty here, after blood has been spilled makes this oath all the more magically binding. We’re all entered into a blood oath without spilling any of our own to do it. 

I let Mor lead me forward, despite every instinct to run. I will be closer than anyone to Rhysand. I can give my people the chance they deserve at having a good life. Maybe, when this is all said and done, this walled in haven could be a place we could call home, safe from war and hunger. I can ensure our future, all I have to do is damn myself to do it.

And put this male through more misery. The image of him last night, the dark circles around his eyes flashes across my mind and I have to give myself a little shake to rid myself of it. I can’t let one tragedy sway me, how many tragedies has he himself caused? 

My chest aches, I rub absently at it like that might relieve the tension. He is the enemy. I have to keep telling myself that, over and over, until it’s ingrained into my very thought process. One loss cannot compare to what he has put us through. I have to think about all the lives I will save instead of the one he has lost. 

It takes so much time for me to convince myself that I am capable of doing this that I genuinely miss everyone’s else’s pledge to Rhysand. By the time I am settled and ready to raise my head again, it’s just me and him, and a river of spilled blood between us. A fitting meeting ground I suppose. 

Mor gives my arm one last squeeze before she slips into Cassian’s arms and I swear the whole world centers in to just me and the massive Illyrian before me. He looks even more a dark prince up close.

“Hello, mate,” he purrs.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Don’t throw up here, don’t throw up in front of all these people.

Rhysand leans in close enough for me to smell the citrus and jasmine scent of him, the heady fragrance invading all my senses like it's trying to carve itself into veins. I’ve never been more aware of his size compared to mine. “Kneel,” his voice is a lover's caress, made for the gentle darkness of the bedroom. “Take my mark, so that you’ll have our full protection, and then you and I can have some fun.”

Those violet eyes flick to my bruised throat, his fangs biting into his lower lip as he admires his work and heat rushes through me. I want to play, just as readily as I had last night, maybe more. 

I tear my gaze away first. There’s no going back from this. 

My heartbeat is a clanging gong in my ears, breath a heavy rasp that tears from my throat as I lower myself onto my knees. The rough stones bite into my exposed flesh; the blood now cold against my skin. 

Rhysand reaches out to touch my cheek, thumb stroking over my skin as he nods encouragingly. His touch makes me think of last night, and what I had done in the aftermath of having those hands on me. I’d managed to not think about it until now, but now that the thought is here, I can’t stop it anymore than I could last night. Heat licks its way up my spine. 

He is the enemy. I am not supposed to feel like this while on my knees, I am supposed to hate him. I really need to pull it together.

“I-” Am I even capable of separating myself from what I want and need to do here? I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want his hands on my body. It’s not supposed to be like this!

“I swear fealty to you, My Lord.” Am I supposed to say something flowery? Make some grand gesture? I never really paid that much attention during these things, I’d spent most of my time trying to figure out how to get out of them, not into one.

The words are barely out of my mouth before I feel a tingling sensation shoot its way up my arm, from fingertips to shoulder. It’s not painful, feels like my arm fell asleep and lost feeling, even though I still have all my motor functions. When I glance down at the source of the discomfort, a band of ink colored darkness spreads across my skin. It moves in swirling patterns across my bicep, twisting and twining until the familiar pattern of triple stars makes itself clear among the ink. We brand people with an iron in the Grasslands, this magic tattoo is a new sight for me.

Rhysand takes my hand and helps me to my feet before I can even think about reaching out a hand to feel the new piece of me. I don’t even have time to feel guilty about it either, not when he’s crashing his lips against mine, the hunger he feels palpable as his hand slides into my hair. 

The crowd whoops and hollers, reminding me that they’re even there. I’d truly forgotten about them up until now. 

His other hand still strokes my face as he pulls away just enough to say, “I swear, no harm will come to you under our watch.” 

Lofty promises I’m sure, but with the crowd pressing in, now that the spectacle is over, there is not much time to dwell on it either. The next couple of minutes pass in a blur as we all shift from the amphitheater to a mess tent full of benches and long tables full of food and drink.

Rhysand hasn’t let go of my hand, not even at Mor’s insistence that she should get to show me around. The mark might as well be a rope tied around our wrists, dragging me along beside him as he greets various soldiers and sentries. 

The heat of the room soon makes me forget I was ever cold in the first place, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin the longer we linger. 

In the back center of the tent is the seat of honor, it alone has a single table, everyone else crowds into each other, clambering for seats with no real order. The fighting men mingle with the elders and children and maids alike; the armored sentries dumping their helmets on the tables, the horse hair plumes drifting over the worn wood, holding spots next to the seats of scantily dressed dancers. 

As everyone finds their seats, serving girls start bringing in the food and drink, until all the tables are full of dozens of dishes I can’t name. My stomach rumbles as Rhysand leads me along, an arm looped around my waist like he thinks I might slip away at any moment. He hasn’t stopped touching me since his mark wrote its way across my right arm; a good thing for my plan, I suppose, but I my mind won’t stop narrowing in on the way his fingers dance over my hip bone or the strength of his arms around me. To some degree, I feel small next to him, but not in a way I can convince myself I hate. Not in the way I had felt small back home. 

It’s not long before Rhysand claims this would-be throne and before I can ask where I should disappear to, the warlord is gripping me by the hips and pulling me into his lap! My brain short circuits, all rational thought flying out the window.

He slots one powerful thigh between my, very exposed, legs the scrape of his leathers against my bare skin enough to make my whole body shiver. He’s all sleek muscle, body chiseled from riding and fighting and it is not as if I hadn’t noticed--especially after last night--but I’d never been so aware of him before.

His breath is warm over the shell of my ear as he leans in to whisper, “Now we can play, Darling.”

Here?! Cauldron he’s really going to be the death of me! And rationally I know the more people see us together, the easier it will be for me to maneuver and get information, but it is very hard to think rationally when I can feel so many eyes watching my every move.

Rhysand brushes his nose over the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the soft waves of his dark hair a contrast to the harsh flash of teeth he brushes against my skin a moment later. My heart thunders in my chest, heat rushing to my cheeks. I’ve lost sight of Mor and Cassian, though I doubt they’d be stupid enough to interrupt, let alone save me.

Rhysand sucks a new mark into my neck as he trails a hand up my exposed thigh and the notion that I need to be saved leaves me. This is what I had hoped would happen last night--what I had tried so hard to pretend I didn’t want. The crowd starts to blur in my vision, the only people here are the two of us as he gets closer and closer to the apex of my thighs.  

He is the enemy. Yet, my head falls back on his shoulder as both his lips and his hands trail higher. Every move is warm and calculating and my body is so eager to surrender. I tell myself this is part of the plan, part of the game, but my body doesn’t care about any of that. It just wants more of him.

His hand stills at the pathetic excuse of a covering the skirt offers, thumb stroking against the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says softly in my ear. “I’ll make it up to you.”

I think I might actually be so pathetic that I’d beg for it, body squirming under his grip in search of more friction. I’ve never been more acutely aware of the ache between my legs. More so when I find myself grinding my hips down, unabashedly, against his thigh in front of all these people, the scrape of his leathers a heady friction that makes me bite down on my lower lip. 

He chuckles in my ear at my neediness, the sound so rich and deep it only further ignites the heat in my lower belly. If he is supposed to be the enemy, why is his whole body made for such pleasurable sin? There isn’t an inch of him that couldn’t be used to turn me on.

“It’s… it’s ok,” what even are words? “This was important.”

He hums as if thinking, fingers still stroking idle patterns into the tender flesh of my thigh. He’s so close to where I want him. 

“Thank you for being understanding,” he says softly. He sounds about as fragile as he had looked last night and that pang in my chest is back. “I can’t… I can’t risk it, not again, not with you. My mark will guarantee your protection, even if I am not physically here. You’re safe, and you’ll stay that way.”

I slowly raise my hand back, until I can thread my fingers through his hair and he leans his whole head into my touch. “No one’s ever really looked out for me before,” I whisper. Not a lie and not part of this game, but something that slips right out of me before I can trap it behind my teeth. 

“Never again,” he vows.

Perhaps if there wasn’t so much blood between us, I could believe him. 

I can’t take the words back, and I hate that we constantly end up more vulnerable than I thought we could be, I need to get this back on track. The less vulnerable I can keep things between us, the better. All I need to do is keep his focus on what we’d been doing. The more he’s thinking about my body, the less he’s looking at what I’m doing--and the less guilty I will feel. 

 I grind my hips back against him, trying to regain control of the situation, the obvious proof of his own arousal pressing into my ass. 

He hisses, even as he nips at the underside of my jaw. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You did say you’d make it up to me,” I tease in return, scraping my nails playfully along his scalp. 

“I did,” he muses. “Though I was thinking about doing it after we eat.”

“Liar,” I retort. 

His hand finally, blissfully, snakes higher, dipping beneath my skirts. “See, I was planning on making it up to you with my tongue-”

All thought eddies from my mind as his fingers stroke over my core, heat licking its way up my spine. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound.

“But if my hand is what you’d prefer, I’ll happily give it to you.” He slides a finger into the budding wetness between my legs, testing to see how much I can take. “That’s what you were thinking about last night, right?”

I freeze and he chuckles in my ear as he says, “It was rather distracting, having your side of the bond open, right as Azriel was going to work on our captives.”

He’d heard me?!

Shit shit shit! How much did he know?

“H-how did you…?” My hips buck instinctively as he curls a finger inside me, hitting a spot I didn’t know was so sensitive. 

“Think of the bond like a bridge,” he explains it so clinically, as if he isn’t currently adding a second finger inside me. “With a door on each end. Last night, you opened your door and let me walk right in.”

“How…” I roll my hips to match his pace, desperate for the friction, even as my eyes squeeze themselves shut from the embarrassment of this conversation. “How much did you hear?”

“Heard and saw,” he corrects, teeth scraping along the underside of my jaw. 

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me!

“Just the last bit, I think,” he continues, picking up his pace as my body clenches around his fingers. “When you called out for me. Want to tell me what you were imagining I was doing?”

Thank the Mother he hadn’t walked in when I was thinking about how much I hated him! I’d be dead otherwise, mark or not, and this wasn’t the position I wanted to be in if that was going to happen.

“This,” I whimper, turning my head to brush my lips along his throat. As long as he thinks it was nothing other than my general horniness, I’m safe, embarrassment aside. 

His fingers plunge deeper, wetness dripping down my thighs; I have to be leaving a mess on his pants at this point. “Hmmm, not very creative,” he tuts. “You could have had any part of me you wanted, and all you could think about was my hands?”

Considering the way my thighs start to shake, breath catching in my throat as he hits a spot inside me that has stars swimming across my vision, I’m pretty sure his hands are far beyond the limits of my imagination. No dream had ever felt this good. I intend to defend myself, or at the very least tease him in return, but the only thing that makes it past my lips is his name, soft and pleading as a prayer as my hips chase the motion of his fingers. My whole body is on fire. No part of my imagination would have ever been able to create this.

From somewhere inside the tent, music has started playing and some of those dancers I’d spotted on the way in start the entertainment portion of the afternoon, which I’m sure is a fantastic display, given the approving sounds of the crowd, but I can’t even pay attention to it. I’m barely aware that it’s there as I press my forehead into Rhysand’s shoulder and whimper, body tight as a bowstring.

“Just like that,” he whispers in my ear, chin dropping to rest on my shoulder so he can watch the way my hips rock against his hand. “Doing so well for me, Darling.”

“Please,” I beg. Gods I’m begging Rhysand. Did that even matter at this point? I’d already gotten on my knees for him, already taken his mark, what was a little begging in retrospect?

He places a tender kiss beneath my ear. “Beg a little more.”

Color heats my cheeks. “Please?” I tilt my face up enough to brush my lips over his warm skin again, my hips doing most of the work now as he slows his pace. I could honestly cry from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“Little more.”

What could he possibly want me to say here?

Something flares in my chest as my brain spins, the same tugging feeling I’ve felt the last couple of days when I think about him. Is that the bridge he spoke of? Is that really him on the other side and not some bullshit? I mean, he did know what I’d done last night… So maybe this is real, maybe we really are…

It clicks and I drag my own teeth over his throat, leaving a little mark. This is how I keep up this ruse, right? “Please, mate.”

Shadows swirl up my thighs, caressing all the sensitive spots his hands are too occupied to touch. That little tether in my chest warms as he once again picks up the pace. His own hips rock forward, erection hot and heavy against my ass as he leaves another bite mark where my shoulder meets my neck. I’d said exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice so low and husky it pushes me right over the edge.

Stars swirl across my vision, body going limp in his grasp as I finally hurtle over the edge. I’ve never cum so hard in my life! It’s only by biting down on my lower lip that I don’t let out a scream.

He holds me gently as I come down, shadows now stroking in soothing patterns over my skin as I catch my breath. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. 

He kisses my cheek as he removes his hand from between my legs. One of his shadows brings a cup of ale over for me to drink.  “Let’s get you some food, hm?”

It is still hard for me to wrap my head around that this male is the one that so easily slaughtered my people--the male that just took two heads off in the amphitheater. There is such a contrast to him it makes my head spin. It is even stranger to me that he is still very obviously aroused and not doing anything about it. He’s very content to let me just sit here in his lap after giving me the best orgasm of my life with nothing in return?

“What about you?” 

Rhysand places another kiss beneath my ear. “We have all day, Darling.”

That thing in my chest warms at the thought. At least there are some perks to seducing the enemy, right? 

------

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[a-dauntless-daffodil]

the longest damn late night phone call from heaven EVER

aka, Emily has a slightly gruesome favor to ask, Charlie's determined to be good and helpful friend, and Vaggie was only half-right about people not recognizing her without her exorcist mask

Charlie: “…not exactly what I expected, when dad said heaven wanted another chat.”

Emily: “I know, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to bother you at home-”

Charlie: “It’s fine. Kinda late for a video call but, hold on.” (slips into hallway) (quietly shuts bedroom door) “It’s important right?”

Emily: “It’s… it’s important to me.”

Charlie: “Well that counts! What’s up? Uh, aside from literally you, anyway.”

Emily: “Before that, is your girlfriend- is Vaggie okay?”

Charlie: “She’s.”

Charlie: “……”

Charlie: “…fine.”

Emily: “There were a lot of bandages.”

Charlie: “Oh. Those.”

Emily: “I wasn’t trying to look, but when you were going past of bed, I just. I’ve never seen one of us like-”

Charlie: “Um I don’t think she’d really like the ‘one of us’ part. Just a heads up.”

Emily: “I’ll remember. Will they heal? Lute’s arm already has, and she said angelic steel is what- what killed that first Exorcist-”

Charlie: “Some of them- Some of them will heal, Vaggie says.”

Emily: “And the others?”

Charlie: “They’ll… probably be like her eye, I guess. The bleeding will stop.”

Emily: “Her eye-?”

Charlie: “Did you know Lute gouged it out with a sword? Right before leaving her in hell?”

Emily: “She- No! Why would she-”

Charlie: “So you didn’t know what Vaggie was when you saw her. You didn’t know what Lute and Adam did to her-”

Emily: “Charlie I SWEAR I had no idea. The Exorcists- other than Lute they keep those masks on almost all time, even up here! I could have walked past Vaggie a hundred times without knowing it!”

Charlie: “….that’s what she said too.”

Emily: “Vaggie?”

Charlie: “Mm.”

Emily: “Why ask me then? She told you and you trust her… right?”

Charlie: “It’s, complicated. And not the point.”

Emily: “Are you two okay-”

Charlie: “Not the point. What can I help heaven with tonight? I’d, kinda like to get back to bed before she wakes up.”

Emily: “Sorry, of course, I just don’t want you two to have more trouble…” (sighs) “…but I guess I’m not the right person to help am I. Not with, all this.”

Charlie: “I don’t blame you for what Lute and Adam did. Or for Sera letting them do it.”

Emily: “It still makes being friends hard, doesn’t it?”

Charlie: “…a little.”

Emily: “I’m-”

Charlie: “But! I’m not gonna let them stop us from doing it.” (determined) “Screw heaven- I wouldn’t have answered the phone if it’d been anyone other than you calling from up there anyway! Well, you or Sir Pentious.”

Emily: “I’m so, SO glad he made it here. ”

Charlie: “Me too.” (smiles) “You need help with something? Tell me. If I can do anything about it, I will.”  

Emily: “Oh it’s nothing like that, it’s just… a question.”

Charlie: “Okay?”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “….”

Emily: “…I’m a little scared to ask.”

Charlie: “That’s okay! I know the feeling! If it helps, I promise I won’t get angry or annoyed just over you asking something!”

Emily: “Thanks. That’s. Not really what I’m scared of.”

Charlie: “Well what parts the scary part?”

Emily: “The answer.”

Charlie: “...huh.”

Emily: “I’m not sure I want to hear it, honestly.”

Charlie: “But you called in the middle of the night so you could ask?”

Emily: “Yes.”

Charlie: “So you DO want to know.”

Emily: “It feels more like I have to know.”

Charlie: “Okay…. uhh. What… kind of question is it?”

Emily: “The battle. The, dead Exorcists.”

Charlie: “Oh fuck. Shoot- Is it about the bodies? Because I’m REALLY sorry again about letting the cannibals uh, eat them. I’d kinda. I’d promised them- the cannibals I mean- and, um. They lost a lot of friends too so-”

Emily: “No that’s fine. It’s, it doesn’t matter much once they’re dead does it. S-someone should get to be happy about the fresh. Um. Meat.”

Charlie: “Ssssstillll, I wish I could’ve sent them back-”

Emily: “Did you see-?”

Charlie: “-whoops sorry, go ahead.”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “….”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “Ah-hem. Go ahead?”

Emily: “…”

Charlie: “Aaaaany time now…”

Emily: “…”

Charlie: “….Look, Emily-”

Emily: “I know I’m sorry I-”

Charlie: “No no! I really wish I had all night for this. Really! I wanna be the friend who sits up until four in morning talking- and any other time I would be!”

Emily: “I know.”

Charlie: “Only I also really, really don’t want Vaggie waking up alone tonight. Not after we, after I- I can’t do that to her right now, okay?”

Emily: “…yes. Okay.”

Charlie: “How about this- you call back in the morning, we settle in and-”

Emily: “Did you see an Exorcist that didn’t fit in?”

Charlie: “-uhhh, what?”

Emily: “An Exorcist.”

Charlie: “I mean, yes? There were dozens! Pretty hard to keep count when you’re fighting for you-”

Emily: “But was there one that didn’t fit in?”

Charlie: “Fit in what where- oh ugh Angel Dust get OUT of my head-”

Emily: “With the others. The other Exorcists. Was there one in the fight that, didn’t quite look right? Caught your eye for some reason?”

Charlie: “Don’t they all kinda look the same?”

Emily: “Yes. Mostly.”

Charlie: “Bloodstained uniform, horned mask, weird crossed out eye and stitched mouth aesthetic thing, scary black and white wings-”

Emily: “Did the cannibals eat the wings?”

Charlie: “The w-”

Emily: “The wings of the dead Exorcists. Did they eat-”

Charlie: “Emily- those are feathers. The cannibals ate the meaty parts sure, but-”

Emily: “So you could still check. If. If any of the Exorcists who died. If they had strange wings.”

Charlie: “I guess, I-”

Emily: “Charlie. I need you to check.”

Charlie: “What-”

Emily: “I just need to know-”

Charlie: “But-”

Emily: “-please-”

Charlie: “Hey it’s okay, I’ll check! I’ll check first thing tomorrow!”

Emily: “Promise?”

Charlie: “Of course! It’ll be easy, don’t worry! Vaggie saved the wings from all of them. I’m not sure what for- some kind of funeral I think- or target practice- funerary target practice? Is that an angel thing…?”

Emily: “We don’t….really have those in Heaven. Funerals.”

Charlie: “Oh. Right.”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “Must be nice.”

Emily: “I’m sorry.”

Charlie: “No- that came out wrong. Forget it! So the wing thing is just a Vaggie thing or something. Anyway. Checking the wings. Nooooo problem. CAN do.”

Emily: “Thank you. And. And you’ll just tell me about it? Not anyone else in heaven?”

Charlie: “Sure! Is it a secret?”

Emily: “No.”

Charlie: “Buuuut you don’t want Sera finding out.”

Emily: “I’ll tell her later. When I’m… Once I’ve…”

Emily: “…”

Charlie: “Oh Emily hey- it’s okay! Shh, it’s okay!!”

Emily: “I don’t know if it is.” (voice breaking) “Sera won’t let me near the Exorcists and Lute won’t answer any questions about them- I don’t know who else to ask or if I really want to know, but I can’t sleep, and if she didn’t die down there then I NEED to find her somehow and ask her HOW she could’ve been doing this! Murdering people, killing souls-”

Charlie: “Whoa wait, ask who? What am I even checking the Exorcist wings for?”

Charlie: “… Who…who are you looking for?”

Emily: “I don’t know her name. We never met.”

Charlie: “You seem to really care about her, for someone you’ve never met.”

Emily: “Because she was DIFFERENT! She-”

Emily: (looks away)

Emily: “…she’s part of why I never questioned the Exorcists. She. I thought she was proof that underneath masks, they meant well. That they were strict and distant but also protectors, and they cared, and…”

Charlie: “…and now you know what she was doing the whole time.”

Emily: “She CAN’T have been. You shouldn’t be able to be so kind and gentle and still-”

Charlie: “People can be a lot of different things, to different people.”

Emily: “How?”

Charlie: “That’s just… what makes people, people, I think. We can all do things we never thought we’d do.”

Emily: “Exorcists kill children don’t they. Child sinners- they don’t spare them, do they?”

Charlie: “They don’t really DO the whole ‘sparing’ thing. Not in the Pride Ring. Only my dad’s family is safe from exterminations- or was safe. Kids… if they don’t have anyone, or if their families can’t keep them safe, then…” (shudders) “…yeah. I’ve. I found the bodies a few times.”

Emily: “How… how can they-”

Charlie: “I don’t know.” (tired) (slumping back against the door) “They just do.”

Emily: “She can’t have done that! That’s the ONE thing I know about her- she LOVED children. Falling in line and being a good Exorcist didn’t matter as soon as a child needed her!”

Charlie: “Well- well maybe she wasn’t one of the ones who… hurt kids. Maybe she didn’t do that.”

Emily: “But she must have seen it happening. Known it happened. And she didn’t stop it.”

Charlie: (wince) “T- tell me about her? The parts you saw up in heaven, her being nice to those kids- that happened too! What was she like?”

Emily: “…watchful.”

Charlie: “A guardian angel huh?” (smiles weakly) “I think I know the type.”

Emily: “She should’ve been that. She shouldn’t have-” (sighs) “…Exorcists keep to themselves, up in heaven.”

Charlie: (grits teeth) “If they’re mostly all like Lute then that’s probably the only way to keep heaven a nice place.”

Emily: “Lute isn’t… well I guess I don’t really know her either. I always thought she was just paranoid, busy being overprepared, scared for heaven and channeling it into anger…. maybe she is that? Maybe she just-”

Charlie: “She tried stabbing out Vaggie’s other eye.”

Emily: “….”

Emily: “A lot of things make sense now, knowing what she and Adam were doing.”

Charlie: “Like keeping the Exorcists separate?”

Emily: “That, and the identical uniforms, the masks… the constant, BRUTAL training and practice.”

Charlie: “Building trust in a warzone….”

Emily: “What?”

Charlie: “Nothing- How did any of them get near a kid, if that’s what it’s like?”

Emily: “They didn’t. It was an accident.”

Charlie: “Now THAT’S depressing.”

Emily: “I guess so..”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “So. What happened?”

Emily: “Oh… some children were testing their wings. Just out having fun, you know. A few flew out of sight- their friends tried looking for them, but there are parts of heaven not everyone can always reach.”

Charlie: “There is? Why-”

Emily: “Heaven’s supposed to be a peaceful, happy place. An eternity of rest and recovery- It’s supposed to be safe. To be safe, Sera always said the Exorcists needed to be ready to defend it, and they needed space to not always be happy or peaceful.”

Charlie: “They always seemed pretty happy about not being peaceful, not gonna lie.”

Emily: “They get really into training with each other- but do you mean, even during the exterminations-?”

Charlie: “ESPECIALLY then.”

Emily: (frustrated) “I wish things would stop making so much sense!”

Charlie: “Same.”

Emily: “It was right there all along, and I didn’t see it!”

Charlie: “I mean, they really didn’t want you to.”

Emily: “And how many people are dead because of that?”

Charlie: “It’s not your fault… And it’s not all bad.” (weak chuckle) “Vaggie likes it better down here. The one upside to finding out old secrets is how it can make things better- she makes much more sense now too.”

Emily: “In good ways?”

Charlie: “In… in kinda silly, kinda sad ways.”  

Emily: “Silly is good.”

Charlie: “Yeah…”

Emily: “Sorry. I won’t pry. I’m just listening- passively- if you want.”

Charlie: "It’s nothing super personal or secret, just that, I get why she likes high places and open spaces when she needs thinking time. Not like the view’s amazingly great down here, so I always wondered… All those times finding her on roof tops or the hotel’s crow’s nest."

Charlie: "I asked if staring at heaven's light was a moth demon thing once and she just shrugged, but the angel thing makes so much more sense and she's terrible at lying if I'd just ASKED-”

Emily: "Now you're sounding like me."

Charlie: "URGH right- good things, good things are- when she's up there, I know now she's either cursing heaven or hating herself."

Emily: "... is there a better good thing? Because that's..."

Charlie: "Now I can HELP her. With that."

Emily: "That's a good thing, yes."

Charlie: "She doesn't have to walk around all the time being scared of me finding out and getting angry or hurt, I DID find out and I WAS angry and and hurt, and it was fine."

Emily: "Well..."

Charlie: "Okay fine, not fine but BETTR. It IS better."

Emily: "..."

Emily: “...your hotel has a crow’s nest? That must be perfect for her.”

Charlie: “What? Oh, yes. She loves it...”

Charlie: "Shit even her HAIR makes so much sense now."

Emily: “She’s grown hers out- I’ve never thought about an Exorcist with long hair- it’s very pretty.”

Charlie: “Pretty, fun to play with, but she leaves it loose even when all the swooshing annoys her. It gets in the way of her trying to stab people."

Emily: "I bet we could find a metaphor in that."

Charlie: "I guess it’s kinda like wings though? The weight and having something cover her back like that.”

Emily: “Wings are… not just that. Wings are pretty different.”

Charlie: “Long hair was probably still better than nothing though. I wonder if she’ll cut it now? Or just keep it in the ponytail?”

Emily: “What do you mean?”

Charlie: "Well, short hair is easier to take care of, right? Plus she seemed to really like having it out of her face during the battle, even after getting her wings back-”

Emily: “No, wait- Getting them back? She’s an angel, doesn’t she have- hasn’t she always had….”

Charlie: “No she… They didn’t mention that either, did they.”

Emily: “What did they do.”

Charlie: “One guess. And one guess who ‘they’ were.”

Emily: “Lute. Adam leaves- he left almost everything that actually needed doing to her.”

Charlie: “Well this time the thing that needed doing-”

Emily: “They took her wings.”

Charlie: "It was more of a ripping action? Tearing?? Wrenching- No, ripping sounds right- Ripped them off and left them on the ground next to her. Vaggie had to stuff them in a dumpster before any sinners saw them and mobbed her.”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “M-maybe I shouldn’t have said that part.”

Emily: “It’s fine. Important to know.”

Charlie: “But Vaggie only just told ME about it, and now I’m blubbering it out to you- fuck. Forget I said it? Please?”

Emily: “You should talk about it with someone who isn’t her, Charlie.”

Charlie: “Not like this though! Not with-”

Emily: “An angel. Someone from heaven.”

Charlie: “-not with someone she isn’t even friends with yet.”

Emily: “Thanks for the ‘yet’ part. I hope you’re right about it.”

Charlie: “I will be. But um. Until then…?”

Emily: “All I know is she didn’t have wings and now she does again. No specifics.”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Charlie: (clears throat) “You, uh. You were telling me about YOUR Exorcist.”

Emily: “Right. Her and children. The ones who wandered off-”

Charlie: “-onto the one place in heaven that isn’t sunshine and rainbows and fluffy clouds of happiness, right right.”

Emily: “It was a bit of shoreline Exorcists use for live battle training.”

Charlie: “Yay fun?”

Emily: “Where they, they practice tearing each other apart with their bare hands-”

Charlie: “Oh!”

Emily: “-weapons aren’t used for it, don’t worry! None of the children were in any real danger!”

Charlie: “But they SAW it!?”

Emily: “From a distance… not, not close enough to get splattered by blood….”

Charlie: “Oh wow that’s SO reassuring!”

Emily: “Except for one of them.”

Charlie: “How the HECK didn’t anyone notice there were kids around before starting that stuff!? Didn’t they CHECK-”

Emily: “The Exorcists are very used to being left alone.”

Charlie: “STILL!”

Emily: “I know. I was so angry at first- I didn’t show it, the other children were already hiding under my wings after I’d gathered them up. They didn’t need me getting mad too.”

Charlie: “Didn’t wanna to scare them?”

Emily: “Watching the Exorcists was scary enough.”

Charlie: “I’m trying SO real hard to imagine a happy ending for this.”

Emily: “It’s there, don’t worry. See, one of the children had wandered further than the rest, and was just standing there, frozen. Staring up at.. all that.”

Charlie: “That doesn’t sound happy.”

Emily: “It was so frustrating! I couldn’t get to them without bringing the others even closer too! Some of them could barely move they were so frightened- I tried calling up at the Exorcists, asking them to stop, but they either didn’t hear me or ignored me-”

Charlie: “FUCK that’s just-”

Emily: “But then-”

Charlie: “….”

Emily: “One of them left formation.”

Charlie: (smiling) “Yeah?”

Emily: “She came swooping down, all soaked in blood- not hers, I don’t think. She didn’t look hurt. She landed right in front of the child."

Charlie: “Oh covered in BLOOD that must’ve been, er, something.”

Emily: “It wasn’t great. Poor thing was so scared under her shadow I thought they’d cry.”

Charlie: “Wouldn’t blame them.”

Emily: “Me neither. Those masks… but’s it’s funny, you know, how much a small thing can change everything else.”

Charlie: “She wasn’t as scary as her mask, was she?”

Emily: “No. She was, awkward. I saw her do a little wave and kneel down- later they said she’d talked with them, asked if they were hurt and where their home was.”

Charlie: “Normal stuff.”

Emily: “Strange for an Exorcist. Then she- she offered to take them home. She was still all spattered with-”

Charlie: “Blood. Ew.”

Emily: “I didn’t know what was going on when it happened, I just saw the Exorcist stand up and march right into the sea, right into the waves! She come out clean enough but also. Well. Also sopping wet and a bit um, a bit less scary looking."

Charlie: "Heheh."

Emily: "A lot less scary looking. A little pitiful looking?”

Charlie: “Like Husk after the champagne bottle incident!”

Emily: “Like who?”

Charlie: “Oh our bartender. Long story- but I’ve seen sad and bedraggled wings before. I’d LOVE to see them on an Exorcist!”

Emily: “It was pretty funny. And she didn’t seem to mind the child laughing at her either. If anything I think she made more of a show of shaking herself dry and fluffing up afterwards, once she heard them giggling over it.”

Charlie: “Aww~! She didn’t wanna scare them either!”

Emily: “She was silly. I’d never seen an Exorcist being silly before. The other ones watching didn’t seem to like it. They’d finally stopped fighting and looked like they were muttering to each other… Lute, Adam, even Sera, they're really strict about not having Heaven's army mixing with the rest of Heaven...”

Charlie: “But she- the silly exorcist- she didn’t care.”

Emily: “If she did, it didn’t stop her.”

Charlie: “Did she take the kid home herself then? Once she wasn’t covered in. Uhh. Blood.”

Emily: “She did. The other children were so jealous!”

Charlie: “Jealous??”

Emily: “After she helped wipe off the, the blood spatters on them, she scooped them up and just rocketed into the sky.”

Charlie: “Ohmygosh that's so FUN! Angel piggyback rides are the best!”

Emily: “It looked like it. Exorcists train and practice, and their wings are strong- I knew that but I still don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move like that in the air. Like she was dancing.”

Charlie: “Vaggie says fighting and dancing have a lot in common.”

Emily: “She does?”

Charlie: “Mm-hmm. And if SHE’S any example, then I bet plenty of the Exorcists would be GREAT dancers too! If they bothered not killing people long enough to find out, that is.”

Emily: “If. Right."

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “….Vaggie stopped. She was, she used to- and it took time but, she stopped.”

Emily: “And Lute cut out her eye for it.”

Charlie: “I don’t think she regrets losing it. Or- it was worth it to her? She.. sometimes it’s almost like she feels like she deserved it.” 

Emily: “I hope not. It shouldn’t have happened, it didn’t help anyone.”

Charlie: “No. It really didn’t.”

Emily: “They probably used her as an example of why no one else should do that.”

Charlie: “…well… maybe your Exorcist will still think it’s worth it?”

Emily: “Maybe. If she’s not dead.”

Charlie: “R-right.” 

Emily: “And she’s really not mine. I don’t even know her.”

Charlie: “You know enough to care.”

Emily: “To care about someone who might not even deserve it? How does that help anyone-”

Charlie: “EVERYONE deserves to be cared about.”

Emily: “Even-”

Charlie: “Everyone. At least to the point of caring if they’re dead or not.”

Emily: “… you’d make a great angel, Charlie.”

Charlie: “HA! I’m not sure that’s a compliment anymore but uh. Thanks?”

Emily: “I meant it more that, if Sera and Lute and Adam had been more like you, then none of this would have happened. Or if you’d been up here, you would’ve stopped them.”

Charlie: “Ehhh… I kinda think if you couldn’t manage it, I wouldn’t have either..? Definitely NOT alone and not without-”

Emily: “You started the hotel! You had to go against so many people to do that-”

Charlie: “-okay yes but we only JUST got that going. And I only could do THAT because I had…”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “It’s easier, with someone who believes in you.”

Emily: “Like a partner?”

Charlie: “Yeah.”

Emily: “A girlfriend.”

Charlie: “….yeah.”

Emily: “And it’s late. I’ll let you get back to her.”

Charlie: “It’s probably okay. She was tired and, she’s a pretty heavy sleeper once she actually falls asleep. You can usually tell when she really conks out because the snoring-”

Charlie: “-oh fuck oh no no no not again DON’T TELL HER I SAID THAT EITHER!”

Emily: “I won’t.” (giggling) “Although I might’ve heard it earlier.”

Charlie: “Fuck. Shit! FUCK!”

Emily: “But I swear on all six of my wings I won’t breathe a word. I also don’t know what happened to you guys- other than a huge traumatic revelation followed by an actual battle for your lives-”

Charlie: “That was a thing, yes.”

Emily: “-but I really hope you two are okay.”

Charlie: “Oh we will be! Weirdly enough, we’re better off now than we were before, even!”

Emily: “Lots of new things you can finally talk about?”

Charlie: “SO many.”

Emily: “Heh. Good. I’m glad something turned out okay from all this.”

Charlie: “And I really hope at least ONE more thing can turn out okay. For you, specifically.”

Emily: “We’ll… we’ll see I guess.”

Charlie: “First thing in the morning. I promise.”

Emily: (breath in) “Okay….” (breathe out) “Thank you.”

Charlie: “Any time. Or, no problem. Or- not that I WANT you to need help identifying bodies again anytime soon, I just meant…”

Emily: (laughs) “I know, Charlie. It’s okay. And it’s also really late. Good night.”

Charlie: “Good n- oh hey wait, Emily!!”

Emily: “-yes?”

Charlie: “What AM I looking for exactly? With the wings.”

Emily: “Oh- You know how Exorcist always those two stripes on theirs? The black bands on their feathers, the undersides.”

Charlie: “Yyyyep, yep. Now that you mention it…”

Emily: “She only had one.”

Charlie: "......"

Charlie: “…one… wing stripe?”

Emily: “It’s how I noticed her at first.”

Charlie: “That’s, that’s rare among Exorcists, huh?”

Emily: “She was the only one with wings like that, I think. Every few years I’d catch sight of her following behind Lute and Adam with a few others, trailing them through the actually populated places in Heaven for once, in full Exorcist gear.”

Charlie: “Well if she, if they were masked, maybe it wasn’t always the same person-”

Emily: “It was. She was easy enough to spot even without the wings, once I knew what to look for.”

Charlie: “Which was…?”

Emily: “She was the only one who’d wave back at the children who waved at her.”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “…oh.”

Emily: “Sorry. This is, a pretty depressing thing to go back to sleep after, isn’t it? Try to have some good dreams okay?”

Charlie: “I- I will. I’ll try. Um, you too?”

Emily: “I’ll give my best shot, if I can sleep. Thank you again, Charlie. Night.”

Charlie: “Good night..”

-call ends-

Charlie: “……..”

Muffled voice: “….charlie?”

Charlie: “SHIT!” (bangs head on door) (slips back into bedroom) “I’m here, I’m right here- no no no don’t sit up-!”

Vaggie: “What’s wrong?”

Charlie: “Nothing! Just a phone call. Please lay back down?”

Vaggie: “Something happened. Everyone okay?”

Charlie: “Everyone’s fine- Emily calling for a small favor that’s all- Vaggie c’mon, we just got it so your ribs weren’t getting pressed on…”

Vaggie: “Emily.” (alarmed) “Did Lute try something? Did Sera-?”

Charlie: “NO. Nothing happened to anyone! Now, SIT!”

Vaggie: (sits)

Vaggie: “Something’s wrong.”

Charlie: “Well my girlfriend happens to be one half broken bones and other half tenderized meat and won’t stay still, so THAT’S not exactly great!”

Vaggie: “…..”

Charlie: “…….”

Charlie: (sits too) “…Emily wants help checking the dead Exorcists. She might’ve known one of them.”

Vaggie: “Shit.”

Charlie: “Yeah..”

Vaggie: “But, knew one? How would she know any of us?”

Charlie: “Well…”

Vaggie: “She’s a seraph. The only Exorcist who goes near the higher ups is Lute.”  

Charlie: “Right but, just because you never met her doesn’t mean…”

Charlie: (sighs)

Charlie: “It was a LONG talk. Tell you tomorrow?”

Vaggie: "I guess... If you promise to be my pillow and lay down for a while instead of just pacing some more, then yeah, I can wait.”

Charlie: “Okay not fair- I was taking a call!”

Vaggie: “Your hoofbeats were tip tapping through my dreams long before then, babe.”

Charlie: “Motherfucker.”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Sleep, sweetie.” (drags them down)

Charlie: “Hey don’t act like that wasn’t MY line a moment ago!”

Vaggie: “A moment ago all I knew was something was wrong and you were sad. Now I know just the usual shit is wrong, and you’re dead tired.”

Charlie: “Guess you’re not wrong there…”

Charlie: “….Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Hmm?”

Charlie: "Do you.. like Emily?"

Vaggie: "Like her? The one not asshole angel up in heaven? She got all fired up with you about the shit unfairness of hell and stuff. What's not to like."

Charlie: "That's not the same as you actually liking her though."

Vaggie: "Hun, we've barely met. It's not like I went on the heaven tour with her."

Charlie: "Buuut.. maybe you'd like to get to know her?"

Vaggie: "Do you want me to get to know her."

Charlie: ".... I just wish there was some part of heaven that... wasn't bad for you."

Vaggie: "Hey, it was heaven. Murder soldier cult thing aside, if we're just talking personal comfort or whatever, it wasn't the worst thing in creation."

Charlie: "Wow what a stunning review! Other than the psychological trauma, it was great!"

Vaggie: "It wasn't that bad. Just you know. Comparatively."

Charlie: "Comparatively?"

Vaggie: "To this. Being here like this, with you."

Charlie: "Hmph."

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "... you asleep?"

Vaggie: "Almost. But it feels like you have another question before you're ready for sleep."

Charlie: "You don't have to answer this one."

Vaggie: "Me not answering is kinda what fucked us over before."

Charlie: "It's different now. We can wait until you're ready."

Vaggie: "I'm ready. Ask."

Charlie: "....okay."

Charlie: "Um..."

Charlie: “Was. The sinners you killed-”

Vaggie: “Murdered.”

Charlie: “Murdered, okay. Okay. Were they. Were any of them… kids?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “Once.”

Vaggie: “Almost.”

Charlie: “…almost… so, that was the time you stopped.”

Vaggie: “Yes.”

Charlie: “Okay. Because it was a kid?”

Vaggie: “I don’t know.”

Charlie: “What d-”

Vaggie: “I don’t know what I mean. It doesn’t. I don’t think it matters. Charlie- not killing one time isn’t the same as… never having killed.”

Charlie: “I know- I mean, I get that-”

Vaggie: “It doesn’t fix anything, or make anything better.”

Charlie: “It doesn't have to! We’re working on that part together. With the hotel.”

Vaggie: “It's not your thing to have to make up for.”

Charlie: “My home, my people, my friends and my girlfriend. Mine mine mine. And you feel better now you’ve stopped, don’t you?”

Vaggie: “Feeling like a less crappy person also isn’t the same as feeling better.”

Charlie: “It’s not?”

Vaggie: “Thinking you’re a good person, a hero even, is a pretty great feeling. Finding out you’re murderer sucks.”

Charlie: “You ARE a good-!”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Please?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “What about when I hug you?”

Vaggie: “… hard not to feel lucky as hell, then.”

Charlie: “Good” (hugs) "Me too."

Vaggie: “Kinda hard to hug back while I’m lying half on top of you… Would a wing snuggle be alright?”

Charlie: “It won’t hurt your ribs??”

Vaggie: “No. I could use a stretch, honestly.”

Charlie: “Then gimme the floofies!”

Vaggie: “Yeah?”

Charlie: “GIMME GIMME~”

Vaggie: "Floofies at your service." (wings go floof) (snuggles one over charlie) “I’m glad they came back.. different.”

Charlie: “With the gray?”

Vaggie: “Mm. Thoughts?”

Charlie: “GRAY-t! They go WAY better with your hair now!”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Nice. Girlfriend approved."

Charlie: "And it's lucky we ARE girlfriends, or else your pretty wings would have girls FLOCKING to you!"

Vaggie: "Right." (SNORTS) "Night, Charlie.”

Charlie: “If you’re wishing me goodnight to try stoping the wing puns, please know there’s more where that came from! I am in no way winging it here.”

Vaggie: “I figured.”

Charlie: "I really do love your wings, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Really helps they don't look like they used to."

Charlie: "Hmm. Is the anything other than the color different?"

Vaggie: "... Isn't that enough?"

Charlie: "I don't mean it like that! It's just, well, they only have one stripe on them, and the other exorcists-"

Vaggie: "They were like that before. Sorry."

Charlie: "Vaggie I don't NEED them to look different. I'm just, curious!"

Vaggie: "Uh-huh."

Charlie: "Really! Did any of the other exorcists have-?"

Vaggie: "No."

Charlie: "None of them? Ever?"

Vaggie: "Not since I took up vanguard duty. Or since. Looks like Lute got rid of the position after I- after getting rid of me. Now they just all stream down into hell all at once. No one scouts ahead." (mutters) "Messy."

Charlie: "Huh."

Vaggie: "So I guess my wings didn't change that much really."

Charlie: "If they'd stayed exactly the same I would have loved them."

Vaggie: "Not sure I'd want you to."

Charlie: "Too bad. They're part of you. They're part of the most amazing woman I've ever met.... If you like them better now though, that's good. Maybe you. Maybe you'll feel like having them out more?"

Vaggie: "We'll see."

Charlie: "BUT I want eternal dibs on the wing hugs."

Vaggie: "What? You staking a claim?"

Charlie: "Yes absolutely. My wing hugs, okay?" (hugs tighter) "Mine."

Vaggie: "Okay." (chuckling) (relaxing) "They're all yours, babe." (snuggling in) “Love you...”

Charlie: “Love you too, Vaggie.”

Charlie: (smooches gf's forehead) “Goodnight…”

Vaggie: (already asleep)

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: (traces the one stripe on Vaggie’s wing)

Charlie: "...you probably could have been happy up there... if they'd let you."

Charlie: (wipes face)

Charlie: “… fuck heaven.”  

Vaggie: (SNORES)

Charlie: (grins) (still teary-eyed) “Exactly.”

[dreaisgrayte]

HEHHEHEHEHEH WHATS UP MY BBG? I hope you have had a good day/night! I have this idea in my head that I'm ITCHING to get out but you can feel free to ignore❤️

Can you do what would happen and what would Sanemi, Giyu, Tanjiro, and Obani do if reader got turned into a demon during a battle?

LIKE I SAID FEEL FREE TO IGNORE!! YOU DA GOAT BBG❤️

GEHEHE I'M DOING SO GREAT! 🫶🫶I HOPE YOU'RE DOING EVEN BETTER THOUGH 😡🥹 It was raining here all day and I was a worrisome parent and got soaked going to check on my kitties🥰🥰. (also why would I ignore such an angsty request MWAHAHA😈)

Includes: Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, Tanjiro Kamado, and Obanai Iguro CW: pretty much reader dies in all scenarios, but... yeah no my heart hurt writing these so there's no hope for any of us. Death, angst, sadness.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

The demon’s claws slice through you, tearing your skin apart. You fall to the ground, crumpled and bleeding

“San-Sanemi,” You choke out, the life draining from your beautiful eyes.

A vengeful scream erupts from his throat, burning his very vocal cords as he rushes the creature

Its head falls to the ground with a gruesome thump, Sanemi dropping to his knees next to your corpse. “YN...I’m so-”

Your eyes, they’re open and your pupils pull into slits. His next breath catches in his throat. “Sorry,” He breathes, his eyes stinging with hot tears

He picks up his nichirin blade, using it to help him into a standing position. Sanemi’s choked sobs echo through the forest valley. The glint of fresh sunlight reflecting off of his blade as he plunges the tip into your heart. The sun is cresting over the mountains in a new dawn.

Your garbled noises nearly drive him to the brink of whisking you off to a shadowy haven, but you wouldn’t want to live out your life being the very thing you fought so hard against. 

As the ashen belongings of your body blow past him he feels like he’s just stabbed himself through the heart.

“Sorry…so sorry.” He cries, but the sunlight dries his tears. 

Giyu Tomioka

He was by your side one second then cornered off by a second demon. He wants to remain close to you and protect you, but as he lands the final blow to the demon in front of him he catches the tail end of the demon lifting you by your throat. 

His blood runs cool, the demon’s features twisting in a cruel sneer as it makes you lick up the blood from his wounds. 

Too late, too late, too late

Just like with Sabito, Giyu was too late to save you. His head spins, running through possibilities to somehow not fuck up again

Tanjiro and Nezeko were a special case, who’s to say Giyu would break through to you? And when he didn’t? Would his heart finally go numb? The risk was too great.

The demon has dropped you and ran off, leaving you panting on the ground. You touch your throat, hacking up the blood it tried to feed you. A glimmer of hope sprouts in Giyu’s chest. Maybe you had saved yourself? You meet his gaze, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Giyu,” you smile, the one he’d grown accustomed to seeing every morning when you greeted him. “Giyu, I need you to be strong,” you start, but he can’t hear you. He doesn’t want to.

“No, I’m not strong,” His voice is trembling. His body aches with the knowledge of what you’re about to request of him. He couldn’t do it. You meant too much to him and he was a selfish man. When everyone else ignores him you see through his suffering to the little boy underneath, scared of being seen for the fraud he was. 

There’s that smile again. “Giyu. You’re a Hashira, you’re more than strong – you’re kind. You know what you have to do. Please, before it’s too late.”

Giyu’s body feels limp as tears mix with his sweat. He was too weak to save Sabito, but he could still save you. He yells into the night, a pained scream that rustles the birds from their branches.

Your head thumps to the side, fanning into dust as he sinks to his knees, sobbing over your remains. Turns out – he wasn’t numb after all. 

Tanjiro Kamado

You’re bloody, a demon standing over you, it’s foul stench dripping round droplets onto your wound

“Let’s see if you have the heart to kill one of your own, slayer.”

Tanjiro had been through this before, with his younger sister Nezeko and things were turning out alright with her.

Would his bond be strong enough to snap you out of the demonic craze? You had acted like an older sibling to him, watching over his progress and always cheering him on. Often he thought the gods had blessed him with you so he would have someone to look after him when he had no one. 

“YN!” He screams, the demon slipping away into the night. “YN talk to me. If you can still talk that means there’s still time.” But the veins on your face bubble and contort your expression to one of hatred.

Tanjiro falls back on his hands, heart loudly echoing in his ear. “YN, please… it’s me…your little brother.” But it’s far too late to work on your once human heart. As you rise to your feet Tanjiro stumbles to his as well

His katana is shaking in his grip. You were a demon, but also his friend. He can’t see through his blurry vision. 

“Pathetic,” you spit, then before Tanjiro can will his heart to do what he knew he couldn’t, you spill into the shadows

His vow to cut the head from Muzan Kibutsuji’s body grew a thousandfold that night

Obanai Iguro

You had been on this mission for weeks now, fighting side by side. Obanai had grown fond of you.

That was until a demon stole you away, reminding him that fondness sprouted weaknesses. However, he tracks you down regardless.

The demon had set up in a cave, the dawn making this rescue mission easier, but as he steadily slides into the heart of the cave he finds you’ve been tied up, dried green blood on your lips

“Fuck,” Obanai hisses into the darkness, searching around for the creature that did this to you

“It’s gone Obanai…” You drawl, your voice raspy and strained. He winces at the state of you.

He rushes to untie you, hoping it’s not too late and the insect Hashira can work some miracle cure on you. If Obanai was fond of you he couldn’t even imagine how the corp members felt about you. 

It had been a while of your fighting off the urge to turn, there had to be hope for you. If only he could get you back to headquarters fast enough…

As if reading his mind you shake your head solemnly. “Please, let me see the sunrise one last time,” you croak, gaze drifting to the sunlight filtering in from the cave’s entrance. 

Obanai squeezes his eyes shut, the electric buzz of his heart making it hard to fulfill your request. He was stagnant, breath quickening as you pleaded with him.

He offers you his hand, willing his chest to return to steel. He leads you to the outside world and your grip tightens as you step into the sun. Obanai’s body aches with unrelenting sorrow. If only he’d kept a better eye on you.

Soon enough, a faint ‘thank you’ blows past him on the wind, and he rushes away from the spot, not willing to look at what he had so carelessly taken for granted. 

[ncis-yp]

Soaked (Tony x Reader)

Idk wtf to call it but it popped into my head. I might write more on it later 🤷‍♀️.

Tony had an awful day at work. An awful gruesome death had crossed his eyes and the victim resembled you. He had been stressing since the afternoon, not being able to contact you due to his phone being out of order… stupid flip phone.

He worried about you. He knew you were at either college or working. Remembering that today you didn’t have to carry a double shift behind the bar at Stevie’s. He was grateful for that. The murder had scarred his mind. It then occurred to him how it could’ve been you. How anyone of these murders could’ve been you.

When Gibbs dismissed them, he sped home at felony speeds. Gotta get home to make sure (y/n)’s okay Was the only thing on his mind. As he hit 120 on the highway. His corvette weaving through the light 7 pm traffic.

You were safe at home, showering when you heard the door open. You knew Tony was home. Dinner was on the stove still warm, he usually waited till you could sit with him so you were expecting to find him sitting on the couch reading a magazine or searching for a movie in the TV.

You heard the bathroom door open.

“Hi baby how was -“ you were interrupted by Tony’s entire figure entered the shower, clothes and all. “Tony what the fuck?” You somewhat giggled as he embraced you tightly. You hugged him back. The water soaking his suit all the way down to the socks. You rubbed his back as he held you.

“Im so happy you’re alive” was all he said in that moment as you stood in the water. “I’m so happy”

“Of course, baby” you reply. “Of course”

You wondered what was going on. He was in the shower with you, which wasn’t the usual part, but he was still fully dressed. You decided that you weren’t going till press it. He would tell you when he could.

Time skip~

You were sitting at the table rambling on about your day and your classes, your college books laid out in front of you. Tony had been holding your hand from across the table, eating and listening to you, looking at you intently with love.

“Are you okay, T?” You asked. Smiling as you brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I love listening to you talk” he said and smiled softly. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about your profession and day at work. I love listening to you ramble on and on about stuff that I have no idea how you manage to study and retain all of it. I love how driven you are and how dedicated to being a pharmacist you are.” Tony spoke, almost poetically.

“Anthony” you say. “What happened today?”

“I saw someone that looked like you in a way I’d never want to see you and it scared me. It reminded me that my job is really dark, no matter how much I love my job. I love you so much.” He replied solemnly. “I was scared today, (y/n)”

“Im right here, okay baby?” You hold his hand tightly. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to worry, it’s okay and it’s going to be okay. I’m alive and here in front of you. In the flesh. You have a job that’s dark and scary, but you don’t ever have to worry about losing me, okay? I know “if it happens to anyone it can happen to you”, but here’s a secret” you say .

“Whats the secret?” He smirks gently.

“Im Anthony DiNozzos girlfriend you whisper in his ear. “Nothing can hurt me as long as Im with you” he smiles.

“Guess I gotta keep you forever” he kisses you.

“Yeah, forevaaass” you say dramatically before you kiss him back. You smiled at each other as you saw peace settle in his face. Relief falling in his eyes.

“I love you so much” he hugs you.

“I love you so much more than that”

[axelsagewrites]

Roy & Jamie*Decide

Pairing: roy x f!reader/jamie x f!reader

Kinktober Day twenty-seven: double penetration with Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent: they both like you and when they came to settle it once and for all neither of them expected this out come

Word count: 1812

Warnings: rivalry, threats, roy hating jamie, competitive sex, multiple orgasms, f! receiving oral, m! receiving oral, p in v sex, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

“Who the fuck keeps buzzing?” you muttered as you rushed downstairs to answer the incessant doorbell ringing. “What-oh.” You stopped yourself as you ripped open the door, “Hiya,”

Roy grunted as he pushed past, Jamie giving a nod before glaring at Roy as he followed in. “Okay then,” you said, shutting the door behind them before crossing your arms as you followed them to the living room, “And how can I help you boys?”

“You need to decide,” Roy said bluntly, a trait you usually appreciate but now was just downright confusing.

“Yeah. Me or grampa,” Jamie said earning a growl from the older man. You mentally face palmed at the two of them. See you had been friends with benefits with Jamie for a while but that all stopped when Roy had asked you out on a proper date. That date had turned into several however the whole relationship had blown up a while ago over something so trivial.

You’d insisted on taking a break from boys and dating, especially footballers, however that didn’t stop a few flirts here or there or the occasional slipping and falling into one of their beds. “How am I supposed to decide that?” you asked, arms flailing, “you’ve hardly given me any notice,”

“Well, I’m smarter,” Roy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jamie screwed up his face, throwing his arms to the side, “Well I’m fitter,”

“I’m taller,”

“I’m faster,”

“I’m way more romantic than this twat,”

“And I don’t make her feel like she’s cuddling a bear,”

“And I’m not some immature baby,”

“Well, I’m better in bed,”

“Like fuck you are!” Roy bellowed, looking at Jamie like he had two heads, “I have mastered my technique, you probably cum before you’ve even got your knickers off,” he spat at Jamie making you giggle. After all he wasn’t wrong about his technique.

Jamie shot you a nasty look before turning back to Roy, “I give great head, tell him,” he insisted pointing at you, but you just held your hands up, not risking getting involved, “Bet I could last longer than you grampa. You’re shooting dust now,”

Roy pushed Jamies shoulder and finally you decided to jump in before they beat the shit out of each other. “Boys! Enough,” you said, getting in between them, “Both of you are good in bed alright? Now kiss and make up,”

“No,” Roy grunted, glaring at Jamie.

“Nah fuck that,” Jamie said, “I want an answer because I know for a fact, I made you cum more than he ever did,”

“Prove it,” Roy growled when an idea sparked in your head and a grin took over your face, “What are you smiling at?” he asked, suddenly scared at the mischief on your face.

“Well, there is one way you two could ya know, settle this debate,”

Jamies head tilted as he genuinely considered the arrangement however Roy quickly barked out a fuck no. “What? You scared grampa?” Jamie asked, gently punching Roy’s chest making him growl and try step closer only to be pushed back by you.

Roy looked down at you, the same heated anger in his eye but a new spark behind, “Bed. Now. You,” he said, pointing his finger in Jamies face, “we have to talk first,”

You quickly slipped away and rushed upstairs, not wanting to possibly be a witness to Jamies gruesome murder, and headed to your room. Deciding just encase this did happen you slipped into something less comfortable and threw your other clothes, a baggy t shirt and shorts, back on.

A few minutes later you heard footsteps as you waited patiently on the bed. When they walked in you went to open your mouth, but you were soon cut off by Roy’s lips slamming onto yours. you melted into the kiss as his hands reached under your shirt, growling at the feeling of the lace against your skin.

He pulled back only to rip the shirt over your head and push you back onto the bed. “Eh not so rough,” Jamie protested but Roy turned to look at him with a smirk.

“She likes it, don’t you love?” he said, looking down at you in a way that made your mouth go dry and all you could do was nod in excitement, “See?”

Jamie rolled his eyes as he pushed in front of Roy, “Let me show you what she really likes, alright?” he said, moving to kiss your lips softly as he hovered over you. his lips were sweet and soft and soon began to kiss down your neck, then chest, then all the way down till he was kissing your inner thigh, and a shiver ran down your spine, “See?” he smirked as his fingers slipped under the waist band of your shorts, pulling them down with ease.

“Watch and learn grampa,”

“Jamie don’t wind him up-fuck,” your gasp cut you off as Jamie moved your panties to the side to kiss your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves with his tongue. For a moment you wondered if having Roy watch this was a bad idea but that soon went away when you felt his fingers teasing your hole.

You whined as he slipped two fingers in, curling them with slow precision. A warm feeling spread through your stomach as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently before running his tongue over it once more. Your hips began to buck lightly but Jamies spare hand quickly moved to pin them down as his fingers began to brush against a familiar spot.

“Fuck-I-fuck,” you tried to speak, to ask if this was a good idea, but the knot in your stomach felt ready to explode as moans left your lips. As his teeth brushed your clit you couldn’t stop it anymore. Your body tensed, a loud moan leaving your mouth, as your orgasm washed over you like a ton of bricks. Jamies tongue didn’t stop however, he was determined to ride this out with you.

That was till Roy grabbed him by his collar and ripped him off of you. before you could as questions, he was flipping you onto your stomach and as his hard on hit against your ass you realised, he’d gotten rid of his trousers at some point during the show. He pulled you up onto your knees, ass proudly on display for him.

“Any prick can do that with his mouth,” Roy said, running his tip up and down your slit, making you shiver when it brushed over your already sensitive clit, “But this is even better,” he said, pushing his tip in slowly making you whine and a quiet hiss come from Roy.

You whined as he slowly sunk his thick member inside, gasping as he pushed it the final way in. “Fuck you take me so well,” Roy groaned, his hands tightening on your hips. He waited a moment, just long enough for you to adjust before he began his thrusts.

They were exact and precise and making filthy moans fall from your lips. His hand moved to slip around your hips, finding your clit and rubbing sloppy circles onto the sensitive nerves making you cry out and whine.

Your eyes screwed shut as Roy pushed your back down, deepening your arch so he could hit a new spot. A spot he had found so many times before making your walls squeeze around him. A familiar knot began to build in your stomach as your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

Your eyes opened for a moment to see Jamie stood, his eyes glued to yours and an evident bulge through his trousers. The sight of him watching in awe was enough to tip you over the edge but Roy’s thrusts did not stop for your moans or the way your body tightened as you came around his cock.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” he grunted, his eyes locked on Jamie who began to stutter something out, “Do it then. Fuck her pretty little mouth,” Roy said as his hand gripped your hair, pulling your face out of the sheets, “Cmon darling don’t tease the poor boy,” he scolded, a smirk on his lips.

Jamies eyes snapped down to yours as your arms pulled you up. He stepped closer to the bed before pausing, “Are you sure- “he began to ask but you reached forward, pulling him closer by the waist band of his joggers, “Fuck it,” he mumbled, quickly fishing out his cock.

It looked painfully hard and glossy precum shone from its tip. His hand moved to cup your cheek for a moment before he guided his tip closer. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue slightly out making Jamie groan at the sight. “Fuck,” he murmured as you took his tip in your mouth.

His hand moved to rest on the back of your hand, guiding your mouth down his shaft. Roy had slowed his thrusts as Jamie had gotten himself situated but with the sight of you taking him all in Roy began to thrust harder, making your head bob up and down on Jamies cock.

Jamie groaned loudly, his hand tightening in your hair as his tip began to hit the back of your throat. It was as if they timed their thrusts perfectly however you soon found yourself moaning as you felt your orgasm approach for the third time.

The moans vibrated down Jamies shaft, his cock twitching in your mouth as he began to moan shamelessly, his hips bucking and sending his tip further down your throat. Roy’s thrusts became harder, making your head bob further down till you felt Jamies pelvis hitting your nose and Jamies hand grip your hair tightly as curses fell from his lips.

“Oh god-I- “he gasped before you felt a salty feeling spill down your throat.

No sooner had Jamie pulled himself from your mouth did Roy pull your body up, your back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck you, now chasing his own peak as your third crashed down around you. Jamie watched in a trance as your tits began to bounce and you fall apart around Roy’s cock for a second time.

However, Roy soon began to grunt, curses falling from his lips before he couldn’t contain himself any longer, “Oh fuck-I-fuck fuck fuck,” he gasped as he spilled inside you, holding you tight against him as his orgasm washed through him.

After a moment Roy moved to help you lay down before essentially crashing on the bed beside you. Jamie moved to sit on the bed beside you, Roy on your other side, and push the hair out of your face.

You looked between the two boys as a realisation washed over you, “How the fuck am I supposed to choose after that?”

[gutsby]

Nighthawk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: After your lusty, short-lived relationship with a certain archer goes south, you decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off things. Daryl isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, semi-public fucking on Daryl’s bike and hints of exhibitionism, generally rough, jealous sex. Age gap. Assplay. Angst.

One swig of the witches’ cocktail brew, a couple candy corn jell-o shots, and several spiked seltzers in, and you were starting to have serious doubts about your decision to come out tonight.

You clutched your stomach in one hand and Spencer’s arm in the other. The man guiding you inside tried his best to stifle a chuckle.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Great,” you lied through your teeth.

The two of you were weaving through a swarm of partygoers in the entryway now. A sea of masked faces and shredded costumes came dimly into view, and with the sight of the first goblin ensemble drenched in fake blood, you wanted to vomit. You’d think a community of people plagued with nightmarish walkers year-round would lay off the theatrics when it came to Halloween attire as gruesome and grisly as that, but no. Spencer laughed and clapped the ghoul on the shoulder.

“Abraham, my man!” he greeted, “You’re a vision in red.”

Abraham lifted his mask just slightly to heave a sigh.

“It’s hotter’n H-E-double hockey sticks in this sick contraption. I’m sweatin’ like a hog,” he scowled.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light and he caught a glimpse of you, practically green in hue, his face softened considerably.

“You alright, darlin’? You look ready to blow chunks.”

He wasn’t far off the mark. Your stomach was busy doing somersaults up and down your body, and your brain was on the fritz with a new wave of nausea.

“Need a little water is all,” you managed meekly.

Your red-haired companion nodded and started off down the hallway without another word, beckoning you and Spencer to follow. You passed through the rest of the house with relative ease, amazed at how much Alexandria appeared to have grown and how many of those people were here, in Deanna’s house, for some seemingly inconsequential Halloween celebration. You barely recognized half the faces.

Spencer grinned as he sensed those same people were all turning their heads to follow your path. It was his first time parading Officer Friendly’s daughter around a public gathering—the first time you’d agreed to make it known you two were a tentative “thing” since the messy conclusion of your last relationship—and he was pleasantly surprised to see the effect you had on others.

Never mind the fact you were wearing a white lacy bodice, miniskirt, garter belt and stockings. Paired with the makeshift halo and wings, breasts practically bursting at the seams of your costume, it seemed you garnered more attention than you knew what to do with. You were hot, and you were his, Spencer thought with a superficial sense of pride. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and secretly hoped you’d cross paths with everyone he knew in town, so he’d get his chance to prove it.

The three of you descended the few short steps into the garage, where it seemed most of the music, booze, and bodies had congregated. A smoke machine supplied a thick white mist about the room, and alongside the near-blinding white and purple strobe lights, you had only to cling to Spencer’s side and hope he was still following Abraham.

Suddenly, a red solo cup was thrust in your direction, and you smiled at the sight of water spilling over its edges.

“You’re an angel,” you beamed, standing on tip-toes to place a quick kiss on Abraham’s cheek.

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was presently cut off by a louder, shouting voice:

“Quit your loose-lipped lolly-gaggin’ with the lady and get your ass over here!”

Eugene was drunk. So very, very drunk. You could tell by the sound of his voice alone.

“Kiss my freckled ass,” Abraham yelled back, baring a toothy smile at his friend as he started to make his way over. Tugging you and Spencer to follow suit.

You shot a worried look over your shoulder.

“Spence, I don’t think I—”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Spencer interrupted, already eyeing the white table at the center of the room, “Just drink your water, and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

You doubted you would but downed the liquid nonetheless. With each step ahead, it seemed you were only growing sicker, so you got to guzzling the water fast and just hoped you would be able to keep it together.

Unsurprisingly, the folding table was already crowded with plastic cups. Eugene and Aaron making sloppy pours across the tops with cans of Busch Light cradled in their arms and cracking up at every spill they made. You quickly scanned the group for any unknown, or unwanted, faces and felt relieved not to see Rick, your father, or Daryl, his best friend—and your ex-boyfriend.

That last part your dad still didn’t know about. You wanted to keep it that way.

Today marked six months since you and Daryl had started your ill-conceived affair and two weeks since you decided to call it quits—you know, after one too many occasions where Rick had almost caught you two boning on the sofa and Daryl swore left and right he was going to tell your dad everything, while you begged him not to. You sensed any such admission would be guaranteed to destroy your dad and Daryl’s friendship, so you made him promise not to tell.

Begrudgingly, Daryl had agreed, but he’d hated every minute of it. You knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in your face, and eventually, it did.

Fourteen days after you’d broken the man’s heart, here you were, waltzing into a party on Spencer Monroe’s arm. Six long months after you’d kept Daryl your dirty secret, you were flaunting this fabrication of a relationship for all to see.

You knew he’d hate you for it. You needed him to. There was just no other way you could shake his affections—and consequently protect his friendship with your father, along with any last shred of unity in your group—unless Daryl despised you. You knew no surer bet than Deanna’s shitbrained son to accomplish that goal.

At present, Spencer pressed a beer-sodden pair of lips to yours, and you almost recoiled.

“You in, baby?” Nodding toward the drinking game still being set up before you.

You shook your head no.

“She’s in!” Spencer announced anyway. Then, quietly, he leaned in closer to you and said, “Quit bein’ a pussy.”

Defying all logic, he kissed you again. Harder. You reluctantly accepted his tongue in your mouth and feigned a smile when the rest of your group cheered their drunken, congratulatory encouragement around you.

When you pulled apart, you felt you wanted to puke again, this time for reasons unrelated to the alcohol. Then, as if on cue, your eyes fell on a previously undetected member of your party.

Daryl stood across the table now, gaze locked on yours with a look that could’ve killed you twenty times over.

To your horror, Spencer extended his arm across the way to shake his hand. Clearly trying too hard to ingratiate himself with a man who looked like he wanted him dead.

“Daryl Dixon!” he cried, smiling too wide for anyone even half as happy.

Your archer shook his hand and hardly seemed to see him. Disinterest painted plain across his features.

Spencer turned to you next, and you wanted to melt into the floor as he gestured toward Daryl, stupidly:

“Have you two met—”

“Your girl’s too young to play.”

Daryl didn’t even deign to grace you with a look. Spencer forced a laugh.

“You kidding? She’s practically a pro at rage cage,” he returned, pinching you playfully.

Somehow, you sensed Daryl wanted Spencer to shut up even more than you did. The stoic, tight-lipped frown with a set of deadened eyes sealed it for you.

At length, he chanced a look in your direction, and his expression didn’t change.

“Doubt it,” Daryl scoffed, “Better let her sit this one out before her daddy comes and gets her.”

He sure had been singing a different tune when he’d had his cock crammed down your throat a couple weeks ago. Didn’t seem too worried about Rick’s intrusion back then, you thought to yourself.

Before Spencer could respond, the whole table shook beneath you. Eugene was beating his fists against the surface, sending solo cups shaking every which way.

“Hear ye, hear ye—”

“Someone please cut him off,” Rosita grumbled behind you.

“This is the last—I repeat last—chance any one of you gets to join this game of rage cage right here,” Eugene declared, the end of his sentence punctuated by a hiccup.

One of Deanna’s goodie bags went sliding across the table to you. You looked at Daryl, confused.

“This one’s already itchin’ to pull trig,” he said to Eugene, “She better sit this out.”

Daryl then nodded toward the plastic baggie as if to suggest you go ahead and puke, but you flung the thing back at him fast.

“I am not,” you countered defiantly.

“Prove it,” Spencer interjected, useless as a screen door on a submarine.

You turned and saw him smiling ear to ear, oblivious to just how badly you wanted to rock his shit.

“Leave her be, chucklefuck.” Abraham boomed overhead.

“Well now, nobody has to prove—” Eugene paused to hiccup again, “—anything.”

In spite of your friends’ words of support, you felt a twist in your stomach and a familiar heat rise to your cheeks. You were blushing, you knew it, but you simply couldn’t lose out in the face of such a challenge. No matter how drunk and disoriented you were, you wouldn’t let Daryl, much less Daryl and Spencer, make a fool of you now.

You glanced at the handle of Everclear in Maggie’s hands just as she started to mix herself a drink.

“I can take a pull to prove it,” you said, motioning to the bottle.

Everyone who’d heard your suggestion and spared a look to the bottom shelf bottle of liquor made a face. Though piss-poor spirits were certainly no anomaly for your group, it was hardly anyone’s inclination to start chugging stuff close to 190 proof—least of all for folks who didn’t have a death wish or a liver made of steel.

“Fuck no,” Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

“Hell yes,” Spencer supplied just as fast.

So the matter was settled.

Maggie eyed you with an incredulous look when you reached for the bottle but knew better than to stop you after you’d made up your mind. Before you knew it, you were holding the thing by the neck and struggling, at length, to ignore Rosita and Abraham’s pleas over your shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’d be better off swallowing a bag of dicks dipped in Drano, darlin’.”

Even Daryl was watching you with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading with you not to take the pull.

You would’ve gladly relented then, dropped the handle back on the table and stepped away without another word, but there was something in your brain telling you you needed to see this through. Whether it was self-sabotage or simple, drunken stupidity, you couldn’t be sure, but you probably wouldn’t care much longer.

You tipped your head back and flooded your mouth full of the grain alcohol.

Shortly after, a spasm in your stomach told you, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t be swallowing any of it.

You dropped the bottle and bolted out the door. Before you’d made it one step outside, you were already spraying a cloud of Everclear in the air, along with every food content and bodily fluid residing in your stomach. You dropped to your hands and knees in the grass and hurled like you never had before.

You closed your eyes and dug your fingers deep into the dirt below, desperately wishing you weren't wearing white. Convulsed in your tight corset and hoped this process wouldn’t be too painful to endure.

When you felt someone’s hands start to gather your hair in a ponytail behind you, you surmised you might not be so lucky. You spit on the ground and tried to shake them off.

“Get fucked, Spence,” you hissed.

The hands didn’t flinch from your hair and instead pulled it tighter between them.

“I said, get—” you struggled at the last, trying in vain to buck off whoever was above you. You cursed under your breath when it seemed clear they weren’t planning on budging.

“If this is how ye treat yer boyfriend, I’m glad ye dumped me,” a voice said with some amusement.

You groaned into the grass below you, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief,

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Daryl loosened one hand from your hair to start rubbing circles in your back. When you retched again, he moved his palm even more softly.

“I think I know ye well enough to say ya shouldn’t be chugging Everclear to prove a point,” Daryl said.

You didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right.

After one more pitiful heave, you started to struggle to get upright and eventually onto your feet. Daryl looped an arm around your waist and helped you up.

Your mind was reeling and your stomach was steeling itself against another potential onslaught of convulsions. When Daryl turned you around and steadied you in front of him, though, all concern for your current predicament ebbed gently from your mind. His blue eyes seemed to study every inch of you.

“Do you hate me now?” you asked abruptly.

You felt stupid for asking as soon as you said it. But then, to your surprise, Daryl smiled. He placed a hand on either side of your head and tilted it up to his.

“Do I look like I hate ye?” he asked.

Perhaps owing to your state of intoxication or the way Daryl made you feel when there was little more between you than a few inches and ample opportunity, you actually looked him up and down. Trying to detect any trace of hatred or the least bit of annoyance there but coming up with nothing. He started stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

The memories and the feelings all came flooding back faster than you would’ve liked, but there they were, and there he was, standing tall and tame and perfectly blameless in this situation you wished you hadn’t shot to shit two weeks ago. You suspected if he’d been looking at you any differently that night, it was simply an act of self-preservation on his part; no number of dirty looks or disparaging jabs could mask the fact that he couldn’t hate you if he tried. One warm look from those wide, placid eyes turned your stomach inside out and made you ashamed you ever left him in the first place.

You weren’t sure who started it, but your lips were back together in seconds, placing hot, frantic kisses all over the other.

“Did you miss me?” you mumbled against his mouth, in between a barrage of kisses.

Daryl’s hands traveled down your back and squeezed your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“More than you fuckin' know,” he groaned as he slid his tongue between your lips.

Quick came the mind-numbing rush of intimacy in secret, that lovely, electrifying feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. It took no time at all to get reacquainted with that addictive sensation—you felt yourself lean into it even more this time around. You slipped out of his arms and back onto your feet, ready for more of him.

“We can’t—” Daryl started, out of breath already, “—keep doin’ this, honey.”

“Yes, we can,” you returned quickly. Reaching for his belt while your pupils widened with lust.

You made the few familiar maneuvers to undo his buckle, button, and fly, and when you palmed him over his boxers, he moaned.

“What happens when your daddy finds out, hm?” Daryl managed through gritted teeth.

“If he does,” you corrected him.

“When he does.”

You sighed, frustrated. Daryl sure wasn’t making things easier on you.

“What do you want me to say, D? That I—I can just come clean and tell him his best friend’s been bangin’ me for the past six months? You know he’d skin you alive,” you said, your voice a little less kind than you intended.

It was the truth, though.

Like clockwork, Daryl took you back in his arms and carried you clear across Deanna’s yard, toward a tiny shed in the back. You snuck a look over your shoulder and saw his old, trusted motorcycle propped up against its siding.

When he placed you on the wide leather seat, you knew this fight was far from over. You kissed again, anyway.

“I’ll tell him myself then.” Daryl pulled off of you and ran his hands up your stocking-covered legs.

He rubbed them up and down and up again until his fingers faltered at the edge of your garter belt, secured snugly across the tops of your thighs.

“Or we can tell him. Together,” he rejoined, calmly dropping a hand between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat. You were already so sensitive, soaked through your panties and ready to take him whole. You whined when he swept his thumb over your clothed heat and clamped your thighs in defiance when he started to rub you up and down.

“I need you now,” you moaned.

Daryl didn’t bother concealing his smirk and just reached back to readjust himself—toying with your attention while you waited for him to take his cock out fully.

“No foreplay, huh?” he mused aloud as he eased his boxers down, “Must’ve been missin’ this cock somethin’ awful.”

You nodded without a second thought.

You were physically salivating at the sight of him. Watching him pump himself firm in one hand and brush your cheek with the knuckles of his other in a gentle touch.

“My baby won’t mind gettin’ stretched out again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise not to cry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was teasing you now. He’d seen your wide, listless eyes drink in the sight of him and couldn’t resist.

When he told you to bend over the seat of his bike, you obeyed in an instant. You planted your palms on the cushion, stuck your ass in the air, and practically wiggled it for him there.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Daryl growled just loud enough for you to hear.

He took your ass in both hands and spread yourself just wide enough so he could see the leaking, dripping mess along the slit of your panties. You sighed when he pried your underwear off a second later.

Daryl’s idea of “skipping” foreplay still wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t tease you to the point of orgasm at least once or twice.

True to form, he leaned in and placed a kiss over your unclothed core, and your knees almost buckled. He pushed his tongue up your slit, circled your clit, and dragged it all the way down past your pussy to the point he was nearly veering into uncharted territory for you both.

You gripped the bike below you and moaned out loud.

“Daryl, baby,” you pleaded with no motive in particular. You didn’t know what he was doing, you just wanted him to keep doing it.

“Want me here?” Daryl asked, his thumb sliding to that same delicate spot.

You pushed your hips back into him in a wordless but enthusiastic answer in the affirmative. Daryl grew even harder.

He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, knew he wanted to make that first-time experience in your other hole a little more sentimental than taking you over his bike with little to no lubrication—but the thought of the future endeavor excited him nonetheless. He peppered a couple more gentle kisses between your legs before standing up.

You whimpered at the loss of contact and almost turned around to say as much when he reappeared behind you, this time pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

“How bou’ here, honey? Can I fuck ya here?” he asked, all sweet words and civility when it came time to fuck you stupid.

“Y-yes, Daryl, yes,” you supplied your consent in a second.

“Then be good for me while ye take it, okay, doll?”

Before you could answer, Daryl’s cock was already starting to split you open. Soft, slow, and tender, with a stretch that made it feel like your first all over again, you both moaned at the feeling and rolled your bodies into one another.

Two weeks apart and you were all but fiending for an orgasm like he hadn’t been inside you for a year or more. Judging by the sounds Daryl made when he bottomed out, he was right there with you.

He dragged himself out to the tip and plunged back in, gripping your hips like they were the last thing holding him to earth. Then dropped his head back and groaned when you pushed yourself back to start meeting his thrusts.

“Ye feel too fuckin’ good,” he grunted, relishing the sounds of his balls slapping your ass with each bounce.

Your nose was buried somewhere between the seat and your own trembling fingers, scarcely breathing more than you could manage between each moan of his name. He loved you like this, all bent out of shape with your brain devoid of any other thought but his cock. He ran a finger over the pale, feathered wings of your costume—the ones that mirrored those emblazoned on the back of his vest—and couldn’t help but smile.

Just when you clenched and sensed you were dangerously close, Daryl hoisted you back onto your feet. Pulling out for a moment to switch positions and take you in his lap, now straddling him over his bike.

You sighed at the new sensation and smiled now that you could see him face-to-face. Daryl grinned right back and took your lips in his for a couple quick kisses.

“M’perfect girl,” he hummed, sponging kiss after kiss across your skin in sloppy, haphazard fashion.

You tipped your chin back and reveled in his gentle affections, moving your hips over him a little faster now.

“Gonna cum f’me? Show me just how good I’m making ye feel?” Daryl prodded, eyes alight with lust.

You pressed your forehead to his and nodded. Breaths coming out more ragged and strained than ever, you felt Daryl lift his hips and start fucking into you a little sharper, grip your sides a little less gently and just start giving it to you hard and fast and senseless so you’d be spilling over him in no time at all.

You were a mystery to him in many ways, but this realm was not one of them. Daryl knew just the right angle to take your soft, sensitive spot—strike it over and over and over again so you were clenching tight around him, begging him not to stop—and in a matter of seconds, you both got what you desperately wanted.

With one final squeeze around his member, you reached your peak and screamed his name, fucking him back with every vicious thrust he gave you. Then, try as he might to hold it in, Daryl grew just as oversexed and sensitive, shooting his load in you moments later.

The two of you rutted and moaned and clutched each other tight as you trembled through your highs. With Daryl’s warmth spreading deep inside you, you would’ve liked to stay this way forever—maybe rest in each other’s arms long enough to rally for rounds two, three, and four, if not more. But at present, you were content just to hold him.

A dull thump of music echoed from Deanna’s house. Daryl eyed you up and down, seemed set on asking if you’d like to go again, but took you by surprise with another question entirely.

He pulled you tight in his lap so his lips were close to yours. Sank his fingers into the flesh of your sides and said, ever casually:

“Ready to tell Rick?”

[httpscomexe]

Please make an uncomfortable elevator one where she’s trapped with Logan, but she’s got Wades personality

Blabbermouth

Logan Howlett x Avenger!Reader

1339 words.

Warnings: Blood, mention of child death, sadness, hiding emotions.

(Wade, Logan, and reader are all Avengers in this)

I don't know I think this was horrible but anyways

“See ya.”

“See ya honey cheeks.” Wade walks out of the elevator, leaving you alone in the little box.

As soon as you’re alone, you let a single tear fall, and you look down at the ground, kicking at nothing with your blood covered boots.

Another successful, bloody, gruesome mission complete.

You were relieved your next mission wouldn’t be until next week, but it wouldn’t be any better than today's mission which was packed with blood, only the presence of your favourite mercenary was there to keep you comforted.

Your only friend.

The only one who really knew you.

The elevator door opens five floors before it should reach your floor, and as you throw on a smile, a rather grumpy face is there to greet you. Wolverine. Or Logan, as he’s told you to call him. Of course, you have a different nickname.

“Hey Wolvie, how’s it going?”

“Stop calling me that.” Was all he told you, stepping into the elevator, keeping as far away from you as possible. He’s never liked you. Apparently, you’re like a spitting replica of Wade's personality. What makes it worse is he couldn’t stab you when you were annoying like he could with Wade, unfortunately you aren’t exactly able to regenerate limbs.

“So grumpy.”

“Shut up.”

“Wade did tell me it’s that time of the month for you.” Your eyes move to his, and he looks even more pissed than before. But it was true, he’s been more pissed than normal today.

“Should’ve taken the stairs.” He mumbles to himself as the elevator doors close. Now there was no escape for him.

“And miss out on little old me?”

“That exactly.” He growls.

“Oh I ain’t that bad.”

“You’re fucking horrible.”

“Wade’s worse.”

“Sometimes you are, and right now, you’re the worst.”

You turn away from him, the elevator number rising by one floor.

“You're lucky you missed Wade then.” You tell him, staring at the wall. “He wouldn’t stop talking about Mario.” You shrug. “I guess that’s his interest today.”

“Haven’t I asked you to shut up?”

“Not nicely.”

“Please, shut the fuck up.”

“That wasn’t much different.”

Then the elevator shakes as it stops, jolting you both backwards against the furthest wall from the doors. It fucking stopped? You were in a multibillion dollar building and the elevator breaks?

“Oh you’re fucking joking.” He growls, then walks to the doors and puts all of his strength in to pry the doors open. Of course, all that was there was a brick wall.

He looks up, and the ceiling of course is metal.

Then the lights turn off, and the little area is only illuminated by the bright buttons with numbers on them. Of course, there also wasn’t a fucking emergency button. Damn you Stark.

“I’m sure it won’t last long.” You tell him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just being optimistic.”

“And I’m thinking optimistic, make it true.”

You purse your lips together, today wasn’t the day for you to bother talking to Logan.

“Of course, the one fucking time the elevator breaks down it’s with you in it.” You bite your lip a little, a stupid joke comes to your mind, and you open your mouth to say it, but instead, a broken sort of cry comes out, a knot forming in your throat.

Pulling your phone out, you try to text Wade, hoping he could call security to let them know the elevator is down, but of course, you have no service.

“Are you able to call someone?” You shake your head, knowing if you speak that you’ll start to cry, so you just shove your phone back in your pocket, your hands following. “Doesn’t Wade know you’re in here?” You nod. “You gonna fucking talk?”

“You told me to shut up.” Your voice is quiet, and in the darkness you see his eyes squint in confusion.

“Yea and since when the fuck does that work?”

“I think it’s your turn to shut up Logan.” You don’t face him, knowing one more word would make your tears fall. You did not have enough energy in you to sustain another insult today.

“Logan?” Your eyes found him again, and he could see you weren’t pissed, rather something else. “You don’t ever call me that, what’s wrong?”

“Please stop talking to me.” Your voice cracks when you say please, and you play it off by clearing your throat. Then you notice how he looks you up and down, studying you. Covered in blood from neck to toe, with some generous splashes of blood on your cheek as well. But you were careful not to get any in your hair. It wasn’t fun to wash out when it bunched up.

“Did Wade piss you off?” You don’t answer him. “Was it me?” You continue not to speak, your eyes staring into the wall. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t you.” You tell him, hoping to shut him up.

“Well I doubt it was Wade.”

“Please-”

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, then walks closer to you. “Tell me what’s going on? Was it your mission?” You swallow. Then you nod. Might as well since you’re stuck with him.

“Didn’t go to plan…” You breathe out.

“I was told it went perfectly.”

“Maybe from the agent's point of view, it wasn't so pretty from mine.”

“Since when has blood bothered you?”

“Since it was a childs…”

He snaps his mouth shut. Yea, you were just like Wade, but you were just a kid. Not even twenty years old, but you were forced to work with the Avengers anyways. According to Fury, you had too much power to just casually wander the streets.

You jump a little. His arms wrapping around you in a hug.

“Lo-”

“Shh…” He continues to hold you, and you hesitate for a moment before returning the hug. Your arms loose around his waist at first. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what had happened.”

You squeeze him tighter, the side of your head pushed against his chest as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“I know how you feel.” He tells you, his voice so soft, it was something you’d never expect. “You might’ve won the mission… but it all feels so wrong when someone innocent…” He pauses, holding you tighter as you cry. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

You’re both quiet, just hugging in the dark as you wait for someone to find out the elevator was down. Neither of you knew how long that could take.

“I was coming up to see you?” What? You didn’t even think about it before. He was five floors under you, but he was going up. He didn’t have a room on your floor.

“Why?”

“Just to talk…” He admits, and you’re so confused.

“You don’t like talking to me though Logan…”

“Yes, I do.” He tells you, leaning back a little as his hands cup your face. “I love talking to you, it’s Wade that’s the damned blabbermouth. But I know there’s more to you than that. You’re not all jokes.” He gently moves some of your fallen hair behind your ear. “You actually know when to take things seriously unlike him.” You chuckle a little. It was true.

“I still annoy you.” You remember him telling you it one day, and it’s never left your mind.

“Everyone does. But for some reason…” His thumb moves across your cheek, wiping a tear from your face. “I hate to admit it here and at this moment, but you’re the one person who I don’t mind annoying me.” He tells you, making the corner of your lips curl a little in a soft smile.

“Oh…” You sniffle a little… “I thought- I thought you hated me.”

“I can never hate you, Y/N.” He pulls you in again, another hug, it feels lighter, more heartfelt. “And don’t ever call me Logan again.” He whispers, the elevator lights turning on again as he speaks, making you look around a little.

“It’s Wolvie to you.”