#but here's a fic about two soft middle aged men in love

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 1

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Chapter 2

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, attempted sexual assault (not Joel), somno, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also refered to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

*******************

The first time you met Joel Miller was a flurry of events.

“C’mon Joel, I don’t have it this time but I promise, next month its yours”

Jaimie, your dad, stood in front of Joel, who was unarmed but guarded by his group of fellow raiders who had guns pointed at Jaimie and his men. “Next time you’ll owe me nearly double, I’m tired of waiting, I got a reputation to uphold.”

Jaimie owed Joel money, and a lot of it. The amount of land Joel controlled was expansive, a damn near kingdom at this point that FEDRA didn’t bother with since it was so far out in the middle of nowhere. Joel and his gang of raiders made a near Viking-like living out here. You could either pay Joel monthly with small amounts of food or resources and in return you have a modicum of protection from him and other raiders as Joel’s men patrolled areas under their control, or Joel just raids you and takes everything you have. Easy enough choice. Problem was, if Joel’s men raided your farm or town, in general, they didn’t kill you if you didn’t try to fight. However, if he didn’t get what he expected from you, he was none too thrilled about using his men's resources to protect people who weren’t paying, and that debt could easily end up with someone dead, and that’s how Joel came to your dads house.

“Fine” Joel grumbled, turning to one of his men, a tall redhead. “Kill him”

“Wait!” Your dad shouted, and Joel held up a hand to stop the gunman.

“I’m listening”

“I have a daughter” Jaimie offered.

Joel narrowed his eyes at that. “You think I need help getting my dick wet?” He began to turn to the red haired man again, when your dad shouted the words that really piqued Joel’s interest.

“She’s a virgin!”

Jaimie continued, motioning for one of his men to get you from where you were hiding in the hall. “You can have your way with her, as long as you want, knock off some of what I owe you, and next month I’ll have the rest, unless of course you want her again.”

You’re pulled in before the two groups, and had the distinct feeling you were on display.

A man to the right of Joel, looking a little younger than him but only by a few years, with longer, dark hair, finally spoke. “You pimping out your own daughter?” He said with disgust.

Your dad glared at him. “Judge me all you want, Tommy, not all of us have powerful family to protect us” he turned back to Joel.

Joel held out a hand, stopping the interaction, then turned to you. His gaze was intense, focussed, harsh, and you couldn’t help but be afraid. You were used to this, of course, your dad using you as a bargaining tool, bad men who had used you and hurt you, leaving bruises and scars that were visible even from where Joel stood, but Joel was different, Joel was powerful, Joel was a cold blooded killer, and was not someone you wanted to upset or god forbid disappoint when he took you; you might end up with a bullet in the head if he wasn’t happy with a blowjob. 

Joel scanned you, taking in your body and no doubt the marks that littered your skin. “You let them do that to her?” He referenced the bruises.

Your dads hands were still raised. “Other men have used her mouth, but nothing other than that. Some men just want to toss her around, rough her up a bit, get themselves off like that, but you’d be the first inside her.”

“Joel.” The younger man spoke with a warning. “Don’t”

“I’ll do damnwell whatever I please” Joel grumbled, turning to your dad. “Mouth only, I’ll see if she’d worth buying more off after that.”

Jaimie nodded. “Sure! You can rough her up too, if you want, that’s extra, of course-”

“Shut up, I’ll decide the price when I’m done with her.” Quickly, Joel strode over to you and hanked you out of the other man’s grasp, half-dragging you to another room, your dad calling out to you not to mess this up.

Joel grabs you by the neck and shoves you to your knees, the cold, hard floor stinging against your kneecaps. You try your best to suppress the shaking fear inside you and play good little whore, reaching up to undo his belt buckle but Joel smacks your hands away, yanking you by your hair to look at him.

“Listen to me, sweetheart.” Despite the pet name, his tone was harsh and condescending. “I don’t need you to do anything, you’re just a warm, wet hole for me to get off with, got it?”

You nod.

“Just stay still and this will be over soon enough. Hands behind your back, now.” He demanded and you did as you were told, holding both your hands behind you and opening your mouth.

Joel took his cock out, and an involuntary whimper escaped you; you’d never been with a man this big, and if he liked you, he was supposed to deflower you? How was all that supposed to fit?

Joel must’ve seen the fear in your eyes. “I’ll start slow, but after that, I ain’t taking it easy on you, little girl.”

You nod quickly, thankful for even small mercies. 

Joel kept his word, sliding into you slowly, carefully, pausing when you gag, and allowing you to adjust when his full length was inside. Tears pricked at your eyes, it hurt so bad, but you needed to do good. If Joel didn’t like you, whatever you dad would do as punishment would be way worse than this.

He pulled himself all the way out, and told you to take a breath. “This is where the fun begins”. When he thrust his dick inside you, you heaved so hard that if you had eaten anything, you would’ve thrown up all over him, spit spilling out of your mouth mixed with stomach bile, your scalp stinging from his painful grip on your hair.

“Fuck yeah, gag on it” You can hear him say above you, and it’s not like you have a choice, continuing to make a mess on him and yourself, the drool dripping down your chin.

“Such a pretty little mouth” he grunts with each thrust. “Wonder what that tight little cunt would feel like.” You can’t help but whimper, knowing how much it would hurt to feel Joel stretching you open. His breathing becomes heavier. “Don’t know if I can have you just once, princess, just look at you…” His fingers entangled themselves deeper into your hair, holding you still as he fucked your face. “Might just have to keep you, be my little pocket pussy to use whenever I want, you want that? Hm?” When you don’t respond, you keep your eyes tightly closed, as the pain in your throat grows.

Joel huffs a laugh when you don’t respond, not that you could say much of anything either way. “Well, you don’t really have much of a choice. But wouldn’t it be better? Only me? No more random men? Of course, I’d fuck you, be the first one inside you…” His pace was faltering, imagining breaking you open, your blood on him… “Fuck!” Joel cums in your mouth with no warning, and you begin to cough and choke, cum and spit falling out of your mouth and he pulls you off him by your hair, throwing you to the ground. 

You lay there, heaving and coughing, face covered in spit, tears and cum and maybe a little blood, your throat burns and your just want to curl up and cry, but Joel is pulling you up. “Let's go” he’s yanking you around again, and you stumble to the door, feeling somewhat like a rag doll. Before opening, however, Joel stops, wiping his sleeve roughly on your face. “Can’t let them see what a pretty mess you make, princess.”

When he pulled out outside, where it seems the tensions hadn’t eased, Joel announces he’s taking you.

Your dad immediately protests, and for a moment you think he might actually care about you, until he gives his reason, being that he sells your mouth for extra money, and Joel can’t take that away from him.

“I’ll wipe your debts clean” Joel isn’t even looking at him, yanking you to where his men had loaded resources onto their horses.

“But that’s-”

“And the next three months free.”

Your dad seemed to recognize that Joel wanted you, and tried to trade for more and Joel hoped on his horse, never letting go of your arm. Effortlessly, he reached under your arms and pulls you up onto the horse, and you suddenly realize the weight of the predicament. Joel was taking you, and you weren’t coming back. He was going to fuck you until he was tired of you, then throw you away, if he doesn’t kill you. You were never going to see your friend or your brother again.

“Joel, come on, she’s my only daughter” You dad tried one more time, and you begin to squirm in Joel’s lap, wanting out. “She’s worth a little more than that, untouched.”

“Dad, please, don’t”

Joel wraps an arm around you and points a gun at your dad's head. “Three months, and I don't blow your brains out right now.”

Raising his hands, Jaimie backs down, giving up.

“Lets go” Joel says to the younger man from before, and turns his horse around.

You hear your name called from the house, and turn to find your brother running outside. 

“ZACH!” You scream for help, the fight in you kicking in, desperately trying to get out of Joel’s arms. The horse takes off, and you turn to see Zach getting on his own and starting after you and your dad telling him to stop.

Turning around, in one movement, Joel turns your head into his chest to cover your ears, and shoots.

You scream, and turn to see your brother fallen off the horse, laying still.

The first time you saw Joel Miller, he fucked your face, bought you, kidnapped you, and killed your brother in a span of ten minutes.

“One stop princess, then we can go home, and you get to be my little toy.” Joel spoke, his breath hot in your ear, as if he was your husband taking you home after a wedding, not the man who just uprooted you from everything you know.

The stop, as it turned out, took 2 hours to get to, and you were exhausted and in shock by the time you, the younger brunette and the redhead separated from the group. Joel had tied up your arms in front of you, not that you could escape even if you tried. Joel was much stronger than you. You were nearly nodding off, Joel’s hold on you keeping you upright, the adrenaline rush leaving you bone tired, when you heard a woman’s voice.

“You trafficking girls now, Joel?”

You open your eyes wearily to find a woman on a horse with two others flanking her, she had dark skin and her hair was in braids, eyeing Joel with disgust.

Joel’s hand ran across the top of your chest, closer to your collar bone but enough to make your whimper. It was a display, more than anything, meant to get a rise out of the woman. “What would you do if I was?”

“Not much I can do, it seems.” She seethed.

“Relax, Maria. Her dad was the one was selling her, I bought, she’s staying with me.”

You were dreary, unable to keep your eyes open, only listening to the voices.

“And that’s supposed to be better?”

You could feel Joel shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. But she’s not getting passed around like she was at her dads. We ain’t making a habit of it, if that makes you feel any better.”

Joel motioned the redheaded man over, who Joel referred to Nick. “Take her, just up the hill there, out of earshot, but where I can see her. Do. Not. Touch.”

Falling asleep against your best attempts to stay awake, you feel yourself getting picked up and handed off into another's arms. Over the next few hours, you were in and out of sleep, unable to fully rest but unable to stay away either. Passed back to Joel, who you only knew was him from the smell of his leather jacket, and another long ride for god knows how long, you finally awaken when Joel passes you down from the horse and into the brunette man’s arms before climbing down and reclaiming you. You felt like an object they just passed around as needed, no regard for you. You open your eyes in front of a large house, trying to take everything that had happened in the last few hours, but between your sleep addled brain and the general shock of it, you found yourself unable to. This is where you’d stay for the remainder of your short life, Joel rapeing you and letting god knows who else do the same until you die. Joel starts pulling you inside.

“Please” You whimper before you can stop yourself.

Joel thrust you up against the door, his face right next to yours and his beard rubbing against your skin, burning it. “What was that, little one?”

But you don’t reply.

“Joel…” the younger man says from behind the two of you.

“Shut up, Tommy.” He pulls you back, opening the unlocked door. “You ain’t fucking in charge here. I paid good money for her.” He snaps to Tommy, his large hand around the back of your neck tightening, making you whimper. “And I’m bout to get my money's worth.”

“I know” Tommy steps forward, carefully, like he has experience cooling his leader down. “We just road 4 fours, maybe you should wait, you’re tired-”

“You calling me old?” Joel fully turned around, his hand moving to the front of your throat, pressing your back into his front.

“No, that ain’t what I’m saying, Joel. I just mean you got her as long as you want her, no need to do it tonight, you can enjoy yourself more later.” Tommy’s eyes flickered over to yours, and you saw just a smidge of sympathy before they went back to Joel. “She’s had a long night, Joel, she just lost everything. Give her one night, please?”

You stood there in Joel’s arms, your hands still tied in front of you, feeling the rapid rise and fall of Joel’s chest, praying to whomever that you can have this; if Joel took your virginity tonight, you were sure you’d simply break.

Grabbing your bundled hand, Joel begins dragging you inside, and you see why the door wasn’t locked. In the living room, several more men were sitting inside: some drinking, some playing games, some just… sitting. Joel turns to them “She is mine, no one fucking touches her.” he demands as he pulls you, stumbling and trying to keep up with his long strides. Opening up a door, Joel thrusts your back to the wall, taking out his knife and you gasp, trying to get away; to where, you don’t know.

“Hold still, woman, or I’ll cut you for real.” Joel cut off your hand ties, and literally threw you onto the dirty mattress. He stomped over, towering above you, and pointing. “One night. Tomorrow I get what I paid for, and you’re mine, wherever, whenever, and however I want you, no matter what Tommy and his bleeding heart think. Understood?”

You nod, but that's not enough for him.

“Say, ‘yes, Sir’”

You swallow, and speak as much as you can imagine. “Yes sir”

“Go to sleep”

And with that, he leaves the room, and you can hear it locking. How are you supposed to sleep after all that? After everything?

Not long after, the door opens again, and you scramble up thinking Joel changed his mind; it was Tommy, but that didn’t ease you at all. Maybe Tommy showed you mercy to save you for himself.

“Relax, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

He’s got a bowl in one hand and a bag in the other. “Don’t got much by way of a bath tonight, but here's hot water and a towel, you can at least wash your face, and here’s clean clothes and a pillow”

You don’t move, frozen in fear, almost as if he was a t-rex; if you didn’t move, he wouldn’t see you.

A soft smile. ”Alright, I’ll get out of your hair” and with that he leaves you, your room dark save for the moonlight coming through the window.

********************

You know, when I made this side blog it was initially gonna be like. Secret. Like I wasn't gonna tell my mutuals i had a side blog for dark content

But even if I decided to stay anonymous, the fact I have a fic with a song title, a shitty dad and a good brother would've given it away lol

Anyway, if you want to read more, comment to be added to the tag list!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[imaginewarehouse]

Human!Sheriff x Reader x Human!Doc Hudson || Drabble

Plot: Flo's diner on Friday Night's is always a lot of fun- there's good food and drink (Which is not out of the ordinary, admittedly), good company (The whole town ends up there at some point in the night), and theirs dancing. You're determined to get the hot old men to dance with you.

Warnings: Age difference I guess but its not a focus point.

I have had this fic in my drafts, finished and all, for years. Since like, 2019-2020, but since I wrote it just for me (Also the reason for the fist person perspective), I had never bothered to edit it- well I finally did and I think its kinda cute ^^

🔆🔆🔆

“What are you two doing just sitting around and drinking over here for?” I ask Doc and the Sheriff, as I sweep off the dancefloor in exhaustion and rest in the chair beside Doc (The material of his blazer grazes my bare arm and I get a little jolt from the innocent touch). Mater’s a sweetie pie, and a great dancer but… boy, does he have more endurance than I do. After I take a second to gather my exhaustion and banish it, I turn to the two men and flash them a smile. “It’s fun out there!”

“Hmm, your exhaustion and the sweat completely bucketing off of you is especially encouraging.” Doc rolls his eyes, and turns to look back at the dancers. Ramone and Flo are dancing smoothly in the middle, like they’re practised, like they do it at home because they just love each other like that- unsurprisingly. Then Sally and Lightning are there, too, Mater’s found a new partner in Guido while Luigi laughs at his friend’s expense off to the side, and Lizzie's talking on happily to Red off to the side. A soft smile rests on my lips, until I turn away from the scene and back to the two men I’m sitting with. Sheriff’s already looking at me, which makes me smile wider.

“Being tired and sweaty is a good sign!” I exclaim, winking. “Sheriff, what about you? Fancy a round with me?” How many innuendos can I make with these men and get away with it? How many until they get it and take me? I’m not saying take advantage… because neither of them would do that- but at least recognise what I’m trying to get at here and ask me about it!!

He chuckles, moving in his bar stool chair to be more comfortable. “That’s a lovely offer, darlin’, but I’m afraid I’d probably just slow you down. I’m not as young as I used to be!”

At this, an opportunistic light switches on behind Doc’s calculating eyes, swivelling on his stool ever so slightly in order to turn that piercing stare on the sheriff. “Yes, he’s missed his last 3 check-ups, Y/N. Anything could be wrong with him.” Sheriff bristles and his expression dissolves into guilt, as he refuses to look at Doc who’s smirking. “Damn hot rods not allowing you a single day off to visit the office, right Sheriff?”

“Uhuh, ri-right.” Sheriff quickly clears his throat, straightening in his chair now to look around at anything other than Doc. As he does that, Dr Hudson glances to me with a quiet, conspiratorial look before taking another drink from his mug, making me giggle quietly.

In a moment, I raise my eyebrows at him. “Why don’t you take a dance with me, then? You must be at the height of health, ey Doc?”

A grunt is his response, as the amusement leaves his blue eyes and he looks away again.

“Come on, one of you? Both of you? I’m not picky- I’m desperate! Mater’s got a new partner and… “I risk a glance at the tow-truck owner and can’t stop a laugh from bubbling up to the surface. “Guido’s a hard act to beat! He’ll never want me back. I’m dying to get back on the floor, though!”

“Guido’s seemed to have transformed miraculously into a sack of potatoes.” Doc states in that slow, gravelly drawl, assessing the dancing couples as well. And it’s true, making me really chuckle this time at his analogy. Mater is just swinging the little Italian around at this point, with absolutely zero help from Guido himself. Guido’s toupee keeps bopping around and slipping out of place.

I stop my chuckling by biting my bottom lip, and scraping it through my teeth as I turn back to them. Sheriff’s stopped avoiding Docs gaze now and is looking at me with him like they’ve won- like together they can ward me off- Oh, ho, ho, though. These two think they’re so clever and victorious. But they haven’t gotten out of this. No, no. I’m determined; I’ll get one of them to dance with me tonight, even if it takes begging!

“You’re right.” I admit, then lean closer into the table pleadingly. “But I don’t want to dance with Mater, I want you two! Come onnnn,” I whine, looking as pleadingly as possible to them.

Doc sets me with a firm, straight lipped look. “And you’ll continue to want me.”

Well, that’s that then.

I turn from him, to Sheriff. When Doc’s mind is set, he usually will never change it. Sheriff, though… he’s a bit more lenient. A softie. A sweetheart. That’s one of the things I really love about him, in contrast to what I really love about Doc; his cleverness, his sternness. Unbelievably sexy qualities.

And I’m right, too. The Sheriff’s looking at me a with worried frown under that moustache and thoughtful deep, dark blue eyes. Oh lord, these men and their blue eyes. They had me my first day here in Radiator Springs.  

I offer my hand across the table to him, and up the ante with my cute pleading look, which I hadn’t even known was possible. I do so by adding a little pout, and it does the trick. Sheriff heaves a great sigh and drops his large hand into mine, getting out of his chair. He rolls his eyes. “Hot damn… “He mutters something about the lord saving him, as I get up from my seat with the biggest beam on my face and springing into place next to him like a slightly overexcited puppy, before returning his gaze to me. “Remember what I said, I’m not as springy as I once was. And, I was never a very good dancer in the first place, so- “

“Let’s go!” Now that I’ve got him up, I’m not about stand here and listen to him talk himself out of this again, so I take us off to a spot on the floor. When I turn back to him and let go of his hand, I flash him a bright grin and think out loud in anticipation as the song ends and we wait for the next one to play. “Besides, the point of this is not to look good, it’s to have fun! Wanna have fun with me, Sheriff?” Okay, so I might have gone a little far with that last comment as the poor, sweet man goes a little pink, but I pretend not to notice that and just listen out for the first few beats of the next song. Before I can make the first move and pick up his hands again, as the song’s a bit boppy and perfect for twirling, he takes up mine first and then, before I know it he’s dancing with me. It’s so much fun!, he’s not half bad at dancing like he let on- there’s a little bit of funk and we slip out of time every now and then but that just makes us laugh. And he twirls me!! He twirls me!!! I’m also starting to think he was just being modest, with all that ‘I’m not as springy as I once was’, crap. Sheriff’s in shape! We’ve been dancing for the past 8 songs and he has not once needed a break or looked like he would be needing one any time soon.

It’s so much fun that I nearly forget to want a drink, or a break myself. The music is so hillbilly it’s fun, the laughter is elating, and the company is addictive. Every time a song ends, he’ll dip me and I’m not afraid that he’ll drop me; he’s strong, and his grip on me is firm. I laugh quite a bit when he does that, and when I get to twirl, and at some point he throws his hat off to Doc, and I’m surprised there’s still a Ford-Pines-Tom-Sellick-level head of hair there. Man, does this place know how to grow ‘em…

We go on like this for a few more songs, until he reminds me to get a drink and a rest for a moment and see how Doc is doing. “Hey Doc, I don’t think you should be worried about Sheriffs health, he’s fitter than me!” I exclaim elatedly as I collapse back into my seat beside him, exasperated but not really. Tired, yes, but annoyed, not at all.

“Hmmm,”

“Still don’t wanna get a dance in before the night’s over Doc? It really is fun!” Sheriff pours us both some water from the jug Doc ordered for us, laughing a bit because of the left-over endorphins, and I nod along intently.

“Yes, the offer’s still on the table until the last song ends. So, keep that in mind.”

“Sure.”

I giggle, widening my eyes exasperatedly at Sheriff over my cup as I take a sip, before Doc starts up a conversation about Chick’s latest Lightning slander in the news.  

6 songs later, and the night’s about to end, sadly. I watch, quietly and honestly tired, as Ramone goes up to Red and requests a certain song, quietly. I guess it’s something special between him and Flow, but as the slow song starts to play, Sally and Lightning dance too- and I’m actually perfectly content and happy in just sitting by and watching, when a shift beside me catches my attention and I look to see Doc getting off his stool and stretching his back. “Ah… this is much more my speed. Y/N?” He raises his hand in front of my face without looking back from the dance floor, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“You said the offer to dance was on the table until the last song. I believe this- is the last song.” A slow grin spreads across my face, and I cautiously, tiredly hop off my own stool, taking his hand in the process.

“Sure is!”

“Now, Doc, I’d’a thought you’d be up for something faster!” The Sheriff teases after us, with laughing eyes as he sits comfortably still in his seat.

A tiny smile graces Doc’s face, making me feel squirmy like it always does. “Yes, but my physical ability extends only to the minimum of what a driver’s required to be. Dear, now shall we?”

“Mhm, yeah, we shall!” I agree, grinning cheekily at him and waiving quickly to the Sheriff as Doc walks me onto the floor and swings me around to face him. The song, slow and easy, plays on around us as he fixes his hands carefully on the okay zone around my waist and mine find his shoulders. As we sway around the floor, I wonder; Will I ever get to do this with them as my men? Go out dancing as a date?.. Will these two ever realise how much I really like them?

When Doc grins again I wonder, if he actually already does know.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Couldn't one of the recoms have volunteered as a foster family and somehow manipulated the system so that Spider would end up in their care? Imagine Ja/Fike becoming a foster parent and one day Quaricth shows up at the door for dinner lol

Oh my god I love this idea. Truthfully the thought never crossed my mind. They’d have to be really strategic about who they choose because just from my understanding of things it’s really uncommon for single men to be allowed to become foster parents so that would rule out Ja in my fic. Fike is married with two kids who are younger then Spider so he’d be a good choice on paper but the thing is he’s then implicating his wife if they get caught and putting a big risk on his family. And while Quaritch asks a lot of his team risking their families and potentially leading to them having their children taken away just like him is something he’d never even think to ask of them.

But if they could lower the risk by having someone on the inside who could mess with the files to say Spider was in a different home then “loss” all information about Fike once Spider is sent there then I could see this happening. Maybe the team even takes it upon themselves to do this and Quaritch doesn’t even know about it until he shows up for dinner. I imagine this all happened when Spider in around 10-12 so imagine middle school age Spider, it’s his first day in his new home. His new foster parents have been really nice- thought his foster father is a little too nice and seems why to excited to have him there. His foster siblings are around half his age but they’re both sweet and ask him a lot of questions. When it’s time for dinner Spider tucks himself into the table when there’s a knock on the door. Fike goes to open it. It seems they’d be having a guest for dinner. He hears the stranger’s voice, deep and gruff with a bit of a southern accent. It stirs something up in the back of his mind but he ignores it, too focused on the mashed potatoes in front of him.

Then the stranger stops short of fully entering the kitchen. “Miles,” he calls stunned

Spider looks at him equally surprised, “dad?” Before Spider can even process what’s happening Quaritch has him in a bear hug. He’s kissing his hair, mumbling, “my boy. My boy. My precious boy,” sounding on the verge of tears. Spider just freezes, not knowing what to do with himself.

Since Spider is younger he has a little less animosity towards Quaritch. He knows his dad was on the other side of the war but Norm still hasn’t found the right way to give Spider all the details and so he thinks Quaritch was kinda like Jake without the redemption arc. Just a grunt following orders. He has no clue that his father was actually the commanding officer. He also doesn’t exactly know why he’s not supposed to be around his dad. He knew his dad went to jail for a year but doesn’t know what for and he’s been told his dad is dangerous and that he should stay away from. But this guy? The guy hugging him like a life line who’s ready to cry from how overjoyed and relieved he is? Spider couldn’t imagine this guy being dangerous.

Spider is still stunned as Quaritch pulls away. His dad cups his face, looking at him with a soft smile. He just stares at him for a moment drinking in his son’s image, occasionally stroking his hair. Fike and his wife are smiling at the surprise reunion. Spider is the first to speak, “dad,” the word feels so strange on his tongue. Quaritch’s eyes light up when he’s called. “How are you here?”

Quaritch’s brow furrows slightly, “that I don’t know,” he looks up to his subordinate, “what did you do?” Spider looks up to his latest foster father and realizes immediately that he must be his father’s friend.

Fike explains everything ending with saying, “little Miles will have to stay here but you can come see him whenever you want. Hopefully now that you know he’s safe you can focus on other things. Like re-appealing your court case to get back custody.”

The whole conversation is pissing Spider off. They’re talking about him like he’s not even there. Like he’s an object to be won. “Hey! I’m right here! What about what I want! What if I don’t want to go with you!”

Quaritch is shocked, “I’m your dad. Why wouldn’t y’a want to come home with me?”

“I don’t even know you! I barely even remember you!”

Spider can see the devastation on his father’s face and it makes him feel a little bad. Quaritch recovers then sadly pats Spider’s cheek. “That’s fair. And I’m sure this is a lot for you. So how about you think about what y’a want. I’d appreciate it if you consider givin’ me a chance. Because I want to know you. A day hasn’t gone by where I didn’t miss y’a like crazy and wished for us to be a family again. But I get it. I haven’t been a part of your life and because of that your life has been mighty hard. So whatever you want to do…” Quaritch then goes to leave but before walking out he says, “I love you son.”

Quaritch decides to immediately get the ball rolling on regaining custody now that he knows his son is in good hands. He gets a better lawyer the next morning who puts a case together by noon. By the end of day they’ve got a date to petition the court. Their argument is that since Quaritch’s court order therapist Max Patel is a friend of his arch enemy Jake Sully then all of Dr.Patel’s conclusions on Quaritch should be thrown out and he should be granted a new unbiased therapist to judge whether he’s mentally fit to be a parent.

Spider thinks about all of this for days eventually deciding to give his dad a chance. Quaritch shows up as soon as Fike tells him Spider’s decision. It’s awkward at first. Spider doesn’t know what to say but then decides, screw it, and blatantly asks, “why are you dangerous?”

Quaritch just laughs, “that’s what they told y’a? I ended up in jail for attackin’ your mama’s killer.”

That changes Spider’s whole perspective. His dad was avenging his mom’s murder. How could that be bad?

So they talk. Quaritch gives Spider a sugar coated version of events to win his son over. Spider doesn’t immediately warm up to his dad. It takes weeks of Quaritch coming by every day for Spider to slowly start to let his defensives down. His dad is alway just so excited to see him. He takes interest in everything Spider does. He patiently helps him with his homework and is really encouraging when the problems make Spider feel like he’s stupid. It makes him think that maybe living with his dad would be pretty nice.

It takes nearly a year of court hearings and therapy sessions and mental assessments and then more court hearings but eventually Quaritch gets his parental rights reinstated. Spider is thrilled with the news but doesn’t immediately get to go home. First they have supervised visitations (they’re both laughing there asses off over this) when those go well they move up to unsupervised visitation, then a weekend stay and then finally they have one last court hearing where 11-13 year old Spider is asked if he wants to live with his father. “Yes,” he says with a smile and zero hesitation. The judge gives Quaritch full custody. Father and son hug each other tight all of team Deja Blue there to celebrate.

Cut to the start of the new school year. Spider and his dad had had a truly epic summer. Dad had taken him on a two week trip to Disney world right after their court case. All summer long they went on camping trips, had beach days, went to the zoo, and museums and loads of other local attractions. They went to the movies almost every week. And dad loved to watch Spider at the skate park. Spider had never imagined his life could be so good. He confidently strides into his new school- an expensive secular private school. There he meets Kiri, Lo’ak and Neteyam who quickly become his best friends. Of course over the semester the truth of all the terrible things his father has done comes out and Spider is devastated. Loads of family drama ensues all culminating on Quaritch going on a redemption arc for his son’s sake.

Anyway I got really carried away with this lol. I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for the question 💞

[newpathwrites]

In honor of pride month and in an effort to promote queer rep in fandom, I'm going to post a few of the queerest excerpts from my fics throughout the month.

Here I give you:

Din coming out to Omera in my mandomera fic A New Creed. Din is also demi in this fic which is hinted at here, as well.

————————————————————

“You’re thinking loudly, love.  Anything you’d like to share?”

He looked at her strangely then, almost like he was nervous - a rare state for him.  “Uhhh… there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you… but I wasn’t sure if…”  He paused as if gathering his wits and then pressed on with a bit more confidence.  “I told Jai that I’d never had feelings for anyone else before you… but it’s not true.”

Omera wasn’t exactly surprised by this information, though it was unexpected.  Sure, Din had always insinuated that he’d not had any other romantic relationships in his life, but they hadn’t met until they were already middle aged with a lifetime of prior experiences under their belts.  Of course there were probably others.  Omera had a husband in her past who she had loved dearly, and she’d told Din quite a lot about him.  Why would Din be so nervous about sharing this with her?

“He was my best friend… as a child on Aq Vetina…”

If Omera was shocked to learn that Din had once loved a boy, she didn’t show it.  She simply smiled at him warmly as she so often did when he shared something new about himself.  “Tell me about him.”

And so he told her everything he could remember. 

He and the boy next door had become fast friends when their mothers started a communal garden on the patch of land between their two homes, and they quickly grew attached.  And though it was the innocent kind of love typical of youth, it was very much real.  The two boys spoke often of getting married one day and tending a garden of their own.  Had they both survived the attack on their settlement, maybe they would have done just that.  Din would never know.

As Din got older and never developed such feelings for anyone else, he wondered if this Mandalorian version of himself simply wasn’t built for romantic relationships… or if maybe that boy was meant to be the one great love of his life… and that Din’s only chance at happiness died with him on Aq Vetina.

It was cathartic, really, to speak out loud what this boy had meant to him after so many years holding him only in memory - and to know that his wife understood and accepted it so tacitly… that was liberating.  He’d kept this from her for so long.

His fingers slipped through her hair as he spoke, lips brushing the top of her head.  “I never looked at anyone that same way again until you.”  It had happened slowly as they’d become closer, and it had taken him by surprise when it finally manifested itself in his conscious awareness.  He hadn’t thought he was capable of falling in love again. 

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Omera replied softly.  “Do you think about him a lot?”

Din nodded, a sad smile turning somewhat brighter.  “Winta reminds me of him sometimes… with her well-intentioned schemes… spreading joy and happiness everywhere she goes…. He was like that, too.”

“Thank you for telling me about him, sweetheart.  I know it’s hard for you to talk about your childhood.”  

He kissed the top of her head in response, and she hugged him tighter.   “You make it easier.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”  She lifted herself off his torso and swiveled to face him as he gestured for her to continue with that trademark tilt of his head.  “So have you been intimate with both women and men?”

There it was again - the fear .  She could see it in his face, but he’d already decided to tell her everything it seemed.  “Yes… I don’t have a gender preference… on the very rare occasions I indulged, anyway.”  He met her eyes before adding cautiously, “Does that bother you?”

She reassured him gently with a hand to his heart and a soft smile.  “How could I not love something that’s part of who you are?”

All of his fears dissolved in that moment.  Dank farrik , this woman never ceased to amaze him.  “I’m honestly not sure why you love me in the first place… but I thank the Maker for it daily.”

Omera leaned forward to kiss him softly.  “You don’t ever have to be afraid to talk to me… about anything .”

“I know,” he replied quietly.  “I love you, Omera.  Thank you… for being you.”

“I love you, too, Din - every part.  Don’t ever doubt it.”

————————————————————

[snowblossomreads]

Day 12: A Missing Gift (Missing Star + Giver of Gifts)

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant x Amiee Huang (OC)

Summary: In where Amiee plays hostess to a party while Sinclair is missing. She learns later why he was gone for so long.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): mean jokes, defending loved one, kissing, hidden relationships, food(lots of food), gift giving, feelings of unworthiness, fluff and love!

Word Count: 5.4K (Sinclair's getting spoiled I know 😌)

A/N: Heheh so this story takes place before the events of The Art of Entangled Hearts which ,you can read here (come on i know u want to read it) . This little fic is just sweet fluff between these two and a little surprise awaits at the ending 🥹.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any person living or dead is just coincidence 🤣🤣 (it's not) Enjoy lovelies!

There were about 15 or so people, including Amiee, mingling in the spacious living room of Sinclair's flat, which resided on one of the top floors, in a luxury apartment building, in Manchester's city centre. All sorts of folks from work had come to the little, or more accurately rather larger dinner party he was throwing for the upcoming holidays, ready to gossip and drink fancy wine and champagne till their heads spun.

It was the weekend after all, and why not indulge, especially if you weren't paying for it. Most of the people there were from different departments though, she recognised two or three of them from her own. She was sure that they knew Sinclair, as everyone who ever met him could attest that he was hard to forget, and even harder to avoid once he took a liking to you.

Speaking of Sinclair.

"Amiee where'd ya say our office puppy went to?" Millie, who she had learned was a lawyer for the company asked as she sat down next to Amiee with a drink in hand. "I know he has a habit of being late, but to his own party? That's a new one even for him!"

"Honestly he's hopeless when it comes to time management, it's the reason he's always in the office so late sometimes," Amiee mused as she took a sip of her own drink. "He said he had some last minute things he needed to pick up and then left me to supervise if he didn't get back on time."

"Oh of course he would! Men I swear," she snickered, though there was amusement in her voice as she spoke. "Well, it's not too bad of a mess. I mean there're drinks and some amusing company I guess. Though, I wonder what's got him so tied up. Maybe he's gone back to the office?"

"Haha, I don't mind.” She actually did mind, even if it was just a little bit, but that wasn’t the point. “And I doubt it. Sinclair wouldn't miss a party, especially his party. He enjoys the company too much," Amiee continued as she fell into a comfortable conversation with the lady. "But," she added, covering the side of her face, and leaning over like she was telling a secret to Millie who was also leaning in to hear. "If he doesn't show up soon I'm liable to just start eating the food without him. I'm starving!"

Both women let out a laugh drawing a pair of eyes towards them.

"Be careful," Millie snorted bringing her drink to her lips. "That's probably a sackable offence when it comes to him. Can you imagine him coming back and all the food is gone?"

"It'll drive him mad for sure! I'm pretty sure we be his mortal enemies if we ever did that!" Amiee cackled doubling over in laughter at the thought of Sinclair marching everyone out of his flat because they had eaten all the food.

It was honestly easier to imagine than one would think considering who they were talking about. That man took his meals seriously!

"A sackable offence to who? Who are we talking about ladies?"

The voice of a man interrupted the two women, who looked up to see a red-faced middle aged man approach them and before he got near, Amiee could hear Millie hiss a soft,

"Not this dickhead." Before leveling a nasty glare at him.

He was a bit wobbly on his feet as he waddled up to them, and it was clear he was going to need to be cut off from the drinks soon in case he got too plastered before dinner was served.

"Bugger off won't you Williams? Can't you see me and our hostess are talking?"

As if he didn't hear her, Williams, whom Amiee didn't know, yet already disliked immensely, seemed to ignore the request to leave them alone, instead doing his best to join the conversation he wasn't wanted in.

"Aw come on Mills be nice," he crooned causing the blond woman's face to twist in disgust at the nickname as she looked away from the man. "Amiee isn't it! Still no sign of our friend Sinclair huh? Chaps probably lost somewhere staring at some billboard that's got him interested. Sometimes I don't think that man is all that there," Williams thought out loud as he tried to sit in the small space between the woman.

This only caused him to almost sit on Amiee's lap causing her to yelp and scoot to the opposite side of the sofa but not without her snapping at him with a,

"Hey watch it!"

"Sorry as I was saying," he continued, not paying any mind to the women who clearly did not want him to be there. "Brilliant at numbers but he's kind of odd fellow don't you think. Talkative too."

"Is that what we are calling people who are interested in a lot of things now? Because honestly I rather be friends with someone like that. Even if he is talkative, at least he has something of value to say, unlike some people," Amiee spat, still annoyed at the sudden appearance of the man and, the apparent audacity he had to insult Sinclair in his own home.

"Millie, what do you think?"

"Oh, absolutely. There's never a dull moment when Sinclair is around though," Millie paused to give the unwelcome guest a dirty look that was clearly telling him to piss off yet he stayed. "I can't say the same when it comes to some people."

The man seemed to be unaware he was nearing dangerous territory with the thinly veiled insults that he was hurling at Sinclair. And if he wasn't, well it was about to be made clear that he had overstepped.

"I mean he's a fine man, brilliant. But you have to agree he's a bit, I don't know, he seems off his rocker sometimes when he starts rambling about all those facts up in his head. It’s bloody weird!"

This had Amiee glaring at the man fiercely as he seemed to have realized what he said had crossed a line.

"No, I don't agree actually!" Amiee seethed lowly, her face hot from anger and her cheeks flushed, but not from the drinks.

Her ferocity seemed to catch both Millie and Williams off guard and had anyone else heard her, she was sure it would have caught them off guard to.

"It's fine if you don't like him, but if you're going to just insult him in his flat, at his party why even show up! If it bothers you so much, how about buggering off like you were asked to. And preferably out of here altogether."

Everyone seemed petrified for a moment as they all took in the way she had just told this man off. Someone she didn't know but already never wanted to meet again, especially with how he talked about Sinclair, who was goodness personified to her.

He had flaws like any other human being, but she wasn't going to stand for someone, especially someone supposedly on good terms with him to speak about him like that. Drunk or not.

The air was a bit tense between the three, but it seemed like luck was on their side in a manner of speaking because not seconds later, the door to the flat opened, and Sinclair was walking in with a few shopping bags in hand and a grin.

"And look everyone it's the man of the hour," Amiee cheered as she jumped from her seat to get away from the uncomfortable situation, leaving Williams confused and Millie hiding her laughter behind her glass.

"Sorry sorry hello everyone! I got caught in traffic trying to get back with some more food and stuff for us!" Sinclair explained enthusiastically as he made his way into the flat, shutting the door with his foot and greeting everyone. "I should have known I get back late, but that just means everyone is already here!"

Amiee smiled as she approached him, happy he was still in his cheerful mood even with the delay, and with all the alcohol in people's blood, they seemed to just be happy he was here. With food of course.

Finding her in the small crowd, Sinclair seemed to brighten up even more as he walked over to her while boisterously announcing,

"Also everyone say thank you to Amiee as the unwilling hostess! She's wonderful to put up with me and my demands."

Her heart leapt, and she felt herself become instantly shy when he said that. The urge to ball up a little was strong as the attention turned to her for a few seconds when a chorus of thank you's and laughter filled the air.

Mortifying wasn't the right word, but she did feel self-conscious as she nodded and gave a little wave and smile to everyone. A soft 'you're welcome' left her before Sinclair was swooped in.

"Dinner in about 30 minutes! Hopefully faster though because I'm starving! I'm stealing Amiee away for help seeing she's already done a brilliant job at keeping you lot entertained. It's a hard chore!"

There was more laughter at his announcement, as he took Amiee by the hand and began to drag her away from the party. She happily let him to, ready to get a break from the crowd of people, and that one twat.

Dragging her down the hall and into the kitchen where they could only hear the chatter faintly along with the low music that had been playing, Sinclair kept his boyish grin as he put the bags of food on the counter before turning to the woman.

"Sinclair that Williams or whatever his name is an arsehole," she stated plainly when he looked at her, not giving him time to tell her how pretty she looked with her outfit.

She must have changed when he left as she was now wearing a festive-looking red jumper blouse with a cowl neckline, along with a red headband that was adorned with a bow in her hair. Speaking of her hair, it had some more volume than it usually did which also looked quite good.

‘So cute.’  He mused in his head as he watched her brows furrow waiting for his response.

"Oh from the advisory board?" He asked nonchalantly as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her waist to hug her against him. She let out a hum as she hugged him back and deflated a bit in his arms already tired from a night that had only begun. "Oh, he's alright. He speaks his mind a lot even if it isn't the most popular thing. I think it's good to have different opinions even if they aren't said nicely. Though I do prefer them put in nicer ways no need to be snide."

"Sure, but sometimes you can have the wrong opinion and he was being snide," she snarked, as Sinclair chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss atop her head. "He decided to have a go at you before you came in and I let him know he could bugger off if he didn't like you."

"Was he drunk?"

That wasn't the question she thought she would hear.

"Yes I believe so," she answered, tilting her head up with a quizzical gaze at his question only to see amusement shine in his eyes.

"Darling you slagged off a possibly drunk man because he was mean to me did you?" Sinclair laughed in astonishment as he let go of her, only to find a pouty expression directed at him. "He probably won't even remember tomorrow, but it's lovely of you to defend my honour at a holiday party to someone you don't know. Hmm, I think it's the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me actually. Thank you Amiee!"

She sure hoped it wasn't the sweetest thing a partner had ever done for him, or she would need to talk to him about the people he had dated considering it was the least she could do. Granted she probably needed to have that pep talk too as she was no better.

Her pondering was cut short though by Sinclair who interrupted her with a cheerful,

"But also you look very pretty! I like the red on you! But red also makes me think of wine and stuff which reminds me that I'm hungry and I'm sure everyone else is!" He blabbered on as he turned towards the counter to begin taking food out of the bags. "Can you help me get all this food and stuff set up and brought out? Gosh, It seems like I'm making you do so much running around!"

The dizzying array of topics that he had just jumped through would have confused others, yet Amiee followed his train of thought perfectly, amused at how he related seemingly unrelated topics.

"Thank you 'Clair!” She beamed. “And yes, I will help you plate stuff. What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't?"

With a strong team effort, they unpacked the precooked food that he had bought for the party. Along with that, they also took things out of the fridge that had been premade and opened the oven to check on the food that had been in there staying warm.

Amiee only had to keep Sinclair from trying to eat one of the mini pork pies once. Though, when she had turned around for a second, he shoved a sausage roll in his mouth only for her to laugh at his puffed cheeks when he was caught chewing. He wasn't a very quiet eater, and it was very obvious by the sudden groan that he made that he had nicked something.

Once all the food had been plated on the fancy serving plates, and bags were tossed or stored -except one, that Sinclair said was for a surprise later. The only thing left was to bring all the food and plates out for everyone to serve themselves.

Giving each other approving looks, Sinclair leaned his head down as if he was looking for something on Amiee's side, only to find her lips being placed on his. He hummed in delight as they basked in the warm moment with each other, right before they would have to go back to being just good friends in front of everyone.

Oh, the woes of a hidden relationship.

They moaned as their lips hungrily clashed against each other, almost forgetting that someone could walk in and see them snogging like teenagers.

Pulling away, Amiee looked up at Sinclair before amusement blanketed her features.

"Sinclair here you have something on your lips," she giggled as she swiped at his lips with her thumb, trying to remove the lipstick that stained his thin lips.

He hummed as she rubbed it off before she gave him a pleased smile.

"Alright, ready to feed the hungry masses?" She asked as she picked up two different things getting ready to head for the living room.

"If by hungry masses you mean me? Then yes!" Sinclair answered enthusiastically, causing her to let out a loud laugh as she led them back into the front where people cheered as the food arrived.

The abundance of appetizers and small eats had been a hit, as everyone seemed pleased with the variety and the amount of things they could choose from. It came to no one's surprise, that there was such an abundance considering it was Sinclair hosting, and he was notorious for making sure there was plenty to go around.

Someone even complimented the egg tarts Amiee had brought, and Sinclair, once again, proudly proclaimed that she had bought them causing her to be back in the spotlight but just briefly. She would have to tell her mum that they were a hit like she knew they would be.

The party seemed to go on and on with everyone having a good time, and becoming more energetic after food was in stomachs. Someone even opted to do some mock karaoke to one of the Christmas songs that started to play, garnering everyone's attention and laughter.

Throughout the whole thing, Amiee and Sinclair would sneak looks at each other whenever he wasn't deep into a conversation, and both of them couldn't stop the smiles that grew on their lips when one saw the other.

They were hopeless. As it went on though, Amiee found herself tiring of the socialization as she had done enough for the rest of the year and some of the next. Her eyes felt tired, yet people seemed to be having fun still and Sinclair, the ever-energetic puppy, was in deep conversation with a group of three.

How he had the energy, she didn't know, but she wouldn't drag him out of his zone as she was happy to see him happy. But she needed somewhere quiet to recharge from all the noise.

So she made a decision. Surveying the crowd, she made sure no one was looking, and that everyone was talking to someone before she slowly made her way out of the lively room. If she didn't make eye contact no one would notice her.

'Amiee what are you doing you're not James Bond, this isn't a spy movie please act normal.'

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it wasn't as if she wasn't well-versed in slipping out of crowded rooms. She was usually hardly missed in those kinds of gatherings.

The thought pulled at her heart a bit, and a frown briefly invited itself onto her lips before she quickly and quietly left the room. Once she was confident no one saw her, she kept moving down the hall until she was able to slip into Sinclair's dim bedroom, where the only light source was a lamp on his bedside table.

Cautiously, she closed the door behind her before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Freedom," she muttered to herself, as she padded towards the large bed and flopped herself face forward onto the mattress.

A long groan left her lips as she crawled on top of the bed sheets, and rolled herself onto Sinclair's side of the bed. Snuggling with his pillow, and inhaling the comforting scent that was him, she relaxed, happy to be away from the crowd just for a bit.

"Just rest my eyes for a bit, that should do it." She told herself as her eyes fluttered closed. "Just resting my eyes, that's it Amiee then you'll get up and go back and …yawn… be social."

Closing her eyes to rest them, she was unsurprisingly out like a light moments later.

It wasn't the noise that had awakened her, but the lack of it, as her bleary eyes opened to the dim room that was filled with silence. Getting her bearings together took a few more moments, and her sitting up took the same amount of time as she found herself more exhausted than before.

"Shit," she groaned as she wiped at her eyes to try and wake up. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You did!"

“Oh my god!”

Amiee shrieked, startled at the voice that suddenly came out of the en suite bathroom, which she hadn't noticed had its lights turned on.

Coming out of the room with a white t-shirt, and a pair of cozy joggers that hugged his hips just right, Amiee couldn't stop herself from ogling  Sinclair as he came towards her.

"I was wondering where you had run off to!" He started as he sat on the edge of the bed closest to her.

"God I'm sorry 'Clair," her apology was punctuated with a yawn that couldn't be stifled.

"It's okay! You looked so adorable sleeping that I felt bad about oh, uhm, what's that word you all use sometimes," he thought for a moment before finding the word he was looking for. "Mither? Felt bad if I mithered you?"

His attempt to use the local slang made her giggle, as it was so odd to hear anything but his posh upper class London accent.

"You wouldn't have mithered me at all, I would have gotten up, I was just dead tired talking to all those people," she explained while crawling over to his side and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Sorry love, I'll make it up to you at the next party that I know you'll be having."

"Which will be your birthday party you know. I still can't believe you haven't had one before that's absurd you deserve to be celebrated and I want to celebrate you but, you need to tell me where you want to have it."

"Sinclair no it's fine! Please don't make such a fuss about it.” She begged, wrapping her arms around his forearm and putting her chin on his shoulder which was accompanied by an endearing pout. “I don't mind really. It’s not a big deal for me to not have a party, just being with you during it is good enough for me."

"But it is a big deal because you were born and it makes me happy that you are here. And I want to celebrate my favorite person is that so wrong?" Sinclair asked, eyeing her with that longing look that he knew she was weak too. 

Ugh, how could she say no when he put it in such terms and looked at her like that. Damn him!

"No, it's not but, hmmm fine, let's make a compromise.” She offered which had him perk up just like a puppy hearing a door open or food being poured into a bowl. “We can have dinner somewhere but only with six people at the most, including me and you."

Hmm. Six people didn't sound too much like a party to Sinclair, but he decided he was happier that she was letting him do something special for her birthday to care. Plus it was her birthday.

"Okay! Deal darling a dinner party with six people it is.” He agreed energetically. “I'll let you be in charge of the guest list since it's for you. Let me know if you need help wrangling people. I do love people wrangling."

Of course, he did, though he usually didn't have to wrangle people, as he already had a magnetic and sunny personality that people were drawn to automatically.

Great, now she just had to find four people to celebrate within a week or two time. That was next week Amiee’s problem though, as Amiee of the present was tired and ready to just cuddle up into bed and snooze.

"Oh speaking of birthdays and holidays!" Sinclair chirped out of the blue now that her birthday event was settled. "I have a gift for you that I want you to have! It was one of the reasons I was late this evening, which sorry, but thank you for keeping everyone company. Everyone said you were lovely as a hostess!"

"Sinclair what did you buy me now," Amiee whined, as he scooted off the bed and headed to his closet to rummage for the item he had bought today. "You always buy me stuff you know, and you don't have to," she continued as he disappeared, and then reappeared in the room with a medium-sized rectangular box that was just a tad bit larger than his palm. "And it's always such pretty stuff that I hate I can't display at home because my parents and Angie would ask about it."

Walking back over to her, and sitting down, Sinclair grabbed Amiee gently as she wobbled due to the sudden motion of the bed dipping. Grinning at her, he leaned over to kiss her temple and then her lips, which she accepted with a soft noise as she leaned against him.

"I know, I know, but I saw it and it looked so cute and I thought of you because you're also very cute darling.” His compliment had her bashfully dropping her head and shaking it, as a sweet giggle left her lips that made him all the more enthused about giving her the gift. “But it also reminded me that you've never had a Christmas tree, or a Christmas topper for the tree! So I thought well this would be nice to put atop the tree this year instead of a star and you would also have a topper," he chattered happily as he handed the velvet box over to Amiee who apprehensively took it. "Plus I love being a giver of gifts, especially when I can gift you with things!"

The fabric of the box was so soft, and upscale that she wouldn't be surprised if he had paid the same amount for the box as the gift itself. It made her heart ache a bit only because while she was sure she would love it, there was guilt hanging around telling her she didn't deserve it. Making her feel bad that she couldn't reciprocate his generosity with her own.

He never complained about the gifts she would give him, even if they weren’t as luxurious as the ones he could afford to give her. Yet, he was always thrilled when she brought him something. And while she was sure he wasn't faking it, considering it was hard for him to fake emotions, she still felt a bit bad.

Noticing her hesitation, his hand fell to her lower back patting her gently as she played with the box in her hand.

"Go on darling," he murmured leaning over, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Don't be shy open it! I want to see if you like it!"

Shooting him a timid smile, she looked back down at the box and took the top off delicately placing it down on the nightstand. In the box was filler paper, which she removed from the top only to find at the bottom a beautiful looking angel.

It had dark long hair, which had a golden crown made of flowers sitting atop its head. Brown eyes, with red paint on its lips, and golden angel wings that curved towards the front of the doll’s body. The dress it had on was a beautiful shiny red with golden flowers, and a red sash tied around its waist. The thing was absolutely gorgeous and Amiee was terrified of anything happening to it as she picked it up.

"An angel for my angel! She reminded me of you when I saw it!" He mused and it was so cheesy, but it didn't matter as Amiee was speechless at the gift and how sweet it was. She honestly would probably cherish it forever as she couldn’t take her eyes off the little thing. 

"Did you know angel toppers were the first ornaments people made by hand? Usually with straw because well it seemed like everyone used to have that long ago,” Sinclair rattled off. “We then started making glass ones just to put on top of the tree! Quite a long history for something so small."

"She's beautiful Sinclair," Amiee whispered so hushly that he hadn't heard her as he rambled on about the history of Christmas tree toppers that he knew far too much of.

Her fingers brushed the doll's cheek, which was smooth like the porcelain it was made from. And the satin, or whatever its dress was made of, was just as smooth and didn't snag like cheaper quality fabric.

She was so beautiful, and Amiee felt so silly when she felt emotion bubble in her throat as she looked at the doll. It was just a doll yet, it meant so much more to her than he could ever know.

"Thank you, thank you I love her so much," Amiee beamed leaning over and kissing Sinclair's cheek just in time to hide a tear or two that had slid down her own cheeks.

"Can we put her up soon?" She asked turning to the side to wipe her eyes and put the beautiful thing back in the box but not without admiring it some more. "I mean if you don't mind us changing what's on the tree already?"

A large smile shined on his face and he seemed to be on board with the idea considering that he was visibly vibrating with excitement. 

"Yes! Of course! We can do it tomorrow!" He exclaimed before looking at the clock and quickly correcting himself. "Well, later today actually but I think we could both use some sleep right?"

“Absolutely! I'm pretty sure my nap made me even more tired. But first I need to shower and get myself out of these clothes." She mumbled, remembering she had fallen asleep with her party outfit still on. "Mind if I steal a jumper for the night though?" She asked, putting the top of the box back on before getting off the bed to ransack Sinclair's closet for any jumper she could find.

"Oh wait I'll get one!" He suddenly shouted shooting off the bed and towards the closet, startling Amiee with how quick he moved.

It was those long legs of his.

"Here you go though darling!" He announced after a second of rummaging through the space before presenting her with another well-worn jumper that he had but not without adding, "if you could bring some of the ones you've nicked back it be great. I think I'm running low on them and I don't want to buy new ones. I could...but I like my old ones better more worn in you understand right?"

Brushing her confusion aside from his sudden rush toward the closet, her face turned warm at his ask before she let out a raucous laugh.

He was right though, she had stolen a few to keep for her own. She couldn't help it! They were comfy and she liked how his clothes drowned her smaller form. Also, they smelled like him and well…she liked snuggling in them when she felt down. But he was right, and for the sake of making sure he stayed comfortable, she would bring some of them back. Only some though because had to keep her inventory stocked up too.

"Hahah yes sir! Sorry, I’ll make sure to return this one and some of the others."

She saluted him before taking the article of clothing, and making her way to the bathroom for a nice relaxing shower. As she made her way to the bathroom, Sinclair gazed at her and kept watch until the door was closed and he could hear the spray of water from the shower start. Once he was sure she was in the shower, he walked back over to his closet where he had kicked a little black bag over so she couldn't see it, had she followed him to grab the jumper.

Getting on his knees, he reached for it and dragged it into the light before pulling another velvet box out of it. This time it was a much smaller box than the one he had given Amiee and more octagonal. Looking behind him, he made sure she hadn't come out of the bathroom, and when he was confident she wouldn't pop up, he opened the box to gaze at the ring that was sat cozily inside.

A beautiful rose gold band with a tracer attached to it. It had an oval garnet center that was surrounded by a halo of diamonds which were themselves surrounded by a diamond shape that had the same jewel in it. The jeweler had said it was a north star design when he picked it and he immediately thought it perfect for her.

He had gotten the call it had been delivered to the store before the party and he decided to fetch it considering he be out anyway. It was quite worth being late for the festivities, and he hoped that when it was time to use it, she would agree when he told her. Grinning at it, he closed the box and stowed it along with the bag somewhere a little more discreet while thinking about the moment he would present it to her. 

It was the only thing he could think about the rest of the night, and even more so when they were both cuddled in bed after her shower. Amiee’s head rested against Sinclair’s chest, and his arms were wrapped securely around her small frame as she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. He hoped that this would one day be an everyday occurrence, and as he turned the lamp on his side off he couldn’t help but kiss the top of her head with a soft murmur of,

“I love you, sweet dreams angel.”

A/N: 🥹🥹 if you've read the story this ending may be bittersweet but i promise these lovebirds will be happy! thanks @renee561 for the angel topper idea it was so cute i couldn't resist not using it 😘 I hope this gave some warm fuzzy feels!

Also the ring inspo.

Tag: @deepperplexity , @mercurial-make-em-ups , @ringaroundthetown

[movieexpert1978]

Therapy?

So this idea came up a while ago as I was talking with @illiana-mystery​   We definitely agreed that Chandler Manning needs therapy. We also thought that maybe some of Alfred’s other cop characters, like Gamache, would be good counsellors for him. So here is that idea as a little crack fic. There’s some swearing and movie/tv show barrier breaking too. Just a little funny thing. 

Chandler Manning, Armand Gamache, Ricardo Morales, and Randall Pepperidge are featured here. Enjoy! 

The three men gathered in the living room and waited for the fourth. He was told a different time to get there so the others could brace themselves. When he finally came in, he huffed in annoyance.

“What the fuck is this shit?!” Chandler Manning huffed as he stared at the other three.

“Manning, we just want to talk,” The leader said kindly. He was in a burgundy sweater with a matching tie just poking above the zipper.

“You think I’m dirty too Gamache?” Manning shot back as he sat down.

“We just want to help,” another said. This one was in all blue. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a light blue button-up shirt and a matching blue tie.

“Really Morales? I figured you’d understand given that you’re a homicide detective,” Manning argued.

“Even homicide detectives need therapy,” Detective Ricardo Morales said.

“Therapy? I don’t need no fucking therapy,” Manning snapped. The third man smirked way too loud making Manning glare at him. He was in a three-piece grey suit with a brown tie. Of course, Manning was in all black.

“You’re right Arman, he is stubborn,” the man said with a British accent.

“Oh whatever….Govenah!” Manning mocked with an accent of his own.

“I’m the best British Chief Inspector, Randall Pepperidge, thank you very much. Gamache and I have been friends for years and he’s a lot more compassionated than most,” Randall explained.

“Yeah, I got that. He’s a little too soft if you ask me,” Manning huffed.

“Hey, knock it off Manning. Like I said we’re just trying to help, unless you want to end up just like your wife in the psyche ward,” Morales countered.

“Hey at least I’m still married,” Manning protested.

“My divorce was peaceful and my daughter still likes me,” Morales spoke back calmly.

“My daughter likes me too! I saved her life from that Ripper fucker!” Manning snapped.

“Are you in therapy Morales?” Pepperidge asked.

“Of course I am. It comes with the job and I’m not ashamed of it,” Morales directed that last part to Manning. He just rolled his eyes.

“That’s what bitching at your partner is for,” Manning said with a pout and crossed his arms.

“Manning, you’ve got a lot going on. You can talk to us,” Gamache spoke gently.

“I deal with some pretty heavy stuff…yes,” Manning huffed. “At least I didn’t humiliate myself and learned from my mistakes,” Manning snapped at Pepperidge.

“What are you talking about?” Randall asked confused. Now it was Manning’s turn to snicker.

“I didn’t lose a bet and wear a giant pink tutu with a pink fluffy handbag,” Manning laughed. Pepperidge turned beat red as the other two tried to hold back their laughter.

“Well it was my own fault. I had to hold up to my end of things,” he mumbled quietly.

“Not to mention that you pulled it off very well. What fucking middle-aged man can pull off a god-damn tutu…” Manning laughed. Now Morales and Gamache burst out laughing.

“Nice sock suspenders by the way,” Morales giggled.

“I did hear that you caught the bouquet too,” Gamache added.

“Yes, I did. I thought it was lovely…and I happened to be engaged now too!” Pepperidge snapped.

“Well, congrats to you, you big ballerina,” Manning teased.

“Well, at least we caught our suspect! You only caught a crazy woman who stabbed her husband!” Pepperidge argued back.

“Hey take that back!” Manning snapped as he stood up. Now things were starting to heat up. “At least I got teased for a potential sequel.”

“So?”

“I’m not in the reboot stage.” Pepperidge flinched at that.

“Come on Manning, be nice,” Morales insisted.

“And what about you DA boy? Can you make up your fucking mind? Oh wait not even your show runners can with the back and forth episodes!” Manning laughed.

“Yeah well…” Morales tried to argue but all he did was pout.

“Ok Manning, you’ve made your point,” Gamache spoke.

“At least my story didn’t end on a cliffhanger!” The other two let out a dramatic gasp.

“Low blow Manning,” Morales muttered.

“There is a petition going around,” Gamache said calmly.

“Ha! When was the last time that worked?”

“Well, Lucifer was picked up by Netflix and…what was that other show…oh yes! Manifest!” Pepperidge spoke up.

“It was a rhetorical question tutu,” Manning growled.

“I’ve got a lot of books…” Gamache spoke weakly.

“Oh, who the fuck reads anymore!? You get all these fuckers destroying all these good books with all these shitty movie adaptations. Half the time no one knows there was a book in the first place!”

“Wow…you really are one mean son of a bitch,” Gamache sighed.

“Maybe you’ll get a movie or something. That seems to be the latest trend now,” Manning added.

“Feel better?”

“Actually…fuck yes I do!” Manning cheered. “Thanks guys, see yah later,” Manning practically skipped out the door.

“Asshole,” Morales growled.

“You should get your sorcerer buddy for that one,” Pepperidge said to Gamache.

“No! They would have gotten along!” Morales said with dread.

“Yeah, and he hardly gets along with anyone as it is,” Gamache sighed rubbing his eyes.

“I heard that!” Horvath yelled.

[lilac-5ky]

The Embodiment of a Dream, pt.1 (Takasugi x Courtesan Fem!Reader)

A/N: Not me starting a new multi-part fic amidst another one and a pile of unwritten requests. But I've had this idea for a long while and the only reason it's multi-part is that I needed two parts to finish it. So, without any further ado, here's the first part, hope you'll enjoy it!

Plot: Struggling between the identity of the Kiheitai commander and his own, Takasugi starts visiting a Yoshiwara courtesan, hoping to find meaning, himself, and perhaps a bond that can't be bought.

Warning: First part doesn't include smut, but NSFW mentions are there. Also, mentions of blood, alcohol, and profanity? Idk what to warn against lmao just read and see for yourselves.

Part 2

(he's so soft and precious when he smiles i love him more than anything)

The first time you saw him, he was dressed in a long imposing coat with golden accents, an olive-green vest, and a white headband whose edges flew at every gust of wind. His expression hardened and stiff, the sole unreadable among his impressionable peers. A war general, the girls said, watching him and his company parade down the streets. And that was all they did. Fawn over his prideful posture and the sublime features of a face they hadn’t quite perceived, with the keen interest of a predator and the cowardice of a prey.

One would think that Yoshiwara was sated with beauty, and yet a pretty face rarely went unnoticed (especially when the vast majority of visitors consisted of middle-aged men with receding hairlines). But to you, all was fair game. A client was a client, and a wad of cash was a wad of cash, and for as long as you received the latter, you had no real preference for the former.

Unwilling to drown in the excessive drool that littered the second-floor balcony, you feigned an excuse regarding the stuffiness of the atmosphere and the suddenness of a client’s arrival and absented yourself to your room, the much-debated stranger soon fading from memory.

The second time you saw him came unexpectedly. The frigid man in the bright purple yukata and the contrasting haori who’d booked your company for an entire night was, unequivocally, him. An older version of him who had maintained his solemn expression and taste in golden hues and headpieces, if one considered the bandages over his left eye as such.

You didn’t speak a word of your one-sided acquaintance and led him to your quarters like you would with any other ordinary customer. Except he was unlike any other ordinary customer you had the honor of entertaining.

He was quiet. Skeptical. Withdrawn. He sat beside you and didn’t say a thing for hours. Didn’t even drink the drinks you served or give you more than a look’s attention as if this was his way of avenging your initial indifference. Perhaps that’s where he drew amusement from.

Mute stillness reigned in the room until the early rays of sunlight broke through the half-shut blinds, forcibly concluding your time together. He tossed in a few extra coins, thanked you, and left.

You’d kept company with more men than you could count, yet never in that sense. Some were cordial enough to engage in small talk and queries about your life. Others had no qualms about groping your breasts and forcing your legs open the minute you let them in. No matter how different each night began, it always ended in rustled sheets and a noticeable stain somewhere between your thighs. Such was the life of a Yoshiwara woman, and such was their sense of company.

But not his. He took pride in being the exception to that rule.

His visits were typically on nights when the moon shone brightest and the incoming tide of guests was great enough to conceal his traces. He ignored the various offers from rival houses and charged straight into yours, paying a steep price to the lady in command, who greedily seized the cash and sent him up to your room with a sardonic smile and a near-devilish “Have a good time!”

You pitied him, not because he was lacking in any way, but because he didn’t seem to be from these places. Because, if he were, then he certainly wouldn’t have spent a fortune on someone lesser than an oiran. And yet, in spite of his obliviousness, the man was determined to ask for one service, and one service only: a night with you. No distractions, no questions asked. Just you.

There was a time when you’d fallen sick during one of his visits. A vile flu had kept you (and many other girls) in bed for a week straight, leaving you so weak that you could barely move past the threshold to receive your meals. And with your days numbered and a regrettable lack of fulfillment plaguing you harder than the sickness itself, a rumor went around about a striking young man who’d turned down the house’s single most desirable girl in favor of a certain bedridden average-looking courtesan.

And while you thought this was the very end of your pitiful existence, you found spite in you to carry on and live a day longer, thinking you now owed him not only for his unfaltering loyalty but for putting that overconfident witch in her place. You got better, and no later than a day after color had returned to your cheeks, he too did, with a bag full of medicine in hand. Cough syrups, painkillers, and flavored antipyretics; everything a sick person could dream of asking for was in that bag.

Leaving you to figure out their purpose on your own, he reclined against the closest wall and indulged in his kiseru’s delight, his eye eventually falling shut. You took the chance and scooted closer, your intention to express your gratitude forsaken the second you looked at him. A well-defined jawline and a nicely curved nose. Lips that frowned and brows that furrowed even in his sleep. Soft skin, high cheekbones, and of course purple strands curtaining his signature bandages.

Whatever insight or intuition those girls on the balcony thought they had was wrong. Sublime was too small a word to describe him. His beauty was transcendent, and as much as you’d like to pretend otherwise, you physically couldn’t. Your fingers were already in his hair, gently parting it in half to reveal more of his face.

He was the first man who hadn’t made any advances whatsoever towards you, and that made you all the more ardent to touch him, though, as luck would have it, you came to realize that he was never asleep. Instead, he was staring at you in a baleful kind of way that would frighten even the gods, forcing you to jolt away and tumble on your knees.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Given your state, his question felt at best out of place and at worst a mockery. Your kimono’s layers were crumpled and your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. If you could dig a hole to escape his stare, you most definitely would, but then again, that wasn’t what he asked.

You answered him with a reluctant nod, which he acknowledged with a seemingly relieved sigh, and when he went back to his previous plane of tranquility, you knew better than to disturb him again. You waited out the dawn until harrowing shadows began to scatter across the paper-thin walls, and until he’d risen to his feet, his kiseru packed inside his yukata and his haori draped over his shoulders.

“My name is Y/N!” You declared.

His grip froze around the doorknob as he slowly turned around and did the one thing you’d never seen him do before.

“I know that.” He smiled.

“I— of course you do.” You replied stupefied. “But I wanted to properly introduce myself. You’ve spent a lot of money on me, and this,” you lifted the bag, “is a kindness I’ll never forget. Thank you!”

“Shinsuke.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted to know?” He smirked. “I’m Shinsuke.”

You brought your hands down your thighs and bowed your head. “Thank you, Shinsuke-sama.”

“No need for formalities. Just Shinsuke is fine.”

“But you are a client! I could never-”

“You use honorifics for all men you sleep with?”

His comment stung as badly as that one time you’d pricked your pinky with a needle. Bad enough for you to whimper, though not badly enough to justify your reaction.

“No need to answer.” He shrugged. “After all, I’ll be seeing that for myself. Goodnight.”

“Good…night.”

A month went by without any of Shinsuke’s challenging visits, and even though your confidence still carried bruises, you found yourself hoping against an untimely termination of your relationship. He was a fascinating individual. A difficult man whose brooding demeanor, intractable attitude, and lack of subtlety worked to his advantage, underlining a well-disguised kindness. At least that was the image your brief encounters painted, up to the moment of his reappearance.

He stood outside the door as an inky silhouette, with his unlit kiseru dangling from his teeth and a wide sedge hat that barely fit through. You helped strip him off his outwear and accompanied him to the table, where freshly served alcohol awaited; sake of exquisite quality from Tosa, and two empty cups he wasted no time filling, before downing his share in one go.

You didn’t expect him to be a great drinker, or, really, a drinker at all. Not when he’d been this adamant on maintaining sobriety during the entire of your acquaintance. But once he brought the cup to his lips a second time without so much as wincing, you realized plenty was left untold between you.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me?”

Your chin nearly avalanched from your palm all the way to your elbow. A mistake this elementary was inexcusable for a courtesan more than halfway through her contract.

Unlike other, more profitable houses, yours had three simple rules to uphold: no looking unless you are looked first, for some clients are irritable and prefer to be in charge of the seduction. No drinking unless you are asked first, for one should be sober enough to perform their duty with poise. And finally, no forming personal attachments, for your job is to sell love, not fall prey to it.

So far, you’ve broken only one of those rules.

“Apologies, Shinsuke-san.” You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Better.” He commented, sliding one of the cups in your direction.

“I’m okay.” You shook your head, though the choice was already made on your account. “Thank you.”

The warmth of the chilled alcohol poured down your throat, and with it, much-needed liquid courage seeped inside your veins.

“You wanted to drink and yet,” Shinsuke pointed as he treated you to another shot, “you had none until I offered.”

“It’s impolite.” You said.

“Says who?” He asked.

“The rules”

“And who made the rules?”

“Lady did.”

“And where is that old hag now?”

You bit your tongue and that was all the answer he needed to corner you.

“Don’t bring up such lame excuses again. If you want something, ask for it, and if you don’t, deny it. I paid for a woman, not a puppet.”

“A courtesan’s life is more akin to that of a lifeless puppet than a woman,” you meant to object, though you couldn’t bring yourself to. This man looked you in the eye as if he meant his every word with utmost sincerity. As if to him, you really were a woman worth considering an equal, not one whose company he’d purchased with money, and for once, you found yourself eager to be worthy of the price.

“One more.” You gestured your cup and he obliged with an inconspicuous smirk.

“One more.”

Another rule broken.

The crescent moon waned past the murky clouds above, the bleakness of the skies identical to Yoshiwara’s once brazen hatch. Bustling were the streets to the uninterrupted traffic below, both newcomers and pleasure district connoisseurs moving side by side like a herd of mismatched sheep. And among the herd, the familiar presence of a man stood out, bringing about an indefinite end to your night’s dullness.

You rushed to your wardrobe’s mirror, ensuring that your garments —a dragonfly-patterned kimono of raspberry color and a lime-green obi tied to the front— were all in the right place, leaving only a fraction of your nape and ankles uncovered, before hurrying to the door.

A near-affable grin was plastered on his face from one ear to the other, making you wonder whether hell had frozen over, or something good had actually happened, a theory that confirmed itself as soon as he asked you to whip out the shamisen and entertain him. But when your fingers struck the first few chords of the song, his smile faded along with his amusement.

“Y/N.”

You raised your chin to face him, though there was no need. He was already beside you, dragging that shamisen away from your hands without even bothering to ask for permission. You didn’t mind. If anything, you were preoccupied with analyzing the brief imprint his fingers left upon yours.

What kind of occupation could a man with such delicate fingers have?

“In the right hands,” Shinsuke interrupted, “a shamisen can become an instrument of death.” He said, adjusting his grip over the instrument’s neck.

“Are you suggesting my playing could cause death?”

“On the contrary,” he smirked, “one should entrust you with neither music nor murder because you’d half-ass both.”

“That bad?”

He shook his head. “If you want your music to be worth listening to, then you should at least channel some emotion into it. A feeling, a memory, a thought, something.”

Slowly, he began strumming the strings in a seemingly unruly order, turning silence into sound, and sound into magic of the most captivating kind. This was sorrow, and this was regret, and this was a sonnet just as it was a requiem. A melody you’d never imagine a mere shamisen to produce.

“Remorse.” You concluded after he’d played the final note. “Your technique is masterful, but constricted. As if playing each chord to its full potential would break it.”

The corners of his mouth curved to a subtle smile that neither confirmed nor denied your suspicions.

“May I?” You asked.

Shinsuke dropped the instrument on your lap, while he sat back on his cushion and dragged his kiseru out of his yukata.

With one hand forming a loose grip around the shamisen’s neck, you plucked its strings with the bachi, trying your hardest to answer his tune with one of equal sentiment.

You drifted in your own memories, digging for a past where the sky was light blue instead of ebony black and the crystal waters of the ocean glimmered in the sunlight. Tiny boats stocked with fish sailed side by side, the fishermen calling out to the merchants to help unload the goods.

Somewhere between the crowd the faces of those you knew as family came to be, smiling and waving at you, as if they weren’t the faces of the parents who’d sold you off for less than wares, and as if the little sister you’d struggled to save hadn’t perished in the war with them.

And suddenly you realized you must have too been standing in the water, because you were rapidly sinking past neon lights and tea ceremonies, lovers who threw their greedy hands to have a piece of you, and envious women who wanted nothing more than to erase you. And you would have let yourself be erased, had it not been for the face of a man who listened to your song with compassion and intrigue, understanding all your tongue kept hidden.

“You are an interesting woman.” He mumbled, drawing his kiseru away. “Be it ‘hope in despair’, or ‘despair in hope’, you truly are interesting.”

“I’m humbled!” You bowed your head in acceptance of the compliment.

Rather than bringing the pipe back to his mouth, Shinsuke held it close to yours and ushered you to take a puff. You curled your lips around the tip, sucking the smoke in, and then twirled it around your tongue, secretly hoping that some of his taste was carried with. He watched you intently, his green eye refusing to look away even as he fell back to his seat.

Clouds of foggy smoke kept filling the room until he too became smoke that vanished.

“Only you are my heart’s master,” You beamed, nuzzling to the man’s arm while you walked him to the door.

Disgusting.

“Then what should I bring you from my travels? Some silk? Some gold? Perhaps some lace?” He asked, using your lacy undergarments as an excuse to grope your exposed skin.

Disgusting.

“Please, don’t!” You chuckled, not-so-jokingly pushing his hand off. “What will your wife say?”

“That old shrew doesn’t have half your charm, Y/N. She’d look no better than a bear in a bathing suit.” He sighed. “Come on, just one more for the road?” He awaited no answer before burying his head between your breasts and kissing them hard.

Disgusting.

“Please, stop, you’ll miss your boat!”

“You are so considerate of me.” He pulled himself off you. “I’ll write you, Y/N.”

“Have a safe trip, master! I love you!” Your confession brought his lips to your cheek a final time, making you wish you’d never said that out loud.

Disgusting.

“You are the light of my life! Goodbye!” And with that, the door closed behind him.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, dis-gus-ting!

Everything felt so damn dirty and disgusting that you wanted nothing more than to claw your way out of your own skin. Every man had the exact same desires. To be pampered and be pleased. To be convinced of affections you lacked, and to be affirmed that in this floating world a hint of realness was meant for them and them only.

But if they thought themselves this special, why did they all ask for the same things? Why did their touch feel identical and numb, and why was there no substance behind their hollow words? Why could they not be him?

Your fists balled around the loose layers of your kimono, viciously yanking them off your body until you were met with the bare reflection of a stranger in the mirror. Though that person had your hair and eyes, you couldn’t recognize it anymore. The little girl you knew to be you was long gone, giving way to this distraught young woman with smudged-up lipstick and mascara running down her face.

She reached into your closet and pulled out a silky robe with a pattern of red cranes on the back. It was a gift, you remembered once you saw her wrap it neatly around her waist. A gift from a client whose name you couldn’t recall, for a forgettable night, deleted from your memory. And while the woman appeared strikingly beautiful in it, all you thought about was how utterly filthy and repulsing the sight was.

Nothing in this room belonged to you. Not the fabrics, not the mirror, not even the reflection staring back at you. Everything served as a reminder of a dream that existed between the blurred lines of fiction and reality. A dream you could never wake up from, for that dream had become the very essence of your fragile existence.

You saw the woman leave and you had no choice other than to follow, taking step after step outside your room’s four walls and into the empty corridor that led to the house’s shared baths. Thankfully no other girl was around. Everyone was booked for the night and they shouldn’t be back any moment soon, sparing you from the intolerable idle chatter you despised.

You swapped your robe for a towel and quickly found all that was needed: a cloth, a stool, and a bucket that you filled up with fresh warm water. The woman was there too, her tired expression flickering between the swaying ripples of the bucket. You rolled the cloth between your fingers and dipped it in, thoroughly scrubbing your body inch by inch-especially the area of your thighs.

Hardly a trace of him remained, yet for as long as that woman’s complacent smile challenged you, the feeling of sheer disgust persisted with her. It wasn’t the man that was repulsive. It was her. The you that spewed pretty lies and batted her eyes in a horrifyingly coy way that had all convinced, but you.

You tossed the bucket as far away as possible, watching her idol evaporate into steam, reminiscent of his pipe’s smoke. Come think of it, he’d been an awful lot in your mind lately. You usually had no real opinion regarding your clientele, but there was no denying you’d grown fond of your time together.

Some nights you drank without exchanging a single word, and other nights you sat playing the shamisen in turns, each putting a name to the other’s undisclosed desires. You never touched, not once. But something in his eye was different than before. At times it was distinct sympathy, and at others, it was subtle ardor that made you wonder what it’d be like for him to act upon it.

Would his touch feel as indifferent? Would your fondness continue to grow even when there were no clothes left between? Would your moment of fleeting freedom last?

Whatever this strange feeling was, it was separate from disgust. In his presence, all was tolerable, and in his absence, nothing right. In his presence there was realness, and in his absence, where you thought was void, a nearly unnoticeable thud insisted on reminding you that dreams, too, have hearts.

Because that was the night you found out that even dreams are capable of having dreams and hoping in despair.

Three…Two…One…

Vibrant flowers of color blossomed across the skies. Grandiose roses, charming asters, and alluring spider lilies whose petals dissolved in brilliant rain of vivacious sparks. Chaotic cheers spilled everywhere around you, each balcony host to a different love story as ephemeral pecks sealed the ending of one year and the beginning of another.

New Year’s Eve in Yoshiwara was quite the event. Every house that respected itself -yours included- knew to toss extravagant parties rich in champagne and desire, the women flowing perhaps more freely than the glasses served. Only a few elite bidders afforded the fee of being there, and those who didn’t, or rather, those who wanted their darling’s embrace to be privy, followed them into the upper floor rooms for twice -if not thrice- the regular asking price.

No, the services provided were hardly any different, but the value of that first kiss of the year ended up skyrocketing as if the lips involved were made of pure gold, and naturally, no one raised objections to that. Not the clients, not the women who awaited them at home, and certainly not the girls who got extra coin out of their infatuation.

It was laughable, really, and perhaps you would have indulged in a chuckle if it weren’t for the man who kept you company.

You’d never spent more than two New Year’s Eves with the same man, and this time was no exception. Except, that it was the first time you got to spend it with someone whose presence alone didn’t nauseate you.

Admittedly you knew next to nothing about Shinsuke. His name and that excruciatingly handsome face of his were the only two things you were certain of, yet they were enough for you to question what a man like him was doing there. Did he not have a person more significant to him to share this night with? Could he not see the hypocrisy behind it all? Or could it be that his great wit was an excuse behind a bigger scheme?

And suddenly you expressed all these thoughts in a manner that was most insolent, with your eyes glued to this one revolting couple on the opposing building’s balcony that made your guts churn in revulsion.

“Why are you here?”

Shinsuke, who’d been twirling an empty champagne glass between his fingers, shot you a blank stare. “Am I unwelcome?”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to express myself this poorly.” You apologized sincerely. After all, your wish wasn’t to target him but to find yourself an ally. “It’s just that,” you continued, “unlike the rest of our clients, you don’t seem interested in making the most of our services. Not to mention, you are more than capable of earning a proper woman’s affection without money.”

Fearing matters were unsalvageable, you turned your back on him, though if you hadn’t, then you would have seen that the expression on his face was one devoid of any true resentment and that the sly smirk he sported was product of a childish whim he chose to follow.

“Is this not part of your services?” Shinsuke asked as he enclosed your body in an audacious embrace, his one palm stopping right where your obi began, and the other seeking refuge upon your hip.

“It… is.”

“And do I still seem disinterested?” He breathed at your nape, each word teasing to leave a kiss on its stead.

“Of course n-not.”

“Tell me, Y/N. What makes a woman proper?”

“A woman that can bring you happiness and,” you gulped once you felt his lips near your ear, “and afford to be seen by your side without being pointed at.”

Your answer made him pull away.

“I can’t tell whether you think too highly of me or too lowly of yourself,” he sighed. “In any case, I’m not someone who can afford to be seen, with or without the proper woman you describe.”

“What does that mean?” You lifted your head enough to get a peek at his face. His eye keenly watched something on the horizon, likely that aforementioned display of affection.

“It means, I’m not as proper of a man myself.”

A pause let his words sink deeper within the hefty atmosphere. Even when the words “familiar strangers” could perfectly define your relationship, not once did you consider the possibility of Shinsuke being a man viler than those you despised. And even if the thought had crossed your mind, then you must have gotten rid of it at once, because you refused to believe that the one authentic person in your life was a fraud.

“Do you still wish to know what I’m doing here?”

You nodded almost instantly.

“I’m looking to test the limits of a dream. Does a dream end where another dream begins or is one created anew? Can a man named Shinsuke be just a man who pursues the company of an improper courtesan, and no more than that?”

Although the nature of his questions was highly rhetorical, he maintained enough silence for you to answer him. And when you did, your words referred to a life more akin to the one you’d lived and the troubles you’d faced, and in doing so you realized that perhaps the key to decoding this man was one you already possessed.

“The floating world sustains all sorts of dreams, Shinsuke-san. What’s a dream of exquisite beauty to some, can be a horrid nightmare to others. But for a dream to be defined and then refined, it needs to first be dreamt of by somebody else, or else it’s no more than an abstract, fleeting fantasy.

“The man you are in here is the man you are out there, as the sum of your thoughts, and actions, and even your own dreams, and the dreams of others. ‘A man who pursues the company of an improper courtesan’,” you repeated his words, “is that really the kind of man you wish to be, Shinsuke-san?”

“Not entirely, I’m afraid.” He said. “Right now, I wish to be the kind of man who makes the most of your services.”

His disarming smile had succeeded in its cause, both lowering your resistances and painting your cheeks with an alarming shade of feverish red.

“If that’s what you want, then you can go ahead.”You whispered.

“What about what you want?” He hummed in your ears. “What is it that you want me to do?”

You could think of many reasons to justify your next response. The champagne, the scenery, the sudden intimacy generated between you. Even the way that brunette had her tongue stuck down that flabby man’s throat for the past twenty minutes. But in the end, all those designated reasons were nothing more than excuses, aiming to debunk or simply downgrade the volume of your heart’s desires.

“I’d like you to kiss me.” You stated, looking into his one good eye. “No, I… I want to kiss you.”

And suddenly your lips collided, making it impossible to tell who’d been the one to initiate, for you were tilting your heads and sharing your breaths in such natural sync, that it felt as if this was a kiss shared countless times already. The smoke on his tongue and the restricted impatience, the hands that touched not where they were supposed to touch, but where they wanted to touch, and lastly the vague sentiment of those final fireworks that were extinguished in the night sky.

If Yoshiwara was deemed the floating world, then the voices you were hearing must belong to the most exalted angels of the skies, for you were soaring higher than the heavens themselves. Everything seemed brighter than it did a day, a week, a month, a lifetime ago. The boss’ soured face when you paid him last night’s fee was suddenly as sweet as anko. The girls’ dubious comments when you greeted them were as lyrical as poetry. Even bargaining with the local dressmaker over your patched kimono’s price was as pleasant as an exchange of pleasantries between old friends.

You were the happiest you’d ever been, and if Shinsuke was on your mind once before, he was now tenfold. Whenever you put your kimono together, the image of his reflection creeping up behind yours flashed within the mirror, prodding your body first with his eye and then with his lips, his hands working to untie and dishevel all you struggled to maintain. And whenever a man that wasn’t him showed up as a replacement, you endured it by picturing his touch and exaggerating the similarities, -such as the curves of their arms or the shared green in their eyes-, until you were convinced it’d always been him.

The further you delved into that kiss, the deeper you spiraled into the unknown territories of longing, your body experiencing something foreign to your heart. Even when you’d crossed lips with more men than you could count, none compared to a kiss of your own volition. It was your choice to kiss him, and given the chance, you’d kiss him again and again, until all others scattered like petals in the wind.

This is madness, you insisted on whispering through bashful smiles, your heart racing at a pace quicker than your legs. The sun had melted into a mellow pink before you, its final rays infiltrating the lonesome maple trees that flourished on each pavement while your shadow withdrew behind your shoulder. Soon it’d be nightfall.

Your bag bounced with each hurried step you took towards the house, the ever-increasing traffic forcing you to slow down. The streets were far busier than you’d left them, especially the ones that led to your destination. Colorful silken kimonos and achromatic cotton yukatas meddled together, the sandals of their wearers clicking in an unrhythmic song of wood and cork. Whispers filled in the instrumental as heads turned left and right, shooting curious glances at the nearby establishments.

Could an oiran procession take place this early, you asked yourself, but then again there seemed to be neither kamuro nor entourage of actual performers among the crowd. You closed in on them and tuned in for answers, quickly learning that an ounce’s worth of happiness in Yoshiwara was as ephemeral as a butterfly’s passing.

“Have you heard? Shinsengumi’s set off on a grand-scale manhunt!” A blonde in a company of three stated. Her back —in addition to the backs of her companions— was turned on you, withholding all details of her face, though judging by the lack of opulent accessories in her hairdo, she must have either been a tea house girl or a lower-ranked courtesan.

“…Rumor has it they are after a terrorist! One of those Kihentai guys!” A brown-haired woman picked up.

“Kiheitai, you moron!” The blonde retorted. “Those Takasugi goons Tsukuyo-sama warned us about.”

“Takasugi? As in the Takasugi Shinsuke?” The one in the middle asked with a shaky tone.

Takasugi… Shinsuke? your ears perked up at the name.

“Shh! Do you want them to call you in for questioning?” One of them hushed her. “Of course that Takasugi! He’s been seen loitering near these places lately.”

“Aww, you think terrorists get lonely too? I wonder what kind of woman a man like him fancies.”

“Careful, Hoshino!”

“Hm? Why should I?” The brunette, Hoshino, sneered. “Terrorist or not, I doubt a man resistant to my charms exists. Besides, if he’s pretty enough, I wouldn’t mind giving a special discount for him to,” her voice cut out, “my assets.”

Their crude commentary grew both cruder and fainter as the trio distanced themselves, solely their snide cackles persisting behind them. This… Takasugi they mentioned and the Shinsuke you knew. They couldn’t be the same, right? They weren’t, right?

Clenching the bag tight against your chest, you dragged your feet toward the entrance only for them to freeze right outside the threshold. A preview of that night began playing in your mind like a scene from a movie, the words that challenged the propriety of his character suddenly gaining a whole new meaning. He was a terrorist. A man who’d waged a war against the world. A man whose head alone weighed ten times the feeble sums he paid for your company. A terrorist.

No matter how many times you repeated the word, accepting it didn’t come any easier. Not because it was unreasonable so, but because you couldn’t accept that out of all the high and mighty men to have traversed your doorstep, the first man who hadn’t treated you as if you were a mere piece of meat for him to chew up and spit out was, as in matter of fact, a terrorist. What kind of sick cosmic joke was this? What kind of world dubbed a kind man a criminal?

“For the last time, our respectable business is no rebel lair, and under no circumstances will we give up our customers’ names! You can bring your Commissioner, the Shogun, or even Buddha himself, and the answer won’t change. Now leave, before you scare our clients away. Off to hell, you go!” The boss roared furiously as the door flew open, revealing two figures dressed in black from head to toe.

Shinsengumi, you gasped.

The first of the two —and consequently the one who’d opened the door— was a man of average stature with neck-length black hair and a rather forgettable face that did him no favor next to his partner’s taller physique and well-defined features. His sharp eyes held a wonderful shade of blue in them, capable of beguiling just about anyone willing to ignore the strictness behind them. Strictness akin to Shinsuke’s, you noted.

“Rowdy pimps.” The taller man cursed under his breath.

“Hijikata-san!” The shorter man nudged him, at last taking notice of your presence.

Coughing in his fist, the one you presumed to be Hijikata stepped out of the lobby and stood before you, his closed fingers revealing a tiny notebook and a slightly chewed pen. He reeked of tobacco and an odor you could have sworn belonged to a croquette sandwich, or more accurately, the condiment in it.

“Oi, miss,” he directed the pen at you, “you wouldn’t happen to have seen or heard any scum terrorists sauntering your quarters, would you?” He asked in a raspy voice.

“Pardon me.” You bowed. “Our house has no tolerance for criminals,” if the beginning of your sentence made him sulk in disappointment, then the incoming one was bound to deplete his patience, “other those your government produces.”

“You wench-”

“Hijikata-san, we should get going!” The unnamed man jumped in the middle, preventing him from lunging at you.

His azure-colored eyes burned with utter rage, digging holes in your skull even as he was quite literally dragged out of the way. His companion spelled a few meager apologies in his stead as they scrammed back into the crowd of people wondering what could have possibly gotten a high-ranking officer this agitated.

“Tax grabbing leaches.” You mumbled and entered the house.

Whether the Shinsengumi did the country any good or not, they remained one of the core bodies to secure and defend a government with less pride than that of a whore. They’d forsaken their honor and assumed fancy collars in exchange for getting to wave their swords at those who defied them. How’s that for public order?

Repulsive as their apathy was, you did your best to avoid them. However, there were times when you couldn’t help but wonder, what would have happened if they pointed their blades at the Bakufu and the Amanto instead. Perhaps then it wouldn’t have been all for nothing. The years spent in this hellhole. Your self-sacrifice. Her demise.

Cringing away from these painful thoughts, you made your way across the room, paying respect to the boss and the missus with a courteous bow of your head. Neither seemed overly eager to return the gesture. The woman was bent over her husband, continuously rubbing his shoulders in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves, while he insisted to huff like a coal train. His ears had flared up in a comical shade of red that perfectly matched his flushed cheeks. Were you to stay a minute longer, and who knows, actual smoke could start coming out.

No one was fond of cops roaming Yoshiwara, let alone house owners whose business was disrupted by those pests.

You proceeded to the stairs, dreaming of the moment you’d be free to soak your feet in a basin full of warm water and rid yourself of today’s bitter aftertaste. To think minutes ago you were bouncing up and down in obliviousness— felt like a distant past.

“Took you long enough.” A somewhat familiar voice rang between the shadows of your unlit room, taking shape only after your fingers located the switch. “Thought I’d be a corpse before you made it back.”

“Sh-Shinsuke!” You dropped the honorifics along with your bag, nearly tripping over your own legs as you dashed to his side.

He’d dragged the table closer to the wall, balancing half his weight against the paper screen and half against his elbow. Blood stained his yukata all the way to its seams, the once glorious fabric torn into a rag of little value around his torso. There was no way of telling skin and fabric apart. All was red, and all was bleeding, your heart included.

And yet, he was smiling. A faint and effortless smile that could have been charming if it weren’t for the crimson drops streaming down the corners of his mouth.

“How,” you began saying, but you already knew. “Who,” but the answer was the same, and lastly, “Why,” but it was pointless to insist.

You shook your unfinished questions away and helped him find a grip around your neck, your hands then attempting to undo the knots of his obi. It was bad. Worse than you expected, and it was possible that your mediocre sewing skills wouldn’t cut it. He needed a doctor, a good one at that, but what kind of medical practitioner would put their life on the line for a terrorist’s life?

This was hopeless.

“Hold on,” your thumb pressed his fingers firmly against your shoulder, “I’ll take you to bed.”

Without raising objections, Shinsuke let himself be dragged to your futon. One by one, you peeled the garments off his body, leaving him in just his fundoshi and forcing him to lie on his back. A total of three gashes spanned from his abdomen to his outer thigh. Two were the result of a blade, while the last one could be traced back to a naginata or something of the sort.

“It’s not that bad.” You feigned a smile.

“It’s written all over your face how bad it is.” He tilted his head.

“I can fix it!” you said in an attempt to convince both him and yourself, though he didn’t seem to need guarantees. If anything, he was the only one composed, as if the matter didn’t concern him.

Briefly, you parted to scavenge through the room for your trusty sewing kit, finding it under a pile of fabric samples at the bottom of your closet and presenting it to him along with a near-empty bottle of sake. This was as far as proper medical equipment went.

You put the bottle beside him and fished out the sharpest needle you could find, one that was still blunt, though hopefully not overly blunt so as not to puncture his skin. The mere thought sent your lunch up your throat. You did not fare well with blood. Nevertheless, you picked the needle up and folded the edge of a white thread over its eye, slowly bringing the two together. You did that once, and then twice again, only to fail just as miserably. The needle refused to be threaded, and your fingers refused to quit squirming.

That is, until they did.

His hand scooped yours, the inside of his palm so soft that the way the needle’s end pricked your skin went unnoticed. You gazed up at him with eyes full of worry—worry that he mistook for fear—as his eye narrowed into a slit of green that averted in the opposite direction.

“You know.” He bitterly deduced.

“It doesn’t matter if I do. This changes nothing, I—”

“Then it’s not too late to give me up.” He continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Won’t do your head any good if they find me in here.”

Your mouth popped open, your tongue struggling to put a sentence together. The courtesan in you thought it’d be best to stay clear of trouble, but the woman in you could only return his grip and pray he wouldn’t let go.

“A Yoshiwara woman doesn’t have much need for unnecessary thoughts.” Your voice made his head turn. “They’d be doing me a great service chopping it off.”

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you remained in agonizing silence that a wan chuckle came to interrupt. “A headless courtesan must be quite the sight,” he noted, “but for as long as your head is in its place, you have no right to be this stupid.”

“And you have no right to be this reckless,” you sighed, neglecting to add a filter to your words. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” He admitted. “I just didn’t intend for my men’s crude faces to be the last thing I see, and then next thing I knew, I was climbing up your window. Perhaps my aversion was that strong, or maybe the will to visit my improper courtesan one final time drowned all sense left in me. Who knows?”

“And you call me stupid.” An inconspicuous blush weakened the volume of your voice. “Nothing says you won’t die! The only experience I have with stitches comes from sewing dresses.”

He shrugged. “Alternatively, you can do nothing and let fate decide. Beats me.”

You set his hand down gently and continued your previous efforts as you pinched the needle between your fingers and successfully threaded it in one go. It didn’t matter what he said. You were going to save him, no matter what.

“Forgive me, but I have no intention of welcoming a horde of angry Joui rebels to my doorstep. If their faces are as horrid as you describe, then I’d much rather devote my attention to looking at your face instead.” You dipped the needle’s tip inside the sake to sanitize it. “Now hold still, this should sting.”

Shinsuke sat back against the futon, a complacent smile flickering underneath a pained expression he failed to hide. Any other ordinary man would be howling in agony, but not him. He didn’t budge in the slightest. He held still and refused to look away even as sake drenched his wounds and his skin was pierced by the cold needle’s edge.

“This calls for a larger tip.”

A/N: intercepting my own post to say that I hope to finish the rest sometime in February so I can resume my Bakufu fic and then actually commit myself to my requests. If anyone's wondering, yes, I still accept those, and ofc I read your messages and thank you all for your support!

[sxmmander]

These Violent Acts CH 09 - House of the Dragon fic

THESE VIOLENT ACTS CHAPTER 06 |  THE BARATHEONS

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They would bow. She would make them bow.

After the pleasant heat of Casterly Rock, where soft winds barely left kisses on the princess's cheeks, Naenya was greeted by the strange sounds of the mighty storms that often found a home at Storms End. For the unprepared, the harsh torrent of rain would surely drench someone from head to toe as the howls and screams of the winds cursed their ears.

A terrifying day for the arrival of a terrifying truth. A woman would soon rule over men.

Naenya was prepared, of course, draped in a crimson red cloak that held the Targaryen symbol as Ser Loren tore off his gold cloak to hold over the princess' head. She stood in the middle of the courtyard of the formidable castle of Storms End, one of the few completely dry despite the havoc of rain that tried to attack her.

The Baratheons stood calmly in the storm, utterly unbothered by the water washing over their skin, as they waited for the princess. Lord Boremund and his wife stood like stone, hard, strong and unmoving, next to their three sons. It was only Lady Baratheon that had servants trying to protect her from the prevailing winds and rain, though Lady Baratheon seemed completely unconcerned. Naenya was staring into the eyes of the formidable Stags.

"Lord Boremund, Lady Katherine," Naenya greeted the two, giving them a firm nod as they bowed, "I am thankful to have finally made my way through the storm and into your welcoming home,"

Neither Boremund nor Katherine's faces shifted, remaining as stone. Naenya didn't worry. Boremund had always been such a way. She doubted Boremund had even cried as a babe and instead simply stared at his mother with unmoving eyes. Boremund would need a wife of a similar personality, though Naenya was surprised a second person was born without facial expressions.

Naenya turned her gaze to the three children, her eyes immediately falling upon Elden Baratheon's trickster smile and mischievous eyes. He had grown since their last meeting, though he was still slightly shorter than Naenya. She watched as Elden seemed to catch on to the same realisation, his sly smile widening. The act caused Naenya to frown, and she struggled to understand how Elden's confidence only seemed to be able to soar, regardless of what was occurring around or to him.

"It is nice to meet your sons too, of course," Naenya finally snatched her eyes away from Elden, turning back to Boremund and Katherine, "They look like they will make fine Baratheon men. You must be pleased,"

Finally, Katherine's face seemed to shift. It was only the slightest of shifts, unnoticeable to most who weren't watching closely. Naenya noticed how her eyes softened slightly upon turning to look at her sons, the corners of her mouth relaxing. Katherine, like many other women, had a very simple weakness. Her children. Elden was her eldest, the same age as Rhaenyra, while Boremund was only a year younger. Alistair Baratheon, being held by a maid, appeared only to be about a year old. Despite the age gap, it was clear Katherine loved each of her children equally, and both her eldest and youngest held a strong resembelance to their mother. Something Naenya was certain Katherine adored.

"We are honoured to have you, Princess Enya," Elden spoke up, a teasing look dancing in his eyes, "I would, personally, die a happy man if you gave me the honour of showing you our castle of storms,"

"Enya?" Katherine had turned her head towards Elden, a questioning and disapproving tone in her lowered voice.

"You have met my eldest before?" Boremund Baratheon spoke up, his voice naturally commanding.

"We met at the tourney," Elden said, his eyes not moving from Naenya's, "We had a pleasant chat before she had to return to her duties,"

Naenya guarded her expression, not wanting anyone to see her true reactions. She was here on duty and could not fall to petty, childish antics. She was to be Queen.

"I feared young Elden had gotten lost," Naenya spoke up, her voice emphasising the 'young' part, "I wished to help him find his way back to his mother, but I was unfortunately pulled away by my sworn guard. Luckily, he was older than I had first assumed, and I wasn't leaving a helpless child as I had first thought,"

Naenya glanced over to Elden to see he had looked away with a shake of his head. The displeased smile on the eldest Baratheon son's face gave way to a small smile gracing Naenya's own face.

"He was rather small for his age, though the maester's say he is rapidly growing," Katherine told Naenya, clearly only interested in discussing her children, "The maester says all my children will grow to be quite tall and firm. Worthy men for knighthood,"

Naenya nodded, "I am certain they will,"

"Enough talk of my sons," Boremund spoke up, turning slightly to reveal the entrance to the castle, "I am sure Princess Naenya is tired from her journey and would be much more interested in a warm meal and a bed,"

Katherine Baratheon nodded, her face shifting back to the stone-faced appearance it had been before.

"Come, I am sure my family can pester you tomorrow," Boremund spoke, offering his arm, "But only once you have slept and eaten,"

...Author Typing

BRUH ITS THE BARATHEONS. GOTTA LOVE THE EMOTIONLESS BOIS. Don't worry, Elden has plenty of shenanigans left.

Also, Naenya and Elden just being children with their retorts to one another

[badtzbot]

For ask game! 🍓🍄☁️

how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

the ideas in my head..... too many...... LOLLL i got into reading first, obviously, but in . 2017 (?) i thought too much about bts (the kpop group) angst so. yeah here we are. I've actually taken a break for three years or so from lack of inspiration but.... wanpis...... the middle aged men Compel me. I also write fic out of love for my friends! I believe my first fic (long since orphaned by now) was a gift. idk if i answered this.

share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I said I would share my bennhawk date night thoughts with you so I guess I can do it here!

three keywords: wining + dining and flirting

the rome ants... the rome ants of it all..... in the soft atmosphere of a candlelit dinner they are not two exceptional people. just two men who love each other very much

shanks is not invited

mihawk smiles softly and takes a bite of his food. beck winks. they flirt /so/ much...... teasing and flirting, very, very sweet to each other.... just wining and dining.....

they don't fight over the bill because they alternate who pays. they did argue the first time though

they are traditional - bring each other flowers, walk down to the restaurant together holding hands, beck tells mihawk he's very handsome and mihawk blushes but flirts back... etc etc

very just. sweet and wholesome

I'm sure no one else wants to hear more so i will be spilling my further thoughts into your dms

what made you choose your username?

ahhh my pfp on all my non-fandom social media is bad badtz-maru from sanrio - badtz comes from that. I was formerly on twitter [character]luvbot, so i decided to keep the bot! alas, badtzbot.

[celt-the-flame-3110]

Eddie grabbed the hem of Richie's shirt, attempting to pull it off, but Richie didn't lift his arms at all to assist him. He even murmured a small, “Noooo…”

Eddie gave his boyfriend a sympathetic smile. "Come on, Rich. I'm trying to make you feel better."

Richie finally, but lazily, lifted his arms. "I already feel better. You—a type-a, workaholic—took a day off of work to take care of me. Besides, you already gave me a shitton of meds."

Eddie scoffed, pulling the shirt off. "Two medicines is not a 'shitton.'"

"Well that one pill tasted like shit." Richie pouted.

"I let you chase it with Sprite. Come on. I just have one more thing, then I'll cuddle you as long as you want me to."

Richie seemed to perk up at that. It was very weak, but he perked up nonetheless.

Eddie grabbed a small jar of vapo rub out of the drawer nightstand next to his side of the bed.

When Richie saw the small, blue jar he let out a long groan. The sound was short-lived by the coughing fit it sent him into.

This is when Eddie would’ve started rubbing his back soothingly but Richie was currently lying on his back. So Eddie started rubbing what he hoped was comforting circles into his chest instead.

“Don’t be dramatic. It only makes it worse.”

“Eddie…” Richie whined, his voice raspy and nasally at the same time. “You know I hate that shit. It makes your skin burn.”

“Rich, it’s medicated. If it didn’t tingle, it wouldn’t work so well. Come on, let me put some on you. I promise It’ll be fast and we can cuddle after.”

Unless Richie was unconscious, Eddie wouldn’t do anything to care for him without his explicit permission. Eddie knew how much that sucked.

Richie sniffled as he inhaled, then muttered, “Okay, fine…”

Eddie uncapped the jar, trying not to shy away at the smell.

His mother would slather that shit all over his body, whether he needed it or not. He became accustomed to the stench but still hated it. But Richie needed this right now. He had been coughing and congested for the past two days and it has only gotten worse.

Eddie smoothed the gross smelling ointment all over Richie’s chest, making sure to apply it thickly. He even rubbed some up and down Richie’s throat.

Finally, Eddie was able to cap the jar and put it back in its proper place. He snatched a wet wipe from the same drawer and cleaned his hand off.

“Eddie…” Richie whined. “It burns.”

A small part of Eddie wanted to scoff at Richie’s complaining. Eddie had to be practically covered from head to toe with this shit when he was a child and he whined less than this.

But Eddie wouldn’t do that in a thousand years. He remembered desperately wanting to be comforted when he was a child and the only comfort his mother had for him was even more pills. He wasn’t going to make his one and only feel anything close to that.

Eddie reached a hand forward and brushed his fingers through Richie’s hair, earning a sigh from him. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’ll stop burning so much after a while. Here… You wanna cuddle with me?”

Richie nodded, looking straight-up pathetic.

Eddie leaned back against the headboard, opening his arms for his lover. Richie crawled into his arms—somehow managing to fold his ridiculous long limbs into such a small space—and let out a content noise once he was situated.

Every fiber of Eddie’s being was screaming at him to get away from Richie. To shove Richie off of him, run down the stairs, out the front door, and drive to the next town over. Then to thoroughly sanitize his entire body, take some medicine, and throw in a Hail Mary for good measure.

But he didn’t do that. Because he had gotten therapy and—while he couldn’t keep this up for long and would have to at least wash his hands soon—he had gotten considerably better. Eddie was slowly working through his trauma and he was able to hold Richie while he was sick. He wouldn’t be able to do the same for anyone else but he loved Richie.

Eddie started gently scratching Richie’s back. Richie let out a groan, this one not drawing any coughs out of him.

“Try to get some sleep.” Eddie murmured, leaning down to press a very quick kiss to the crown of Richie’s head.

Eddie wished he could kiss Richie all over his adorable face but putting his lips on Richie for longer than half a second while he was sick wasn’t something he could do yet. Eddie was determined to work on it, though.

Richie took notice and smiled sleepily up at him. “M’kay, Eds. I love you.”

Even though Eddie could practically feel the germs crawling on his lips, he was able to smile back. “I love you too, Rich.”

[kitmoas]

Gentle Sin Universe

Gentle Sin Master List

A/N: This is a drabble/hc on things that probably won't be touched on tooooo much in the actual writing, so here's some nice universe building for you guys to be able to understand the world. Hopefully spark some questions too!

Warnings: 18+ Dark fic where blood, violence, murder, death, kidnapping/trafficking, and sexual acts will be talked about in most parts if not all. It won't always be blunt or obvious but the dark themes will be there.

***MINORS DNI*** **18+***

In a time where Steve died while getting the serum, meaning Captain America never existed and the Allies lost the war.

Howard never died there for never leaving Stark Industries to Tony. Iron Man never existed and Tony partied his life away. Dying and letting his father’s company go down the drain before it could truly reach its potential.

Thor never understood how to be worthy, and was sentenced to a lifetime as a human. He died trying to do superhuman feats in an attempt to prove his worthiness.

Clint…well he was blind instead of going deaf. He lives a normal life on a farm, no thoughts of any archery ever happening.

Bruce was successful in killing the big green guy

Natasha received the Russian super soldier serum and became one of the best Russian assassins in history. When the Red Room took it one step too far by also putting her sister under a mind-controlling chemical Natasha went crazy. She killed every single widow, after breaking her sister free, and brought the Red Room down. The two of them had to kill the entire widow army to escape Russia, and then flee to America. Natasha initially tried to infiltrate Wanda’s hotel when she was caught in the middle of a gun fight.

Wanda was a product of the Sokovian nuclear war. She miraculously survived a bombing as a child but she watched her parents burn to death. From the toxins she received her “Scarlet Witch” powers and fled to America with her brother. They made their way through high school without an issue until Pietro fell into a bad crowd. It resulted in him getting killed, directly in front of Wanda, and it cracked the last bit of good will she had. Spending nights vengeance killing, Wanda spent the days becoming one of the most well known business owners. Granting her money and immunity from many things, and allowing different covers for her henchmen.

Wanda and Natasha met and the bloodlust between the two got entirely too strong. The two killed anyone and everyone that they came into contact with during the night. Falling in love with the madness and violence, the two fell for each other as well.

Peter was just a young teenager when he was taken from his foster home, brutally and violently. He was brought in front of two women who ended up shooting the men who brought him here immediately. It seems as though he was taken by mistake but with nowhere to go, the two women became mother figures to him. Being raised as a mock black widow, and as a future businessman, he quickly became one of the most dangerous people in the world but his innocent and loving heart stayed. Wanda and Natasha shield him from the dangers of their lifestyle.

Yelena spent her time in America hidden away behind security. Natasha spent most of her days spending time with her, helping her get rid of the remnants of the chemicals. She quickly became friends with Peter when he showed up. The two become a chaotic duo. Together the two lived out all their childhood dreams, and even ones they couldn’t even think of, with the never ending supply of money that Wanda and Natasha supplied. Yelena had an itch to do what she was trained from toddler age to do, murder, but she knew that she was Natasha’s soft spot so she didn’t.

When Wanda and Natasha started running into corpses and blood smears left over from kills they knew weren’t from any of their people, concerns went up throughout their ranks. The two started to get competitive, and began killing during the day. Natasha taking the reins on this one, stealth from her red room days coming in handy. The murders were getting more and more graffic and gruesome as the mystery party started leaving scenes for the two to find.

The two traveled together at night, loudly and proudly killing anyone in their wake when they stumbled on a young girl sitting arrogantly on the desk of Darren Cross, president of Pym Technologies. She’s surrounded by Cross’s head, along with the heads of the entire remaining Pym bloodline.

Kate Bishop, America’s golden girl who’s a certified genius, and is now in charge of the biggest security company on Earth. Kate thrived in school, and athletics. When she finally settled down and graduated college, her mother gifted her with an entire branch of Bishop Industries; Bishop Security and Technology.

The first time Kate killed it was an accident, but it sparked something in her brain. She fell in love with the warmth of the blood as it leaked out of the body, the pained whimpers as the person slowly fell into unconsciousness. When she got control of almost every single security system in the US, she used it to her advantage. Her murders got more adventurous as her bloodlust became uncontrollable, and her brain worked on overdrive on ways to stoop the authorities. Letting them stumble upon evidence and killing them as they try to turn it into an actual investigation.

The three of them decided to team up, using the technology and money to continuously stay one step ahead of the authorities. No one put it together that three of the most prominent women in the United States were the terrorists that left an ocean of blood behind them.

Natasha quietly stepped down when it started getting too close to Yelena and Peter. Opting to protect the one thing that the three villains, as they were now considered by the public, loved the most.

Kate and Yelena meeting was crazy to say the least. The two of them fought and teased each other consistently before one day Yelena snapped and kissed the archer. Since that day the two have dated, and the rest of the group teased the brunette about her soft spot.

When Wanda almost died one night during a shoot out with the FBI the entire group was shaken, and it caused Kate to go into a bloodthirsty frenzy. The young archer killing and torturing an entire building, only stopped by Yelena. This was the moment when the blonde decided that she needed to step up and become part of their group. Stepping in as a bodyguard type person, and protecting Wanda in public during the day.

The three spent most of their nights in a club or hotel that Wanda owned as their henchmen looked for more people to traffic, a new business that Wanda and Kate got into. When someone caught Kate’s eyes, and that is where our story starts.

Taglist: @tforjatp @inluvwithfictionalwomen @lightupthemoon @katebishop-ladyarrow @yourtaletotell @simpfornatasharomanoff @8bitscarlet

[idy-ll-ique]

baby names

pairing: loki x pregnant!f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none, it's very cute 😩

requested: nope

word count: ~1.6k

summary: y/n is pregnant and loki can't stay away from her

author's note: hiya peeps! a loki fic after such a long time, kinda got tired of writing bucky fics all the time,,,, (though next week there's gonna be a bucky x f!reader 👀) enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Loki."

"Don't call me that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at her husband and he grumbled angrily, pulling her closer to him. "Sweetheart," Y/N began, "You should go." Loki whined childishly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he firmly mumbled Y/N sighed, running her hand through his silky soft hair. "6th time. Yet they always invite you. Why aren't you leaving the house?"

"Because you're pregnant! I'm not going anywhere until the baby is safely out of you and you both are well taken care of." Y/N smiled softly at his concern but pulled away from Loki. "Well I think you need some sun, you should go. And no is not an option. You know what? I'm calling Tony right now and telling him you are going with all of them." Before Loki could object, Y/N picked up her phone and called Tony.

Loki had been invited by Thor and the other male Avengers on a weekend trip to the beach, sponsored by Tony Stark. Everyone was going; Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Clint, Scott, Sam, Bucky, Vision… they'd also invited Loki, since he had now permanently settled on Midgard with his lovely wife Y/N, but he'd initially refused because he didn't want to leave Y/N alone.

She was 8½ months pregnant. Though there was still a week or two of estimated time remaining for the birth, Loki didn't want to leave because what if the baby came early? Tony, Clint and Scott, who were also fathers, had assured him several times since Y/N's pregnancy announcement that the baby would be okay, Y/N would be okay but he still worried himself sick everyday.

"Do I absolutely have to go?" Loki groaned, lying flat on his back on the bed as Y/N sat back down after her chat with Tony. "Yes. I need some time alone— you need some time alone. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack one day by how much you worry over this baby of ours. A nice trip to the beach with clear skies and golden sand and the blue sea will do you much good."

Loki sulked. Y/N, getting a teasing smirk on her face, nudged his shoulder. "Hey, there are gonna be girls in skimpy bikinis on the beach, you know," she suggested and Loki made a face, pulling Y/N down to give her a deep kiss. "I love you," he glared at her, "I don't care about those scantily dressed women. Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll go."

"Yay! Now I can call Wanda and Nat and Sharon and Pepper and Maria and Darcy over so we can have our own day out! It's gonna be awesome," Y/N squealed, already busy texting as Loki sputtered.

Is that why she wants me out of the house that bad?

He couldn't blame her, though, the pregnancy had taken a toll on both the parents. Y/N used to be in pain all the time, had severe nausea and couldn't go out with all her friends like she used to. Now that the symptoms had started wearing off, he really couldn't blame her for wanting to have a nice day out with friends. "Have fun, darling," he smiled, giving her another kiss.

---

"Yo, Lokes, you ready to go?" Clint called out cheerfully as Loki walked towards the group of men, a scowl on his face. Yes, at home he'd agreed to accompany them on the trip but now that the day was actually here… "Not really but I don't have a choice," he grumbled and Steve smiled amusedly. "Y/N kick you out?" Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, how did you know? She wants to have a girl's day out with the other ladies."

"I overheard Wanda and Natasha talking. Anyway, come on, let's hit the road!"

All of them got into two cars: Steve, Sam, Bucky, Thor and Loki in one while Clint, Scott, Tony, Bruce and Vision got into the other. Sam was driving, Steve was in the passenger seat, Bucky was in the middle seat and Thor and Loki were in the extreme back. "So, how's Y/N doing?" Bucky asked Loki, leaning back on his seat.

"She's doing well, the nausea and pain has stopped," Loki answered, following Bucky's lead. "I'm glad to hear it. Have you decided on a name? Because I assure you, Bucky is a really good contender," he grinned cheekily and even Loki laughed, shaking his head. "We haven't thought of any names as of yet."

"Are you looking for a Midgardian name or an Asgardian one?" Sam piped up. Loki blinked. "You know, that is a really good question," he muttered. "How about a Midgardian first name and an Asgardian middle name?" Steve suggested. "Why not the other way around?" Thor frowned. "Well, yeah, that works too," Steve shrugged. "Hm, that's a good suggestion. I will talk to Y/N."

"So is Bucky on the table—"

"No."

"Aw, man."

---

"Hey girl, after a long time!" Natasha grinned, giving Y/N a familial hug. "Hi, gals! Yes, I even got Loki to leave, took a lot of begging but he finally agreed," she sighed. "Could've just given him head or something," Pepper muttered and Y/N burst out laughing as the other ladies gasped. "Pepper!" Sharon exclaimed, shocked.

"What? It usually works on Tony," Pepper defended herself as everyone joined Y/N in her laughter. "So, ready to shop?" All the ladies got into a 7-seater car, with Maria in the driver's seat. "Can't wait! This Avenging stuff doesn't give me time for self-care, I swear. Haven't shopped in ages!" Wanda sighed. All the women agreed with her, muttering their yesses.

"By the way, Y/N, I've wanted to ask you this for so long now, have you decided on baby names yet?" Darcy questioned with a grin. "Oh! No we haven't as of yet, I have lots of good names but I haven't talked to Loki…" Sharon looked up from her phone. "Do you have Asgardian names or like, normal, Earth names? I have a feeling that Loki would want Asgardian names," she suggested.

Y/N frowned in thought. Sharon was right; both the brothers, Loki and Thor, took great pride in their homeland. She didn't mind, to be honest, Asgardian names were wonderful. "I like Asgardian names too, though, I'm open to it," she chuckled.

"Great! So if it's a girl, Darcy—"

"Darcy!"

"What? I'm just saying…"

---

"Brother?" Loki startled out of his thoughts, turning to Thor. "Sorry, I was… thinking," he cleared his throat and Thor smiled, sitting next to him. Around 6 hours had passed since they'd arrived at the resort and Loki couldn't get Y/N out of his mind. What is she doing? Is she okay? Should I go check on her? What if the baby is coming? Surely she'd call me if that happens…

"About Y/N?" Loki went red and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah." Thor clapped him on the back once, guffawing good-naturedly. "Don't you fret, brother, the ladies she is with are extremely competent! She will be okay, and plus, the baby isn't going to be here for another week or so," Thor assured him but worry gnawed Loki. Nope, I can't do it. He abruptly stood up, startling Thor.

"I'm going home."

"Loki—"

Just a second later, Loki disappeared.

---

"Mm," Y/N moaned, a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, "Isn't it delicious? What do ya say… Rosie?" The baby kicked once. "No? Okay, well… Sarah? Petunia?" The baby kicked more. "Oh, you want masculine names, huh… Uh, Alex?" One kick. "I know, Chris!" Another kick. "Tom?" More kicks. "So you don't want Midgardian names? Well, I don't know very many Asgardian names…"

"I do."

Y/N shrieked loudly, dropping her tub of ice cream as she turned to see Loki standing near the bedroom door. "Loki?" She picked a book off the nightstand and threw it at him. He caught it easily, sitting down next to her while keeping the book where it was. She instantly cuddled into his side, tearing up. Sure, she was the one who was too eager to send him away but she was also the one who couldn't stay away from him.

"Aw, hey, I'm here, my love," Loki whispered comfortingly, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his arms. "Don't go again. I missed you," she sniffled and Loki pressed a soft kiss to her head. "That is also why I came home early, darling, I missed you too," he laughed and she snuggled even closer to him.

"Little baby Axelia missed you too— ow! No? So… what about Lucinda? Ow, ooh… Priscilla? No?" Loki watched with an infatuated smile as she tried out different names on the baby. "What if our baby wants a more masculine name, love?" he asked and she turned to him.

"Hm, have you got any names in mind?"

"Well, Barnes was suggesting we name our child Bucky—"

"Ow! Nope, they don't like it."

"Oh well. He's going to be disappointed but what the baby says goes," Loki teased and Y/N burst out laughing. She stopped all of a sudden, giving Loki a small smile. "Please don't go anywhere again," she whispered and Loki shook his head, gathering her in his arms. "I missed you just as much as you did me, Y/N, I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, min kjæreste."

"...That's Norwegian, isn't it?"

"Beautiful, though, isn't it?

"Yes, very."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[softyoongiionly]

♡︎Hᴛᴛᴘ Eʀʀᴏʀ 400 [Uɴᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴢᴇᴅ] ♡︎

☹︎ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Min Yoongi is the top hacker in the world. He has put away countless other cyber criminals all whilst evading detection by virtually everyone he has ever crossed paths with, including the government. The diabolical super hacker that came close to tracking him down is now serving a 10 year prison sentence, all thanks to Yoongi’s handiwork. So what happens when the sentence is shortened unexpectedly? What happens when the biggest threat to public safety is roaming the streets again, determined to get revenge on the man who put him away? What happens when the worlds most infamous hacker just so happens to manage your local Mikrokosmic Electronics? A terabyte of trouble.

☹︎ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: hacker! Yoongi x reader

☹︎Gᴇɴʀᴇs: action, hacker! Au, smut, humor, angst (18+ only plz)

☹︎ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.7k

☹︎ Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: swearing, likely inaccurate depictions of computers and hacking, mutual pining and a little bit of clown behavior, mild angst, mentions of violence (future), verbal altercation (between Yoongi and unruly customer), explicit smut, oral (both), ass eating, filming during sex, (this story, like all of my others, is 18+ only) 

☹︎ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀs ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Welcome to the party!!! This is the first part of a four part series and its 3am and I am SLEEPY so this authors note is going to be a whole circus. I really hope you enjoy! I will try to continue to get these parts out on time, but I would love to know what you think. Special shout out to @bulletproofbirdy aka MY BESTIE who literally helps me with everything I ever write, and she is a genius and I love her. Also, @gldnrecs​ for so many cool plot elements and character development bits that make the story 8000 times better, i love you lots and I can’t wait to keep screaming about fics with you. oki bye. love you. here’s hacker yoongi...

Mikrokosmic Electronics

One thousand dollars was no easy prize. You spent most of your time away from school, working double shifts at the bar and, shoving all of your tip money into a baby pink piggy bank that you kept under your bed. Aching joints and sore muscles were a constant in your life, as was this desperate sense of dread every time you thought of this being your reality forever.

Financial instability felt very much like a thick cloud that hung over your head ever since you understood what money actually was. Your family knew the minefields of paycheck-to-paycheck living far too well, especially after the tragedy that struck nearly eleven years ago. Gaining a full-ride scholarship to the best art school in the country sounded like a way out, but you were a useless student without a laptop.  

And falling behind was too expensive.

The scent of computer plastic and old air freshener immediately fills your nose as you push against the warm glass of the double doors. Mikrokosmic Electronics was the best rated store online for both discounts and customer service, and it was only a few miles from your apartment.

So opting to come here was a no brainer.

The lighting in the store is soft and neon, reflecting off of the merchandise in meaningful but subtle hues. Everything is organized in a rather aesthetic way as well; computer towers, monitors, laptops, old gaming systems, new gaming systems…

Each of them carefully slotted in their place and ready for purchase.

There are two men in front of you and then a woman up at the counter, but after a few seconds the men quickly realize that they want to keep browsing and surrender their place in line. You are puttering around on your phone at first, not really paying much attention to your surroundings until the lady in front of you starts raising her voice.

“Are you serious right now? It’s only a week passed the expiration date, I know you can override it in your system. Just take the stupid coupon!”

The sharp angles in her voice jolt you upright as your wide eyes assess the scene before you. A middle-aged woman is poised for verbal sparring with her hands on her hips and an iced caramel macchiato sweating on the countertop.

You can see the man behind the register now, and you note that his appearance seems to blend in with the cool neon tones around the interior of the store.

He’s taller than her, his black hair shaggy on top and tapering off into a vibrant pink as it frames either side of his neck. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt that’s tucked into a pair of lightwashed Levi’s, the whole outfit being accessorized with the most intense deadpan you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So the coupon is expired and stupid? I’m not really sure why you’re making such a scene then…”

His raspy voice floats aimlessly into the air, the twang of sarcasm sour and apparent.

“Oh is that the tone you’re going to take with me? Are you kidding right now? I’ve never met anyone like you in my life- this is absolutely despicable! I don’t think I’m making myself clear, either take my coupon or you’re going to have a really big problem on your hands!”

Her voice makes you cringe and despite you trying to shrug off the sound, it only seems to cling to the fabric of your clothes, causing you to feel uncomfortable.

The man doesn’t even blink, “Ma’am your expired coupon is not my problem, the system wouldn’t take it and I don’t feel like doing an override. If you want a discount that bad, just lift something off the shelf and run. I’ll even give you a head start…”

You can’t quite see her face just yet but her body language indicates that she’s disgusted, “Oh you are just a horrible person, aren’t you? You’re harassing me when all I’m trying to do is save a little bit of money! This isn’t a business you’re running, it’s a scam! And you bet your ass I will be reporting it to the police-“

“I’m sure you will.” He muses, entirely uninterested. His expression is amusing you beyond belief, you’ve never seen anyone deal with an unruly customer this way, “But please step to the side to do so, you’re holding up my line…”

The woman scoffs, “No, I will not be stepping to the side. I want the number for corporate and I want your manager’s number as well. You cannot treat a paying customer this way!”

The mans lips twitch, the beginning of a smirk playing on them as he stands up a little straighter, “The number for corporate is 800-382-5968.” He seems to be holding back a bit of laughter, as if he were apart of a joke that only he understood, “Also, I am the manager, and if you want my number sweetheart, you’re going to have to buy more than an extension cord; my sales are a little low today…”

She is visibly disgusted, her French-tip nails gripping the cold, sweaty exterior of her caramel macchiato as she rips it from the counter, “You are disgusting! I will be contacting your supervisors and informing them that they should shut down this location immediately. What is your name?!” She leans in and scans over the tattered name tag on his shirt, “Yoongi???? Is that it? Well Yoongi, you better start looking for a new job! I can’t imagine anyone would want to employ you after I tell them what happened here today.”

“Yeah yeah- tell them all about my awful behavior,” He encourages smugly, “The world deserves to hear your story. But I’m going to need you to step aside now. As fun as this conversation has been, Yoongi has other customers to satisfy so-“ He shoos her with a gesture of his hand causing her to finally storm off, huffing and puffing all the while.

As she does, you are able to get an even better look at him.

He’s hot, like really hot, and suddenly you’re distracted.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Yoongi reapplies the boredom to his voice as he mindlessly wipes the ring of condensation from the glass countertop.

“Well, I was going to ask you for laptop recommendations, but if we can just take anything from the shelf, I don’t think I need your help anymore…”

The tone in your voice intrigues him, his posture unraveling slightly as his cat-like gaze travel up the length of your body before finally clawing at your face. The smirk that was knocking at his lips earlier fully forms as he takes in the sight of you, “No no- you definitely need my help. I can’t offer the five-finger discount during business hours, but we can work something else out…” He responds smoothly before turning towards the stockroom, “Jimin-ah! Come out here and man the counter, I need to help out someone on the floor.”

A rush of disorganized blue hair comes striding out of the back, sporting an unamused pout on his pretty lips before grumbling,

“Make up your mind, Yoongi. I can’t keep abandoning my projects every time you want to help out a hot customer…”

You feel the back of your neck heat up at his co-workers honesty, a flash of excitement hitting the pit of your stomach.

Yoongi seems unbothered as he hops feet first over the counter, his clunky black boots thudding as they hit the carpet, “So do you have any specs in mind? Are you going to be using this for school, work, gaming…”

He jumps into his spiel immediately, not even bothering to respond to his co-worker as he leads you down the aisle full of laptops. They are set up amongst various props to mimic the illusion of them being used on a desk, the colors chosen complimenting the neon lighting above you.

“Well I’m a photography grad student at Blue Sky University- so something that can handle my editing software, something with good storage would be good too! Some of the bigger projects I do take up a lot of space…” You explain, strolling along beside him.

He nods for a moment before his brows raise at the mention of your university, “Blue Sky huh? Very nice…” He compliments, knowing full-well the kind of prestige your school holds. You bite your lip at his praise, never really knowing what to do when those kinds of comments are lofted your way, “Mac is usually the go-to for photo editors, but this Dell XPS 15 is pretty amazing too. Mac isn’t as compatible with other personal software, and it’s really overpriced.” He places a veiny hand on top of the screen of a black and rather sleek looking laptop, “It has an incredible 10 generation processor, and it will get you about 1TB of storage.”

You stand beside him, narrowing your eyes a bit as you take in the sight of the computer. Mindlessly you run your fingertips over the smooth tops of the black keys before responding, “This one is nice actually, a MacBook really isn’t in my budget, but all of my classmates swear by them…”

Yoongi jerks his chin towards you, “What kind of budget are you working with? The XPS is going to run you about 1,100 after tax- but I would argue that it’s worth the investment if you can do it. This computer is highly adaptable and comes with a lot of different specs and configuration options. Do you use photoshop?”

You’re nodding along with his explanation, trying to weigh out your options without wasting this man’s entire day, “I have a thousand set aside but I can be flexible, I just need something that’s going to work- oh! And something with good security…”

Yoongi smirks, “Why are you worried about getting hacked or something?”

Biting your lip, you shoot a wary look his way, “I meaaan, I kind of already did. I bought a used laptop off of reddit recently and it got a virus like- as soon as I started torrenting my software…”

Yoongi shakes his head and waves his hands out in front of him, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa. You bought a used laptop from where????”

His response makes you laugh, “Listen! I’m broke, ok? I did what I had to do…”

And now he’s laughing but he’s still shaking his head, wholeheartedly unimpressed, “Nahhh, I don’t give a shit if you’re broke. You’re better off printing out your pictures at Kinko’s or something and bringing them into class, like old school shit. Bugged laptops on Reddit are like one of the oldest scams in the book. Do you still have that computer?”

“Yeahhhh- why? Wait what do you mean? I thought they just sold me a shitty computer, I didn’t know it was part of a legitimate scam thingy.” You whine, looking rather helpless and rather adorable, according to Yoongi.

He chuckles, “Yeah it’s a huge data farming trend right now. The department of cyber security has been up Reddit’s ass for the last year trying to shut it down…how much did you pay?”

You cross your arms, feeling rather self-conscious all of the sudden, “It doesn’t matter- go back to telling me about the terabytes and specs or whatever…”

His chuckling turns sharply into cackling as he tilts his head at you, “Tell me. C’mon, I’ve fallen on hard times before and bought some questionable things from the internet, there’s no judgement here.”

Huffing you look up at him and try to ignore the way his eyes seem to sparkle in amusement, “I don’t know, like $300?”

Yoongi immediately purses his lips, trying to hold in his laughter for a moment before he fails miserably and starts it all up again, “You’re kidding, right? And you were surprised that you downloaded a virus? Things at Blue Sky must have really gone down hill…”

Rolling your eyes, you present a pout onto your lips as he continues to cackle at you, “Hey! You said there wouldn’t be any judgement…”

He shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “Well I was already in the middle of judging you so-“

“Okay you know what? I was desperate, and I did what needed to be done. Now that may have led me to owning a haunted computer, but I regret nothing…”

Yoongi is still snickering, entirely too tickled by your misfortune, “Haunted computer- you’re ridiculous.“ He repeats, shaking his head, “What kind of virus do you have, do you know? It’s probably some low-level amateur shit…”

The tone of his voice elicits a warmth in your belly that you haven’t felt in quite some time, and you’re trying not to get too excited about it, but the way his eyes keep lingering on your lips is making it difficult.

“It’s actually super weird, every time I open my browser it automatically takes me to some like luxury vacation website? That’s the only thing that will load on the computer now. I don’t know who they think I am, but if I’m buying a used computer from a Reddit forum like- obviously I don’t have vacation money…” You muse aloud, a laugh catching on the tail end of your sentence.

Yoongi’s brows furrow, “Do you remember what the site was called?”

“Uhhh-“ You try and wrack your brain, “I don’t know, something about fields of flowers or running through the flowers? Why?”

Thankfully, the name doesn’t ring a bell, but Yoongi is still uneasy by the answer.

It can’t be, he thinks, there’s no way.

Dollsen was locked away for another 3 years, and even if he was out, the government mandated that he would never be allowed to use technology unsupervised again.

“No reason, I was just trying to figure out if it was a malware I recognized…” He lies smoothly before patting the top of the laptop in front of him, “This will be a good option in terms of security, it comes with a year subscription to an anti-virus software, but I can write down some sites for you to download a better one. What are you thinking though, did you want to look at other models?”

Not really, I kinda want to keep talking to you all day if that’s cool…

“I’m thinking this is a good option.” You conclude, “I like the screen and the keys are pretty too- also it looks pretty sturdy so if someone were to hypothetically spill ranch in the keyboard, I feel like it could handle that…”

Yoongi chuckles, “I don’t fix ranch-related accidents, so you’d be shit out of luck if you tried to bring it back here…”

“I don’t know where you got the idea that it would be me spilling the ranch, I’ve definitely never done that before. Anyway!” You rush out before changing the subject, “I’ll take this one please. Thank you for your help.”

And he just kind of smirks at you, a mixture of annoyance and amusement written on his features before he flashes a pair of finger guns towards the storage room, “Alright, you got it. I’ll be right back with your new state of the art, ranch-proof, laptop. Meet me at the empty register on the left there…”

“Thank youuu,” You sing song as he makes his way towards their stock room. Navigating through the small crowd of people lingering at one of the displays, you do as Yoongi instructed and wait by the inactive register.

Yoong emerges with a white box in his arms moments later with a memory of a grin still on his heart shaped mouth. He seems to move very comfortably in the space he takes up, traversing around the store as if it’s the very empire he oversees. There is something about him that intrigues you, the oddity of him, the way he looks like he’s just stepped out of a graphic novel…

Maybe getting scammed on the internet isn’t so bad after all.

He huffs as he places the laptop on the counter, before his elegant fingers dance over the keypad on his register, the light from the screen illuminating his face.

“Okay so- we have the computer itself, it comes with a charging cable obviously and a few other accessories but if you need anything else, you know where to find them…” He explains, narrowing his eyes a bit as he looks over the price breakdown, “I wrote down some of those websites where you can get a better anti-virus software- oh! And…” He leans down and grabs a thin white plastic card with the Microsoft logo on it, “I’m throwing in a subscription to Microsoft Office too…”

“Wait isn’t that normally like $100? Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?” You falter, looking at him expectantly.

He raises his brows playfully, “Are you gonna rat me out?”

“No,” You assure him, giggling as you feel your cheeks heating up once again, “I’m just making sure…”

“I give away free shit all the time…” He assures you with confidence, biting his lip when he hears you giggle, “Taking money from billionaires is my part-time job.”

“Amen to that,” You point at him, your eyes lingering on his teeth, “Well, thank you. I usually just torrent the software that I need, but I’m a little wary after what happened with Reddit.”

Yoongi clicks at his keyboard for awhile longer, lip still secured between his teeth whilst he shakes his head, “Torrenting is perfectly safe as long as you don’t get caught. The virus would have happened either way.”

Sighing, you lean against the counter and take a peek at your new computer, feeling a sense of accomplishment, “Well that makes me feel better- I should probably try to find a way to pay for the real thing though, the one I download always crashes on me…”

He doesn’t seem to be listening to you anymore, eyes still focused on his screen, his tone cool and detached as he asks, “What are you doing later?”

Excitement dances through you, “T-tonight? Uh I don’t think I have anyplanswhy?” Your tongue is tangled and Yoongi smirks as he hears the way your tone seems to falter.

“Come back at closing and I’ll hook you up.” He replies coolly, finally bringing his eyes back to yours.

Subconsciously, you stand up straighter, eyes sparkling with intrigue, “Really? How?”

He places his palms against the countertop and leans forward, still smirking, “I know my way around a computer…” He answers before chuckling, “Don’t worry about it, just come by and I’ll get you whatever you need.”

You cock your head, feigning suspicion, “You have ulterior motives…”

And this makes him cackle again, his hands moving from the counter and returning to the computer, “Nah, it’s nothing like that, I promise. I just would hate to see you spend so much money on this computer and then fuck it up with a shoddy download.”

With your lips twitching at the sound of his laughter, you finally allow the smile onto your mouth whilst you hand him your debit card, “What time should I come back?”

Yoongi’s grin broadens, “We close at 9:30, so anytime after that is good. I usually chill here for a while because the Wi-Fi at my apartment sucks.”

Your stomach churns in the face of his smile, the moisture from your mouth beginning to cease. The level of attraction you feel towards this man is insane…

But you pretend to mull it over once more, not wanting to seem too eager until finally you resign, “Alright fine- I’m not going to say no to free photoshop. Should I just come in through the front or?”

He nods, scanning over your receipt before handing it to you, “Yeah that works…” He replies, “…and it’s Y/N, right?”

You literally just saw him look at your receipt, but you still ask, “Wait how did you…”

Yoongi just raises his brows, a judgmental smirk on his lips.

“Right! Thanks Yoongi, I’llseeyouthen…” You rush out, forgoing anymore pleasantries (embarrassment) and rushing out the store.

The smirk remains on Yoongi’s lips long after you leave, and for the rest of the day, he glides through each task with the hopes that maybe he’ll get lucky tonight.

He doesn’t expect to, but he could tell you were feeling him, and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t think you were cute.

 Yoongi lets you back into Mikrokosmic Electronics at a quarter til 10, the neon lights still on and much more prominent than they were during the day.

Throughout the duration of the setup, he continues to flirt with you, his eyes continue to linger, and he continues to send butterflies to the pit of your stomach. He does something fancy with your laptop and then informs you that the download is likely to take about an hour and then he will be able to run another anti-viral test on it. The two of you resign to your phones rather quickly after the download begins, but every so often you can still feel his eyes on you. You have a feeling he isn’t going to put anything on the table, but after the stressful week of classes you had, you’re itching to distract yourself.

“What do you want to do until then?”

Yoongi’s lip twitch as he swivels to face you, his sly expression illuminated by the cerulean light, “We could make out…”

The damage to your heartbeat is immeasurable, the core of you immediately clenching around his suggestion as your sweaty palms grip the edge of the counter.

“Yeah- we could definitely do that…” You agree, your own mouth itching with excitement, “We should probably do that.”

Yoongi snickers at your correction, a bit of surprise in his gaze,  “Probably huh? Why is that?”

He’s playful but the way his eyes seem to brush up against every inch of your skin and the way the umber in them seems to burn before you, tells a different story.

You take a deep breath, “I mean you said you had an oral fixation right? That’s why you were chewing on the straw when I got here; Giving your mouth something to do might help the time pass- and it would like, you know, make you more comfortable.”

His chair squeaks as he stands, the cool and even length of him suddenly feeling much bigger. The slight smirk on his lips is permanent with only the small addition of his tongue caressing the bottom one.

“Do you lend your mouth to everyone that has an oral fixation or am I special?” His tone is shifting rapidly, oscillating between taunting and tentative.

Before you can even respond, Yoongi’s hips level with your kneecaps, his eyes still searching around for your answer.

Your cheeks are on fire as you feel the large expanse of his palms resting atop your thighs, his bitten nails brushing just below the hem of your skirt. You’re so distracted by your arousal that you don’t even realize you aren’t looking at him until you feel the gentle pressure on your limbs as he coaxes them apart.

Standing between your legs, the denim of Yoongi’s jeans scrapes against the inside of your knees, the sensation much more thrilling than it should be. And he smells incredible as well, like sandalwood and coffee, and you’re convinced he applied an aphrodisiac instead of cologne.

Finally, your eyes flicker back to his, only to find him smirking at you yet again.

As if he does anything else…

But you feel the need to be bold, desperately wanting to lean into your desires so you murmur, “No…you’re special.”

Yoongi takes that as his cue, his breath chasing after your own whilst he leans in to brush his lips against yours, chuckling darkly when he sees you shiver.

“You’re really fucking cute.” He rasps and then his lips tuck into yours.

Yoongi’s mouth is a contradiction, eagerly exploring the surface of your lips with his own, the blunt sting of his teeth pinching at you every so often all whilst his breathing seems to slow. His hands and head move at glacial speeds, head slowly pivoting on an axis to get a taste of all of you, as his hands brush up and down your bare thighs.

Your fingers find their own groove, sliding up either side of his slender neck, your fingertips playing with the hot pink tendrils of his hair, doing anything you can to elicit the same kind of obvious arousal you’ve already displayed.

But Yoongi doesn’t budge.

Instead, you feel him smirk against your lips when a soft whimper leaves your throat, the sound entirely caused by his decision to introduce his tongue into the mix.

His tongue is like candy, soft like cotton, and possessed by some dark spirit sent to destroy you.

He knows exactly how to taunt you, the tip of his muscle brushing against your own, but never allowing you to tangle with it for too long. Your eyes are closed but you can feel his hands searching for your waist. When they arrive at their destination, Yoongi uses his strength to urge you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist whilst he leans into you.

The black hair atop Yoongi’s head glides effortlessly through your fingers, the kiss growing messier and messier until you find your clothed pussy flush against the cool steel of his belt buckle.

You’re wet and desperately sensitive after making out with him, your lips disconnecting with a gasp.

Dark and delighted cackling leaves the confines of his seductive mouth, his eyes cast down for the moment before he looks up at you. And the urge to gasp again is hard to ignore as you see how much his gaze has changed.

He looks a bit haggard from the work you’ve done on his hair but more so than anything, he just looks hungry.

“Are you alright?” He inquires with a raise of his brows.

Through a deep breath, you nod, chewing on your bottom lip a bit as you try and hold his gaze.

“Yeah…sorry. I just-“

But the sensation of soft fingertips crawling up your inner thighs interrupts you along with Yoongi’s next question.

“Did I turn you on?”

Although the question is laced with some arrogance, Yoongi looks intrigued beyond belief, his head cocking to the side as he awaits your answer.

And what are you to say? No?

Are you going to look this man in the face and tell him that your panties aren’t sticking to your pussy right now? Glued to you by your own arousal?

“Mhm…” You hum, trying to relax as you lean in and kiss him again, summoning the bravery within you.

Yoongi feels his dick throb in his jeans at the sweet sound of your voice, and now he’s left wondering about all of the other sweet sounds you can make.

He lets you kiss him for the time being, but he withholds his tongue from you and merely pecks at your lips over and over again, soft laughter rumbling deep inside his chest as he feels you pout.

“Yoongi-“ You whine, your fingers pressing into the back of his neck.

And he merely hums, both lips attaching to your bottom one before using his teeth to pull it away from your mouth. He starts kissing down your chin as you speak next, his massive hands now sliding over your hips.

“What percentage is the download on?” He murmurs, still kissing and nibbling up the side of your neck.

You have difficulty focusing your vision with Yoongi’s lips dancing carelessly against your skin, but after a bit of effort, you’re able to make out the answer.

“67.” You answer, swallowing back a whimper when he bites down on the base of your neck.

You can feel him smile, fingertips teasing at the skin at the hem of your skirt once again, “67 huh? That’s a shame; I thought we had way more time.”

Like the punchline of a cruel joke, Yoongi pulls away from you, licking the taste of your skin from his lips before taking his hands from your thighs. Your skin is on fire in his absence, heated and agitated like a sunburn. Without any control, your lips part in disbelief when he tries to head back to your computer. Your hand is on his wrist then, your lips puckered all over again, and you can’t remember the last time you ever pouted for something in your adult life. 

“Wait-” You protest, with a wary look in your eye.

Like a cat in the face of his prey, the darkness in Yoongi’s eyes zeros in on your lips before feigning confusion, “Oh-” He mocks, “What are you pouting for?”

But you’re tired of feeling frozen beneath his attitude, so you act on your boldness quickly before it hides away again. 

“I thought we were going to-”

“What?” He cuts you off with a teasing grin, “Did you think I was going to fuck you?” 

Your heart jumps, “I don’t know- I just thought like, maybe you wanted to-

He grins at your stammering, eyes widening a bit to taunt you, “You did, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t- I dont know” You bite your lip, batting your eyes unintentionally, “I just didn’t want you to stop.” 

He hates to admit it, but your demeanor is affecting him, and it’s making the crotch of his jeans much tighter. 

“You didn’t want me to stop?” He practically coos, but the same level of mockery is still in his tone. His wrist is out of your hand now, his palms resting on your thighs once more as he slots himself between them. 

You shake your head, wrapping your legs around him, as the tips of your fingers find the pink strands of hair once again. “I like kissing you…”

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, his lips still turned up at the corner before he chuckles, “Yeah?”  He lessens the gap between your mouths, leaning into you all over again, his eyes locking onto yours as his voice drops down to a whisper, “You want me to kiss you somewhere else?”  

Your panties are completely ruined at this point, and he hasn’t even touched you, but the sinful suggestion he makes only worsens the situation between your legs. 

Without an ounce of contemplation, you’re nodding in affirmation, your thighs parting subconsciously with your decision. The warmth and moisture coming from your core interacts abruptly with the cold air of the store, and the sensation makes you grit your teeth. 

You’re so sensitive. 

Yoongi wastes no time, his fingers finding their way underneath your skirt and under the band of your underwear. Slowly, and still making eye contact with you, he pulls them down your legs and allows them to drop to the floor. He eyes them for a moment, contemplating whether or not to clean them up before deciding to turn his attention back on you. With his index finger he lifts the bottom of your skirt up carefully, and you see the exact moment he makes eye contact with your pussy.

“Holy shit-” He chuckles, biting his bottom lip, “Messy messy girl...you got this wet just from kissing me?”

You nod immediately, opening up wider for him so that he can see all of you, “You’re a really good kisser.”

And fuck, it’s the way you giggle at the end of your sentence, the way your pussy literally glistens for him, the soft skin of your thighs, the breathy tone in your voice that is sending him into a frenzy.

But he keeps cool, wanting to set the pace, wanting to hear you whine some more. 

“You have no idea…” He warns you with a smirk, as he trails his fingers down your arm before gripping your hand, “ …I want you to touch yourself first though.”

Immediately, you tense up a bit, feeling nervous at the thought of pleasuring yourself in front of a complete stranger. Yoongi’s perceptive however, and catches on, kissing the back of your hand and then leading it to your aching pussy.

“It’s not a test.” He teases, “I just want to see what you like…” 

His comment makes you giggle, and you don’t even want to question why you feel so at ease with him, you just do. 

“I’d still like a grade afterwards though,” You insist with a grin, “I live for validation.”

Your hand is travelling every so shakily across the crease of your thigh as Yoongi’s eyes cling to the back of it like a hawk. With a quirk to his lips, he watches your fingertips move closer to your clit, his tongue brushing against his bottom lip subconsciously.

Wordlessly, he sinks to his knees before you, hands rested on your kneecaps as he aids them apart. Completely spread before him, you feel your heartrate wobble in your chest when he starts placing kisses up the length of your thigh.

Watching his warm lips sponge across your sensitive flesh whilst the cold metal from his jewelry follows in their path is enough to prompt your fingers to settle on your clit. Pleasure skyrockets up either side of your cunt, the pads of your digits working eagerly against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Yoongi’s eyes are still on your fingers, his lips working up one side of your thigh whilst his longer fingers tickle up the other. The cacophony of sensations is maddening, drawing you closer to an orgasm way too quickly.

A soft and breathy moan escapes your mouth, to which Yoongi responds by scoffing against your skin.

“You’re fucking hot.” He testifies, suddenly biting down on the meat of your leg, which only prompts another moan from you. Your throat is completely dry, but you try and swallow anyway as you increase the pressure on your clit. It’s sensitive, but it desires more, it’s hungry for a mouth it’s never even met yet.

But you’re watching him, watching the way his pink mouth puckers and sucks ever so slightly, watching the way his fingers tease and torment over your skin…

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Back and forth?” He clarifies, flattening his tongue before licking right in the crease of your thigh, “Right on the top there?”

“Yes-“ You breathe, your fingers growing less and less capable the closer his lips get to your pussy.

“That’s how I should eat it?” He asks again through a knowing smirk, licking the crease on the other side.

“Yes.”

He snickers at the desperation in your voice, looking up at you through his lashes with his fingertips pressed against your inner thighs.

“Impatience will get you nowhere with me, sweetheart.” He drawls as his tongue suddenly finds its way to your entrance, he licks once, collecting a bit of your arousal before moving down further and licking right over the puckered ring of muscles.

Instantly you gasp, but you don’t even have time to process the new sensation because he’s drawing his wanton muscle from entrance to entrance, slurping salaciously as he does.

“Fuck…” You whisper, your toes curling painfully in your shoes as he repeats the same motion.

“I hate when dudes say that pussy tastes sweet…” He muses casually, despite his filthy actions, “Pussy tastes like pussy- that shit is one of a kind.”

His words do a number on you, but you are beginning to grow desperate at the thought of finishing yourself off before he has the chance to, so you stop for a moment and cup his face.

“Yoongi, I’m so-“

He interrupts you with a chuckle, “Yeah yeah I know- you want my tongue, just give me a second. I’m busy…”

His interruption infuriates you, but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t drip at his tone of voice. And even if you wanted to lie, Yoongi already knows all about the way you’re dripping for him, as he’s licked up the length of you three more times.

“Just keep playing with that pretty clit of yours- I’ll be up in a moment.” He promises, and you know his tongue is going back down to your ass but you’re not expecting his fingers to start tickling down your thighs again.

He’s giving you goosebumps, your nipples aching in the cups of your bra, your vision grow hazier as the pleasure begins to interrupt your senses.

If regular communication isn’t piercing through Yoongi’s demeanor, then you figure you need to try a different angle.

“Oh fuck.” You’re whimpering again, “That feels so good.”

Yoongi’s eyes zero in on your face now, his dilated pupils peeking up at you through his fringe. You accept the challenge, staring down at him, admiring the way his nose is buried in the space just below your entrance, his tongue still lapping at your ass.

“I’ve never let anyone do this before…” The tone coming from your throat is sweet, feigning innocence but laced with very real pleasure, “You’re doing it so well- it’s making me so wet.”

For the first time, you hear him groan against you, his lips moving between your two holes and sucking gently at the flesh there.

“It’s so hard, Yoongi-“ You keen softly, pouting your lips, “None of those frat boys ever eat it right, it’s been so long since anyone has made me cum…”

And he’s had enough.

Practically growling the word, “Fuck.” The wet tip of his nose is nudging your hand away from your clit, replacing it with his soft tongue. Mewling, you immediately encase your neglected breasts in your palms, cursing the fabric that’s in the way. You jerk into his mouth, his capable tongue finding the spot you were rubbing at and applying the perfect amount of pressure. He’s puckering his lips, sucking gently at times, but keeping his tongue at the forefront of his motions.

“Ohmygod, fuck yes…”

Yoongi smirks at the sound of you moaning for him, his hands finding their way to the tops of your hips, securing them in place.

He’s riled you up so much, you know that you won’t last long, especially not with his expert mouth working you into a frenzy.

Yoongi plucks at your clit, sucking at it for a moment before pulling away slightly, “I bet your clit doesn’t throb for any of those frat boys, does it? They have no fucking clue how to get you there…”

Rapidly, you shake your head, the grip on your tits increasing as your hips begin rocking into his mouth.

“I’m really really close.” You’re pleading with him, and you have no idea why, “I’m so close, oh fuck I’msoclose…”

Yoongi grunts against your cunt, and you can’t even imagine the kind of mess you’ve made on the counter beneath you.

“Cum in my mouth then…” He orders with his tongue still on you, that same smug look in his eyes.

“Oh fuck – Oh fuck, oh fuck…fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…” You whimper, jerking away once before your hands tuck into Yoongi’s hair. Without thinking, you ride out your high against his mouth, grinding your clit up on his tongue, moaning wantonly all the while. Yoongi has to dig his nails into your hips to ground himself, the sounds leaving your lips travelling straight to his dick and presenting the very real possibility of him nutting in his pants.

“Yoongiiii-“ You shudder as he keeps licking at you whilst your high is subsiding.

But he can’t stop at the moment, his tongue slipping into every dripping fold you have, collecting all of the cum you gave him.

“I’m making you cum again…” He vows, biting the top of your pussy before going right back to your clit.

Despite the sensitivity you feel, you are fully willing to push through the overstimulation for another orgasm like the one you just had.

But your laptop has other plans…

“Download complete.” A monotone voice drones on the other end of the counter, startling you.

“Fuck-“ Yoongi groans as he pulls away from you, his mouth soaking wet.

“Just ignore it, we’ll get it in a second.”

Yoongi smirks proudly as he stands up, licking over his lips once before shaking his head, “No I have to enter a few codes to optimize it and its on a timer.”

His hair is a disheveled mess on his head, but he doesn’t bother fixing it as he strolls over to your laptop. Its then that you can notice the sizeable bulge in his jeans. The fabric is warped around his erection, the predicament looking almost painful, and suddenly your concern shifts rapidly.

For the time being, you just watch him as he sits down at his desk chair, you take a bit of pride in the way his fingers shake as they move over the keyboard, but the movements of his mouth do something else entirely.

Mindlessly and glowing from the light on your screen, Yoongi licks at his lips, sucking off all of your cum and humming to himself as he does. You can tell he is trying to ignore the painful throbbing of his cock by the way he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

And not to add insult to injury but…

“Yoongi?” You call softly, your voice slurring a bit, still recovering from your orgasm.

“Hm?” He hums, still focusing on the task at hand.

“When you’re done, will you put your dick in my mouth?”

Instantly, you can hear the sound of his typing size, his fingers now hesitating on the keyboard as a devious grin crawls on his mouth.

“Come here…”

Moments later, his jeans and boxers are around his ankles, as your lips kiss up the throbbing length of him. His cock jumps with excitement as you near the tip, your tongue following suit to clean up the bit of precum that has collected. Yoongi’s chest is rising steadily and other than the way his dick is reacting to your motions, you’d have no other way of knowing that he was turned on. 

But you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, trying to anticipate the next one, and hoping that you’ll put on a good show for him. 

And you do not disappoint. 

You over exagger+ate slightly, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck up the length of him, allowing your tongue to tease at his weaping slit. Yoongi’s nostrils flare with the force of his breath then, his stomach caving in under the privacy of his t-shirt as you begin a rhythm on him. At the moment, his hands are hanging at his side, his silence penetrating the air as you suck on him like a woman starved. His lack of sounds is starting to unnerve you, so you allow your eyes to flit to him, only to be met with the same irresistible smirk he’s been wearing all day. 

“Jesus-” He grunts, chuckling a bit as you increase your pace on him, “You’ve got some fucking mouth on you.”

His praise fuels the fire deep in your belly as your hand comes up to assist your mouth, the two of them working together in tandem. Yoongi arches his hips, trying his best to stay in the heavenly confines of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever had head this good, and after eating you out, he’s beginning to dread how quickly he wants to cum. 

“Do you suck dick this good at the frat house?” He goads, his voice getting raspy, “Or do you just really like the way I taste?” 

You stroke him as you pull off for a moment, giggling at his comment and positioning your tongue at his tip, “Bold of you to assume I suck dick there at all.”

He huffs out a bit of laughter which dies rather quickly when you trace the edges of his frenulum with your tongue. He doesn’t respond to you and instead allows his hands to push up his t-shirt, exposing the creamy skin of his stomach. You slide your mouth right back on him, your pussy clenching at the site of Yoongi’s happy trail, wishing desperately that he had been less eager and allowed you to kiss and tease all over his body. 

His fingertips find his pert nipples, brushing over the tops of them and sending a shiver down his spine. His lips are parted in a type of awe as he stares down at you, the sensations on his dick coupled with him tugging at his nipples nearly too much to handle, and so starts the arousal-driven truth serum.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had my dick sucked this good…” He breathes out a shaky laugh, back arching a bit as he continues playing with the sensitive buds atop his chest. 

But you merely stare back at him, allowing the glint in your eye to form as you squeeze at his base and work your hand back up towards your lips.

Yoongi’s eyes don’t leave yours as he continues, shaking his head in disbelief, “You put on such a good show too- I’m up here like-“ Shaky laugh, pinch, eyes lulling, “reconsidering my premium porn subscriptions and shit. Who needs that when I can just watch your pretty fucking mouth on my dick?”

To drive his point home, you suck all the way up to the tip again, brushing your lips against it as you murmur, “You wanna film me?”

Yoongi’s eyes light up and seconds later, his shaky fingers are pressing record on his cell phone, doing his best to focus the camera on you.

You keep at it, staring wide eyed into his camera and whimpering softly around his cock, wanting to perform for him.

“Fuck- that’s it…there you go…” He grunts, his hips starting to rock up between your lips, “You like having a dick in your mouth don’t you?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you increase your pace even more, his lithe body now moving with the force of it. Yoongi’s eyes are on you through the lens of his phone, and he knows that this video is going to be a mess, but he doesn’t give a fuck.

He’s going to put it to good use anyway.

“Tell the camera how much you like it…” He rasps, the edges of his vision starting to go, his hips raising off of the chair.

You come up off of him again, drooling at the top him and grinning happily at his phone, “I like having your cock in my mouth-“ You correct, licking over his slit, “-you taste so good, I want more, I want you to cum.”

Yoongi moans softly, sitting up in the chair a bit so he has a better view of you, “Yeah? You want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Yes please…” You giggle, kissing the head of his cock before taking him down your throat again.

His whole body shudders when he gives you what you ask for, and Yoongi actually worries about the intensity of it. He’s had some good orgasms sure, but never one that’s fucked with his vision…

You suck off of him as he finishes, showing off his load to the camera before making a show of swallowing it all done.

“Holy shit, where the hell did you come from?” He laughs, his voice completely shot as he slumps against the chair.

You find your way up to his mouth to kiss him again, and he responds lazily, but you can feel him grinning towards the end of it.

Eventually, your soiled panties find their way underneath your skirt and Yoongi’s pants find their way up his legs. He finishes up what he’s doing on your computer, the two of you easily settling into small talk when Yoongi begins wrapping up.

He hands you your laptop box, “You should be good. I checked out the security system like I said earlier and everything is fairly airtight. But make sure you bring it back to me as soon as you see anything weird.”

Your balance and grip are not in the best shape after the events that have just transpired between the two of you, but you thank him and slip out of the door he holds open into the cool evening air. Yoongi’s keys clink against the door handle as he locks up, peeking inside momentarily to make sure the alarm light was set.

The two of you kinda linger as he turns back to you, his eyes holding that familiar glint, “So uh- this was fun.” His laugh is a little off, but you find it kind of cute as he shifts his weight from one side to the other.

“Very fun.” You agree, giggling.

Yoongi grins at the sound of your laughter, “Well, if you ever want to have some more fun, you know where to find me.”

You mirror his grin, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He chuckles before nodding in understanding, leaning to the side a bit before jerking his chin behind you, “Do you need a ride home or is that your car?”

“Oh! Yeah-“ You remember, pulling your keys out of your purse, “-that’s me. What about you? Where are you parked?”

He points to the black sedan parked across the street, “That’s me over there.” He kind of stands there for a bit longer before leaning in and pecking your lips, “Get home safe alright? I’ll see you around.” You feel a little woozy as he leaves your lips, unable to contain your own dazed smile as he heads over to his car.

“You too!” You call out to him when he’s put some distance between you and gives you a short wave in return.

The two of you go your separate ways, and each of you are left with lingering thoughts of one another. For you, this is perfectly reasonable.

You met a hot guy, you had insane chemistry, you gave each other amazing orgasms…voila, you think about said hot guy. The occupancy Yoongi has in your brain is comfortable, it makes you feel giddy and excited at the thought of getting to see him again. You don’t think you’re looking for anything serious, but you’re definitely looking for more of whatever that was. You smile like an idiot all the way home.

Yoongi, however, has an entirely different experience. Sure he’s used to smirking to himself after hooking up with a hot girl, he’s used to feel satisfied and confident, he’s used to filing away certain moments to jerk off to later but-

He is not used to whatever he’s feeling right now.

He’s thinking about you specifically. Your breathy moans, your body, the way you fell apart on his tongue, the way you sucked him off…

He’s thinking about your lips, your eyes, your face, your laugh…

And that’s never a good sign.

So he brushes it off.

He goes back to the filthy moments and reminds himself that he captured a pretty amazing video that he will be jacking off to for the foreseeable future.

You were pretty incredible, weren’t you?

Yoongi stumbles into his apartment, his combat boot catching on the door frame as he flicks the light switch one.

He’s exhausted and doesn’t even bother washing up before crashing into bed in just his boxers. He’s pulled his phone out of his pocket and plugged it in, setting it face up on the nightstand.

He turns on the TV and as his switching over to Netflix, a text message from the literal last person on Earth that he wants to hear from pops up on his screen.

Special Agent Kim: Ken is leaving the Dreamhouse

Special Agent Kim: We need to talk.

Fuck.

[todoscript]

monopolize

SUMMARY: Having realized Bakugou and Midoriya’s infatuation with you, Shouto decides to make a firm point at showing that you’re his and his alone.

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader (feat. bakugou katsuki & midoriya izuku)

genre: smut. slight angst. pro hero au.

word count: 8.0k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. possessive!shouto. (!!!)coercion. exhibitionism. bondage (kinda). slight degradation. praising. squirting. humiliation (bakugou & midoriya receiving).

author’s note: so the idea for this fic came to me one day while i was studying chemistry and it kinda got out of hand the moment i started writing it...haha, oops... but anyway, shoutout to rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) for listening to me ramble about this and encouraging me to write this shit, love you lots babe! <333 also a reminder to please look over the warnings before proceeding, thank you!!!

If your open jaw is not enough to emphasize your shock, then the bag that hits the floor after escaping your grasp does that job for you. It also alerts the three existing presences in the room of your arrival, to which all eyes maneuver to the door of your shared bedroom, witnessing your appalled state at what is lying in wake.

Lounging on the futon, Shouto breaks your awed silence. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, warmly as per usual whenever he arrives home from work before you do.

You’re utterly surprised by how indifferent he sounds despite the two additional faces in the room. After all, it’s not every day you’d ever expect the Pro Number One and Two heroes to be here in your very bedroom, bound by what you have to assume is your boyfriend’s ice.

Unsure how to go about your reply, you instead opt to slowly walk into the room, assessing the situation. Your wary gaze darts between the angry red eyes of Bakugou Katsuki and the strained green ones of Midoriya Izuku. “I... U-Um… Shouto? What is all of this? What are Midoriya and Bakugou doing here?” You finally manage to address the elephant in the room, yet Shouto does not tackle your questions with as much haste as you are hoping.

He gets up from the bed to meet you in the middle, gathering you in his arms before his lips find your temple—the kiss he presses soft and tender, but the fact that there are two other pairs of eyes glancing over at you from such a compromising position warms your cheeks buried in his chest.

You don’t catch how Bakugou practically wrenches at the sight while Midoriya turns away, abashed. There’s hurt discerned in their expressions that can only be akin to pure jealousy. But you don’t know that. Well, not yet anyway.

“Let me explain, love,” Shouto starts, his voice a meager space away from your ear that he tucks a hair behind, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but are you aware that these two both—”

“That’s it! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this crap!” Bakugou’s loud voice bursts out, cutting the rest of Shouto’s words short just before they fall to your ear. Watching as a fever of energy begins emitting from Bakugou’s palms trapped in the ice, the dual-haired hero quickly acts by erecting another glacier to impede the blonde’s abilities, effectively keeping him trapped there. Bakugou can only grit his teeth as he remains bound. Meanwhile, you gape at the lengths Shouto goes to prevent these two renowned heroes from leaving this space.

The chill that diffuses throughout the atmosphere of the room pairs fittingly with the frigid stare Shouto points at your guests. Ensuring the cold doesn’t affect you, he regulates your temperatures with his fire side while your body is still pressed against him before continuing. “As I was saying, these two men in front of you both harbor the same feelings for you as I do,” Shouto says. You slightly turn to meet his heterochromatic gaze with confusion written on your face, unsure what his words exactly imply.

Reading this, Shouto’s hand at your waist travels to your nape. “I’m sure you must have realized it by now, love... The way their touches linger on you for far longer than necessary whenever you meet them...” His calloused hand rubs at the back of your neck, the other traveling up your chest that yields a strained noise from your mouth.

“Or how they flirt with you whenever you visit my agency while they’re there, thinking I don’t notice. Telling you how good you look or how pretty you are.” His words meld into your skin as his lips meet below your jawline, the sensation of his nibbles manifesting your noises into frail moans that lights blushes in your spectators’ cheeks. All attempts at disregarding those cases as friendly compliments are hindered when your attention is captured by Shouto’s wandering hands and hypnotizing voice.

“Though I wholeheartedly agree with every statement, I think it’s only right of me—your boyfriend—to be a little concerned when they’re always giving you those looks.”

You bite your lip in hopes of suppressing the next noise that threatens to spill from your mouth before curiosity overtakes you. “What looks?” you pry yet not entirely ready for the answer. Shouto breaths in closely next to your ear, voice guttural and full of weight.

“Like they want to fuck you.”

His claims have your eyes blown out wide, timbre compelling goosebumps across your skin at something so vulgar departing his mouth. You try to muster out a comprehensible thought for the sake of the two heroes, but the words are drawn back in your throat. Shouto catches your guarded look.

“Now, don’t go saying they’re just being friendly with you, baby. I mean look at them. Are those the faces of two men who just want to be friends with you?”

The air has suddenly grown tense, the tension so taut it could be cut with a butter knife. Hesitantly, you shift to meet Bakugou and Midoriya’s eyes to gauge a response from them. To your surprise, all you can perceive are the sheer expressions of shame painted on their faces—red smearing their cheeks with humiliation as they can’t help but glance at anywhere else but you.

“Well?” Shouto chimes in after you’ve fully grasped the reality of the situation.

Peering into his icy heterochromatic eyes, you gulp. You know you have no right to be lying to his face, no matter how much you insist it isn’t so.

“N-No,” you admit.

A grin curves on his lips before he kisses your cheek.

“Mm, smart girl.”

Despite you waving your white flag, Shouto doesn’t stop his touches from wandering your body. He palms at sensitive areas that leave you burning. Those whimpers you’ve desperately tried to conceal unfetter from your lips when his hands inch upon skin hidden beneath your clothing. His touches are firm with a mixture of warmth and coolness that has you holding your breath. The sensations cloud your thoughts, making you forget where you are as the other presences in the room now in the back of your mind.

Midoriya and Bakugou can’t bring themselves to look anymore—can’t bear to gaze at such intimacy they can never hope to attain. Especially when your cute noises leave a twitch in their pants, a feeling they fail to cast off in shame.

“Todoroki... you made your point, now please let us out of this ice,” Midoriya says through his dry lips. Though the verdant-haired hero knows he could free himself on his own with his strength, if Shouto has anything to say about it, he’d just conjure another pillar of ice as quickly as a snap of a finger to replace the shattered ones. Considering that’s what he’s done to keep the two of them from leaving thus far.

“You can’t be fucking serious about leaving us here, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou adds with far more hostility in his tone as he shoots a glare at the red and white-haired man.

The reminder that the top two Pro Heroes are still present in the same room as you while Shouto trails his large hands at every expanse of bare flesh he can find delivers a jolt of embarrassment throughout your body. Embarrassment that somehow kindles a lick of heat in your abdomen.

“On the contrary, this is only part one of what I have in store for you two tonight,” Shouto says, lips playing on the fine line of a smirk. “In fact, I plan on ingraining in your very minds that my love belongs to me and only me by making you two watch her come undone on my cock.”

There’s disbelief throughout the room, trying to comprehend the lengths behind his words.

“W-Wait, are we really doing this in front of them?” you sputter.

“If you’re that uncomfortable about this love, then I’ll simply leave them in this room and fuck you in the next one so they can at least hear every little thing I’m doing to you,” he offers, tone descending multiple steps that rack shivers down your skin as he circles your body, standing chest to your back.

“But having an audience entices you, doesn’t it? After all, look at how wet you are.” He hooks an arm below your leg, lifting it slightly so his free hand can slip into your panties beneath your skirt, no longer blocked by your thighs clenching together. You find yourself winding an arm behind his neck to keep balance. Your eyes shut tight from both mortification and pleasure at how he strokes your slit in front of the two heroes. Sure enough, there’s an abundant amount of slick gathered at your center, the shameful squelching at your throbbing cunt not eluding anyone’s ears in the room.

“Mmm, already such a drenched fucking mess. It’s like the fact that all three of us lust for you makes you even wetter,” he whispers into your ear like a red-winged devil professing your sins to you—sins you should feel disgraceful for, yet you can’t help the exhilaration simmering in your chest. After all, having three powerful, attractive men vying for your attention is nothing short of every girl’s dream. To deny the effects this has on your body would only add dishonesty to your list of sins. Shouto takes your silence as confirmation.

Parting from your panties, he reveals his fingers coated in your shiny essence to everyone in the room. Bakugou and Midoriya water at the sight, groans stifled under their breaths as the many nights of dreaming about how sweet you taste come back to hit them all at once. The saccharine dripping between your thighs is so close, and yet so far as Shouto remains firm on his word about keeping them bound throughout his show of dominance.

Though driven in such compromising circumstances, the two Pro Heroes can’t find it within themselves to tear their eyes away from you. Perhaps in actuality, a deep, dark longing inside them secretly confesses to wanting to watch you unravel amidst the throes of pleasure, even if your undoing is due to someone that isn’t them.

“What a naughty slut you are, admitting you get off at the thought of more than one man wanting to ravage this body of yours.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, heightening your mortification and the ever-growing wetness at your center.

“However, I’m all you need, isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m the only man that can reduce you to this soaked, quivering mess from just my voice alone, and the only one whose cock makes your body shake with pleasure that leaves you sore for days.”

“Yes, Sh-Shouto…” you airily whimper in reply.

Shouto’s index finger presses against your trembling bottom lip, slightly smearing your slick on its plushness before he cups your face to stare directly at Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Go on then. Tell the Number One and Number Two Pro Heroes who you belong to,” he commands lowly in your ear. Before you can speak, heat ignites in your cheeks. You glance down and take note of the prominent bulges within the two’s tight clothing, their cocks positively aching to break free from the confines. The fact that the two seem to be getting off on the sight of you manhandled by Shouto is something to acknowledge.

“I… I belong to you…” Your voice wanes.

“Who? Be more specific, baby.”

“I belong to the Number Three hero, Todoroki Shouto,” you say, more clearly this time. The response is sufficient enough to satisfy the man behind you, who turns your head so your lips can connect in a passion of teeth and tongue dancing together that leaves your lungs gasping for air, detaching with ragged breaths. While you’re recovering, Shouto tugs you closer by your chin, pressing your foreheads against each other, where you gander into the depths of his gray and turquoise eyes swimming with lust.

“That’s right, and no one else is going to fuck you like I am tonight.” He sneaks a side-glance at his fellow heroes. “They can only watch as I drive my cock into your pussy over and over again, wishing they were me.”

Midoriya remains silent, letting his troubled expression speak for him, blush persisting on his face. Bakugou, on the other hand, decides to spit a few words out.

“Fuck. You.”

Make that only two words. Still, the venom dripping off each one gets his point across, in that he’s absolutely livid. But sadly for him, it has no effect on the calm and collected Todoroki Shouto.

Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the futon, sprawled out flat for your small audience to behold the entirety of your fucking tonight. Shouto kisses the back of your hand before leaving you to continue standing. He settles himself on the sheets with his arms propped behind him to view up at you as you obediently wait for his orders.

“Well, love, you know what to do. Take off some clothes for me,” he says gruffly. You oblige, slowly peeling off layers. Your skirt piles into a heap on the floor at undoing the zipper holding it in place, quickly followed by the blouse tossed over your head which leaves the remaining clothing on your body your mismatched lingerie. The dainty, silk intimates are the only thing separating you from being fully exposed to everyone.

Even given a sparing view of you from behind, Midoriya and Bakugou readily eat you up. If they somehow haven’t been undressing you with their eyes before this, then they certainly are now. Bakugou zeroes in on your pert ass, emphasized by your panties, and itches to grasp its softness in his own palms, desiring to squeeze, rub, and spank till his heart’s content.

Contrarily, Midoriya has his sights set on the clasp of your bra. What he wouldn’t give to unfasten it from your body and have the article of clothing slip off your skin, putting your beautiful breasts on display, nipples likely stiff and begging for the attention of his fingers and mouth.

It’s unfortunate for them that no such fantasies will come true tonight. After all, you don’t belong to them. You belong to Shouto.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, you rub your thighs together to create some friction between your lower lips, trying to subside the throb growing in your belly. But you can only endure for so long when Shouto is staring at you with such scalding intensity. You’re struggling to hold onto the remnants of your dignity before it’s stripped away from you at the next command.

“Baby, you’re gorgeous, but,” Shouto hums, admiring the view for a second longer before cutting to the chase, “I want it all off.”

Not wasting any time, your thumbs hook under the waistband of the silk, quickly casting the panties to join the pile below your feet. The way your web-like slick connects your folds to the material before breaking off as your panties reach the ground does not go unnoticed. Your bra, of course, is the next to be discarded—unhooked and tossed, unveiling your tits to the chilly air.

Defenses torn down, you stand bare and exposed to all eyes in the room. You don’t miss the glint flitting in the mismatch of Shouto’s eyes, staring at you like he’s uncovered a beautiful pearl beneath the ocean. Though this is far from your first time engaging in your sexual desires with him, you always fall prey to that carnal look of his, which seemed even more lecherous tonight. He runs a finger on his lips pulled into a seductive smile, eyes piqued at your naked form.

Prickles of arousal travel down your spine. You can’t discern whether it’s the very thought of your vulnerability or the fiery looks you swear are piercing into you at every angle that has you tingling with anticipation.

Either way, such spark coursing through your veins drives you into Shouto’s waiting arms as he beckons you to him. He welcomes you onto his lap, allowing your thighs purchase next to his own while his large hands grope at your soft skin. It isn’t long until your lips meet again, Shouto coaxing—no—prying them open with his tongue as it finds yours, brushing the underside and chasing with zeal. His roughness has you at a loss for words, quite literally as all you can respond with are the airy moans leaking out between each fervent lip-lock. When Shouto grabs at one of your mounds, index finger circling your perky nipple, you let out a surprised squeak.

Your two bystanders’ dicks stutter in response at the noises, having absolutely nothing to do but watch and listen in envy. Every time they hear such a sweet succession of sounds from you, they fidget in their positions, attempting to pathetically generate some pressure against their clothes to alleviate the pain in their cocks.

Shouto does not miss the way they struggle within his periphery, smirking at their pitiful attempts to find any form of relief. At this, a sly thought flickers in his head.

With his hands on your hips, he guides your body further against his own. You find your knees supporting you up while your upper body leans over Shouto, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you steady. The position he’s led you in doesn’t grant you many options, besides obliging to be pliant in his hands.

Peeking over your shoulder, you flush with heat when you realize your ass is perked in the direction toward Midoriya and Bakugou. The troubling thoughts of whether you should feel flustered or flattered by their mesmerized state at how spread you are, hovering above Shouto’s lap, is ripped away when the Pro Hero begins cascading his hands across your skin. His palms waver back and forth within the boundaries of your ass and thighs, every now and then squeezing your warm flesh during his crossings between the two.

“Mmm, Sho…” you whine, the palpable neediness in your voice begging for him to touch your throbbing center already. Bakugou and Midoriya wish for the same, tormented by how slow he decides to take his caressing. If it were up to them, they’d already be tongue deep in your pussy already, perhaps even bottoming their cocks inside your walls, considering how soaked you must be. But no, Shouto wants this night to last. And he’s going to set the pace however he sees fit.

One of Shouto’s hands creeps beneath your leg to maneuver them further apart before his palms find their place at the underside of your poised ass. A short sigh floats amid your parted lips at how he spreads your cheeks, exposing your cunt freely to the two. You hear a groan, followed by an obscene “fuck…” that has you wondering what the view must be like from their perspective to render them so awestruck.

And man, if only you could see your pretty little cunt—wet, glistening, and fluttering on nothing, pleading for stimulation. Stimulation that Shouto grants sparingly as his middle and ring finger suddenly prod your slit, tearing a surprised gasp from your mouth while you toss your head backward.

Your slippery pussy coats his fingers in an opalescent sheen. He hums at the debauched image of your body yearning his touch. “Such a slutty, needy pussy… So messy, even though I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet.” Shouto takes the sullied fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue at your delectable taste abiding his digits. It’s obscene how he makes a show of drinking up the honey from your thighs to taunt Midoriya and Bakugou, groaning between licks like it’s the one thing keeping him sustained. Well, then again, Shouto could probably survive on your essence for days if he tried, considering his favorite places to be is between your thighs anyway.

Head tilting in the direction behind you, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the two licking their lips while the other swallowed a large, heavy gulp. Before you can question it further, Shouto’s words resume ringing in your ear.

“It’s all for me right, love?” he asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Your body quivers as he dives down to continue prodding your cunt before you can even respond properly. “Y-Yes, it’s just for you, Sho— Ah..!” You try your best to muster the words out. But his fingers give you no moment to spare. A jolt of pleasure spikes through your body as he reaches your clit, leaving your voice hanging in the air.

“Unnf... f-fuck...”

Shouto is relentless this time, attending to your bundled nerves at an excruciating rhythm that has you swaying your hips into his hands. Then all coherent thoughts are whisked away when you feel two fingers penetrating your sloppy pussy, thrusting into places you could never reach on your own, and prepping your walls for what’s to come.

“Baby, you take my fingers so well, you’re practically sucking them in,” he praises, reveling in the way you writhe in pleasure at him playing with your cunt. Whining, your legs move further apart involuntarily, allowing him deeper access.

You shake amid his ministrations, teeth pulling at your bottom lip at every sultry sensation rushing through your body. Wrinkling the fabric of his white shirt, your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails sinking deeper into clothed skin when you feel that familiar ache boiling in your abdomen.

“Your thighs are trembling just trying to hold you up. Going to cum soon, love?” Shouto asks. He chuckles at how vigorously you nod your head next to him, knowing your voice would fail you by the moans threatening to unravel precariously from your lips.

“Good, I want you to fucking scream. Show them how well you can cum from my fingers alone, yeah?” he murmurs beside your ear, not giving you much warning than that before suddenly increasing his movements on your cunt.

“Ah, Sho..! Sho!”

There’s nothing for you to do other than to chant his name over and over again like a mantra. You squeeze your fingers into his skin to make sure you don’t end up dissolving in his hands from the fire flaring inside you, threatening to melt you entirely.

And he loves every bit of the needy noises you make. Knowing it’s his name that echoes in the room around them, resounding in the very minds of his rivals who witness firsthand the way you scream out amidst the throes of pleasure—the scene better than any imagination of theirs they’ve conjured in their delusional fantasies—feeds Shouto’s ego deliciously.

The strained gasp you choke out when his lips make contact on your jawline has him smiling against you, the kisses he plants there blooming loving blemishes on your skin. You struggle to keep yourself together from all the sensations storming you at once. There’s something euphoric yet… foreign coursing through your body that you can’t discern, and you’re half-worried of what’s to happen when you reach your imminent release.

“Sh-Sho, wait..! Oh god, I’m gonna—!” you warn, but that only compels Shouto to speed up his pace in a last push for you to cum. From his bruising bites to his fingers methodically working you with skilled ease, it isn’t long until your escalating high peaks into intangible relief.

And god, the throb feels almost uncomfortable but so blissful at the same time.

The pressure builds up to an intense climax that has your walls clamping around his fingers, and your thighs shaking beside him while you yell out Shouto’s name. Holding you through every step of the way, his fingers steady inside you as you convulse around them. The ones at your clit continue rubbing your sensitive, swollen bud throughout your release to widen the intensity.

As your whole body trembles at the haze-induced orgasm, you lean against the hero for support.

“Ohhh baby...” His purrs rumble deep within his chest, an extra lick of delight in his tone. Your eyes are shut while you stumble down from your rapturous high, whimpering when Sho removes his fingers from your pulsating pussy.

“D-Did she just..?!” Midoriya questions incredulously, to your surprise.

“Fuck! I can’t believe she fucking squirted!” Bakugou follows.

At that, your eyes shoot open. You muster the energy to lift your body off Shouto’s lap and reveal to yourself the evident damp spot left on his pants from what you very much have to assume is a result of you gushing your release on him.

Trepidation creeps underneath your skin, swallowing you in mortification.

You really did that.

Squirted in front of the top three Pro Heroes in the country, making a mess on Sho’s pants with your flowing, translucent cum. The very reminder of it spouts your head with your overthinking.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to— I-I mean... I didn’t think I was ever a squirter. It’s just—”

“Love.”

A single word is enough to dispel your ramblings. You look up at Shouto like a deer caught in headlights, expression harrowed by apprehension. At that, he holds your shoulders, pulling you forward so he can press a reassuring kiss against your forehead. The tender gesture numbs the uneasy static racking through you, moving away to glimpse at the endearment hidden within the smoldering fog swirling in Shouto’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures through hushed words he embeds unto your skin, hands warmly running down your sides. “Besides, you squirting on my fingers was so so sexy.” His seductive allure returns almost as quickly as it disappeared amidst his soothing tone. His touches and the extra flair in his voice makes you hot all over again despite just cumming.

“I must have made you feel incredibly good, getting you to cum so hard like that. Even giving those two over there a show. Just look at them...” Shouto whispers closely, nudging you in the direction of your onlookers whose reddening faces visibly recoil when your eyes cross. It’s as if they’ve gandered into the abyss—anxious at what’s to come yet can’t seem to look away. You flutter between their expressions, gauging their blushes and furrowed brows, before lowering your gaze at the prominent stain on the crotch of their pants, pre-cum seeping at the surface due to the arousal built watching you ruined on Shouto’s very fingers.

A part of you wonders how pent up they must be. Your curiosity dances upon lewd thoughts about how stiff their cocks are and how their lengths would look freed from the constricting clothing. Veiny, hard, and painfully red all because of you. All because of what Shouto is doing to you.

It evokes you with a newfound surge of confidence, finding solace in your sea of uncertainty. And coupled with Shouto’s loving demeanor, you don’t seem to remember what you were ever so self-conscious about to begin with.

“Look at how depraved these sad men are.” Shouto clicks his tongue, a voice in his head confirming of what he already long knew. Deep down, he at least assures himself that his former classmates are aware of their place. In which they’re only allowed to look—not touch—and if they so much as plunge into forbidden territory, he’d rise above the waters to bite their heads off. He recognizes this from just a simple inspection of their faces.

Deterring after hearing Shouto’s words, Midoriya’s eyes cast downward to the floor, brows softened with hurt. His expression is burdened upon not only stigma but guilt, lusting after a woman that isn’t even his while allowing the absurd thought he could steal you away from the fire-and-ice hero to ever cross his mind.

Meanwhile, the blonde mulls over in defeat more so than shame. Although never one to yield from a fight, Bakugou had long realized this battle was over before it even began. You were deftly out of his reach. All he can settle for now is the afterimage of your undoing played back in his head, the recording surrounded by a thick cloud of envy.

Shouto reads their compliance clearly—a wordless surrender witnessing your aftermath of pleasure. As a result, a grin surfaces his lips. Unfortunately for them, the sly devil latent inside him is far satiated. Perhaps it’s time to move onto the next course.

His fingers brush along the underside of your chin, leading your half-lidded eyes to him.

“Baby,” he says, and the way he calls to you in that low baritone makes you receptive to his every word, “why don’t you go over there and help our guests get their cocks out of their pants, hm?” You nod slowly, half-wondering if he read your mind during your indecent contemplation. Shouto kisses the corner of your lip before you stand from the futon and saunter toward the two pillars of ice resting in the room.

Your steps are slow and languid, the consistent sway of your hips hypnotizing to both sides. Reaching the two, you lower to your knees, bending forward and offering Shouto a view of your exposed cunt that still drips of your essence. He bites his lip, palming his bulge through his pants until he begins freeing himself of the unnecessary clothing that would have been discarded by now if he wasn’t so absorbed in your climax.

In the meantime, you kneel in front of the top two Pro Heroes, mooning over who to approach first until your red and white-haired boyfriend answers for you.

“Midoriya first. And then Bakugou.”

You can practically feel the fire lighting inside Bakugou at the command, knowing Icy-Hot gives the order in favor of Midoriya just to get under his skin. You do well to ignore his malice by crawling over to the green-haired hero, hovering above his bound form, and meeting his emerald eyes that are wide and fixated on your every move.

The proximity between you two has the air trapped in his lungs. He holds his breath out of fear that if he lets go, you’d vanish into a mirage. But his throat hitches the very moment your fingers trace up the fabric of his pants, disembarking across his thighs and toward his painful erection that twinges at your touch. It’s fortunate enough for him that you don’t disappear and that the sultry look you give him as you drag the zipper of his pants down isn’t a figment of his imagination. You catch a glimpse of his briefs, along with the head of his dick peeking above the waistband, still strained by a single layer of fabric.

Midoriya swears he can cum right then and there when you lightly palm his hardness—the first relieving sensation he’s felt all night before it’s surmounted by you tugging down the waistband. Cock released from its confines, it jumps forward out of excitement before slapping back against his navel. Midoriya hisses at being open to the air, his feverish skin stinging surrounded by the coldness throughout the room.

As you predicted, the Number One’s cock stands stout and protruding red at being neglected for so long. It begs to be touched.

“P-Please…” The whisper is almost inaudible, but you discern the desperation in his tone.

Midoriya’s pleading expression staring down at you nearly sways you to grant pity on him, but you know you’re given no position to do that. So sadly, you move on. The hero laments you leaving so soon, a whine quietly squeaking from him, left with nothing but his length stiff on his abs as you make your way to Kacchan.

Unlike the former, the blonde actually makes an effort to free himself one last time, a struggle you pick up on when you near him. He’s gritting his teeth together, heat slowly radiating off his body stoked by his anger. Yet that somehow all dissipates at a simple glance of your face. There’s a glassiness in your eyes that renders him silent.

His narrowed stare wanders toward your plush lips, looking so damn soft and kissable. If only he could muster the willpower to break free and move forward to capture them in his own, seal them tight so he wouldn’t have to hear Icy-Hot’s name spilling out of them anymore. But your steady gaze on him freezes him into the ice, halting his motions as if you were medusa. He hears nothing but his racing heart palpitating in his chest as he waits for you to make a move.

“Hm, Bakugou’s been a bit of a brat tonight, wouldn’t you say, love? How about you tease him a bit?” Shouto suggests mischievously.

Turning in his direction, you see him sitting on the bedding, naked and stroking his cock listlessly as he waits for you. The sight encourages you back to Bakugou’s erection to finish the task you started, thighs shuffling against each other at a glimpse of your prize between the Number Three hero’s legs.

As if you couldn’t get anymore seductive, you adjust yourself right between the blonde’s spread form, carelessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend forward, back arching. Bakugou has no idea what he’s in for, fearing for the worst knowing you plan to tease him. He starts muttering a question that never reaches your ear, the words splintering off when he deftly realizes you’re pulling his pant’s zipper between your fucking teeth. Making sure never to break eye contact with him, you drag the metal down at an excruciating pace, each tooth of the zipper undone so slowly it’s practically torture to him.

“Shit... Y/n…” he groans wantonly as you reach the end of your destination. After being contained all this time, it seems his cock wants to come out with a vengeance. You gasp when it suddenly springs past his briefs, nearly making contact against your cheek.

Bakugou sputters an filthy amount of curses, finding the image of you wincing in shock and glancing up at his thick cock towering next to your face with the tip oozing of his pre-cum to be utterly pornographic. Well if this is truly reminiscent of a porn scene, you’d be wrapping your hands around the base of his cock by now, fisting it before delightfully enveloping the tip in your hot mouth. But the call of your name behind you cracks that fantasy into pieces.

To his dismay, your attention swerves from the embossed vein lining Bakugou’s dick to Shouto’s muscular body, idle on the futon, where he gestures a finger at you. You return to your usual place atop his lap, except this time there’s no longer any barrier of fabric to prevent you two from feeling each other’s heat.

Shouto grazes his hands on your back, humming into your neck. “Well, baby, you saw how hard their cocks were. How does it feel to have the top three pros all craving you at once?”

You pause amidst your reply, the little kisses he brushes on your jugular serving to distract you for a moment. You have to ask yourself if your boyfriend is throwing a trick question at you. Giving it some thought, you decide to tackle it honestly.

“It feels... pretty good,” you murmur, a tad squeamish while he maps the expanse of your neck with his lips. It’s an answer he anticipates according to the next question he follows up.

“But of all the cocks in this room, whose do you want the most?”

“Yours, Sho.” Compared to before, your answer is given promptly. Shouto grins at how eager you are for him. “Only yours.” You affirm one last time, effectively hammering a nail into Midoriya and Bakugou’s chests. Shouto’s hands traverse your waist, then to your thighs, giving your flesh a solid squeeze.

“That’s right, you’re my fucking cock slut and no one else’s.” You almost choke when he lurches forward to grind his erection against your wet core, emphasizing your innate effect on him. Whimpering at the slippery friction of his hardness on your swollen clit, you find yourself moving in tandem with his motions.

“My my, still that needy even after you already squirted all over my fingers? Your pussy is just so so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes... F-Fuck, Sho, please let me put your cock inside me. I want to cum on your cock so much!” you plead, voice rising at every insufficient jerk of your hips. It isn’t enough to just rub your sensitive little pearl against it. You need the thing inside you since yesterday, and you’re more than willing to throw your last fragment of modesty out the window to get it.

Luckily for you, your neediness seems to work in your favor as Shouto has no objections at granting you your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d be driving my cock in and out of you in front of them, didn’t I?” He runs his fingers on the edge of your cheek, admiring the cute desperation readable over your features—eyes glazed, skin hot, and cunt positively dripping. “Of course, I intend to keep that promise. But first…” He lays you two into his favored position, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his thighs. He peers up at you while nestled back on the sheets.

“I suppose since I forced them here, the least we can do is continue giving them something to remember. It is going to be the first and last night they’ll see you like this anyway,” he reasons. The two mentioned pique hearing the statement. You yourself grow considerably hotter, realizing he’s angled you in a way that grants your audience another enticing view of your body above him.

“Well, princess, why don’t you start riding your stallion then?” Shouto incites his request as more of a command than anything else, and you begin earnestly catering to him by lifting your hips. You align his length toward your entrance. His calloused hands spread on your thighs at the anticipation of watching the head of his cock enter your wet heat.

“Ooooh yeah, keep going baby, take it all in,” he encourages through purrs reverberating in his throat. With each inch you swallow between your folds, his expression knits into pure bliss, brows narrowed at how well your tight pussy hugs his cock. He looks up and catches you slowly unraveling before his eyes. You strain to keep yourself together, eyes shut in pleasure at the delicious burn swelling in your stomach.

There’s a stifled noise parting your mouth that hangs open as you gradually envelop him to the shaft. Shouto’s thick cock slowly bottoms inside your walls and makes you feel so complete. While he lets you adjust to his sizable girth, his palms grope your skin, soothing the tense burn churning inside you.

“Mmph…” you whine, hands trying to find some leverage, laying flat on his abs. You give yourself a second, followed by another until the short pain you feel morphs into a delectable buzz.

“I… I’m going to move now, Sho,” you tell him before flitting up and down his long length, progressing tentatively. His heterochromatic eyes are dark and murky, watching his cock glisten in more of your sheen while you glide it into your pussy at a steady tempo. You make sure to take everything offered to you to the fullest, from the tip to base where his balls brush the underside of your ass. Shouto is more than endowed and you don’t ever plan on taking any part of his gift for granted.

“Mm, even after I prepped you, you’re still so tight for me,” Shouto groans, your cunt rippling waves in his body. Despite being consumed in your ministrations, you have to note how sinful he looks below you, sweat shining on his skin and tufts of red and white hair sticking to his forehead. It’s hard to believe a man as handsome as him could be so possessive with you, going through such lengths to prove to his rivals that you only belong to him. But man, do you find it to be hot. The notion once again has your cunt clenching considerably.

“It’s because—ah—you’re so th-thick,” you tell him, and in turn, he gives you a devilish smirk that adds fuel to the fire lighting in your abdomen. Before you can conjure another thought, he suddenly thrusts his hips up to meet yours, reaching a particular spongy spot that causes you to cry out.

“Why don’t we increase the pace then? Ride me faster, love. I want you to cum hard on my cock in front of them.”

Oh boy, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You swiftly nod, gathering some ardor in your thighs that helps you bounce more fervently on top of him. What was once subtle claps chiming in the room escalates into a concert of skins slapping against each other. Gripping your hips, Shouto meets every heavy drop with a firm thrust upward, continuing to reach the same place that induces heaven across your entire body.

Your moans are uncontained now, flittering out at how good Shouto’s cock is making you feel. The sounds are beyond intoxicating to him, like a midnight song he could get drunk on and gladly switch to repeat.

Every slam into your spread pussy steals your words away while reducing him to hissing between his teeth, your folds enshrouding him with unimaginable euphoria that has his onlookers glaring in envy.

The sight is one that Midoriya and Bakugou will surely replay throughout their wistful days after tonight. Your breasts swaying in time with your sloppy movements is a marvel to gawk at as the two implant your glazed body bouncing atop Shouto into their memories, their deluded imaginations going to work at inserting themselves into the fray.

Your hips plunging in sync at each surge of Sho’s cock has stars twinkling across your bleary vision, eyes rolling in the back of your skull. His cock penetrates you in ways no one else could, brimming your body with sublime rapture that you relay honestly in your wails.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Shouto mutters his praises. He effortlessly keeps up his drilling and angles himself perfectly so the tip reaches your erogenous zone throughout. His hands are digging so deep into your skin, you have no doubt your hips will be daubed purple by the end of the night.

Sweat thoroughly coating his body, his aggressive rutting into your velvet walls has his cock twitching inside you. He recognizes you’re nearing your climax as well when you slowly grip him like a vise. “Gonna milk me, love? Squeeze all the cum out of me and into that slutty pussy of yours?” He asks the question through grunts he spits between his teeth, the sounds coming out on the cusp of feral growls. He’s amused by how your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to form any kind of response. The rampant motions make it hard for you to grasp any sense of reality other than the sensations that collide your nerves.

“Y-yes, yes! I’m so close, Sho— Please—!” The moment you have a hand on your wheel of cognition, you start begging like it’s second nature, uncaring of the other two in the room as tears dot the edges of your lashes for relief. And how is Shouto to deny you when you’re playing such a lewd act?

“Need it so bad, n-need to cum— Ah—!”

In the very next second, your body dives to where your back forcibly lands snug on the futon, choking your words to a startling puff. Shouto shadows over you, leering down like he’s sizing his prey one last time before going in for the kill.

“Hm, since you’re begging so nicely for me, I’ll gladly help you reach your bliss, baby,” he says, tongue running along his bottom lip before he resumes driving into your pussy.

He hooks his hands beneath your knees to spread you apart further, giving his cock no repercussions on pistoning forward at unbridled speeds. Your fingers delve into the sheets, gripping the cloth like it’s your lifeline. You feel your lower body slightly lifting off the bedding due to Shouto wanting you two impossibly closer, cock thundering against you.

What you’ve yet to realize—trapped within your tornado of ecstasy—is your spectators freeing themselves from the ice, glaciers reduced to pieces at their powers. The whole exhibition had been too much for them to handle, quite literally snapping their restraints. Their clothes are gone within a flash, articles of them thrown half-hazardly on the floor. It leaves nothing to stop them from finally granting some form of bliss on their neglected cocks, fisting their lengths in conjunction with your symphony of moans.

That aside, they don’t matter to you at this moment. All you have eyes for is the man above you, whose heterochromatic gaze returns your shared adoration with equal fervor, if not more so.

“Well, love, you wanna cum, right? Then you know what to do,” Shouto grunts, lowering his torso so he can close a bit of the distance between your faces, “Tell me, who’s making you feel this fucking good right now?”

Brain a scrambled mess, you’re thankful the answer you scrounge for is a simple one.

“You, Shouto! Unnf, it’s your cock that’s making me feel good!” you exclaim, your back bowing off the bed when you perceive the coil tight in your abdomen nearly about to break. Your wanton reply has him sending his satisfaction back tenfold into you through the expert rocking of his hips.

“Yesyesyes, oh fuck— Y/n, cum all over my cock! Let go, baby!”

You scream the moment the order is given, Shouto slamming into your g-spot the impetus you need to come undone in violent spasms. Firecrackers spark beneath your skin at the ecstasy hitting your every nerve. Seeing you reach the apex of your high—eyes lidded and limbs trembling as you throw your entire body into the sheets—encourages Shouto toward his release, pumping himself in and out of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck! Y/n!” he pants raggedly before snapping his hips in place, dick twitching inside you. A gasp rips your throat as you feel his thick ribbons of white cum fill you to the brim. Shouto remains inside you for a good minute longer, hovering over your sluggish, sweaty body to seize your lips in his while you two slowly descend from heaven. You move sweetly and slowly against him, savoring the moment in the presence of his tender loving.

Meanwhile, Midoriya and Bakugou have already blown their loads all over themselves, creamy spurts painting their skin. They lean back to find their groundings, unable to even speak after what was surely an excruciating event for them both.

You’re still unsure how to go about confronting the aftermath of it all, deciding to only imbed your eyes onto Shouto due to the embarrassment that starts simmering in your mind now that you’ve come down from your highs. Your fingers rise to swipe a few stray strains of damp red-and-white hair off your boyfriend’s forehead, murmuring something kept between the two of you.

“Going through all of this just because you were jealous? You sure are insatiable, Sho.”

He chuckles at the jest behind your words, giving the other Pro Heroes a once over before he comes back to you with a satisfied grin plastered on his face, making you question whether his devilish tendencies have truly left him after tonight.

“What can I say? I guess I just want to monopolize you, baby.”

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!