#but like give this man something besides daddy issues back pain and fear

[corvus-the-trickster]

Ubisoft give him a book let him be kind of a nerd

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter 15

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Six months ago you spoke with Javi for the last time. Now, you tried to continue with your life without him.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: Angst. Talk of depression. Mention of daddy issues. Brief description of reader’s body. I decide not to give more warnings to avoid spoilers, so keep the reading under your own responsibility, but in general this contains +18 material.

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I knew you

Leavin' like a father

Running like water, I

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

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Finally, on December 2, 1993, Pablo Escobar died in Medellín, bringing an end to years of violence and fear to the country. Of course, the ghosts of evil would linger over for a long time. The narcoviolence was a vicious cycle that corroded everything it touched. But for now, the police of Colombia and the DEA had shown that there were still good people and hope. Even if ir wasn't completely true.

When you saw Steve's photo in the newspaper, you felt proud of him, of course, but you knew that Javier deserved to be there too. He had given many years of sacrificing his own safety and personal life to fulfill his duty. There was no other American who had done as much for his country than Javier Peña. He deserved recognition, he deserved to be decorated and rewarded for his years of service.

But instead, he was being judged for using unorthodox methods to do his job. It wasn't ideal, but it was effective in the end. Who hasn't looked for alternatives in their most desperate moments? They didn't deserve a man like him. And now he was paying the price.

You hadn't heard anything about him since that last call, six months ago. You didn't know if he had been judged or sentenced yet. And you weren't sure if you even wanted to know.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, weeks had turned into months. While everything around you seemed to continue its normal course, you felt stuck in Bogotá. Memories of warm nights with him, hurried breakfasts in his truck, and cozy dinners at home lingered, haunting you like ghosts of a past life. You tried to distract yourself, to focus on the routine of daily life, but thoughts of Javier lingered like shadows in the corners of your mind. You wore the necklace he gave you on your birthday like a charm. It was your most precious treasure, the three pearls representing the love he had for you and you for him. Your fingertips sought it out every time you felt down, sometimes unconsciously.

You found it difficult to concentrate on something else, your thoughts constantly drifting back to him, to the uncertainty that clouded his future.

You started to think that maybe the problem lay within you, that you were somehow unworthy of having the man you loved beside you. Doubts ate away at your confidence, questioning your worthiness of love in any form. In the late hours of the night, you grappled with the echoes of your past, recalling the pain of your father's abandonment when you were just a child. That trauma left a deep hole of abandonment in your heart, a wound that never fully healed. And now, facing Javier's absence, it felt like history was repeating itself. The two men you had loved the most had left you, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and shattered dreams. Yes, you still had your beloved grandfather, José, but in those moments of anxiety and depression, you couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with you to not been worthy of love.

Your mother wasn't very helping either, as she wasn't very kind towards you. She never asked you how you were now that you came back or told you she missed you. And when everything with Javi happened, she made cruel comments, hinting that for him you were just another woman and that it was your fault for sleeping with him and not respecting yourself.

However, you had your sisters who supported you through the grief, and the love of your abuelo meant everything.

He was a lawyer, and he offered you a temporary job on his independent buffet while you find a job that suit your requirements.

Losing your dream job as a translator in a foreign country, enduring very difficult situations that put your life in danger, and losing the love of your life—all the trauma and heartbreak left a hole in your chest. It felt as though a part of you was missing, as though you were navigating the world with a piece of your soul torn away.

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The Saturday sun bathed the cobblestone streets in a warm, golden glow as you emerged from the church, your heart still echoing the hymns of worship. Beside you, your beloved abuelo walked, his arm linked with yours, his weathered face radiant with the peace of faith.

"What do you want to eat, papá?" You asked him.

"Sarita told me about a new restaurant," he answered as your mother joined his side, "She said they have delicious barbacoa and consomé."

"I don't think you should eat that, papá," your mother intervened, her brow frowned. From the look on her face, you knew she was going to confront Sara for craving such food for grandpa. "The doctor said..."

"The doctor said many things, María," he replied firmly. "I'm going to die anyway, so I'm gonna eat my birria!"

You smiled to your abuelo's stubbornness, and although you knew that your mother could be right, you just couldn't help but want to fulfill his cravings.

"Okay, papá, we all going to have barbacoa," you promised.

Before your mother could say anything to you, your nephews and nieces ran by your side, pointing towards the churro seller.

"¡Tía, cómpranos churros!" they shouted, and you found yourself outnumbered by them.

"Okay, okay!" You smiled as you watched them bouncing in front of you. "Everyone line up by height and ask the señor de los churros nicely for yours."

Your nephews and nieces cheered at unison and ran towards the vending cart. Both your sisters insisted on pay for their own children churros, but you told them that you wanted to buy churros for everyone.

As your sisters and their husbands agreed with your grandfather and your mother to all go to eat to the restaurant Sara propose to your abuelo, you tried to help the churro's vendedor not going crazy with all four children. All of them were under ten years old, so you can imagine how noisy and playful – and troubling – they can be.

As the kids devoured their churros, you juggled between keeping an eye on them and ensuring they didn't wander off too far. Their laughter filled the air, echoing against the cobblestone streets as they ran around in playful abandon.

Guiding your nephews and nieces back to your family, you barely noticed the bustling activity around you until a familiar voice pierced through the chaos. "I've always known that you look even more beautiful around kids."

You froze in disbelief, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. You turned around and saw Javier standing there. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight of him. He looked different, yet somehow the same—the same rugged charm, the same warm gaze that had always captivated you. His mere presence was like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down your spine and stirring emotions you thought long buried.

As the reality of his presence sank in, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you. Part of you wanted to run into his arms, to hold him close and never let go. Another part wanted to push him away, to confront him for leaving without a word, for breaking your heart with his silence.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the pain and regret reflected in his gaze—the same pain you had been carrying in your heart all these months. And in that moment, all your anger and hurt melted away, replaced by a flood of overwhelming love and longing.

"Javi?" your voice cracked, eyes inevitably flooded with tears. ''How...?''

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I shouldn't have left you like that."

Without another word, you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding with anticipation. Javier's eyes softened as you reached out, your arms trembling as they closed around his torso. The touch was electrifying, sending a surge of warmth coursing through your veins.

You couldn't understand exactly how he was right there, what happened during all those months?, how the hell did he found you? But he was there, he was between your arms again... His warmth, his scent, his beating heart beneath your ear, were things you thought you would never feel again.

"¿Tía?" you heard the little voice of Ana, the youngest of your nieces, as she pulled the skirt of your dress. "Is this Javi? The boy you always cry for?"

You glanced down at her, innocent eyes wide with curiosity, and then back at Javier, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. How could you explain the complexities of love and loss to a child?

"Ana, come here," Silvia, her mother, approached to grab her. She looked at Javi and then back at your watering, reddened eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you answered, a smile prompting on your lips, blush coloring your cheeks. It was the first time in a long, long time that you felt a genuine sense of emotion and happiness since you arrived in your birth-town. "Silvi, this is Javi. Javi, this is my sister."

Javier extended his hand towards Silvia, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Nice to meet you, Silvia," he greeted, his voice gentle and sincere.

Silvia's expression changed upon recognizing his name. Her eyes softened as she shook Javier's hand. "Likewise," she replied, her eyes flickering with curiosity. Of course, she had memorized his name and appearance through the photos you had shown her and Sara of your time in Colombia with Javi. Your sisters had wiped your tears and listened to your heartbreaking cries for him.

You saw your family approaching you, everyone seeming curious and expectant. Your hands were shaking, your heart felt like it could punch through your chest. So had so many questions, so many things to say to him. Suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

"Buenas tardes," your abuelo approached to you. You recognized that look on his face, the same he had every time you or your sisters met a new boy. Your abuelo had always been the jealous kind, but in a sweet way.

Javier greeted your abuelo, extending his hand in a gesture of respect. "Mucho gusto, Don José. Javier Peña," he said, his voice resonating with genuine warmth, remembering your grandfather's name.

Your abuelo's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shook Javier's hand. "¡Ah! So you're the famous Javier," he replied, his tone tinged with playful teasing.

Javi looked at you with a playful arched brow, causing your face turned completely red, like a tomato. You were the most gorgeous tomato he had ever seen in his life.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Javier," you said, gesturing towards him with a smile. "Javier, this is my family."

Your sisters and their husbands exchanged glances, their eyes bright with curiosity as they greeted Javier warmly. "Nice to meet you, Javier," Sara said, extending her hand.

Javier shook her hand with a polite nod. "You too. You must be Sara."

Sara chimed in, her excitement palpable. "Yeah, it's great to finally meet you in person."

Your mother, who had been observing quietly, offered a reserved nod of acknowledgment, her expression unreadable.

As the greetings subsided, Silvia turned to Javier. "Hey, why don't you join us for lunch at the restaurant? We'd love to have you."

Before Javier could respond, you interjected gently, "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a private conversation with Javier first. We can catch up with everyone later this afternoon at home."

Javier's stomach churned at your words. "Have a private conversation" sounded like you were about to have a serious discussion. He wasn't expecting you to receive him as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't broken your heart. He was surprised and relieved when you hugged him upon seeing him, but he thought it might have been just a quick reaction, an impulsive action prompted by the heat of the moment.

Silvia's eyebrows raised in surprise, but she nodded understandingly. "Of course, hermanita. We'll see you both at home then."

With a collective agreement, your family bid you and Javier farewell, dispersing toward the church's parking lot with chatter and laughter trailing behind them. You turned to Javier, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your chest, ready to finally have the private conversation you'd been yearning for.

"So, shall we take a taxi?" you said finally.

"Actually, I brought my truck," he said, pointing at the park across the street, where you saw a red 90s Chevrolet Silverado.

"You drove all the way here?" The thought of him driving three hours, crossing the border, just to see you stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you. It was both overwhelming and heartwarming to know that he had gone to such lengths to be with you.

"Of course, from Laredo" he confessed.

As you walked across the street towards his truck, the atmosphere between you felt familiar, bringing back a flood of memories. Javier unlocked the truck and held the door open for you, as you settled into the passenger seat, the scent of his cologne enveloped you, filling you with a sense of comfort.

Once you were there, feeling overwhelmed by his return, after everything you had been throgh being away from him, thinking he was even in jail. It was too much, you barely could process it... You finally broke, as soon as Javi closed the drivers door, you started crying.

Javier's heart ached as he watched you cry, his own emotions swirling inside him like a tempest. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he should offer comfort or give you space.

He called your sweet name in a way only he could. You felt shivers just hearing it, reminding you of the power he had over you.

You turned to him, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness, relief, and confusion. "Why, Javi?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you leave me?"

Javier's heart clenched at the pain in your voice, the anguish etched into your features. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to face the truth, to lay bare his soul before you.

"I thought I was doing the right thing for you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was trying to protect you."

You wanted to ask again "why?" but you knew it was unnecessary because you understood why. He was trying to shield you from becoming attached to a convict, a man who was not physically free. It had taken you a long time to grasp the magnitude of the situation and his sacrifice. Javier Peña wasn't a selfish man.

"It's important to me for you to understand that at that moment everything seemed to be against me," he continued, his eyes staring at you with longing and desperation, as he feared you wouldn't want to hear him or wouldn't believe him. "Don Berna betrayed me and forced Judy Moncada to leave Colombia and spill everything about the DEA agent who was foolish enough to trust them. I was told that I had committed a federal crime by getting involved with Los Pepes."

For a moment, the gravity of his words left you speechless, grappling with the enormity of what he had endured. You knew firsthand the dangers and complexities of his work, but hearing the details of his ordeal sent a chill down your spine.

"I had to make a choice," Javier continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't risk your safety, not when everything was falling apart around me. I thought I was doing what was best for you, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

New tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to him, your hand trembling as it touched his. In that moment, words seemed inadequate to express the depth of your emotions, the overwhelming rush of love and forgiveness that flooded your heart.

"I missed you," you confessed, your voice barely contained. "I was devastated. Not only for how things between us ended, but for thinking about what would happen to you..."

Javier's gaze softened as he listened to your heartfelt words. He reached out, gently brushing away your tears with his thumb, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you.

"I missed you too, every moment," he admitted, his voice filled with raw emotion. "Not a day went by when I didn't think about you. Te amo."

"Javi?" you spoke softly, wiping your tears and turning your body to fully face him.

"Yes, bonita?" he said, and your stomach fluttered with thousands of butterflies that had been sleeping, waiting to hear that word he used to call you. Bonita, you'll always be his bonita.

"Kiss me already," you whispered, the words escaping your lips before you could hold them back.

With a tender smile, Javier leaned closer, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. The air between you crackled with anticipation, the weight of months apart dissipating with each heartbeat.

As his lips met yours, a surge of warmth washed over you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering deep within. You let out a shaky moan when his tongue met yours, sending electricity to your core.

Javi growled at your reaction. He was so needed of your touch, your kisses; that skin-to-skin sensation he sink in when he made love with you. Cause even during the darkest moments when he feared he might spend the rest of his life behind bars, he couldn't bring himself to be with anyone else. He was yours, in body and spirit.

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You and Javi were hungry and had so much to talk about. So you guided him through the city, searching for somewhere quiet to eat and converse. As he sat across from you at the table, perusing the menu, you still couldn't believe he was actually there—free and as handsome as ever. It felt like years had passed since Bogotá, the last time you saw him. Or maybe you suddenly died, your heart finally giving up missing him, and that was heaven.

Javi finally looked up from the menu, his gaze meeting yours. "Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes as his broad hand reached across the table to touch yours.

"No... I mean, yes!" you said, your voice trailing off. "It's just... I'm so, so happy you're here, but I still can't process what happened."

Javi smiled, his eyes reflecting a mixture of tenderness and longing. "I promise, mi vida, I'll never leave you again," he vowed, his words a silent promise to cherish and protect you for as long as he lived.

The waiter approached, and you both placed your orders. After she left, you spoke again. "How did you find me?" you asked with genuine curiosity.

Monterrey was a sprawling metropolis, and in the '90s world, finding something or someone without an address or a phone number was no small feat.

Javier leaned forward, his expression radiating warmth. "It wasn't easy, but I remembered when you told me about going to church every Sunday with your family," he began, his voice low and intimate. "I recalled the name of the church and the municipality, so as soon as I arrived in the city, I searched for it. It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to get a lead, and it paid off. I found the right one."

You nodded, deeply impressed by his determination and resourcefulness. He was a proper DEA agent who spent years looking for and taking down sicarios. Of course, he was going to find his girlfriend on the first try. It was very sweet how he would do anything just to be with you, though, to have you back.

"I was fuckin' terrified that you were angry with me for leaving you like that," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "Or worse, that you may have someone else already."

You looked at Javier, sensing the vulnerability in his eyes, and felt a pang of empathy. The thought of him fearing your anger or the possibility of you being with someone else touched you deeply.

"Javi, I could never be angry with you for trying to protect me," you said softly. "I was angry and devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie," you confessed, your chest aching with memories of those endless nights of overthinking and tears. "But it wasn't directed towards you, but towards life. I couldn't accept the decision you had to make, but with time, I came to understand that you only wished the best for me, and it was very sweet and unselfish."

You reached your delicate hand across the table to grasp his. "And as for someone else, there's never been anyone else for me. It's always been you."

His eyes softened, relief flooding his features as he squeezed your hand gently. "You're the only one for me, too, bonita. You're the best thing that could ever happen to this son of a bitch."

You leaned forward to kiss his lips. The familiarity of his touch was overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

When the meal was over and both of you were back in his truck, you asked him where he was staying.

Javier glanced at you, his expression thoughtful as he considered your question. He mentioned a hotel downtown, and you recognized it from what you had heard.

"You can stay a couple of days. I want to show you the city and introduce you properly to my family, if you don't mind," you proposed.

"Me encantaría pasar todo el tiempo del mundo contigo, mi vida preciosa," he said, and you flushed at the sweet nickname. "Actually, I was thinking about moving to a hotel closer to your house."

"That won't be necessary. You can stay with me," you offered without hesitation, feeling a rush of warmth at the idea of having him close again. "I'm living with my abuelo y mi mamá."

"I don't want to be a bother," he began, but you took his hand gently and looked into his puppy eyes.

"You're family now, and family never bothers," you assured him. "My abuelo has a spacious house, and you can stay in the guest bedroom. You know, we can sleep together..."

"That's okay, baby. I understand," he agreed, leaning over to place a kiss on your lips. "So, where do you want to go now? Wanna go home?" he asked, turning on the gear.

"Actually," you began, your cheeks burning and your heart pounding with anticipation, "I was thinking that we could go to your hotel."

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Can we?" he asked, his voice filled with playful anticipation.

You smiled shyly, nodding as your cheeks turned cherry red. "Unless you want to spend the evening elsewhere."

Javier's eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your playful tone. "Oh, I'm perfectly content to spend the evening wherever you desire," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

You chuckled softly, feeling a rush of excitement tinged with nervousness.

"Be careful what you wish for, baby," he added, his voice filled with longing. "I've missed you so damn much."

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The hotel room was nice, elegant and spacious. But of course you didn't noticed that at first, as you were very busy devouring Javi's mouth. He guided you towards the bed, hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips; yours cupping his head.

"I love you," he muttered against your mouth, pausing briefly as you unbuttoned his shirt. "You don't have any idea how much I needed you. I couldn't breathe..."

His voice wavered with emotion, and you couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his tone. Your fingers brushed against his lips, a silent gesture of reassurance. You still had a lot of questions, things that you would like to know, but you were sure that you had a lot of time to do it. For example, when his next move was to get rid of his shirt and you saw the scar on his side, where you knew he had been shot. Your fingers traced the damaged skin, your throat constricting at the sight of him being hurt, where he could have lost his life...

In that moment, you didn't want to cry anymore, to regret things that, fortunately, were in the past now.

"I'm here," your voice was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear every word. "I'm not going anywhere."

Javi nodded in agreement, leaning in to meet your lips once again. His skilled fingers unzipped the back of your dress, sending shivers all over your body as his fingertips met your skin. The light fabric pooled around your feet, his gaze darkening as it roamed over your body with desire.

His hands captured your waist, caressing the skin of your ribs and hips. His touch felt desperate, yet gentle. His fingers traced the exposed, soft skin at the edge of your bra, then smoothly moved to unclasp it, freeing the lace that covered your breasts.

You were hypnotized by the waves of heat emanating from both your naked torsos. Restless to relive that skin-to-skin sensation you longed for so much.

"God, how I missed your body," he whispered, almost unconsciously, as he devoured you with his eyes.

Your cheeks flushed even more, a shy smile appearing on your lips. "And I missed your touch, Javi," you confessed back.

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Did you?," his voice filled with playfulness. "Did you touch yourself when you missed me?" He wanted to know. You nodded, an innocent gesture that made his cock throb on his pants. "C'mere. Show me," he ordered, leading you to the bed, where he had you lie back in the center.

Javi knelt in front of you, between your legs, your core aching with anticipation. "C'mon, take your panties off," he ordered, and you gladly obeyed.

Pushing your hips up, you grasped the edges of your panties with your fingers and began to slide the garment down your legs.

He couldn't help but hiss when he saw the glistening between your folds, where your honey pooled for him. "Touch yourself, baby, just like how you did when you were thinking of me," he whispered.

You traced a path on your skin, from the place above your belly button, down your body until your delicate middle finger met your slick. Javier was mesmerized as he watched you move up and down along your pussy, taking extra care every time you reached your clit, causing little whimpers to escape from your lips.

Suddenly, Javi felt his pants getting tighter; it was almost painful not to free himself. His hands went to his belt, and he started working on it. "Keep going," he encouraged you, as your eyes followed the glorious path of pubic hair that preceded his cock. You bit your lip, intensifying the movements on your pussy, the sound of your wetness filling the room.

"Don't be shy," he said, his voice thick with lust. "That little pussy looks so good."

You took his word and inserted one finger into your warm body. His breath quivered at the sight; he couldn't contain himself anymore.

"How does it feel?" he asked, as he took his hardened cock out of his briefs. You whimpered at the sight, your walls clenching, as if they were screaming to be stretched by its length. Javi took himself in hand and started jerking off to satisfy his own itch.

"G-good," you mumbled. It was true, but you knew it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock inside you. So you added a second finger to try to calm your urgency, the gushing sounds surrounding you as you moved your fingers in and out of your pussy. But it wasn't enough. You wanted him.

"Javi..." you murmured.

"Tell me, bonita," he responded, his voice filled with anticipation. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you said, without stopping your movements.

"You want me? You want this?" he teased, showing off his cock right in front of you. A pearl of precum glistened on its tip, veins pulsating along its length. Your mouth watered at the sight. "C'mon, take it. It's yours."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You stopped what you were doing and knelt on the mattress to press your body against his. Your hand went directly to his cock, eliciting a growl from his chest.

Javi's cock fit perfectly in your tiny hand as you moved it up and down while kissing him passionately.

You let your body fall over his, and he didn't hesitate to allow himself to be placed underneath you. Your lips then moved to his neck, traveling down to his chest, his stomach... When he realized you were actually going south, he took your chin and made you look at him.

"That's not necessary..." he clarify. He wasn't expecting that.

"I want to," you insisted.

Without another word, you positioned yourself right over his cock, taking it in your hand and placing a kiss on its tip. "Fuck..." he reacted.

You were unsure what to do, as it was the first time you'd done it. You only wanted to make him feel good.

So you tried licking its head, the salty taste on your tongue making your pussy clench around nothing. Then, you attempted to take the head into your warm mouth. You had to open your mouth wider than you expected, your hand gently placed on its base. It was too big, hard, and too long.

You bobbed your head at a constant rhythm, encouraged by the moans and hisses he began to let out. Javi's hand went to your hair, gathering it into a ponytail, both to let you work easily and to clear his view. "Good job, baby," he praised.

When you tried to go further, its head at the back of your throat made you gag, so you had to take a breath. "Take it easy," he said reassuringly as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "You're doin' amazing."

You went back to it, but this time a little lower. "Holy shhh..." he growled, feeling the wetness and warmth of your tongue licking his balls. They tasted salty, heavy on your lips. You closed your hand around his length, moving it up and down to please him. Slurping noises filled the room, amplifying the intensity. "You look so pretty taking my cock like that baby."

You alternated between using your mouth and your hand on his cock and his balls, growing more confident with each movement, trying to take him deeper as you could. Your mouth felt like heaven for him, but he needed to stop. He wanted to fuck to you properly instead of just cum on your tongue. There would be another chance for that.

After a moment, Javi sat on the bed and gestured for you to do the same. You could barely catch your breath before his mouth captured yours, his arm around your waist. You knelt in front of him, providing easy access to your breasts, and he didn't miss the opportunity, capturing one of your nipples into his mouth. You threw your head back, moaning at the sensation, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He worshipped your body, squeezing your hips and back, massaging your ass with his broad hands. Then his fingers found your soaked pussy, taking advantage of how wet you were as he introduced one of them inside you. You whimpered, moving your hips over his hand, desperate to quell the need for him. He added a second thick finger, stretching you so damn good. They slipped in and out without effort, and Javi could feel your slick running down the bare palm of his hand.

Javi licked the sensitive skin of your nipple before shifting to your other breast. He sucked and played with the tip of his tongue on the nipple, just like he did when he played with your clit, like a starved man.

"Javi..." you whimpered.

Once he was satisfied with how wet you were, he guided his cock to your entrance as you instinctively lowered your hips. Both of you moaned as he made his way inside you, stretching your walls. The sensation was painfully familiar for both of you, the feeling of being connected in an intimate, raw way. It was as if you were born for each other, like you belonged together beyond the physical realm.

He didn't waste any time, going straight to help you move over him. Once you understood the assignment, your hips started working almost on their own. "That's it, bonita, give it to me."

You could feel him very deep inside you, his tip brushing against the entrance of your cervix, his balls thrusting against you every time you went down. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him, engaging in a battle of tongues and a tangle of legs.

"Your cock feels amazing, mi amor, la extrañé mucho," you whispered in his ear before you bite his earlobe.

"That's why you wanted to suck my cock?" he asked, his fingers gripping tighter on your hips, urging you to move faster. "My fuckin' dirty girl, so right for me..."

"Wanna see how dirty I can get?" placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him back so he could lie down again.

He was pleased with the view. The curves of your body, every roll, every pore, every freckle, every stretch mark. You were so sexy and gorgeous.

He tried to reach for your body, but you took his wrists and placed them over his head. You started moving your hips: up and down, front and back. At first, it was slow, savoring every inch of his cock slipping inside you. Then, you moved faster, riding him as whimpers escaped from your mouth, joining the skin-to-skin sound of your bodies thrusting together. Your hands went to his chest for more balance as you rode him.

"That's it, baby. Don't stop...fuck..." he grunted, his hands on your ass to help you keep going.

You slowed down when your legs began to ache, leaning down to capture his lips. His broad, warm hands caressed your hair, trailing down to your shoulders and back until they reached your waist. With a swift, smooth movement, Javi turned you around. Before you could process it, your body was beneath his, and he penetrated you again. This time, the soft moan you made when you felt him inside was silenced by his mouth.

"I love you, bonita," he promised, moving his pelvis against yours.

With your hands cupping his head, little whimpers escaping your lips, you echoed the sentiment. "I love you so much, Javi."

His thrusts grew harder and faster, his arms bearing his weight to avoid crushing you. His growls and whimpers were music to your ears. Your lips caressed the soft skin of his neck, your hands roamed everywhere along his broad back. He was lost in you, shivers crossing his entire being every time he reached that deep spot inside you, eliciting cries of his name from your lips.

"You like that, bonita? Hm?" he breathed out, his voice captivated by his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love your pussy."

Your orgasm was so close, he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his length, and the rivers of your nectar emanating from your cunt. You tried to warn him, but you could only mumble as your body shuddered beneath him. "I know, baby... Fuck, I'm gonna cum too."

You felt how he was doubtful about his next move. He wanted you to come, of course, but he was so dangerously close to his own release that he needed to be careful not to come inside you. But you were so horny and lost on the pleasure that you knew you want his load dripping out your pussy.

So you tangled your legs around his torso, forcing him inside you. "I'm gonna cum..." he warned.

"It's okay... I want you to fill me up..." you moan.

"Yeah? That's what you want, honey?" He cooed, his lips placing soft, wet kissed on your jawline.

You nodded, "Ye-yes! Fuck, Javiii!" that's the only thing you could say, as his movements were almost erratic, hungrily against you.

"I'm gonna fuck a baby into you... What about that?" he grunted, the mere thought of it made the both of you shiver with pleasure.

"Yes! Oh my... Yes! I-wa.... I'm wanna have your baby, Javi," you mumbled, so lost on the moment that you couldn't even think about the weight of the words you spoke.

"I'm gonna cum so deep on you that you're gonna smell like me for days, baby."

Those were the words that made you finally lost it. Your entire body seemed to implode for a moment before it exploded on a devastating orgasm. Throwing your head back against the mattress, your nails digging on the muscles of his arms and toes curling as your squirted on his cock. A silent scream of pleasure took the shape of Javi's name.

With one last final thrust, Javier followed you reaching his release between deep-voice whimpers and grunts of your name over and over again. You felt his warm load filling up, mixing with your slick, making you clenched even more, milking him so damn good.

As he felt himself softening, he pulled out and lay beside you as both of you tried to catch your breath again. Finally, Javi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, the warmth of his body comforting against your skin. You lay there together in silence, the only sounds filling the room were the rhythmic beating of your hearts and the soft exhales as you both recovered from the intensity of your lovemaking.

After a while, Javier felt your body shake a bit, and it wasn't long before he heard you sniffing. Were you crying? He tried to see your face, but you hid from him with your face against his chest. It was evident that you were crying. He felt a pang in his chest, concern washing over his face as he tried to make you look up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice charged with worry and guilt. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," you rushed to say, wiping your tears with your fingers as his brushed your hair and placed it behind your ear. "You didn't do anything. I'm just so happy."

Javier's expression softened as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm here, mi amor," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm not leaving you ever again."

You melted into his embrace, feeling safe and loved in his arms, the bliss of your orgasms still lingering on your bodies. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I really meant it."

Struggling not to fall asleep, since you still had to return to your grandfather's house, you asked, "What?" Your voice was soft, barely audible above the hushed rhythm of your breathing.

"I want to have babies with you." His words hung in the air, tinged with both sincerity and excitement.

You flushed, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you processed his declaration. Your heart started to beat faster, and you didn’t even think he was completely serious yet.

"Well, we have to get married first, then," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"I know,” he added, determination on his tone, “I'm going to ask your grandfather for your hand tomorrow." His eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

"Are you serious?" Your voice was tinged with surprise, a mixture of disbelief and anticipation.

Javier nodded, his gaze softening as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Absolutely serious," he affirmed, his tone earnest. "¿Quieres casarte conmigo?”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotions welling up inside you. New tears of joy fell down your cheeks as you nodded repeatedly. "¡Sí! Sí quiero, Javi. Quiero casarme contigo," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Then it's settled," he declared, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to him again. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to your grandfather, and soon after, we'll start planning our wedding."

You nestled closer to him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You still couldn’t believe what was happening in that moment. Just that morning, your heart ached with his absence, and you couldn't imagine seeing him ever again. If someone had told you that same afternoon you would be in his arms again, making love with him, and practically engaged, you wouldn't have believed it. You would have thought it was a cruel joke. And yet, there he was with you, vowing to share a life together.

NEXT CHAPTER

[sukirichi]

earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it.  But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

[cuquitalocita]

...oops |rowaelin month- day 5|

rowaelin masterlist

an: i had a dream about this and i kind of hate the ending buttt enjoy! :)

word count: 3,988

~~

“You did what?” 

It wouldn’t take a genius to note that twenty one year- old Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was fuming. And it would have been to no one’s surprise if the princess herself brought the very palace down in flames herself in a matter of moments. 

The Queen of Terrasen sighed and with a small shake of her head, daintily placed her teacup on the table in front of her. With her hands crossed in her lap, she turned her blue gaze to her daughter’s twin one, this one holding a fire many would cower from despite the girl’s young age. But it seemed that Evalin Ashryver feared no one but the gods, and she faced her daughter’s seeth head-on. 

“Fireheart-” 

“An arranged marriage? I wasn’t aware I was a doll who’s life you can just play with. Is this top okay or would you like to change me into a new pretty dress?”

Evalin merely rolled her eyes at her only daughter, allowing her to rant and fume as she pleased for what seemed like hours before the princess finally collapsed into the chair beside her, blue in the face and a vein popping out of her forehead. 

“Fireheart,” she began again, this time gentler. “You have to understand, your father and I are simply doing what we believe is best for the country. For our people.”

“By selling me away? I’m not a child anymore mother, and I can make my own decisions just fine.” The anger had vanished, now replaced by a look of utter despair in the princess’ eyes as she gazed at her mother, an attempt to delay what she knew was inevitable.

“We know that Aelin, of course we do, and we would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. Terrasen is… is struggling right now, my love. You may be our only hope.” 

The look in her mother’s eyes settled something in her chest and she realized there would be no fighting this- although she most certainly would try. Her parents were set on an arranged marriage for the Princess of Terrasen. 

And as she stormed through the door of her chambers, Aelin’s thoughts settled on one in particular.

The Prince of Doranelle better be handsome.

~~

The Wild Princess of Terrasen, they called her.

Well- Aelin thought as she gunned the Corvette through the streets of the capital- if they wanted a wild princess, a wild princess is what they would get. 

She remembered a time where her mother had rolled her eyes when her daughter had told her she wanted a Corvette for her sixteenth birthday. She didn’t even have a license, and she would never be driving herself, so what good would it do?

Aelin smirked. Apparently they were perfect for fits of rage. 

She vaguely remembered a few lessons Brullo had given her when she had managed to bribe the grumpy body guard with cookies enough for him to teach her how to drive- unbeknownst to her mother, of course. Aelin bet that Evalin Ashryver would just about have a heart attack if she knew her daughter could drive.

Aelin swerved into the left lane without her turn signal, earning an angry honk and a few unkind words from the car behind her.

Well- sort of knew how to drive. 

Oops, she thought. From then on, she turned her speed down just a bit. 

As Aelin careened through the streets of Terrasen, she realized that as a princess, she truly had been deprived of her own country. Sure, she had been escorted through the streets during the annual parade, and her father used to take her to Malakai’s for her favorite cake every once in a while, but the streets she drove through now were unknown to her. 

She passed jogging college kids and mothers with strollers and toddlers, couples holding hands and homeless people that scattered some of the streets. The sight made her heart clench and her knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. 

Aelin was so focused on the people around her, she forgot to look forward as she drove through a glaring red light. Luckily there were barely any other cars around her, and the only indication that she had done something wrong came from a distinctly aggravated male voice screaming, “What the fu-”

“Shit!” 

Aelin slammed her foot down on the breaks as her gaze came into contact with a man in front of her- she was going full speed towards him as she tried crossing the cross walk. The car came to a screeching halt directly in front of him, but the momentum proved to be too much as the Corvette did in fact make contact with him.

She thought time slowed down as the man went shooting to the ground with a groan of pain. 

Yes, she had just hit a man with her car.

But her mother was going to absolute assassinate her. 

Another loud groan from outside the window had Aelin shoving the car into park and flying out to the man in front of her, heart in her throat. 

As she took in the man, she wondered what the odds were of hitting a person with your car and having them be one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen. Pretty low, Aelin would think, but like everything else in her life, statistics did not seem to be on her side.

The man was clearly young, maybe a few years older than her, and even though he wore a thick winter jacket to protect him from the Terrasen winter, he was clearly built like a greek god. With silver hair almost matching the snow around him and tan skin that signaled to Aelin he clearly wasn’t from around here, the man could have been on the front page of any popular magazine. 

“Fuck!” 

Aelin kneeled down beside the man who was thankfully still conscious, face scrunched up in pain and clear anger. It made him look older, she thought as she finally looked at his eyes. They were a stunning green. She wanted to hit herself with her car. Of course they were. 

“A-are you okay?” She helped him up, placing a hand on his lower back and pushing him up until he sat forward enough until he could support himself.

The man glared at her, teeth clenched in pain as his gaze burned into her own.

“Are you crazy?” he growled, his voice even deeper than Aelin thought it would have been. “Am I okay? You just hit me with your fucking car!” 

Aelin jerked her hand away from him, suddenly defensive. “Look, I am so sorry. I- I wasn’t looking where I was driving and-”

The man scoffed. “Obviously.” 

Aelin saw red. 

“Well what the fuck were you doing on a crosswalk two seconds before the light turned red? You had plenty of time to move out of the way and you’re blaming me because you couldn’t look around?” 

It was moments like these where Aelin realized why Elide’s fiancee liked to call her ‘fire breathing bitch queen.’ Sure, she could acknowledge it. She had just hit the guy with her car, and Aelin had foung a way to blame him. 

“Maybe if you had been less careless about crashing Daddy’s car you would have been a bit more careful and we wouldn’t be here right now, Princess.” 

Aelin almost slapped him, if not for the derogatory way her title slipped through his tongue. And that was when she realized that he had no idea who she was. The man in front of her didn’t look like an idiot. He wouldn’t be insulting her if he knew who she was. And Aelin realized she didn’t want him to know. Not as the words that spilled through her lips could ruin her entire legacy.

“Watch it.” The words were low and dangerous, and something flashed in the man’s eyes that signaled to her than he had caught the anger lacing her tone. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I don’t think I need to. Nor do I care enough to want to.”

“Well you’re clearly fine, if you can spew ridiculous insults out of your head at the drop of a dime,” Aelin deadpanned. “So, can we wrap this up?” 

“Gladly.” He made to get up, placing his weight on his arm as he pushed himself upward, cutting off with a loud gasp of pain before sinking back to the ground, his green eyes alight with agony. The sight made a pang shoot through Aelin’s chest and she grabbed his arm to steady him before his momentum his head careening toward the ground. 

“Shit, we need to take you to the hospital.” She rose, already on her way back to the car.

“No way am I going anywhere with you.” 

“That’s fine.” Aelin’s smile was purely saccharine. “You can stay here if you’d like. It’s supposed to drop to -10 in a few hours when the sun goes down but you look pretty toasty to me. Of course, your fingers will fall off before the ambulance gets here, so it’s really give or take.”

The man growled and rubbed a large hand through his hair.

“So what do you say, Superman?” Aelin gestured to the car behind her. “What’s the worst that can happen? I already hit you with my car today.” 

If the tone of his voice was any indication, the man was in enough pain to barely put up a fight.

“Fine. But get into another accident and I’m calling the police.”

Aelin almost laughed. Little did he know that she owned the police.

It was only during the awkwardly silent drive to the hospital that Aelin realized the workers at the hospital would recognize her, and then the man beside her would. The thought put a sour taste in Aelin’s mouth. She liked fighting with this man- liked the fact that he treated her with the same amount of respect he would anyone who hit him with their car. Even if he was an infuriating prick of a man. 

“Alright,” she pulled the car into park. “Here we are.” The man grunted in acknowledgment.

Surprisingly enough, the ER was close to empty on the Thursday evening and Aelin was grateful that it meant fewer people would recognize her. Who knew how the paparazzi would react if they saw their crown princess in the ER with an unknown man. 

As if her ‘issues’ weren’t plastered in the tabloids enough already. 

Aelin hadn’t realized how tall the man was until he was standing solidly behind her at the check-in desk. He was close enough that she could feel him at her back and she swore her shoulder had bumped below his own. Gods, he was strong.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and turned to the man at the desk. 

“Hi um, I’m here to check in a patient.” If the way the man swallowed was any indication, said patient was glaring daggers from beside her. He turned to the monitor in front of him and began typing something into the computer.

“And, what’s the reason for your visit today?”

Aelin cleared her throat. “Just- just a checkup. He had a bit of a fall, we just wanted to make sure everything is okay.” She felt what must have been a scoff from behind her but ignored it. The man nodded without looking at her or stopping his typing.

“Okay,” he finally said after a few moments of silence. He handed a clipboard to Aelin holding a few pieces of obvious paperwork. “Fill this out and give it back to me when you’re done. It’s a slow day so you should be able to meet with the doctor in just a second.” Aelin nodded, thanking the man and making her way to the empty seats across the desk, dragging her silver-haired friend with her until he collapsed into the seat beside her with a huff. 

She ignored him in favor of flicking through the paperwork as casually as she could, attempting to not draw attention to the fact that she clearly knew none of the personal information about the man beside her.

Aelin leaned close to him and almost rolled her eyes when he leaned significantly away.

“Hey,” she whispered. She watched as he rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” he leveled her with a confused look and she held up the paperwork. But really, what kind of an idiot hit someone with their car and didn’t ask for their name. Aelin was such an idiot. Such an-

“Rowan.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Rowan.” She raised a brow,

“Rowan…?”

“Whitethorn.” Rowan Whitethorn. The name sent a pang of familiarity through her and Aelin struggled to ruffle through her mind to find where she had heard it before. 

“What do you do for work?” The question was out of her mouth before she could berate herself for how stupid it was. His eyebrows shot up to the top of his head.

“Is that on the form?” his voice was defensive but Aelin shrugged nonetheless and Rowan sighed before running a hand through his hair. “Let’s say I’m involved with politics.” 

Aelin grimaced. Maybe that was why her mind had blocked out his name. Anyone involved with any kind of politics was automatically dislikeable in Aelin’s eyes. She had been around enough politicians to recognize their slimy exterior. 

Rowan clearly noticed her face and scowled at her. “Well not all of us have a choice in our future just because we’re young and irresponsible.” Like you, was what he didn’t have to say. Aelin wanted to kick him. If only he knew. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked back at the sheet in front of her.

“Date of birth?”

“December 8, 1995.” Aelin almost dropped her pencil but instead turned to Rowan, surprised to find him already looking at her.

“Seriously? You’re twenty- five?”

“What’s your point?”

“All of the high and mighty, ‘I’m your elder’ attitude and you’re only four years older than me.” She shook her head and turned back to the form, ignoring the glare she could feel burning into her skull and trying her best not to think about how good Rowan smelled from beside her. She never would have thought that the scent of pine could be so intoxicating. 

“Place of birth?”

“Doranelle.” Aelin wondered if he knew anything of the infamous prince she was to marry. She really should have done some more research before storming out of the palace. 

“Height?”

“6’ 4”.” 

“Any allergies?”

“Blondes.” Aelin ignored that one. 

“Any family history of fatal medical issues?”

“No.”

“Type and reason for pain?” 

“An irritation in my head from the woman beside me.” 

Aelin threw her pen at him and watched as he winced before looking at her with wide annoyed eyes. But she frankly didn’t give a fuck anymore. She could have let him freeze to death outside and here he was complaining about her.

“You know, this whole thing would be a lot easier if you weren’t such a prick.”

“Actually this whole thing would be a lot easier if you hadn’t-”

Rowan was cut off by the clearing of a throat in front of them, signaling someone had come through the door. The two had been too preoccupied with one another to even notice the doctor standing in front of them. 

She’s beautiful, with cinnamon skin and curly hair, and she wears an amused smile on her face as she looks between the two. Aelin and Rowan automatically calm themselves into an acceptable demeanor and Aelin stands to shake hands with the doctor in front of them, handing her the unfinished paperwork.

“Alright, Mr… Whitethorn. I’m Doctor Towers and I’ll be helping you out here today. Why don’t you come back here with me and we can check you out.” Rowan stood up to follow her out of the room before Doctor Towers turned back to look at Aelin. “You can come too, Mrs. Whitethorn. We’ll probably need you to clear a few things up.”

Aelin hated the blush that sprang to her cheeks at the implication that she could be married to Rowan, and she almost laughed. As if she could ever marry someone like him. Their protests are cut off by the creaking of the door and neither Aelin nor Rowan bothers to correct the doctor as she leads them to a section of the hospital filled with open hospital beds and shitty curtains for ‘privacy.’

Pulling one shut, Doctor Towers gestures for Rowan to sit on the bed. Once he does, she leans back on her heels and pulls out her own clipboard. 

“Okay, what seems to be the problem today?”

They’re silent for a moment, both looking at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to say. Eventually, Aelin clears her throat. 

“Um, we had a bit of an accident-”

“I would hardly call it an ‘accident.’ She-”

“He decided to walk through a crosswalk during a green light and-”

“You hit me with your car!” 

It seemed the entire hospital went silent for a moment before sound resumed once more and Aelin allowed her head to fall into her hands.

“It wasn’t like that. I-”

“You slammed straight into me!”

“I barely knicked you!” 

Doctor Towers had been watching the sparring match between the two with wide eyes, clearly still hung up on the fact that he had been hit by a car and was still alive. It took a moment before she shook her head and scribbled a few things down on her piece of paper. 

“I hate to ask this,” she cleared her throat. “Was this- um, a crime of passion?”

Aelin and Rowan stared at her blankly before turning to each other, both confused. She tried again.

“I mean- when a wife hits her husband with a car-” Realizing what she was implying, Aelin and Rowan were quick with their rebuttals. 

“She’s not-”

“I’m not his wife!”

“Most definitely not-”

“As if I’d ever marry this prick-”

“I would rather hit myself with a car than voluntarily pledge myself to her.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her defensively. “Now that’s a little dramatic.” 

“Well, you did hit me with a car.” If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say that it almost looked like amusement twisted his lips. 

“You’re never gonna get over that, are you?” 

“Not likely.” 

Doctor Towers cleared her throat from beside them, causing the two to snap their gazes back to her. Whatever they found there had them shut their mouths like scolded children.

“So…” she arched a brow. “It was an accident?”

Rowan nodded while Aelin muttered, “Unfortunately.” 

Doctor Towers ignored the comment in favor of looking at Aelin closely. She watched in despair as it clicked in her head who exactly was standing in front of her and Aelin found herself holding her breath. But surprisingly enough, the doctor said nothing, simply turning to Rowan with a knowing look.

“So Mr. Whitethorn, what hurts?”

“Besides everything?” Rowan grimaced as he circled his shoulder. “Mostly my shoulder. I don’t know if I pulled it today specifically, but it’s been bothering me for a while. I think today just aggravated it.” 

“It could be a stress fracture,” she mused. “Has anything happened recently in your life that could have caused your anxiety and stress levels to shoot up? It could be anything really from, an increase in work to a big change or big news…”

Rowan let out what Aelin assumed was some sort of laugh. She ignored the shiver it sent down her spine.

“You could say that.” 

Doctor Towers didn’t press for more information, merely nodded and wrote something down before looking at Rowan again.

“The only solution I can really offer you right now is to ice it as often as you can for about eight to ten weeks, and it should heal on its own. No cast necessary.”

“Really?” Aelin exclaimed, unable to hold back the relief in her voice. Maybe her mother wouldn’t kill her after all. “That’s great.” 

“It is,” Doctor Towers gazed at her through a knowing smile and narrowed eyes. “Just try not to hit people with your car anymore Pr-, ma’am.” Aelin almost laughed at the comment, even more at the mistake she had almost made, but instead nodded with a small smile.

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

Turning to Rowan, Aelin found him already watching her, a strange look on his face as he gazed between the two women. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the ER burst open, and the Queen herself strutted through.

Aelin thought that if a look could set a flame, she would be ashes by now. 

She felt herself pale as her mother walked toward her on near-silent footsteps, leaving citizens bowing in her wake. But the Queen only had eyes for her daughter. Very angry eyes. 

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she hissed, and Aelin tried not to cringe. “You are in so much trouble young lady.” Aelin opened her mouth to defend herself. “Sneaking out, close to Yulemas in fact, when crime rates are highest, stealing a car-”

“It’s not stealing if it’s mine-” Her mouth snapped shut at the look her mother gave her. 

“You’ll come to learn Aelin, that as future queen of this country, you have a status to uphold. You have an image- a reputation, one that should not include sneaking out of the palace unsupervised and ending up in the ER.” 

She felt the words like a stab to the heart. Aelin knew the last thing her mother wanted to do was hurt her, especially with her words. But Aelin felt the truth of them to the bottom of her toes, and she was swept into a tidal wave of disappointment in herself. No wonder her parents wanted to marry her off. Of course she couldn’t lead a country on her own.

“Mother, I’m sorry I snuck out. I was just so upset with you. And do you think I meant to end up in the ER? I hit him with my car for Gods sake! I couldn’t just-”

“You’re the princess?” 

The surprisingly choked voice came from Rowan, and the two pairs of Ashryver eyes snapped to him in a millisecond. Rowan was looking at Aelin like he had never seen her before, and she frowned at him in confusion. Maybe he hadn’t met a princess before, but this was hardly how she thought he would react. It was as if he was going to be sick.

From beside her, Evalin let out a strangled laugh and Aelin gazed at her mother incredulously. From beside her, Aelin’s mother burst into peals of laughter. 

“Well, this is quite the situation, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was a moment before she composed herself and turned to Rowan.  “Rowan Whitethorn. I suppose introductions aren’t necessary.” 

Rowan was bowing, green eyes hard as they met Aelin’s and stayed there, even as he addressed her mother. “Your majesty. Allow me to express my gratitude for welcoming me into your country.” 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Evalin insisted, still smiling as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “You’re practically family, after all.” 

And that was when it hit her.

Let’s just say I’m involved with politics.

Doranelle.

Recent stressful news.

His name. 

Rowan’s eyes were on hers as the realization struck that Aelin not only fell into the statistics of people who hit attractive strangers with their car but also happened to hit members of royalty.

No- Aelin thought as she gaped at her betrothed- she most definitely did not fall in favor of most statistics. But they had fallen with her on one account.

The Prince of Doranelle was handsome. 

~~

this prompt was: “i accidentally hit you with my car”

taglist:

@story-scribbler​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@live-the-fangirl-life​

@claralady​

@surielandiareendgame​

[meryamthebadassbitch]

𝕯𝖎𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖆𝖚𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊 & 𝖈𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖘// 𝖆 𝕵𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕵𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖐𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

Listen, bitch, is it fucking bad that I am addicted to 'Daddy Issues by the neighbourhood suddenly got a whole ass fanfic idea on my mind, so here fucking I am, thank you so much for the likes in my other disgusting fanfics and if you would like to share this one with your friend I would be happy since my mother told me if you have more than 55 likes on the next, I'll buy you a BTS t-shirt, I'm NOT FORCING YOU GUYS LOL, thank you and enjoy! oh, I'm planning on writing a Levi book on Wattpad tell me your opinion @meryamchaline45

Based on a song called: Daddy Issues

Warning: Blood, smoking, sexual harassment, daddy issues, mention of death, slight smut, harassment, Thief!Reader, Skategirl!Reader, abuse, abusive parents, parents cheating, ANGST, swearing!!

abusive parents, parents cheating, ANGST!!

(IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF, DON'T READ!! don't report this please you have been warned)

Munching the food quietly she thought of nothing but how Seoul looked beautiful at night, a small scoff escaped her lips as she paid for the delicious food, looking at her wallet sighing, no money left. Taking her skateboard she stole a cap and a mask on her way out her E/C eyes immediately wide at the sound of the cashier yelling at her with a bat in his hand about to catch, slamming the door open she ran down the stairs not looking back, the cold breeze hitting her face as she ran grabbing her skateboard she skated between the cars so the man wouldn't catch her.

Her father grabbed her harshly by the hair followed by her skateboard and bag in the other hand, throwing her out of the house in the middle of the streets, every neighbor not even daring to welcome her even though they could see the pain and fear in her E/C eyes, but worst of all they still dared to watch and film her out of the window, I know it must be rough? damn, right it is.

Jungkook was hanging out with his group as usual and it seems like they got out of the café, but stopped brutally upon noticing cops chasing a H/C haired girl and grabbed her, slamming her face harshly against the car in front of them, a wince left the girls lips as she raised her hand in the air as she yelled out some words "it's a water bottle, please !" but the cops didn't seem to care since they cuffed her and decided to take her with them, as they turned around the girl cold eyes met Jungkook's dark brown ones, and that was his opportunity to study her face, she had beautiful H/C hair which was pretty messy, S/C skin, and had blood running down her nose and a cut on the corner of her soft lips, and it seems like she got into a fight for what? a bottle of water.

Watching the scene happening in front of them he stared as one of the cops broke her skateboard in half earning a bloody scream from her. "NO! how dare you!" she yelled with rage in her eyes as she was about to attack the police officer and punch the hell out of him but couldn't since the handcuffs stopped her from doing so but still the girl fell on her knees trying so hard to grab hold of the broken skateboard.

Sitting in front of the police officer she stared into nothing but emptiness; blinking ever so slightly her throat dry and didn't even dare to ask for water, "can I leave?" she asked her voice cracking as she sat on the chair, wanting to just kill herself. Grabbing her bag, phone, and broken skateboard she walked out of the police station to the place where she usually slept, the park.

Surprisingly she got a job the next day, and that is selling some street food with an old woman, the job got pretty handy, well, at least she would have 10$ to eat something and have a single water bottle for the day and not die from hunger, packing some dumplings in the small box she grabbed one of the bags signaling to the women "I'll go take these and will be right back Ajumma?" a small smile was on her lips as she walked away holding the hot food in her hand, the aged women seemed to be caring for her and would always give her some money even though she was poor and more broke than Y/N was, but still considered her as her daughter.

Knocking at one of the doors, she could hear the sound of music blasting and laughter, smiling at the memory of her being the best dancer back at school she opened the door peaking inside, the sight of a group of boys she recognized when getting arrested she handed the pink-haired boy the bag, "Jimin-ah~ you pay this time!" said a brown-haired boy behind him with a boxy smile, Jimin slightly rolled his eyes before smiling brightly at the girl taking his wallet out, a Gucci wallet which looked expensive, not like she wanted to steal it but these boys must be rich.

Bowing one last time, she walked away making sure to thank them and have a good day, "Ajumma, no I can't take them anymore what about you, you need your medicine so keep them besides I'll be okay for one day?" she said pushing them gently with a small smile, nodded Ajumma defeated but still thanked the girl a 100 times. "it was nice working with you, Ajumma, but I think I should go to either Busan or Daegu, I can't stay here anymore or dad will find me and- you know? so I'm gonna need you to go right now to the pharmacy and buy that medicine, we worked so hard for that now go!" she said pushing her gently toward the pharmacy with a small smile, pulling her into one last hug she kissed her forehead before walking away, waving slightly one last time before continuing her 'travel' in search of some way to escape Seoul before her father takes her back once again.

Sitting beside the boy she took his cigarette from his hand throwing it on the ocean in front of her, as he was about to grab another one she threw the box on the water, "so, do you want me to teach you that this mother fucker is a killer?" she said chuckling slightly at how he hated her already for throwing his precious addiction, "anyways, I need your help?" she said out of the blue, Jungkook raised his eyebrow waiting for her to continue her words "we all know you're rich as fuck, and I need you to buy me tickets to Daegu?" listening slightly to her words he took a picture of the couple kissing inside a laundromat with his camera, nodding slowly she almost squealed but stopped upon hearing his next words "in one condition?" "and that is ?" "I'll help you sneak inside my ex-house and go inside her room, to the drawer and there will be my clothes" "fine, when?" she said agreeing with his plan.

Standing in front of his ex house, she nodded at him before starting to climb the windows and could hear the sound of him talking to that girl more like flirting, looking at the window she could see them making out on the couch she had, opening the room window she did as told opening the drawer and grabbing all his stuff, a ripped book, AirPods, music DVDs and laptop looking at the polaroid with Jungkook smiling she stuffed it inside her pocket before looking at the room one last time.

Walking down the empty road beside Jungkook she handed him her bag full of his stuff, "you give it back tomorrow, you know where to find me? stay cool." she said smiling while flicking him off, the maknae staring at the girl with a small smile, this was her way on how to say goodbye or goodnight, the boy slowly waved back taking his keys from his pocket, opening the door of the black mansion greeting his mother on the way who seemed to smile sheepishly at him "who's the girl?" "mom I just met her" Jungkook looked so done as he stared at his mother dumbfounded

Opening the wagon door she ruffled her H/C hair after doing her routine, jumping down the wagon, she closed the door making sure to lock it with padlock, walking down the road she hid behind the wall watching as the man turned around running she grabbed a croissant, hiding it inside her jacket, thank god, he didn't notice and no one seemed to be out yet this neighborhood was always empty. the girl didn't have anything to think of but only the fact that this month was rough, she would eat once a day or not for a week, the asshole of the policeman broke her skateboard her mother got her before passing away and now she's a very famous thief in Seoul, what a beautiful life?

Nah, she always thought of giving up and standing at the edge of one of these buildings surrounding her, letting her body fall and join her mother. but couldn't, she didn't want to die and also promised her mother. Cursing under her breath Y/N limped to the front door of the beautiful black mansion, the door was suddenly slammed open and a woman stood there with wide eyes full of worry, glancing at the H/C haired leg Jungkook's mother immediately pulled her in sitting the girl down, the girl on the other side was shocked 'is this the wrong house? no, I remember JK saying this is his house' she thought confused but could see him coming out of a room holding a box, the boy slowly sat in front of her and started treating her wound out of as she sat there defeated and stared at him, his black curly hair looked so soft and his perfume was just UGH ravishing.

The food in front of her immediately got her attention as she started eating fastly, Jungkook mom laughing slightly at the girl "how many days didn't you eat something delicious?" "2 months, but don't worry- I only ate ramen 2 days ago!" she said munching slightly, Jungkook could see how her E/C eyes showed hope and slight happiness whenever she's eating, the girl was shining slightly than the last time he saw her, she was about to attack a police officer for breaking her skateboard and next was her handing a bag of dumpling to Jimin.

Sitting in front of the pool they had, she slowly took Jungkook's lighter from her pocket she found back in his ex house, playing with it she wrapped his sweater around her waist to great some heat, it was freezing but she needed to clear her mind a little bit, she was thankful of them, they gave her food, treated her wounds, gave her warm comfy clothes and welcomed her to stay with them...

And how much the girl wanted to kiss their hands for that, they made her feel safe after 8 years of the trauma and problematic life she finally felt home. The sound of someone walking behind made her stop from playing with the fire, wiping her head behind she smiled slightly at Jungkook who held a blanket sitting beside her putting the cover around both their bodies suggesting for her to get closer and not be afraid.

The handsome boy slowly handed her the phone back, it was midnight, thanking him she opened her phone, 1 notification, that's odd. Frowning she looked at the boy asking whenever to do it or not, nodding at her she tapped on the notification, her dad.

-------------------------------- 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚 🖕-------------------------------

Happy birthday Darling, you turned 19, don't worry you're still my little girl right?

Fuck you.

Dad.

Seen 00:00

Just before he could even answer her text, she blocked him and deleted his number feeling calm and free, clenching the blanket around her hand she looked away trying not to let her tears fall, not wanting to show her weak side in front of Jungkook who seemed to know the situation and reason why she was cold and wants to run away. His anger was boiling, how dare a dad do this to his daughter? tomorrow was his final day alive he swore to make him pay for what he has done to his daughter. "it's your birthday?" he asked waiting for her to answer the question or at least look at him, 'why am I feeling empty when she's like that?' he thought nudging her shoulder, nodding she looked at him straight in the eyes tears covered her orbs as she stared at him deeply, her walls breaking down as she finally let them fall after staying strong for years.

살아남아야 한다."~Namjoon BTS (방탄소년단) 화양연화

Jungkook stared at her with guilt in his eyes pulling her into his embrace the girl cried quietly in his chest letting it all out. Not even noticing she fell asleep in his arms.

Holding the notebook in her hand, she knocked on the door of his room, hearing a groan behind the door she opened it looking at Jungkook who was fixing his hair, giving him a poker face she closed the door behind looking around his room, "shit, this place is fire" "I know right?!" he said on the other side trying to tie his hair into a ponytail, chuckling slightly she walked toward him standing on her tiptoe, "give it to me" doing as told he handed her the tie, her fingers slowly trailed down his hair sending a shiver down his spine at how cold her hands are, but a small smirk raised on the corner of his lips as his playboy self started showing Jungkook suddenly turned around before she could even finish his hair, landing on top of her his leg between hers as their faces were inches away from each other, his bunny smile on his face as he innocently grinned at her as if nothing happened.

Her eyes were dull and numb, but they lit upon seeing his beautiful smile

Having an amazing plan, she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer as she leaned in, her nose bumping his, with Jungkook staring at her parted lips not pulling away and liking the way how she pulled him closer, his lips so soft that she wanted to kiss them so badly but couldn't, twirling him around it was now her turn to smirk, she was on top of him grinning innocently while ruffling his black hair

"come on, time for dinner"

Walking down the streets of Seoul while listening to some music, she slowly walked into one of the cafes that lined up the street of Seoul. Pushing the door open the little bell at the door jingled when she walked in and the scent of coffee hit her like a truck, this café wasn't crowded and it was one of her favorites, for these past days both the teenagers got closer day by day and still couldn't open up to him yet, it was so hard. and it would be a terrible lie if she doesn't catch feelings for him. "hello, can I get an iced-americano please?" she said looking at the cashier taking out the money from her pocket she slammed it on the counter before making her way toward one of the tables, playing with the flannel shirt she burrowed from Jungkook the girl waited for her order, phone ringing she slowly answered the call

"Hello? are you fucking kidding me what has he done?!" yelled the girl hanging up, slamming the door open the girl ran down the streets

Jungkook on the other side drove in rage toward where her 'father' worked, sitting down on one of the chairs his feet tapping on the ground nervously as he glared at the ground, a man came toward him with a smirk on his face, Breathless with anger, he stood up and immediately punched the man square in the jaw he didn't care about anything at the

moment but to just make him pay for what he did to his daughter.

Dashing down the streets pushing past the people, everyone at first thought that flash just passed by them while it was just a girl running with panic in her eyes, walking inside the police station the H/C haired girl immediately pulling the boy into a hug, tears covering her E/C eyes, as she pushed the strand of hair from his face staring lovingly at him she cupped his cheek looking for any injury. Sighing she glared sharply at her father "you deserved it" she said spitting in his face one last time before walking out of the police station asking Jungkook if he was okay, driving back home in silence the girl thought 'why did he do that?'

Sitting him down she grabbed the first aid kit and some alcohol, it was now her turn to help him, "this will hurt, so grab my hand" sitting down in front of him Y/N gently pressed the cotton on the huge bruise he had in his hand not caring the fact he's hurting her hand due to the pain he felt, "I'm so sorry" she said out of nowhere not even glancing at him, wrapping the bandage around his bruised hand she tried to ignore how bad she wanted to hug him by trying to get up but Jungkook already beat her to it, with one simple fucking move. Cupping her cheek the boy pulled her back down and made her face him stopping her from moving, his hand pressing on her cheeks as his soft fingers caressed her ear sending a shiver down her spine, her legs suddenly became weak as she stared back into his doe eyes, his gorgeous orbs shining under the moonlight like a diamond in the center of a museum was everything for her

His Dior Sauvage perfume only made it worse, it was her favorite scent aside from coffee, she felt giddy and happy whenever she sees him and just want to squeeze him tight and never let go. but now it was her whole body burning like fire

"Y/N please, tell me what is going on and I promise I'll help you with anything?" he said looking at her E/C eyes back and forth still holding her cheek butterflies dancing on her stomach as she stayed silent not wanting to ruin this moment with her fucked up past, she was about to pull him into a kiss, the same feeling kicked in, she just wanted to feel his lips on hers for few seconds was is a hard thing to ask? the sound of the door slamming open made them snap out of their position and fall on the ground.

"dude..."

There stood the boys staring at them awkwardly, coughing she got up wiping her clothes from any dust making her way to her room "wait, Y/N you promised me!" "I'm sorry Tae but I don't feel like playing..." "no, you're coming now sit down" rolling her eyes annoyingly she walked back down and sat on the ground waiting for the boys to follow her movement. Watching as the bottle spun in front of her, the girl breathing hitched upon seeing the green bottle landing on her, slightly panicking she shot a look that could make the bravest of warriors scream in terror, but Tae who didn't seem to care, challenged her "Truth or dare?" "Truth" "what were you both doing when we came in?" "talking duh." her simple sarcastic answer only annoyed Tae more than he was and that made her smirk proudly 'i'm not falling for one of those plans, Taehyung' she thought raising an eyebrow at the boy who smirked back at her "then why the sexual tension, and you about to kiss him?" grin fading and eyebrow falling she stared coldly at the boy his blood running cold at the look the girl just sent him "i-i take that back" stuttered the boy still feeling her staring straight into his soul, the game continued but surprisingly it didn't land on her anymore.

Sitting on her bed, she pushed the blanket away from her cold body, opening the door slightly trying not to make a noise as possible, making sure to close it behind her before she made her way toward Jungkook's room knocking 3 times. Jungkook jolted up from his bed at the thought of Y/N and immediately ran to open the door, he was right, there she was standing slightly shivering from the cold but before he could even protest to give her something to warm up or say anything, she already pulled him toward the Kitchen, opening the fridge she slowly grabbed hold of ice cream box and two spoons, sitting beside him she stared at the clock ticking in front of her "wanna know why I always throw your cigarettes whenever I see you holding one?" she said glancing at the boy who already stared at her continuing her words "because my mother was so addicted to this fucker, sure, it revealed her stress but it also made her sick, we would always go to the rooftop and talk about anything that comes to our mind, that was until he decided to cheat on her out of nowhere and started going to clubs, she didn't find out by herself, but I did, I told her in our usual ted talk we had at night while watching the stars flicker, surprisingly my mom didn't seem to care since she already noticed his sudden behavior, so being a good mother she wanted divorce and when she told him I told her about the whole thing, of me coming home from school and seeing a bitch on top off him, he started doing it to her. Days passed and mom got weaker day by day and everything was becoming worse as she started smoking 2 packs of cigarettes a day, and I don't want to lose you too after losing my own mother" she said scoffing a little bit at the memory flashing on her mind tears covering her E/C eyes.

Jungkook on the other side listened carefully and couldn't help but to intertwine his fingers with hers, and could feel her tensed up and her hand becoming warmer and not the usual coldness, looking at her he smiled happily at the sight of her looking at the moon through the balcony with a small blush on her cheek, as he was about to pull away afraid of hurting her she grabbed his hand back planting a gentle kiss on his veiny fingers and on top of the smiley face tattoo he had.

What are they?

A couple, close friends, just friends (pack it up, Adrien). She didn't understand why is the constant hand grabbing? cupping cheeks, the almost kiss in his room, He was so kind towards her and being his usual, bad boy self in front of the others?

Why would he like her anyway? she always thought of that which only broke her more remembering the fact she's going to run away and live in Busan and not stay with him anymore, her life was so confusing, should she stay with him or move away?

"Wanna know something?" asked the boy glancing at the girl who nodded at his question "you're living with me from now on, and this is the reason why," he said pulling her toward him by the hand, picking her up easily placing her in front of him and on top of the counter, with her staring directly into his eyes and his hand on both her side, the boy gently cupped her cheek. Heat rose from Y/N's stomach to her chest and behind her back. Jungkook's lips were getting closer and her heart decided to skip a beat, she could tell he heard it since the same bad-boy smirk came back on the corner of his lips. parting her lips she felt him washing over like a wave of warmth, curling her toes, unfurling all her senses as the taste of him nearly silenced all thoughts. The boys silently watched the scene happening in front of them Jimin and Taehyung taking pictures on the other side

the feel of his frame leaning on hers as his arms wrapped around her felt nearly forbidden. He pulled her in, claiming her mouth again, hungry and intense, until her knees gave in. Sure, she was a famous thief but in moments like these she's so nervous, he was her first kiss, what if it's bad?!. Her thoughts were stopped dead when his lips were gently pressed against hers, not knowing what to do she scooted closer toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck following the steps she remembered seeing in kdramas, he puts his hand on the back of her head and reassuringly strokes her H/C hair.

Heaven.

Pulling away gently the girl chuckled "you stole my first kiss-" "-and I'll do it again" he said cutting her off again with his lips on hers, a passionate and heated kiss made her melt in his arms, it was illegal for him to make her fall in love with him more with one simple fucking move. the next movement she made drove him crazy was the way her fingers played on his curly black hair, Picking her up his hand slid under her thigh, as he walked toward her room not breaking the kiss, closing the door behind them with his foot.

Jungkook's head rested on top of hers as he played with her H/C hair, "I never told you this, but do you know how much the Dior Sauvage & cigarette scent drove me crazy whenever I smell it on the outfits, I borrowed from you?" "oh yeah? new kink developed I guess" "yeah, I guess it's my kink," she said glancing lovingly at the boy in front of her, his fingers slowly pushed the strand of hair from her face as he smiled back at her, his fingers under her chin as he pulled her into a kiss.

"I'm in love with you girl with Dior Sauvage kink, Y/N L/N "

"and I'm in love with you too cigarette addicted bad boy, Jeon Jungkook"

[dylanxmin]

nobody does it like you do∣ k.nj

this work made for valentine’s day and there is a masterlist where a couple of writers came together to write for the sprit of the valentin’s day. please check the masterlist, and give lots of love to each work !  ♡ ♡

bangtan pastries ; valentine’s mlist

you didn’t fall in love with kim namjoon at the first sight, or he didn’t look anything sweet in the metal cage, but out of the ring, he was the sweetest, kindest one you can meet. Day by day, you fell in love and after two years, he decided to be the cheesy lover. 

OR to cringe you in and out on the valentine days.

pairing; fighter!namjoon x female!reader

genre; cheesy romance, smut, light angst(very very light dark atmosphere,oops:), established relationship, valentine au, pwp?,,

rating; m +18

warnings; mention of blood(as nj is a fighter:), mention of sex, kinda toxic but not toxic relationship(they just way too in love:), cage fighting, mention of yoonmin(and they have daddy issues:), mention of crossdressing, namjoon is totally an exhibitionist(but not gonna happen), a couple of curse words, Valentine's Day cliches(of course, duhh!), master - pet kink, bdsm motives, bondage, shibari(?), dom namjoon, sub reader, oral (f), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, begging, dirty talk, pain kink, humiliation kink, degradation, choking, biting, marking, hair pulling, rough sex, messy sex, unprotected sex(u know what not to do:), ig reader has a thing for namjoon’s hands but yeah,,,

word count; 11.4k 

a/n; heyyy, happy late valentine’s???,,, well, i have lots of complicated thoughts on this one ‘cuz my mind and my muse had a big fight on this fic. One of them wanted it to be very, very dark while the other decide it would be too much(you should guess which one wanted it to be dark and which didn’t)... so ion know if this come out as dark or light? maybe in between? hopefully? Plus, smut took me ages to write, as it clear, I can’t write smut now. Yeah, tea is out ! lol. a n y w a y s.... hope you will enjoy reading it? PLS mind the warnings guys, ion want you to feel uncomfortable,, soo, enjoy it xx  ♡

             ‘‘Listen to your heart when he's calling for you

                 Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do’’

The question starts with a wrong turn at the top. Not ‘why?’. It should be ‘how?’. Would be more fitting, more understandable. 

How did you fall in love with him? 

Yes, you. How exactly did you fall in love with the man you called the love of your life?

Because he was a fine looking man? He was tall? Got a sense of fashion? He was hot, maybe? 

No. You fall in love because he has everything you want. Everything you need. And also more. Even more. 

It was the way the dark pupils lost behind the curl of his eyelids in a good laugh. Sugar skin dips down to force out the cute little holes, the dimples. Or the apricots, you called them mostly. 

Maybe you fell in love because you were jealous of the way he loved, cared for his plants and simply wanted to take their place in his heart. Or, he was so caring that he could still love watering his plants, talking to them while loving you crazy. Sending you to the moon before you can understand the lackness of your weights, the easiness of your heart, he would take you back. Land you gently as ever.  

Not knowing for sure, but you may also have fallen in love with him when he rented the second bike for you, so you could go to the mountains with him. Or when he had read the book you mention out of the context, without even paying attention that you couldn’t even remember when he said he read it in three days. 

Maybe it had happened because he gave you a soda when he took it for himself, or the one time he had chosen to stay with you rather than going out with his friend because you weren’t feeling well enough. Maybe-

When the killer hands for his opponent tangled above your skin so carefully that it felt like a feather, it may be the reason. The same hands that bloomed scarlet stains bake the most beautiful, heavenly pastries for you to lose in the taste, you may or may not fall in love. 

But-

You could say countless examples and it wouldn’t be enough as it didn’t happen in one night, or because of a thing. Just simply as ever, you, fell in love with the most dangerous - as well as the softest - man in Korea. 

The ruthless, mellow, the raptorial, thoughtful, destructive fighter one can ever see in a lifetime. 

Brightest man in the fighting industry. The idol of the young ones. 

The Chopper. 

Your lover. Everything you want. And more. 

Kim Namjoon. 

The darkest night and the brightest star at the same time. Every nightmare, every heavenly dream he was able to be at the same time but now, inside the metal cage, he chose to be the first one. To be his opponent’s nightmare as the constant strikes didn’t stop, continued to smash on the skin of the man who was looking almost at the same age as your lover, something was cracking. 

Stage surrounded by the crowd, acclaimings, a chain of the name of your lover’s attached to the lips of the audience, he was feeding by it. As it was obvious by the curl of his mouth, back muscles going lack and strains again with every syllable of his name. 

Opposite to the others, you were silent. Tongue-tied, mostly. 

Not because you are afraid of the crimson on his hand, or the light of something inhuman deep inside of his eyes. You were muted against the glory he held around himself. The way he owned everything and everyone in there, you as well. Sun-kissed skin glowing with victory sweats, and more, the bell ringed. 

Once, twice, and three times. 

Bell of the Chopper’s victory call. And everyone going crazy behind you, beside you, in front of you, you continued to watch your lover. Muted. Frozen. Swollen with pride. Couldn’t even take your phone to stick this moment into eternity, even though you want to have this moment in your pocket. Your lover’s arm on the air, fist tight enough to break a neck, smile of his proud beamed on his face. Daunting glares melt the moment they land on yours, melting into something you may call affection. 

Maybe a bit of bashfulness, as well. 

But then, the familiar sweet apricots come to light, and the ice that holds you still breaks into million pieces. And you smile back, eyes heavy with unshed tears. Chest fluttering as the effect of seeing his dimples never, ever fades away. Starting to clap one palm to the other, ease takes over. Relief gives your air back in your lungs after you realize there is nothing to be afraid of. He, your lover, the Chopper, Kim Namjoon won the fight and he is safe now. There is no harm he could get. 

So, that means you can turn your back, and leave the crowd behind to wait for him in the locker room for him to get done with all the things he has to. Such as taking photos, talking with his boss, and filling his pocket with money. Shortly, the thing you don’t want to be included, so you pushed the iron door to get inside the to-be-empty room but clearly it wasn’t and you stop at the entrance like a deer in the headlights. 

Obviously, you weren’t expecting two shirtless men to eat each other’s face, but the loud thug of the door broke their sessions while two pairs of eyes turned over you. Shallow breaths, pink glowing cheeks, you must say that they looked adorable. 

‘‘Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess?’’ biting your lips to prevent any sort of voice from coming out, the face eaters’ smiles burned bright, like the pink horizon on their cheeks. One of them waved at you from afar, and you returned the act.  

The one with mint neon hair sat on the bench, brushing his hair back before greeting you. ‘‘I assume Namjoon won as you are not crying or screaming your lungs out?’’ 

‘‘Maybe you can be a little lighter than that, hyung.’’ even though the other tried to hide away the bluntless of the older, you snorted. He didn’t say anything wrong, though. 

Waving a hand, you open the locker of Namjoon to get his things to leave here quicker. ‘‘It’s okay Jimin-ah. I know Yoongi enough not to be bothered by him, and he is kinda right. I did cry and scream a lot when Namjoon lost a fight, so..’’ your smile and shake of your shoulder gave the younger boy relief as he moved further to settle beside you. Eyes beaming bright, he was up to say something. 

Probably something he shouldn’t. 

‘‘You gonna beat his ass, don’t you?’’ to-be whisper words coming out of the orange haired boy right beside, the older’s scoff towered behind you two. ‘‘As he took you to his match on Valentine’s Day. You must be angry.’’ 

Placing the big bag on the bench, beside Yoongi, you shake your head with a smile stuck on your mouth. While placing the cloths and couple of wires in the bag, you began. ‘‘Well, this is not the best way to be in on such a day but I’m not mad. I would be if he hadn’t won the match, but I’m not right now. Plus, are you mad at him because he took you to his match?’’ 

Before answering, Jimin leaned and put a not so light kiss to his boyfriend’s lip. Or his kinda boyfriend’s lips? You didn’t know, they were kind of weird about the whole relationship thing they had. For the last two years of your life, they were in an on-again, off-again relationship and this mainly caused Yoongi's fear of coming out by his closet. The very oh so famous businessman father of course wouldn’t let his son go all around the city with a man who had the most beautiful face that his highly known friends could see around his son’s arms, and god forbid Jimin sometimes wears so mini shorts and skirts that could get the said man have ultimate heart attacks. Mr. Min’s fear was probably beyond what you could think, and that’s why Yoongi never was able to come out and act the way his heart wanted. His father holds so much power in his palms. And Jimin sometimes was okay with this, and sometimes it was the opposite. So that’s why you weren’t so sure if this was a relationship right now. It was something, something cute, funny, deadly and very, very destructive. But something. 

‘‘He’ll watch mine after his so, it’s okay.’’ his giggle alarming yours, you both voiced out soft laughs to the air of the room. After a couple of words exchanging, the iron door opened without a crack or a force like it weighing nothing, and you know, who was behind it. And the idea flapped your stomach before even seeing his face. Even after two years, you still haven’t built up immunity to seeing him with bruises. 

Probably he had very few, but still. It played with your stomach. 

Though, it wasn’t easier being far away from him only to not see his bruises, marks that were left behind after the momentarily act of violence. The need was immediate after the ring bell. The need where you only want to hold him between your arms, protect him as much as you can from any kind of danger, and even though you weren’t built for that, he would let you to cover him for protection. Let you play your little game in your mind if that means you were happy. But the cruel pain would still affect you as seeing his skin blooming purples and reds never been an easy thing. Of course, only on him. 

Of course, the man that you had no idea about the name he had or the age he’s in, didn’t bother you. Not in the past, or the moments ago. It only fascinated you. A grand sample of the power Kim Namjoon has had in him. A staggering but not a bad reminder of your lover’s impact. 

‘‘Ready to see me, Moonlight?’’ the honey sound coming from deep in his throat, it’s enough to shake your breath. Torturing the skin above your bottom lip, you made the choice of turning your face to him, and the ache was rapid to crawl and sit heavy on your chest. 

He opened his arms to guard you from the acidic pain you will have all around your skin, you run right into the giant embrace. But, acid still manages to boil the poor skin. Whether in his embrace or not. It was just a tiny bit more comfortable way to burn in agony. Even though knowing the man who lost the fight was probably too damaged to get another strike, you just wanted to land a punch to his rival. 

Again, again, again, again, and yes, again-

‘‘Shh… you know I’m okay, right? I won. We won, Moonlight. Look at me.’’ swelled fingers lifting the chin, glossy eyes reflected from his. Every muscle working so hard not to cry, almost purple ish, slightly open wound on the corner of his lips didn’t help much. Cheekbone throbbing below the fingertips you covered on his face, you stand on your fingertips to smack a kiss. No word would be enough for you to soothe you both, more likely yourself. 

Or maybe, your voice would crack so hard that you wouldn’t be able to hold the persistent tears anymore and would cry out loud. Which you weren’t sure if that was a bad thing. 

‘‘Does… Does it hurt?’’ voice coming out raucously, you sniffed. Croons of his pupils curl so caringly as Namjoon’s heart is way too soft for your red buttoned nose. Too much for the image he holds. Smile creeping up with a morning sun swiftness, the warmness it spread is fast. Almost sweet as the first light of the first summer day, it heals you from inside a bit. Then, Namjoon shakes his head, leans a bit to capture you in a world lifting kiss like there is no one. Open-mouthed, saliva mixing under the sweet taste, your heart purrs as you receive the source of your addiction. His kiss, and the chubby lips were indeed addicting. 

Behind the fake coughs, you pull away as the last piece of air left your lungs. Space full of loud panting, staring continued. 

‘‘You see, I am great. Nothing hurts, unless you start to cry and leave me aching.’’ snort drawn out by you, Namjoon frowns as he is offended. You open your mouth to say something, but the older of the room forestalls. 

‘‘Okay, love birds. Shall we give you some privacy or can you lead this sticky sickness somewhere else?’’ Both of you focus on the man who speaks by turning your heads at him. He still stands half naked in the room, his body looks a bit red as he warmed his muscles before his fight. And they still hang broad and visible. 

But the reply won’t come from you or Namjoon-

‘‘Sickness? You were humping my leg minutes ago.’’ Jimin spats, vein throbbing ferociously on the side of his neck. 

‘‘That was different, they-’’ 

‘‘Different my ass!’’ orange hair sways from one way to the other, Jimin knits his brow. ‘‘You are only disgusted because they are in a committed relationship and your feckless ass can’t do that.’’ 

The mood change was so sudden that the smile on the corner of your lips faded so late. No one, especially Yoongi wasn’t waiting for this as his mouth parts, voiced breath drawn out. He just blinks and watches as Jimin throws a tee over his naked body, and furiously leaves the room by your side as murmuring a faint ‘sorry’. It has Yoongi stand stock-still for a couple of minutes before he goes after Jimin, running and yelling his name. 

As you said before, they were something. Something your mind couldn’t catch the mood swings. Happy for one minute, a total disaster the next. 

‘‘He’s gonna have his ass sore in the night.’’ against Namjoon’s bluntless, you punch his shoulder out of reflex. And he laughs. 

‘‘Okay, okay. Not saying anything.’’ his hand hangs on the air, a dark shade washes over his eyes as his smile turns wicked from sweet. And you know what just possessed him. Both because the familiar smirk, and being captured between him and the cold lockers. ‘‘Or, would you want your ass sore instead?’’ 

His light brown locks messed with the darker ones, forehead covered by a couple of them, he hovered over you. Breath hitching around the throat, him jamming you to the locked with his huge, muscled fighter body has you warm. A little bit too hot as you gulp loudly, nasty grin grows more. And you want it. Want him to smash you right on the cold metal and make you sore everywhere but someone could walk in. Just the same as you did to your friends. 

‘‘What’s wrong, Moonlight? Don’t you want to celebrate?’’ index finger on your cheek wondrously shakes you inside and out. Each draw of the slender skin has you gasping because that’s all you can over him. ‘‘Not so happy over our win?’’ 

A smile comes out in your breath, you shake your head while his leg finds a way between your legs. ‘‘Not- not because of that. Someone… someone might come-’’ 

‘‘And that would be a bad thing?’’ 

Lips parts, closes and parts again. Brush of his fat thigh on your skin feels too much, you blurt out a moan before you get your head together. The moment you saw him without any cover over his upper half on the cage, you wanted to have his way with you. The need was burning by the start of the night, every punch, every loud growl had been making it grow bigger and bigger and you were pulsing on the down below. If he had his way with you, you could even forget the fact that he had a fight on Valentine’s Day, but the side of your brain, the consciousness place was screaming otherwise. Not that you ever listened to it.  

Namjoon kissed again. 

It was only understandable of you to give in. As he is the Kim Namjoon, the one who knew so well about taking whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if it’s a fight, a place he wanted to get in, or you. He will get whatever he wants, and whenever. The taste on his tongue dancing sweet and thick down yours, you’d gladly stand defenceless. What can one do? He wanted it, and he got it. 

Kiss longs enough to choke you both, though he looks way unfazed comparing you, it broke apart. ‘‘This- this is not how I imagined spending Valentine’s with you.’’ chest heaving, you put your hands on his broad chest in case he tries to lean in. Not that it’ll affect him much, but… 

Namjoon’s brow knits while the ghost of his smirk wanders wide around his mouth. ‘‘Exactly. We need to do it, it’s Valentine’s Day-’’ he exclaims but you cut him immediately. 

‘‘Not in an ugly basement of some cage fighting thing going on!’’ 

He rolls his eyes with curled lips. ‘‘Like it would be the first time.’’ and you punch him this time. Hard enough to hurt because he deserved it. He laughs, claiming it’s only a joke and lands another but quick kiss. ‘‘Let me get clean and we can get out of here, okay? I may or may not have some plans.’’ then he won’t speak for feeling like eternity to you. No matter how many times you ask or whine what his plans are, he continues to hum the same song. He showers, the same hum on his lips, he changes into clean clothes while it still lingers. 

It is true that waiting sucks. It even more when the man you love so much keeps you waiting. You play with your phone until he is done with whatever he is doing, give some breaks only to huff and puff occasionally as both missing and curiosity fills too much of you. You know it’s not much as you both don’t like to be so fancy over anything, and don’t have so much to spend too. But whatever it is, it’ll make you so happy and thrilled because spending time with him always has you ecstatic. You were ecstatic the first time you saw him and have been till today. 

All the previous protests you held against your friend’s request of going to a cage fighting night had died the moment your eyes landed on him. Opposite to what Jungkook thought about you being petrified because of fear of all the bone crashing sounds, blood and violence, you weren’t. 

It was epiphany.  

Coming to a realization of the evil indeed could look beautiful, mesmerizing. Shouldn’t have been surprised so much as the evil itself is an angel, fallen or not. And it looked glorious in the cage, hiding under the skin of pink haired - brown locks were once pink and had undercut. - man who was beating the shit out of his rival in the cage. If he had that face when he lurked in the blood of the first one’s, you wouldn’t blame them for getting kicked out of the gates of heaven. It’s only natural to obey him, fooled by him. 

Even that moment, you knew he was everything. You knew you had to be with him, somehow. You craved his sweat covered body, his sinful fingers, parted lips to close them sweetly. 

His rage, his laser eyes, his flames-

The lust came before love, but they got along well. Falling in love felt like falling from the sky, and you were glad that you could understand how he felt years ago. The obscurity of it was terrifying, yet the thrill still beamed high. 

You were intoxicated by him, soothed by the tasty nectar of his apple. You were in love with him. And you were more than ready to be dismissed. 

‘‘Daydreaming again?’’ the man in his not so tight black jeans, matching boots and nothing more is now standing an arm length away, remains of shower still alive as his muscles and tattoos gleaming with the water drops. Air hitching around your throat, his smile beamed while he was busy drying his hair by a towel. ‘‘Bet you were thinking about me and what my plans are.’’ 

‘‘Cocky aren’t we?’’ a throaty laugh was his answer at your eye roll, a kiss you barely felt licked against your temple before he disappeared again to get fully clothed. A little bit of lying wouldn’t hurt him, but the truth about you thinking him twenty-four-seven would damage your pride so it was okay. Namjoon would not mind it, anyway. 

                                                                                                       ⋅＊⋆ ♥ ⋅＊⋰＊⋅ ♥ ⋅＊⋆ ⋅

The ride back home was a bit tough both for you two. Maybe more for him but if he wanted he could easily ease down your endless questions, but fortunately for both he didn’t. He hummed every question with a completely blank face, and chose to drive you wild. 

‘‘This is our way back home. We are going home?’’ 

A hum.

‘‘Are we going to the pub in the corner of our street? What was it, Bailey’s?’’ 

Another hum. 

‘‘You are not gonna tell me aren't’ you? This sucks, waiting sucks, you suck!’’ 

And there is the fucking hum and the laugh. He laughed at you like you were the one who acts hilarious. For the whole ride - and it was nothing more than twenty minutes but it felt like it - he hummed and laughed. Most of the questions were welcomed by silence, and the others died around your throat before even voiced out as well as your enthusiasm. Knowing he was doing this on purpose didn’t stop you from falling right into his game. Rather, you stuck in the middle of it and the struggle for going out pulled you even more. 

As they said, once you’re in the spider web, you fucked up. 

Well, you didn’t know who said it but it was true as you couldn’t get out of the bog of question and unknown. A nature you could call it, your curse. Being the absolute form full of curiosity and undying grudge you hold when you wouldn’t be able to get what you want. Maybe a bit spoiled as the other always called you, it never bothered you. What’s wrong with being a bit spoiled as long as you have what you wanted and didn’t hurt anyone? Well, at least the damages were not bad.

‘‘Home sweet home, huh? Hop off now.’’ it was direct when he stopped the engine of the car. Though, not rude. Namjoon could never be rude, and you know it better than anyone. Maybe he is in the cage, but that’s only natural. Cage was for animals, and he was one inside of the worn out metal. 

And again, you were angry. ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me I guessed it right at the head of the ride. I could have suffered less, you know.’’ and you had all right to feel your blood raging inside your veins, jumping right and left. Slamming the ages old car’s door without having mercy on it, you act before him and hurried your steps into your apartment. One hand searching the bag for the now lost keys. Of course, you weren’t just angry because you were going to spend the night in your house, you loved being at home with him. You were half-serious, half-acting your rage as a revenge. 

‘‘Woah, now don’t take our anger out of my girl, huh. What do you say?’’ he was coming back at you, grin hide away. Namjoon always adored how you were the literal ball of anger. Looking from out, everyone could easily misperceive who was in the charge in this relationship, but when you were all alone with your demons lurking free, he was always too eager to bend the knee. 

Maybe he didn’t have to work hard to get you at first, as you were already too deep in him. Yet, he knew. He knew that he'd chase you until the end of the world and beyond only to be with you more. To be close to you. To be yours. 

He shamelessly eyed the shape of your hips while you were climbing the stairs, as it’d be dumb not to. Outraged echoes of your mud covered boots beaming all around the walls, he bite his lip hard. It was a shame not to just have you right here, right now, where everyone could easily see. Maybe another time-

Now, your reaction is more important for him, so he waits while you fight with your purse to find the key, opening the door of your shared apartment, and then stopping instantly. 

As the night only allows you to see so little thanks to the light that echoed by the street, your body leans on the other sense you had. The smell that you shouldn’t smell tangles around your nostrils, magically the taste finds a way to bloom above your tongue, watering all over your mouth and you turn your head at Namjoon who is not sharing the same confusion with you. Rather, he was smiling with brows lifted high. And it only lead you to think-

‘‘What did you do?’’ he laughed at you as waiting this reaction, pushing you inside to close the door behind you and him. 

When the lights on he whispers behind your ear, way too delighted. ‘‘What does it look like?’’ 

And then, they were the things that shouldn’t be in your living room. The not so big clothed table, having lots of ornate belongings that didn't belong to you. Black covering above the white table cloth, there were so many forks, spoons that you would never use. The combination of red roses and black candles made you sick on the stomach as you stood there, mouth hanging open, literal disgust in your feature. 

Turning your head once again, you faced the man who was biting his smile, hiding it behind a thin line. ‘‘What do you think?’’ he asks, although knowing the answer very well, Namjoon needs to hear it from your lips. The delight was shrouded under it. And before you can utter an answer, you give one look to the table, and then your lover’s expecting face. Words loading to your closed mouth, you pushed them to the air rather than swallowing down. 

‘‘It’s hideous, I loved it!’’ 

Running in the middle of the room to examine the table better, Namjoon follows from behind, a laughter on his throat. From up close, it looked even worse. The absolute cliche you never grew liking. But you loved it because it was also not fitting with the man who Namjoon was and it made all these things amusing. Yes, he was kind, caring and a romantic without acknowledging it but never like this. More likely, he would do things without any romantic motive in them and that's exactly the reason you fell in love with him. He never bought you roses, but you were growing so many plants that one can call it a garden. He never took you out to a fancy place for dinner or never, ever made a table like that but he did cook the best food you ever had in your life. 

As the room filled with the tasty smell of something, you were going to turn back to ask what was the cause of it but the broad weight capturing you between the fat arms, your question melted away. 

Small, semi-wet touch of kisses painting your neck, you grabbed the head of some chair. Lashes flutter shut, you lean a bit back and bare your neck for more. ‘‘It smells so good. What is it?’’ barely whispered words coming out of you, Namjoon kissed the crook in the back of your neck, creating a deep purple before popping the skin off and clearing his throat. 

‘‘It’s something you would love to eat, but before-’’ the sound of his pocket continued after his word died, fingertips occupying you by the play on your stomach, the barrier of your shirt already passed. Flutter of your lashes, you lean back and wait rather than asking him what he was up to, or when he gathered these cheesy atmospheres. Namjoon chose to not rush anything, taking his phone from his pocket, steadily, unrushed. As he had already prepared it, he only had to touch the play button and the music filled the room. 

‘‘Oh- NO!’’ the flip of your stomach was funny as the laugh popped out as a reflex. Familiar melody echoing through the ice blue walls, your body moves with the man behind you, simultaneously. Following his steps while taking little right and left, tiny touches of his lips continued as he giggled with you. 

She's a little pirate in my mind.

‘‘You gotta be kidding me, right?’’ things have you surprised as they were highly odd, not expected from the man who never does anything this obvious. And plus, this isn’t being romantic in your language, this was being cheesy for both of you and you have had no idea why he was doing these all of a sudden. 

Give her all the love she gives to me. Rather than replying to you, he go alongs with the song. 

‘‘Never felt this love from anyone’’ Namjoon nudges at the side of your neck with the tip of his nose before talking - not mimicking the song this time -. ‘‘Remember the song, yet? It’s from the time where we first gathered on the bar, you were there with your friend, staring deep into my soul?’’ 

A man can never dream these kind of things

Especially when she came and spread her wings

Whispered in my ear the things I'd like

Surely you remembered the day he was talking about, how could you forget it while you did wait for that moment to come for feeling like a lifetime after you first saw him inside the cage. All that sweaty caramel skin had glowed in your dreams, the image of his tightened muscles left you leaking for so many nights. Therefore, you obviously remembered the day when Jungkook stalked him to find his favorite place so you two could act like you were always hanging there - which it worked -. There was no use pretending you weren’t captivated by him, so you did stare at him too much. Until he had noticed you, asked for your number, and fucked you on your bed, wall, kitchen… Poor Jungkook for hearing all of them, though, you learned that he used them for his own pleasure, so you guessed it was a win - win situation. 

‘‘Well, you know I get what I want, so…’’ the laugh coming rough, almost reminding a growl on your neck, he turned you over so you can meet him in the eye. Now, back rubbing one of the chairs, his long bony fingers already wrapped above your cheeks, you did the exact thing from the day. Stare deep in him. 

Side of his lips curled high, he wets his lips. ‘‘Hope you will have the same courage later in the night.’’ the eyes of him digs in you cold and greedy, your gulp sounds loud. It has him laughing, not so loud ‘hah’ presents his pearly teeth. ‘‘Before you, we have other things to eat.’’ 

                                             ⋅＊⋆ ♥ ⋅＊⋰＊⋅ ♥ ⋅＊⋆ ⋅

As Namjoon told you the details that you were very oblivious to, you learned that he got Jungkook’s help to decorate your apartment, all the cheesy atmosphere related to your sweet valentine just because you grumble behind his back that he wasn’t romantic enough, - even though you couldn’t remember when - and obviously, he wanted to punish you by doing this. Well, he didn’t call this as punishment but for you, it was because the romantic words, the whole decoration was too sweet for the souls you two had. 

‘‘It’s good that Jungkook helped you out while we were at your fight, but you know that he won’t help you with the cleaning, right?’’ like a lightning just struck on him, the pastry fell on the plate. His puppy digits grow wide, you find it beyond cute. 

‘‘Then it’s good news that I have the most caring girlfriend by my side?’’ the shake of your head wears his smile off, as he betrayed. He will think better next time before covering the whole floor with rose petals, now. And you hide your giggle behind the delicious pastry that he baked by filling your mouth with it, as his whines loud. ‘‘After all of these, I guess it’s too much to wait for a thank you in return.’’ 

Nodding, you take another bite. ‘‘Cream cheese mixes with the apricots way better than I thought.’’ he watches your struggle to lick the remains of the cream, so he leans and cleans the corner of your lips with his thumb. Brain freezes for a couple of minutes as his tongue curls around the thumb, leaving nothing behind. ‘‘Why- erm- why the apricot danish, though?’’ 

He leans closer, elbows rest on the table as the voluptuous eyes lure in you, stomach makes a funny flip at the way his stare goes between your eyes and the now chewed lips. Voice low and rough, it’s enough to have you clenching your walls. 

‘‘I wanted you to experience how it feels to eat me, as I always do the eating out.’’ unnecessarily bold words has you gasping, crumbles of the pastry goes to the wrong pipe and you almost choke. 

Wine nearly dries off when you clash the glass to your mouth, drinking it to ease the coughing. Namjoon watches all of these very calm, grin sneaky on his mouth. The back of his head was busy with what he prepared for later that night, in your bedroom. 

While you were still dizzy with the image of tonight's fighting, the duality he was showing was whirling your head, tongue feels lull, eyes burning from behind. And you loved how he makes you weak in and out. A toy at the end of his words. You pressed your thighs together to reduce the ache, and it barely helped. All you can think of is now his sweat glistening muscled back, your nails adding sweet crimsons to the palette, tongues ferociously devouring each other, breaths loud enough for your neighbour to hear as he takes you down-

‘‘S-so, you are the desert itself?’’ 

As the images flashing behind your head having you too hot, you had to cut it with blurting out the first thing that related to the topic but away enough to get you cold, again. Though, your voice did come out weird, high and distracted. 

Amusement tangled on the line of your boyfriend, his smirk only adds gasoline to your fire. And you visibly could see the reflection of the sharp edged flames by his eyes. To your liking, he didn’t force more and nods while explaining.

‘‘Well, you always refer to my dimples as apricots and we can agree that my personality kind of bittersweet as the cheese cream and when you mix them-’’ he abruptly stops and opens his hands in front of his face, resembling a blooming flower. ‘‘Voila! A complete pastry that you can enjoy.’’ Suspicious enough, his features change. As innocent as he can, he looks at you with wide, shining orbs and the man who teases you, almost chokes you down with his words now nowhere to be seen. Like he was never there at first. And this was exactly what was fucking you up every time his duality slips. Like he wasn’t the one who was breaking bones as they were chips, washing the scarlet down from his flesh, mounting behind you like he was the animal. Would growl, bite the thin skin over your neck so severely that it would bloom purple and yellow for the whole week and maybe more- 

This time, to capture your slipped attention, Namjoon had to wave his hand inches away from your blushed face. You had to swallow down hard as the cock of his brow openly, showing that he knew exactly what your dirty mind was busy with. And the tongue poking his cheek from inside always enough to have you drooling, as the air is getting thick and bothering you have to drink another sip of wine. 

‘‘Clear as glass, your mind can’t stop thinking what I can and will do to you. So, I want to make it obvious that at least one of us tried to be kind today.’’ the index finger pointing himself, he smiled one more time before his eyes went deep black. Shaking you in and out. And your mind wandered around the thought of you getting under the table just so you could hump on his leg as long as he lets you. But the tone of his coming words warned you before you can lose on the thought. ‘‘Now, I want you to go in there, and wait for me. That’s something you can do?’’ 

Behind your fluttering eyelids, your eyes trailed where his finger pointed, the mutual bedroom, and back his face. As the tone and the words enough for you to understand who was sitting in front of you now wasn’t just Namjoon. 

He was the Chopper. 

Merciless, brutal, bruising. 

The Chopper and his killer hands, choker fingers, cutting teeth. 

Everything you wanted and more. Everything you can’t even dream of. 

‘‘Y-yes. Yes, I can do that, Master.’’ the name enjoys the man, he feels proud that you can go into submissiveness even before he says much. In the end, he did train you for that, and he did it well because now, you are on your feet, walking further to the room he pointed by tripping over your shoe just once. 

It’s another whiplash for you to go into your room and find a black hook, secured to your ceiling after you turn the lights on. It wasn’t there before, was it? You’d have known if you had something like that on your ceiling because weird as ever, you stare there too much. Whether when you were overthinking or just dazed upon. Shaking your thoughts away, you forced yourself to focus on the hook again. Because obviously, it wasn’t the best time to think what you were doing in your seperate time as you had a fucking hook over your head, and a Master inside. 

‘‘That’s right.’’ well, he wasn’t sitting on the table inside like you guessed as his breath is tickling behind your ear. ‘‘I will hang you there, in the middle of our room, all tied up, helpless, and then-’’ with the connection of his skin on your sides, not so high from your hips, you shut your eyes and leaned back. He grabs your skin hard enough to draw a whimper, before continuing. ‘‘Eat your pretty cunt until you cry, overwhelmed. Then, gonna fuck you again, again and again, for you to cry even more. How that sounds, pet?’’ 

The last part putting chills all over your skin, you tremble under his embrace. Voice so controlled, husky, dizzying that your knees ready to give up just from that. Years after, the impact of his words never faded. 

‘‘Sounds… s-sounds good, Master. Sounds so good.’’ even though knowing you shouldn’t, your hands at your side, burns with the need of holding him close so you can brush your ass over his crotch to get a friction. It feels so empty, and that can push you into a stage where it drives you mad. ‘‘Please-’’

‘‘As a pet, don’t you think you talk too much even though no one asks you anything?’’ 

It hits as sharp as a whip to the gut, with the shame of making your Master angry, you feel like crying. But you only nod and utter certain words. ‘‘Yes, Master. I’m sorry.’’ 

Then, everything starts and goes so smoothly. The acts are unrushed, familiar, thrilling in a way that your stomach feels like a cheerleader and doing some flips over and over again. It even causes another rush of dizziness to you more. You’ve got used to feeling his hands on you, on the skin, so elegant yet enough to break, but against his smooth touch, the rope now covering your body, restrains your arms on your back in a very aesthetic way, has your heart fluttering its wings.  

His silent grunt reaches your ears weakly when he finishes with the last knot, and now you are bare as ever, helpless, and in his mercy. 

Before he talks, his kiss on the neck is full of lusciousness. ‘‘Just one last step, and then you will be my dessert for tonight.’’ nothing higher than a whisper, his words have you gasping. Nowhere on your body left unaffected by the sinister’s great word play. Behind your back, Namjoon’s eyes are going deeper and darker, stars glowing with lust in them, and you don’t need to see them to know it. Witnessing and memorizing the reactions, the actions of his body came at the same time with the hasty need you had for him, and it goes for both of you. 

So, when he finally finishes with you tied and hanged, you know his tongue rolled over his sharky-white teeth. 

‘‘Does anything bother you, baby? Something too tight, or loose maybe?’’ 

Safety is the thing Namjoon values much, even though you love it when he loses control and attacks you like an animal in bloodlust, you still stop and check yourself. Floor is a ghost for your toes, barely there for you to hold on to, everything seems fine when you try to escape, writhing in the trap of him, purposely trying to hurt yourself by the ropes but nothing hurts. At least nothing hurts that much because you like it when things hurt. Especially the thing standing behind your back, hovering over you, touch of his lips wet and affectionate on the flushed skin.  

Finally, Namjoon gets his answer. ‘‘Nothing hurts, Master. Thank you.’’ 

And he laughs at that. Not too much but enough to draw a sound between his teeth. ‘‘Always so good, so grateful to his Master, aren’t you little pet?’’ a tiny slap on your bare asscheek and you answer him with a breathy yes, master. 

Namjoon’s fingers move slowly, like in an exploration. First on your shoulders, nail drawing red where it touches, a thin line of tiny bruises. It goes all the way down from your shoulders to your hips, plays around the rope where it slightly covers your breast, capturing them in their own triangle shaped ropes. When he stops to draw circles inches high between your legs, you jerk your hips and that causes you to lose your balance. 

‘‘We are so responsive today.’’ he chuckles but it dies with the bite of his nails on the same spot as he positions you back. ‘‘So out of manners, can’t even stay still for Master. You are being useless like this, and I don’t like to play with a pet that has an empty skull. But you already know it, don’t you?’’ 

His nails are still digging your skin, it brings tears to your eyes and you nod. ‘‘I-I know, I’m sorry.’’ 

‘‘Apologizing won’t work if you continue to act like a ill-behaved toy.’’ to underline his anger, he lands another slap on your ass but this time it burns. And it takes all your effort to not writhe under it. 

‘‘I won’t do it again-’’ 

Another hit encourages your first tear to roll over to leave a wet trail on your face. Skin burning, itching, but all you feel is ecstasy to have more. To him, you shouldn’t enjoy it when he tries to punish you for not behaving right, but you can’t help it. Every strike, every killing hit brings shameless joy in you and you just can’t get enough. 

His octopus tattooed hand grabs over the bruised skin. ‘‘Are you enjoying this? Did I corrupt you that much, Puppy?’’ he snickers, teeth biting the flesh of your neck and you let your head rest on his shoulder. A similar smile tugs on your mouth, another tear goes down. 

‘‘I love it when Master hurts me. It feels too good.’’ 

Sounds sick, but there is no use of hiding the truth. Licking over the bite he gave you, Namjoon replies with the remain of his smile appearing on his words. ‘‘Oh, I know that baby. I know how you look stunning in red. All smiley with tears.’’ 

You giggle as his fingers go lower, playing with the skin of your slit. Though, you stay still. No matter how much it tickles when your blood rushes over there, even when his finger finds your needy clit. Already throbbing in bliss, you stay still. Though, even when he says you shouldn’t move, he likes to make a trembling mess out of you. Maybe it’s wrong to feel, but your tears give him unbearable joy. If the cry was caused by him, though. Otherwise, he could fuck up if someone even cause your lip to tremble which he proved that, many times. 

With hands tied up behind, you have too little mobility. Plus, your toes barely touch the floor, so even when he starts to rub your clit, you can only thrash as a response. Moaning after every rude circle, the heat was building fast and heavy in your stomach. Soft kisses on your neck turn into wet ones, and include his teeth. Available other hand goes up to hang around your breasts, toying around the now hardened buds, pulling when you least expect, and earning another choked moan. 

His very clothed body against your naked one creates a big contrast, a visible sample to show who is in charge, but you can feel how ready he is behind his clothes, his groin hard and furious as he rubs it on your hips with controlled movements. And every rub remanding how empty you are, his fingers above your clit making it even worse as it builds the sweet coil inside, inches high from your stomach. 

Pushing your hips back, you pleaded, voice all broken. ‘‘Feels.. feels so empty. P-please fill me, Master.’’ 

His fingers at your entrance, plays with your mind to believe he would push them in. You gasp as he just pushes his thick digits inches, mocks you with a laugh as he takes them back right away. 

‘‘Asking so cute and docile, yet you will feel that a bit more.’’ 

And you whine loud, not in a rebellious way but much like in need. Which, that is what you are, a needy mess as you were dreaming of him from the start of this day, seeing him half naked, angry, in an act of violence, drenched in sweat. Today was a torture, and Namjoon contunied the ruthless game. Rubbing, pulling, twisting every tender spot, your nipples, clit, inside your thighs, over your stomach. Every inch of you tortured, played by him, and it was going to continue as you heard a rustle behind you. His hands stopping on your thighs, he sighs. 

‘‘Fuck, my pet looks so tasty, all wet and ready.’’ your walls dripping, Namjoon licks his lips as the sight has him hungry. The pink skin nearly drooling in front of his sight, he was beyond ready to eat you, drink everything you give.

Like a starved man, on his knees, he takes a lick from you. The taste whirling his head, he growls, holding you tighter in his palms while you try to chase his tongue. Sob so agonized as it leaves your lips. 

But when his tongue finally finds the throbbing core, in relief and heat you let your head fall back. Wanting to clench your palms but the robes won’t let it as he tied some of your fingers, too, only to leave you more desperate. So you whine even more when his tongue pokes your insides, not entering but enough to shake your legs, swirl your head and to lose your breath into the room. Humiliating as ever, every swirl of his tongue pulls another cry, another tear, and his name the only thing that spills from your lips. 

Mind blinded by one thing. And it’s just The Chopper. 

His hot tongue. 

Tickling hair. 

Bruising hold.

Bite over your skin, here and there had you whimper repedately. The rich ardor boiling high, ready to explode as he circles, and circles, and circles his tongue over your clit- 

His lips lock around the frantic nub- 

And it causes you to lose yourself in the consuming delight, coming on his face as he starts to suck your clit. Toes curling, thighs trembling as the sharp euphoria boils in your veins, blood pumping faster as your eyes go behind your head. 

But Namjoon won’t stop until he catches every drip, sucking the spent bud, pushes you to the edge of overstimulation and your cries won’t work, either. 

‘‘Please, please, Master please,’’ is all you can say without even knowing what you were begging for. 

Which this is all you losing control more and more, limbs going weak, head dibs into the thick, blurry stage where the only thing you want is Namjoon. The only thing you need, the only thing you feel covered by him and you fell into the substage where he has you in his palm. To use it on behalf of both you and himself. To bring joy in your submissive brain with his domineering talks, touches, attacks. You were coming down from your first high, but already lost on the sensation where everything just started. The Chopper’s tongue cleaning the remains of your climax off your inner thighs, he gets on his feet after leaving two specific bruises, red and purple, by sucking the flesh hard and deep. 

‘‘I made you come but you still beg for more? One high isn’t enough for a slut like you, hm?’’ next, his fingers shove into your hair, pulling by the roots rough. ‘‘Nothing enough unless you have my cock in you, you greedy bitch.’’ 

Words nothing but like slaps landing on your face, your breath hitches under your moan. It should feel wrong to get off on hearing these, but the words throbs where you need the most. 

Fist to the gut, but the pain that comes with it is a bliss. 

Vulgar, yet caring your needs like a feather on the skin. 

Shady, vehement, maybe even tainted but you can’t stop loving that it cuts your heart and brings wings out of the wounds. It may be bleeding, but bandages have flowers on them. 

On your toes, it has all your effort but you manage to push your ass high, right on his crotch to tease, touches nothing more than a wind on the hair, you still giggle as he grunts and pulls your head back. The angle wicked as your neck looks like it’s going to give up, you whimper low by the pain. 

Sick smile still tugged on your mouth. ‘‘Yes, yes that’s true. Your pet is all empty, needy. Need you to mark her like you would mark your territory, Master. Your pet needs your cum on her.’’ maybe it is because of the words you just said, or the pout on your lips, Namjoon growls like an animal, hands grabbing every available flesh, pulling, clawing as he wants to tore your skin off and reach your soul to corrupt it visibly like he didn’t break you already. 

Then he bites down the skin between your neck and shoulder, enough to draw blood. 

‘‘My territory?’’ he spits. He sounds outraged, and even though you said things enough to get him angry, the shade of joy is still in his tone so you know he also likes how you provocate him. ‘‘Well, after all a pet should be treated the way it deserves.’’ 

Humiliation burns hot red, you squirms at the words. A need of holding on to something is increasing in you as after coming down by your high never stopped being tiring. With him, it’s like you feel everything ten times harder, deeper, and undoubtedly better. However, it only causes you to want more, never having enough of the things he gives. And you had a whole night to consume one another. 

When he talks, you see his reflection on your dressing mirror by the corner of your eyes. His hand ready above his belt, lewdness lingers on his smirk. And he looks gorgeous, hovering behind you, huge and sturdy. If you weren’t held by these ropes, your knees would give up many minutes ago. 

‘‘As we are animals tonight, shall we continue our hunt?’’ shaking you from head to toe, he truly looks like a predator with the gaze of a wolf, ready to eat you whole, make a feast out of you. Remains of your ecstasy shines when the light hits his face. A very graphic proof that he is out for hunting. Already captured his prey, and now there is only one thing left to do. 

To devour. 

As he finally releases his dick, it hangs angry and gigantic. The head in a deep red, shows how much he needs to come, it’s already wet, nearly dripping. In awe, and hunger, you watch him kicking his pants aside, taking everything off and leaving himself naked as you. With that, more of his tattoos reach your eyes as they go up and down. Sizing him up like you never see him, truly naked, looking like a partly completed palette with his body covered with so many colors. So many figures, numbers, blacks, reds, blues… 

Having so many things, he creates his noble singularity. Becoming a very special piece of his own. 

A mouth watering sight. All those muscles, buffy chest, eyes that have a hold of your soul, you leak even more. Though, he stays there, enjoys the way you watch him hungrily, as he strokes himself with slow moves. Eyes crossing each other’s paths on the mirror and he cocks a brow before letting his head fall back as he continues to stroke himself. 

His dimples out but from biting his lower, thinned lip and the taste of the pastry he baked blooms at once, covering all over your tongue as you want to dive it in his dimples, cover them wet with sloppy kisses. The thirst distinguishes itself once again. Murky and strong that you have to clench your walls, emptiness drives you mad more as he just continues to pleasuring himself while you literally hang from your ceiling, dirtying all over your carpet with how much you leak desperately. 

As expected, one low keen whimper by him is all it takes for you to let everything aside and submit to his merciless game. Fluttering like a fish on a net, you beg without holding nothing, tears streaming hot and fast. 

‘‘Namjoon, Master, please-... just please can you please fuck me? Please I need this, I need you, please?’’ 

‘‘Oh, was I too intense, maybe?’’ even though he asks as he worries, he still has that goddamn smile while placing himself behind you. Brush of his red skin to your damp pussy has you choke on your breath immediately. The loss of the contact affected you more than you realised and now having him so close feels just like heaven. Or hell. You didn’t care as long as he was there with you, to hold you close, kiss you sloppy, and fuck you like he hates you. 

Nothing mattered as long as you had him. 

Lips over your earlobe, you drip more right on his shaft between your legs. Pulse drums right over the skin where he touches you, teases you, like it’s all your body is waiting for. 

‘‘As you wished, now I will fuck you, darling.’’ teeth licking the skin with a faint press, his fingers go down to adjust himself. He fixes his bulge between the pink lips, not entering but it’s enough for him to rub his dick with what you were leaking, wetting himself to ease the act. 

But after every slow grind, your insides clenches with anticipation, waiting for the damaging push and the frustration grows more and more as you wiggle in his hold. It’s not a surprise how delirious you are just from not having him inside, as the need always wins with its whole glory over every other sense you have. Leaving you completely brainless when things come to the point where you are so desperate to have him in you that you would go on your knees and beg your lungs out for it. Of course, the sex is good, but with Namjoon it’s never only because of it. It’s the way you feel complete, leaving the worries behind and letting yourself completely at his hands. It’s always much better when you have nothing to decide because Namjoon will do that for you, like you couldn’t handle it, like your mind was too useless that he has to deal with everything, and will bring unbelievably severe pleasure with that- 

A sudden pull of his arms tears you away from your thinking. Your back hits his chest, hands settling on your hips as he starts to move further. Filling you full with one move, steady and unrushed. It takes him a couple minutes to fill you wholly as the length meets with your clenching walls inches and inches deeper. 

With every inch, he stretches you more, moans spilling as a mantra by your lips mixed with thank’s and broken Namjoon’s. Eyes rolled back, your heart goes insane in it’s cage, as the feeling of being finally full is the best thing that happens to you, tears of happiness go down one by one. 

Every nerve goes into a very brief shock after meeting with him, muscles strains and eases for a couple of times before he stops fully deep in you. 

‘‘Fuck! You feel so good, so soft, baby.’’ Namjoon hisses, waits only to feel you clenching and unclenching around him. Gives you a minute for you to adjust his length, not wanting to hurt you more than you need. Yet, you barely have a limit for that shit. Like a parrot who doesn’t know what to say other than ‘more’, you always end up repeating it. 

Without spending more time, when he convinces himself that you are ready and on edge from waiting as you cry nonstop for him to move, have his way with you, he does. A long, impelling push steals the breath you had in your lungs, pulling a croaked moan as he doubles his move. Slow rhythm of his stomach meeting with the swell of your ass, the sound of your soaked pussy reacting every push with a desperate squelch, you shut your eyes. 

Nails digging in your skin, it won’t take long for him to fasten. Unrushed grindings turn into famished jams as he shoves himself deep. Burning breath right behind your neck, he sucks the skin until it blooms red from the torment of his teeth, licks the throbbing flesh but not with intention to soothe. 

‘‘Look at you in the mirror, pet.’’ behind his clenched teeth, he commands. ‘‘See how spent...you... look. Just like a dirty cockslut you are,’’ every word coming after a rough pound, they are also as remorseless as his movements. Not giving you a minute to actually look at your reflection, and as much as you see, drool dripping by your lips, makeup ruined by tears, body all red and tormented, you really do look spent. Feel also as your limbs are still lazy after the first orgasm you had. But the rude push only excites you more, delicious high builds once more as every nerve wracking slam gets you wetter. 

Then, his hands leave your hips. One of them finds your throat, the other goes over your mouth, fingers dipping inside without permission. ‘‘Suck.’’ is all he says, harsh and demanding. And you do. 

Tongue curling around the two thick digits as it was his dick instead. Lips sucks hard while you circling your starved muscles around them. More you suck it, lapping your tongue around it, you drool more. Wet patch goes all over your chest from your throat, passing his hand around it. His pace not coming down even for a bit, digits leave your mouth and find your swollen nipple. 

Damp wrap brings chill over your torso, he pinches the poor skin as harsh as his slams. You howl, wiggle in his hold but he stops you with one wild squeeze on your throat. Cutting your breath as he continues assaulting your walls. 

‘‘This is what you’ve been waiting for the whole night, right pet?’’ you try to look at his face but all you see is a blurry sight as the tears won’t let more from that. Though, you are still able to see the way he moves fast. Fast and brutal. The sound of skin hitting skin smacks on the walls, deafens you. ‘‘Hanging around my cock because that’s the only thing you are good at. Being fucked by me, until you stand boneless, brainless, hm?’’ 

You open your mouth to give him an answer but fingers tightening around the darkening skin, only a strangled grunt leaves the lips. 

‘‘Sorry, couldn’t hear it.’’ he says with a wicked smile, biting his bottom lip as he quickens his moves. Hand only loosens when your face turns purple and coughs follow one another. When he lets you breathe, you cough even more as the air burns acidic in your lungs. His fingers pinching, pulling the aching nipples, hand heavy around your throat has you on alert, slams getting more and more deep, angled hitting right on the soft pooled nerves. You found yourself on the edge of another maddening rhapsody. 

Thighs trembling furiously, you try to close your palms mindlessly, clenching your walls around him as he growls low. 

‘‘’M gonna c-cum… S-shit, I-’’ 

Throat trapped in his palm once again, his fingers finds your swollen clit, his impale focused on your sweet spot, he pinches your clit, ‘‘Then cum. Drip all over my cock, slut.’’ he says, pushing you from the edge of the luscious high. 

And you find yourself thrashing, tears filling your mouth, yes, yes, yes’s irritating your own ears as the seventh heaven welcomes you from it’s door. It takes long for you to come from your high as Namjoon continues his brutal actions. Cutting your breath, fucking you merciless, biting down every spot he finds available. Your nerves locked, mind foggy and body tender to any kind of interaction, with three deep, hurtful smack after Namjoon spills white. 

Grunts by his lungs, he fucks his cum into you. Until overstimulation feels too much for himself, he doesn’t mind how loud you cry for him to stop. Because now, everything is beyond feeling sensitive. Every poke of his dick just puts hundred needles on your skin, as you hiccup, saying it’s too much. 

Then with one light smack, he stops. Panthing behind, he stays inside of you, arms covering your body tight in an affectionate embrace. He kisses your neck, down your shoulders, over every mark he left by biting. And with every contact, your body reacts to it by shaking in his hold. Mouth lull, mind too dizzy to voice anything, he grabs your chin to turn your head. 

A soft smile is all you can see behind your tears as he leans to capture your lips in his, ‘‘Happy Valentine’s, my sweet Moonlight.’’ then he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. Tongues curl around one another, drool mixing, lips smacking repeatedly, you whimper as the sensation comes too much. 

After a rough fuck, your mind - and of course your body - finds this affection bizarre and reacts by melting under it. And it goes so long that his lips never leave yours while he sets you free from the hook, torso still tied by the rope but now you sit on his lap, losing yourself into a rousing kiss session. His fingers go up and down on your stomach, sometimes lingers around your nipples to hitch your breath. And it goes on like this until you two burn with need once again. Hard and ready for another all-consuming bliss as he helps you to ride him. 

Holds you by the waist, circles your hips on him as his head rests on the pillow. 

‘‘H-harder. Master please, I need m-more…’’ sobs won’t let you talk more, Namjoon smirks at that. Fingers grabbing you tighter, as he holds you high. 

‘‘Can’t even talk but still cries for more. Tch, always starving for Master’s cock.’’ 

Answering him by nodding, he won’t wait long to fuck you ruthless. Bouncing you on his cock, you mewl, mewl and mewl until he changes the positions to push himself deeper in you. Knees hitting your shoulder, he goes so deep that your eyes roll back until he stops his movements. Your cunt clenched around him to hold him inside, it has him coming thick and lot. Brushing his finger around your clit, rubbing and pulling the wasted bud, you come around him before he goes soft. Panting loud, desperate as everything feels too much, too strong, too surreal. 

So, when Namjoon finally lays beside you, hand patting your hair while he adjusts his breathing, you try to stop crying. 

‘‘Are you okay, baby girl?’’ he asks, a kiss to your temple. Freeing your face from your tears, you see the concern buried deep in his eyes. ‘‘Let me untie you, okay?’’ 

Nodding, you let him pull you on your ass. ‘‘I’m okay… It was just intense.’’ smile wandering on your lips, you continued. ‘‘And amazing. Don’t worry okay? I really do love when you go harsh on me. It was… fascinating.’’ 

Namjoon laughs at your face, all flushed and dreamy like you were still in the heat of your sex. Setting you free from the last knot, he kisses every mark that rope left behind, helps you to move your muscles, clench and unclench your palms to fasten your blood circulation. 

‘‘It’s like you want me to tie you like this all the time, love.’’ Namjoon cocks his brow high, as the smile still lingers on your mouth. 

‘‘Would you?’’ answer coming so fast and full of hope, he has to laugh at your eagerness. You, indeed, would love him to hang you from your ceiling all the time. As you said to him, it was intense, mind-blowing, and you did like it so much. 

Shaking his head, he laughs once again. ‘‘You need to eat some sugar, then we can talk about… this. Okay?’’ he points the hook, you nod at him with a pout on your lips, But he leans and kisses it, massaging your arms. Then he stops abruptly, eyes go wide. 

‘‘Shit. I forgot to water my plants.’’ he then jumps from the bed and rushes to the corner where he kept his plants. 

Rolling your eyes, you let yourself fall on to bed. ‘‘Of course you did.’’ you mumble, watching your boyfriend spraying water at his plants, humming to himself with a heart melting smile tugged on his face. Duality causes you to giggle on your own. There the man who made you choke on your spit moments ago, now with all the care he has, he waters his plants. All naked, and happy. 

Tiny jealousy in your heart, you close your eyes to listen to him humming a song that comes familiar but you are so tired that you can’t find the name. Stretching your arms with all the power you had, as Namjoon talks to his plants with a soft voice. 

‘‘I know it took so long…’’

‘‘Look how grown you are…’’

‘‘Oh, guess we need to change your place, huh?’’ 

You sigh deep, a tiny giddy sense blooms in your chest while your boyfriend’s voice licks behind your ears. A warm smile grows on your face, you think,

Happy Valentine’s, indeed. 

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

              BOUND SERIES: PART 1 (THE NEGOTIATION)

Prompt: Y/N decides to look for a Dom to have her first real Submissive experience. She just didn’t expect him to be so breath taking (Yes, it’s a shitty description, but I don’t wanna ruin it! Hahahah)

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: + 18, BDSM, cursing(me and my sailor’s mouth) and adult subjects (For now)

Notes: I’ll probably make a little series out of this, so here’s how it all started... Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

Tagging: @blondekel77, @drew-is-boo, @akiko-tanaka, @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan, @new-zealand-chic (maybe? sorry babe)

I was sitting in one of the outside tables at a small coffee shop, paitiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn´t late or anything like that, I was the one that arrived earlier, from what I’ve heard he was extremely on point. That's why I wasn't surprised when he turned around the corner at 2:00 p.m. sharp. The friend who've had indicated him to me, did mentioned his incredible size and beauty, but man I still got caught off guard by it.

He's a fucking walking dream. Bulky type, extremely tall, piercing blue grayish eyes, shoulder lenght black hair that was tighly secured in a low ponytail, dark beard, incredibly defined arms and thick strong thighs. He was dressed approprietely, not too fancy but not too sloppy either, simple rolled up sleeves plain black dress shirt, perfectly fitting jeans and some casual discreet boots. He was breath taking! And I wasn't the only one who've noticed his incredible dominieering energy that seems to exudes from his body naturally.

His eyes scanned through the tables 'til his gaze found mine, he confidently approached were I was sitting.

"Y/N I presume?" He has a slight accent, but I can't pick up from where...

It took me a second to recover "Yes, that's me" I give him a shy smile

He smiles widely back at me, letting a beautiful pair of dimples on display "I'm Drew"

"Y/N" I shook the hand he offered me, frowning soon afterwards "But you already know that" I whisper

He chuckled lightly "Can I get you anything from inside?" He points towards the coffee shop

"No, I'm good! But thank you" I raise my latte cup

"Ok then, I'll be right back" He says as he entered to grab himself a drink

My nerves was stariting to get the best out of me, I was sweating profusely, I felt like my hair was a mess, my makeup too minimal, my clothes too simple, I hadn't sprayed enough perfume, was there something on my teeth? Do I smell bad? What if he thinks I'm ugly? Or too fat? Should I try to suck my belly in? Is that gonna work? I could already feel all of those old ghosts from the past calling for me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He says already sitting in front of me

I startled a little "Oh sorry, I didn't notice you came back"

"Yeah... Is there something bothering ya?" He carefully searchs my face for something...but I'm not sure what...

"Just you know, deep in thoughts" I try to shake it off

"Right.. Are these thoughts any related as to how much you're feeling insecure with your own image because of me?" He asks

*Damn! Why is he so good at this?* I thought

I debated whether or not I should lie to him, but I figured he would find out if I did eventually so I didn't bother

"Kind of, yeah.." I vaguely say

"Why Y/N?"

"Because I mean, look at you! Who wouldn't feel insecure around you? You're a very good looking man and well.."

"And you're a very good looking woman, so what's the matter? There's something else" He starts to search for something again and I can feel his getting close to find it..

I feel like I'm going through a polygraph test and he won't stop until he finds the truth "Daddy issues" I bitterly laugh "For real and not just you know, as a joke" I whisper as I prepare myself for him to walk off at any minute.

After 5 long minutes of silence I raise my head to find him still just sitting there, looking at me.

"Are you not gonna like..leave?" I ask softly

"Why would I?" He asks in a soothing voice

"Because, I'm fucked up?"

"And who isn't?" He lightly chuckles

"I- I'm confused" I whisper

"Look Y/N, I'm a man, a real man not an immature little boy. I'm not going to walk off because a beautiful adult woman has some self esteem issues due some fucked up things an immature little boy self proclaimed man did to her" He didn't even blinked "I'm not here to make you feel bad about yourself, I'm here so you can see your true self darling, not a twisted blurred vision from somebody else" He squeezed my hand

"Would you like to do this another time?" He asks

"No, please I- I would like to do this now if that's ok" It was weird how comfortable he made me feel

"Of course darling, whatever you'd like" He softly brush his fingers on my cheek "Thank you Y/N, for being honest, trusting me and being so up front about something so personal and hurtful" He hold my hand on his own and press a light kiss on my knuckles

He left me so speechless I could only nod in response.

"Where do you want to begin then, love?" He asks

"I've never officially done this before so, I don't kno- Where are you from? I can hear a very light accent, but is so faint I can't pick up where it's from" The curiosity took the best out of me.

He laughs before saying "Scotland, love"

"Oh, cool" Was all I could say

We've talked about everything, cultural differences, work, hobbies, movies, tv series, books, travels, food...it was pretty clear that we matched, which I was glad. My heart skipped in my chest once I heard his next question

"Well, I think we both can agree that there's some chemistry between us, love. So I would love to do a test scene with you so we can see if this chemistry goes beyond the talking. Would you be interest in that?"

"Yeah, of course. I would love that" I smile softly

"Good. Let's negotiate a scene then shall we?" He says mirroring my smile

He unlocks his cellphone and begin to type something on it.

"Alright, let's start with a simple one. Are you into pain?"

"Yes"

"To what level? Light, moderate or hard?"

"Moderate"

"Soft limits?"

"Um... age play, floggers, nipple clamps, temperature play, pet play, orientation play, exhibitionism..I guess that's it"

"Hard limits?"

"Scat play, minors/ children, chemical play, race play, needle play, serious bodily injury, animals and fisting"

"Do you have any medical issues Y/N?"

"No"

"Do you take any type of prescripted medication?"

"Yeah, contraceptive pills"

"Do you have any addictions? Legal or illegal substances"

"I smoke cigarrettes, sporadically"

"What word would you like do use as our safewords?"

"I would like to keep the three basic colors please"

"Ok, and safe signs? For when your mouth is restained"

"I don't know.."

"What do you think about 1,2,3? 1 for green, 2 for yellow and 3 for red?" He asks

"That sounds good"

"What would you like as aftercare?"

"Um..maybe some cuddling? And some candy" I blush and he sweetly smiles

"Are you ok with the following: General bondage, spanking, sex toys, degradation, praise, breath play, trichophilia, edge play, fear play?"

"Yes, I'm ok with all"

"Would you like to have intercourse?"

I froze at that question

"Y/N, I asked if you would be interested in having intercourse?" He says softly

"I didn't knew that was an option" I whispered

"Generally it isn’t, but like I said, you're a very beautiful woman and I would be lying if I said I don't feel attracted to you" His eyes were glued to mine “But that’s up to you, love”

“Yes I would be interested in it” I murmured

He smiles fondly “Is there anything else, besides fisting, you don’t look forward to do during intercourse?”

“Not really..I just have a problem with anal”

“You don’t like it?” He asks

“I don’t mind it actually, is just that, past experiences were not really that pleasant”

“I see..well anal sex can be extremely pleasurable to the woman, but that will depends on who’s performing it. We have to prep you properly before hand, have the right amount of lubrication and patience, love. But we’ll get to that when it’s time, don’t worry. I’ll never do something that we have not fully agreed on with before hand”

I nod.

“Okay, double penetration, how do you feel about it?”

“I’ve never done it, but I would like to try it”

He smirks at me “Alright, love. So, as our test scene I was thinking about setting a time limit, like 30 to 40 minutes to keep the scene short, just to feel our chemistry together”

“I’m good with that” I respond

“What would you look forward to do on that scene?”

“Um...some bondage..degradation maybe? And maybe intercourse too?” I blush

“That sounds like a plan, love” He winks “When would you like to do it?”

“Can we do it now?” I eagerly ask

“I like the way you think Y/N” He smirks as he got up from the chair “C’mon love” He offers me his hand “Let’s tie you up”

I took his hand as we walk down the sideblock. Oh God, what the hell was I doing?...

                                To Be Continued....

Thoughts on this series 👉👈?

[whump-town]

The Unexplainable

This has been sitting in as a WIP for so long and I’m tired of looking at it so here’s something but it’s not much

Mortch-- and lots of hurt

The first time that Derek Morgan sees it happen is about the third time it’s happened overall. It’s an awful thing to watch happen to someone he loves so dearly but there’s absolutely no warning it’s happening. He’s forced to watch Aaron’s concerned furrowed eyebrows fall and his soft brown eyes roll back into his head. His nose still gushing like a slashed artery and his trembling left hand covered in dark crimson. Derek can’t even hear his own scream but he can feel it claw its way up his throat. He falls to his knees before Aaron, pulling the seizing man onto his side, watching him choke and sputter for three agonizing minutes.

Aaron doesn’t wake up until he’s settled in the hospital. The EKG above his head measuring out his steady heartbeat but his body is so weak it doesn’t even feel attached to him. Morgan’s grip on his hand is vice-like and before he can help it a groan leaves his dry lips and Morgan lets go. His brain can’t form words so all he can do is part his dry lips and whimper softly from the pain. He’s cold and he can’t move his legs and he doesn’t want to be here blanketed in wires and thin scratchy blankets.

“Shh.” Morgan brushes tears from Aaron’s eyes, his lower lip trembling as he forces himself to smile. They release him within the day with specific instructions for Morgan to watch him carefully. Despite the importance, they place on this, despite how scared Morgan is they go home. Aaron’s electroencephalogram comes back normal given the circumstances and with normal brain activity now and with him growing more distressed with being in the hospital each passing hour they decide it’s better he just goes home.

No matter how many blankets Derek pulls around his shoulders, his teeth chatter and there’s a vacancy to Aaron’s eyes he just can’t handle. Derek keeps Jack at a distance, telling the boy Hotch is just sleeping, that he’s just tired. It’s easy to buy, Hotch is always tired, and Jack spends an hour tucked up against his father’s side. Face buried in Aaron’s side until Derek calls him in for dinner and Derek can see the fear, how little Jack truly trusts him. But it’s not him, it’s-- It’s the number of times Jack has been told that particular lie. “Daddy’s fine, Jack. He’s just tired.”

He finds himself with a shadow, Jack not straying too much further than arms reach. He wedges himself between wherever Derek is and someplace else he can see Aaron. Derek reads him his bedtime story and promises that Aaron will be feeling better tomorrow and things will be back together. Even if he doesn’t know if that’s true or if Jack even believes him but he says it because he needs to hear and because he hopes Jack might forgive him for not knowing if that was true.

He comes out of Jack’s room, later than normal. Jack cries himself to sleep and Morgan can’t figure out what he’s supposed to say, how to stop it, and wants to ask Aaron how he does this. He wants to ask him intrusively deep questions in the dark of their bedroom where he won’t see Aaron’s reactions. Instead, he walks into their room and finds Aaron exactly where he left him.

So Morgan crawls into bed beside him, tucking himself against Aaron’s side. Pressing his face into Aaron’s cold collarbone and closing his eyes, his day clothes still on. “Why can’t anything be simple with you?” Derek asks. He falls asleep but it’s light, with no true rest. He wakes with each bump, each caught breath, and every jerk of his muscles.

The next day Aaron has no memory of what happened just that he was standing in the kitchen when his head started to hurt and then nothing, he’s waking up in their bed. The shock of it stings and Derek wishes he could forget.

The doctors can’t pinpoint anything specific. Aaron’s anemic but he’s always a little anemic, it’s never caused seizures before. So, they assume it’s a once and done sort of thing.

The second time saves him the exhaustion of the seizure but Derek will never forget the impact of the ice-cold hole that hits his stomach at the sound of Aaron’s body hitting the ground. He’s in the shower, having just walked away from Derek’s too curious hands trying to worm their way down his pants. They’d separated with a kiss and an aroused shiver down Aaron’s back as Derek got exactly what he wanted, to get him hot and bothered. But Aaron’s self-control is annoyingly strong and they have things to do and Aaron isn’t rearranging their carefully constructed schedule for some fooling around.

Derek rolls over to Aaron’s half of the bed, seeping heavily into the warmth left behind by Aaron’s body. His heated blanket still tangled with their comforter. Aaron can’t go anywhere without that thing and Derek has accepted that if there is a fire his safety comes second to the blanket. He doesn’t understand the damn appeal of his ragged old thing but Aaron’s weird and he accepted, long ago, that there is just no way to fully understand the man.

He’s floating, only half-conscious of the world around him when Aaron falls. It’s loud, he brings bottles of things down with him but more concerning than spilled shampoo is the crack-- the distinctly painful sound of a body hitting the tub’s unforgiving floor. Then silence.

Derek throws the bathroom door open, not giving Aaron’s sacred privacy any thought. Aaron is there, on the cold tub floor sputtering and coughing up blood and water as quickly as it pours from his nose and from the showerhead into his mouth. He’s shaking, eyes dopily blinking in his confusion.

Not minding the harsh spray coming down over them, fortunate to escape the entrapping feeling of soaked clothes against his back, Derek bend over the side. He’s in his boxers, the only clothing he bothers to sleep with. “Aaron.” He cups the back of the other man’s neck, moving him from the direct spray of the water. With a cough, Aaron turns his face into Morgan. Sitting up and turning towards where Morgan doesn’t hesitate to draw him close. “Dammit,” Morgan runs his hand under Aaron’s nose. Trying and failing to wipe his face of the thickly falling blood. “Your nose is bleeding again. Did you get lightheaded? What happened?”

Leaning his head into Morgan’s shoulder, Hotch shrugs. He’s naked and cold and sitting on the floor of the tub. His hip is throbbing and his fingers are tingling painfully from where he hit his elbow coming down. There is the memory of sticking his face into the spray, drawing back, and seeing only the light trails of blood coming off of him. He can’t even remember bringing his hand to the source.

“Ok,” Derek sighs in-defeat. If Aaron knows, Derek can wrangle it out of him later but for right now he just needs to get him out of the tub. Easier said than done but they power through. Derek stopping every time Aaron can’t bite back a grunt of pain, shaking in Derek’s arms as he manages to get his feet underneath him.

“Sit.”

Aaron shakes his head, arms wrapped around his chest as he shivers. He’s shaking so hard he’s jerking, nearly taking himself off his feet. “Can’t,” he rasps, “ ‘m wet.” Derek grabs him by a hip and a shoulder, not pushing more moving his body down anyways. Aaron groans as the sheets get wet, as they stick to his skin. “Gonna have to wash these again,” Aaron mumbles.

Too tired to argue much farther, Aaron leans back into the pillows, closes his eyes. Derek takes his hand after a moment, rubbing his thumb across Aaron’s cold skin.

Derek is blinking quickly to keep his tears from falling. It’s not a matter of shame he just doesn’t want to upset Aaron more than he already is. Aaron knows that he’s upset. “Please don’t cry,” he whispers, rubbing at Morgan’s hand. “I’m okay. I promise.” Aaron tries to be more attentive than he really feels. Sitting up even though it makes him nauseous and watching and talking with Derek as he gets dressed.

Derek still has to go and do what they were planning on doing, he’s just got to do it by himself.

“I’ll bring you ice cream,” Derek promises softly. He lingers just a moment longer, palm on Aaron’s cheek. He moves to speak several times but none of what he needs to say can force its way up. How do you express such tremendous fear in losing someone while communicating the outrage that boils at the base of your sternum at the very thought of the realization that you know they’re lying to protect you? Because he doesn’t have those words anymore. He can’t look at Aaron and feel the pain of fury. He only sees tired smile lines on Aaron’s face and the ache of where those stronger emotions should be is nothing. “Call if you feel anything. Anything, Aaron. I mean it.”

Aaron nods, eyes falling to the comforter. He hates feeling weak and he hates worrying Derek even more.

“Just rest,” Derek sighs, seeing the tension rolling off Aaron in thick waves. They can deal with that later. “Call me and if you don’t--” it takes him a moment to think of a proper threat to issue out. “Well, if you don’t I’m sending the team over to get you. I’m sure you don’t want them to see you in your full glory.”

Aaron narrows his eyes, “you wouldn’t.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “test me. I dare you.”

“I’ll call.” he promises. 

Derek doesn’t believe him, not for a moment. “Okay.” He knows there has to be more that Aaron isn’t telling him. Though he isn’t sure what it is and if he’s wrong then he’s poking something far more serious. He’s just worried and it’s complicated with Aaron (good God everything with Aaron always is). He loves him though, and for some stupid reason he really loves Aaron’s stubborn ass. Even if right now he wants to kick him.

“Hey, get Jack some more cereal?” 

Morgan pulls a hoodie over his shirt, nodding. “Same thing as last time or is he over the frosted flakes?” 

Hotch shrugs, “I never know. Just get something that looks good.” Either way, Derek will end up eating it too and then they’ll both make fun of his oatmeal but beg him for a piece of the fruit off the top. 

“Okay,” Derek bends down and kisses the top of his head. “Be back in a few hours. Read one of your books, watch a movie, but stay out of paperwork.” Hotch tries to open his mouth but Derek just shakes his head. “I don’t even want to hear it. Please Aaron, just stay in bed. Relax.”

Relax isn’t even in Aaron’s vocabulary. 

“I will.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek rolls his eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[ajaviary]

Coup De Grace Ch 5 (Pt1)

Coup De Grâce

Assassination Classroom

~Warning: This Chapter has some mentions of sexual assault,  Viewer discretion is advised.

Chapter 5

Rating: M (18+)

Word Count: 13463 (split into two parts)

Irina dug her nails into the tender flesh of her palm that was hidden from view. She wasn’t sure why his question caused her heart to race. As she was flooded with a need to run, to escape. Her nails bit down harder drawing blood along her palm and she took a breath and held it aware of the fact that both of Koro-Sensei and Karasuma were watching her too closely, even as the latter continued to carefully detangle her hair. 

“Just the family,” she muttered, but the curling sensation of dread that stole her breath told her something else. Her mind flashed back to the little boy she’d seen in the upstairs bathroom and she squeezed her eyes shut and something fluttered along her mind, a memory...but not. More as a sensation of words along her ear, a whisper of sound where she couldn't recall the words. The tone of the words was not Dimitiri, it hadn’t sounded like him. Why she had blocked out the actual words spoken she wasn't sure. It could be a memory lapse from the concussion. 

She had her doubts that it was related to that. It reached far deeper than that. It was why her memory was fragmented, missing pieces, her mind reacting to protect her from what she couldn't handle. If she tried to force open the memories, she couldn't; she was almost positive she could...but did she want to risk it? 

Yes. As she tried to mentally go back to the lapses of memories, a sequence that seemed out of place filtered into the darkness. 

“As lovely as I remember,” A male voice filtered in her memory.

“I want you awake…”

The voice trailed off as a hand slapped across her face, jerking her to the side, she could taste copper in her mouth as she rocked by the chains around her wrists, suspended above the floor. She remembered swinging from the chain, both feet struggling to touch the ground. There was no pain, just the flare of heat across her cheek.

She was groggy, her body felt heavy from the drug still running through her veins.  Her blue eyes opened slowly, struggling to stay remain. To see who was talking with her. Her head lulled against her arm. Her eyes started to close again and rough fingers grabbed her chin and squeezed along her jaw in a bruising grip.

“That stupid boy gave you too much.” He murmured in a low tone, his voice rich, a cascading accent hinted at his words. He was Italian. Even her hazy mind could catch that.

“Dimitri  tells me you have a history. That you used to be lovers...now you give yourself to men before you kill them. How well did Olga train you?” He wondered, his fingers wrenching at her bound blonde hair forcing her gaze to clash with predatory gold eyes. She noticed a burn along his neck that stretched along part of his right cheek. He was handsome for an older man, his blonde hair streaked with silver.

“We don’t have much time, that boy will be back soon. I'll make this quick. You’ll enjoy it trust me…”

 ‘What?’ 

“Daddy issues hmm? Lovro’s always had a thing for strays. I told him you were too much trouble to keep, but look at you now, all grown up. I remember when you were little… too bad he interrupted us before. That won't happen now. I've waited a long time for this.”

Rough, calloused hands roamed over her bare skin, going lower as she heard the click of a belt and swish of the heavy material hit the floor as it pulled down at his ankles. Her heart pounded inside her chest, her body wouldn't move no matter how hard she tried. The feeling of being powerless, unable to get her body to respond was unlike anything she’d felt before, the fear was nearly overwhelming. This wasn’t her choice...she hadn’t decided. 

She was always in control. She always had a plan.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, as she tried to think about anything else. She shivered in disgust as those rough fingers worked their way under the hem of her jogging pants as the soft material was pulled down her legs. Her heart pounded behind her ribcage. Slowly her fingers curled in her chains. The heat of his fingers burned her cold skin as he ran his fingers up the back of her legs as she could hear him shifting closer to her...she could feel his legs brush her own as he lifted her legs higher on his thighs and traveled higher still. 

“Scream for me Princess.” He whispered into her ear as he pulled down her hips over his own.

Her eyes snapped open and she reached out, shoving at Karasuma’s arms, smearing blood along his bare flesh and forcing him to let go of her, to get a little space. She took another breath, it was too fast, her lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air, her breathing was too fast, too rapid. She felt like she was going to pass out. It was by will alone that she avoided being sick in front of them. To vomit up whatever was in her stomach over the last few hours, which was nothing, but it didn't stop her from the dry heaves as she buried her face in her hands for a moment as she struggled to get back her control. 

To save any dignity she might have left.

“Irina…” Karasuma murmured softly, his eyes wide for a moment he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew whose fault this was as his dark eyes narrowed at the yellow octopus as he watched her curl in on herself, the way her whole body trembled. 

Irina curled her shaking fingers around her shoulders and clenched her teeth as she rode out the panic attack. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to see them or whatever look was on their faces. The concern or worse the pity in their eyes. 

Lock it down! Don't let it take you under. No one has to know...

“No, ” she lied, forcing the word past her lips. 

The lie was unfortunately obvious to everyone in the room.

Karasuma had stood beside her bed; his hands clenched at his side. He wanted to trade places with her, wanted to take the pain away, wanted to rewind the clock of time and ensure this never happened to her.  He couldn't do any of those things. He knew that and he wasn't sure what she was comfortable with, what she could handle. He knew she had remembered something; those reactions of violence as she came out of her silences were too much to be anything else. He was worried about what she had remembered...that reaction, her evasion had him worried that it had to do with what Koro Sensei was asking. He knew it had to relate. It was too obvious.

“I’m -” The yellow creature started.

“It’s fine... I'm fine. Moving on--” she cut in her hands being raised to her face to inspect the damage. As a towel was pressed to the wound and the flash of tan skin and masculine hands told her who it was. She swallowed softly but didn't pull away.

“Finish your report Koro-sensei. You believe another person was there, why?” Irina wondered, her tone devoid of any emotion, her level of detachment a defense mechanism.

Straightening Koro-Sensei regarded her closely before he pressed forward, struggling to keep his voice calm. “There was evidence of a struggle. The blood type found didn't match anyone at the home and when run with the DNA found on various parts of your body it's a match to not just Dimitri but a secondary assailant.”

She didn't say anything for a moment as she carefully pulled her hands away from his own, pressing the towel between her palms. It wasn't hard to read between the lines she had already suspected at least one of them knew. This was humiliating, the disgust, she felt so dirty...so raw and so horribly exposed. She knew deep down, she’d known. The memory spoke for itself, she swallowed testing to see if she was going to be sick or not. Not yet.

“It’s all a blur I can’t... remember, ” her soft words caused the men to exchange a look but neither wanted to broach the subject. To press for more answers, to ask if that was true. At least not yet.

“Is there anything else?” Her hushed question was met with silence and tension in the room was heavy and she caught the flare of anger across Karasuma’s features.

Koro-sensei muttered something about the time and fled the room. Leaving them alone. He didn't want to be involved in this conversation.

Karasuma looked at the young woman in the hospital bed, the bruises decorating her cheek and the swelling and dark color along her jaw. The stitches along her hairline that we're carefully covered with a bandage. He saw how fragile she looked, how tired and yet how strong. How despite everything she was still fighting. 

“They want to do a pregnancy test at a later date, too see…” he trailed off the obvious implications as ran his hand through his hair and tugged at the ends for a moment.

“That isn’t necessary,” she said softly her gaze on her curled hands that were in her lap, she sank her teeth into her lower lip and tried to remember one of the detachment methods that Olga had taught her, what had happened to her wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when dealing with someone of her profession. She had slept with men nearly her whole life, those were her choice, it wasn’t the act that bothered her, but the fact the decision hadn’t been hers to make. 

For some reason she remembered the incident with the reaper and the rose Karasuma had given her after the fight, it wasn’t something that should have made such a profound impact on her and yet it allowed her to drag her gaze from her own inner turmoil to look at him. The guilt settled heavily over her. What does he think of me now?

“I’m sorry, ” her soft, hollow words reached his ears and his whole body jerked toward her. Taking a step toward the bed before he could stop himself. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

His fingers brushed over her uninjured cheek, gently his fingers warmed part of her neck. “Hey now,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead to her own. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.” The fingers of his free hand rested atop her clenched hands. 

Carefully she scooted over in the bed and after a moment he sat carefully next to her, one leg hanging off the bed to touch the floor. As her cheek rested against his shoulder and her eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers wound through his own as her breathing evened out and sleep dragged her under once more. The exhaustion taking its toll.

Karasuma glanced toward the door as he ran his thumb gently over her knuckles as she slept. He didn't let go of her hand even as his own grew numb. He closed his eyes for a moment, his own exhaustion catching up with him as well. He’d never intended to fall asleep. 

The silent click of the camera from the doorway and a wide smile along a large yellow head, the only give away to who was there. As Koro-Sensei sent the picture to the students of Class E along with a short summary that said Irina seemed to be out of the woods, but had a long recovery left.

----------

It was Monday morning by the time Irina was conscious enough to speak with her doctor and was given the news that he would like to keep her until Thursday, possibly Friday before she could be given his permission to go home. He did say that she could check herself out against medical advice, but he didn't recommend it with the chest tube as the possibility for an infection was still something to consider. Karasuma had taken the beginning of the week off staying at the hospital with her, bringing her books, her laptop, whatever she might need to keep herself preoccupied. Her time was spent scouring the deep web for any information she could get on the man she remembered. This was a very delicate matter, one that required her searches to be short and in some cases inconsistent, considering she still had not mentioned anything to Karasuma. One of the many secrets she was keeping from him. 

She could have asked Lovro...but she wasn't ready to face that yet. She wanted to see what she could find on her own first. She blamed him for what happened to Dimitri -- no, she blamed herself too. It wasn't something she was ready to let go of just yet. She made her choice years ago and now it haunted her.

It was Wednesday afternoon before she was able to have her chest tube removed.

She hadn't been sleeping very well, she’d dream of her captivity, she’d wake in a cold sweat and sometimes she’d be screaming when she woke, sometimes there were tears, other times it was to wake up with the inability to breathe. Her instances during the day that triggered her memories, or new ones she’d tried to ignore. There was little for her to do but to think and go over what happened, wondering if she should have done something differently. If she’d made the right choice at all.

She wasn't hungry and no one pushed the issue, not when there were other iv nutrients that could be given. It wasn’t so bad really, she just wasn’t hungry, she couldn’t stomach the thought of food. 

Irina had gone six days without a shower; sponge baths only went so far, she’d gotten help to wash her hair, but it wasn’t the same. The constant hovering was beginning to become too much. She wanted to wash her hair, she wanted to go home. She wanted to be alone to not be bothered by a single soul for a few hours. She wanted to throw up without an audience, she wanted to cry without witnesses, she didn’t want all the wires, the needles, the meds...all the questions. She wanted everything to stop. It had been six days and it was still too much.

Karasuma was leaving for work this morning and she was stuck here as alone as one could get inside a hospital in the critical care unit with a constant array of hospital staff checking up on you at various hours of the days, as long as her stats stayed in a normal range and her panic attacks or instances of disassociation were limited to certain windows she was left alone. Karasuma had been staying here with her as long as he could, but he’d felt out of place eating in front of her, so there were instances where he wasn’t with her. Those moments of alone time, were a blessing and a curse as she was sure that she was hearing someone talk to her. She was pretty sure it was just her own sort of mental breakdown thanks to the stress of the last few days, and the dark thoughts settling over her. 

Her thoughts were in a spiral of dark and depressing, but she’d been careful to hide it. She didn’t want him to worry more than he already was. Maybe once she got out of this room and was able to do more than be confined as she was, maybe she’d feel better...feel like being alive was worth it.

Her gaze watched as Karasuma lingered in the doorway of her hospital room, his arms crossed over his chest and dressed in his normal dress slacks and white dress shirt and his black jacket hanging over his shoulder. “I can stay a little longer,” he offered his gaze assessing everything about her. “I’ll be fine, it’s only for a few hours. If anything happens I’m sure you’ll be notified, besides I doubt we’ll have any more incidents...like the other day. Don’t worry, besides Ritsu is babysitting,” she managed a smile, but she could tell from the tension in his shoulders he could see that it was forced. 

If she was honest with herself the fact he was leaving left her with a heavy sense of unease and yet she wanted the space at the same time. The hand she had hidden under the blanket curled tightly around the small switchblade Karasuma had left her only five days ago. She took comfort in the pain across her palm. 

Karasuma was just as exhausted as she was, she could tell it in the way his shoulders drooped and the dark circles under his eyes. He was also being careful around her, his movements were slow, his hands almost always visible, but there was the anger that lurked in his eyes the more he saw her struggle and the more she hid from him. 

How was one supposed to talk about what happened, talk about the fear she felt when she heard someone yelling in the hallway or another patient's family wailing in their grief? How was she supposed to explain where she was taken back when one of the nurses accidentally knocked over a glass vase with flowers from another family? How was she supposed to explain the confinement of her room at night, being unable to move because of the wires and her leg made her remember when her leg had been broken? Sometimes she’d be taken back to the rape, but she always came back to herself before the act as though she was blocking it out. 

It left her wondering if she was missing something important, a crucial detail. She needed to remember.

How did she tell him, sometimes she saw Dimitri when she caught him at an angle where she couldn't see his face? How did she tell him that the man with the burn scar on his neck haunted her dreams at night, how did she admit to him that she had lied once again...it seemed to be all she could do lately was lie. All because she was too afraid, too proud, too weak...too embarrassed to admit what happened, too willing to act like it hadn’t happened at all. 

Hiding the letters, leaving a trail of clues was why she was in this mess in the first place...it was the only reason she was alive. He had cared enough to look for her. She shouldn’t have made it out of there alive, she shouldn’t have dragged them all into her mess to clean up...they were still cleaning up because she’d left so many problems still at their feet. She had to clean this up, she had to settle her debits. 

He may be angry but that was nothing compared to the self-loathing that she felt. She was angry with her circumstances, the level of dependence she was forced to undergo. Angry at herself for the constant lies, everytime she was close to talking about something, something small in her capture...something to let him in, no words would come out and instead she would change the subject. 

Her fingers curled tighter around the blade and the sharper the pain, the easier it was to breathe for the moment. The tension building let up just a little bit.  

“One of the kids will be by after PE today.”

“No.”

He stilled in the doorway. “Irina…” Her name falling from his lips was filled with a level of agitation. He caught himself and sighed loudly releasing the anger in that moment, it wasn’t her fault...he truly couldn’t blame her and yet in some ways he was. “They want to see you, ” he said softly, trying a different tactic, trying to place himself in her position and yet he didn’t want her to be alone. The kids still had a deadline to keep, the clock was still ticking, still getting shorter. 

Karasuma saw the way her eyes filled with tears and she looked away from him. “Another time Karasuma, not right now. Please.” She pulled her knee to her chest and curled arms around it. Why would she want anyone to see her like this? Weren't two adults enough? The knife lay hidden under the covers. If only he knew what she planned to use it for, he probably would have taken it a long time ago. She could hear his footfalls as he came closer.

She stiffened on reflex, but he didn’t strike her, he would never do that. A wave of guilt filled her, she knew he wouldn’t do that. No his fingers threaded gently through her hair. It had to feel disgusting. She didn’t feel worthy of everything he was doing, of his support...of his affection.

Was that love? Is that what love was supposed to be feeling protected and wanted...sheltered from the harsh realities of life?

Who's going to love you now? 

Dimitri’s parting words during their fight were not lost to her. 

The warmth along her hand brought her back to reality, back to the man in front of her. She would never admit that she was waiting for his return when he left, but also for him to never return. A rather vicious cycle as she was filled with awe and unadulterated rage depending on her mood at the time. 

It was just one more thing to hate about herself. 

So many pieces of normal were missing, she would never fully function like everyone else. She’d never been normal after the first time she’d taken someone's life...it changed something in you. Something was missing that others had. Now wasn’t any different; it was just more pronounced that she didn't feel ok. 

“We’ll do another day. It’s ok.” He said softly his large hand covered her own for a moment. His thumbs gently wiped at her tears. His lips pressed to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes closed.

Her chest tightened and she absently rubbed at it. As her blue eyes spotted the clock, she knew he’d be late. Her fingers pressed at his chin and along his cheek, she could feel the faint stubble indicating he'd been rushing this morning. “You’re going to be late.” His light chuckle caused her to smile a little. A flare of light in the darkness that had become her world in the last few days.  

His fingers curled gently along her hand as he brushed a kiss along her fingers. Next his thumb brushed gently over the bruising along her cheek, as though he had all the time in the world. “They’ll understand.” 

Somehow he made her feel like the most important person in the world. It only made the guilt heavier, and her hate uglier. Knowing that she was shutting him out, he wanted to know what happened to her. He  wanted to be able to help her and she wouldn’t talk about it. She wasn’t even sure where to begin, how to explain. Why would she ever wish to share out loud what she’d been through, how would she go about admitting to the second person admitting she remembered.

“Go on,” she insisted, her fingers briefly brushed through his hair, finally giving into her own impulse just this once. Her cheeks heated with color and she looked toward the door at the knock. Her fingers curled to her chest. 

He approached the door and opened it, seeing one of the six nurses who worked in this unit. “Mr. Karasuma, ” the young woman bowed to him and let her attention drift to Irina. “Would you like to try some crutches today? A small walk could be good for you. Once we remove your catheter” she suggested.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” Irina said quickly, her cheeks darkening further as that information was shared so publicly. The small smile that he flashed to her was only for her as he disappeared down the hallway, he had the grace not to laugh or show that he was phased by this information at all. 

Will he still love you when this is all over? 

What happens when he finds out the truth...finds out all the lies…

The deceptions?

The half truths? 

Is going alone the right move? 

Didn’t this last tragedy teach you anything...you're vulnerable.

What happened with Dimitri and ‘him’...still affects you. 

How can you possibly function at the standard necessary to make it out alive? 

He’d help you if you would let him…

Please...I don’t want to be alone anymore.

Don’t hate me when this is all over...

She gave the nurse a bright smile as she came closer, none the wiser to her inner turmoil. “Maybe getting outside would be a good idea and I think I can give it a try, how hard can it be?” she joked with a light laugh. No one ever saw through her façade, everyone fell for her charms...it was too easy. She needed easy, she needed to hide the darkness just a little longer.

--------------------

Tadaomi Karasuma paused as he hit the elevator button for it to go down. He didn’t glance in the direction of the young man lingering in the shadows. “Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asked but it was clear he already knew the answer and really this turn of events didn’t have surprised him, in fact he’d been banking on him. 

“Nah, I’m not feeling well.” Karma countered his hands stuffed in the pockets of his school uniform pants. “Besides, if anything interesting happens I can borrow Nagisa’s notes or get the details from one of the others.” This was said with a shrug of his shoulders as his golden eyes regarded Karasuma’s haggard appearance, despite his best attempts to be in top form, it was no secret the man was exhausted and those signs of weariness gave way to the fact that there was a lot more going on with Professor B than anyone was willing to actually tell them. 

Sure they knew a bit from what they had overheard, but they didn’t know everything and if one were to read between the lines it was clear things were in motion on a ride no one could fully comprehend. “Do you want to leave her alone here?” He wondered his voice edged with judgement based on his answer. Karma was purposely pressing his buttons, his weaknesses being more apparent the longer she was here. The red head saw the way the older man’s shoulders tensed, telling him something happened, something no one was talking about. “How safe do you believe this place is? A couple of kids got on this floor the day she was placed here.” he continued. 

“It’s not.” 

The short, honest answer had Karma jerking his gaze upward to meet the older man’s angry dark eyes, surprised to see that he was facing him fully no longer intending to ignore him as though he wasn’t really there. 

Karma clenched his teeth together and felt his nails bit along his palms. “Why are you leaving, if it’s not safe?”

Karasuma gave him a heavy look and said nothing for a moment. “You don’t follow the rules Mr. Akabane and you certainly won’t honor the request of your teachers and you certainly won’t listen to Irina when she attempts to kick you out.”

The red head chuckled to himself and pulled his hands from his pocket and ran his fingers back through his hair. “That’s a mighty expectation of me Mr. Karasuma, are you sure you don’t have them too high?” he questioned, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon. 

“Listen,” Karasuma’s serious tone caused Karma to still and it was clear in the eerie way he’d stilled that he was giving his PE teacher his full attention. “If anything feels off about anyone here you make sure to drop this word in conversation. We will be listening.” Karasuma had gotten in his personal space, and his tone had dropped to a low whisper along his ear as he showed him what was written on the inside of his palm, the angle not able to be seen by the cameras in the hallway. Any listening devices wouldn’t be able to pick up what was said either.

The code word was Poseidon.

Karma glanced down at the word and grinned recognizing the connection pretty quickly. He gave an incline of his head and the two parted to give a better distance, watching as Karasuma pressed the elevator button again. “So what happened these last few days?” he questioned as Karasuma stepped onto the elevator. 

“She handled it.” Was the only response he got as the door closed separating them. For a moment Karma scratched at the back of his neck wondering about the details, but after a moment he shrugged to himself and headed down the hallway toward Professor Jelavic’s hospital room, it was an unspoken rule to many of them that calling her Professor Bitch was no longer allowed, for those that really needed the reminder it was spelled out and if they screwed up it wouldn’t be pretty for them. 

He couldn’t say for sure how well Karasuma would take it, he looked about one second away from losing his cool if pressed in the wrong direction. He’d never say it to the guys face, but this was taking its toll. Frowning to himself he placed his ear pod in his ear and used Ritsu to place a call. 

“He’s on his way. Yeah, he’s definitely gonna be late. Get ready.” He considered for a moment and decided to pass along what he knew. “Something happened but no one's talking, why don’t you see what you can find out?” he suggested as he ended the call and pressed open the door of her room. 

-----------------

Irina jerked her blue eyes to the door as the click signified someone was coming in. The nurses always knocked, everyone always knocked. Her heart pounded inside her chest, the rate increasing as her flight or fight response kicked in. Her fingers clutched around the knife she wanted to use, but she didn’t, she wouldn’t until she was sure it was safe to do so. Her breathing was too fast and she was struggling to fight the panic and keep the look off her face and gain some semi balance of control. 

The flare of golden eyes from the doorway, had her popping the switch blade of the knife and the blade cut along her other hand as they shook so violently she almost dropped it in her lap. Karma was quick and batted the blade away with the note book in his hand sending it harmlessly to the floor where it hit with a clatter and skidded away. “Geez Professor I know you're happy to see me but c’mon now,” he joked easily, but his gaze was assessing her with a critical eye. 

He watched the fear slip from her face, her bright blue eyes cleared as she clutched her other hand over the wound as the blood began to seep through her fingers, leaving him wondering how bad she’d cut herself. He watched the fear slip from her face, her features hardened as she gathered herself under control, her emotions locked tight behind her bright blue eyes. 

 “I thought my babysitter was only Ritsu today,” she muttered, her irritation clear in her tone, but she seemed more like herself, not as jittery as she’d been a moment ago, the flare of pain having brought her out of the panic attack and dissociation. 

 Karma moved toward the knife and picked it up. He inspected it for a moment before he retracted the blade and pocketed it. He wasn’t sure she needed it right now. “I wasn't feeling well so I figured I’d take the day off,” he explained casually as he moved toward the bed with a spare white towel he’d found on his pass through of the room. Holding it out, he watched as she pressed the towl to the cut. He didn't hover or offer to help as he sank into the chair beside the bed.

“I’m not here on any official business if that’s what you're worried about. You know how Karasuma is, he never lets anything slip, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see how you were Professor. You fought well the other night and--” he paused letting the silence settle over them for a moment. “Thanks for looking out for a bunch of brats,” he told her as he folded his hands behind his head and leaned further back in his chair. His gaze skirting the room looking for anything that might be out of place. 

Irina pressed the towel to the slice along the palm of her hand as she listened to arguably one of her best students in terms of intelligence, but he was the biggest rule breaker. Her gaze was thoughtful as she considered what he’d said. “Don’t get the wrong idea, I didn’t do it for you all, but It seems things worked in that direction either way. So don’t go around throwing grace where it isn’t warranted.” 

As the silence stretched between them, she spent a few moments regarding the cut along her palm. She wanted to be angry with the red-head, but he offered her some valuable insight, a way to cut into the panic attacks to wipe them out in a literal manner. A little primitive, but she couldn’t deny the effectiveness. There was no way to know for sure if this would work on the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but she was hoping to for any current quick fix that would allow her to better function. She needed to be on her feet as quickly as possibly and these episodes weren’t helping. 

Her time of playing house with these kids wasn’t something that she could continue to do. She still had a target on her back. The longer she stayed here, stayed in one place for long, even if it was to just heal, it was too dangerous. She’d been there only a few hours and someone had come to take her out. She wasn’t naive enough to deny her saving grace had been Koro-Sensei and Ritsu yesterday. None of that made this any better, she was a sitting duck here and far too vulnerable for her liking. 

She needed a little more time to make her next move. A little more time for her body to heal.

 Karma laughed, the sound gradually building as he regarded the young woman in front of him. “Tell me Professor, how long do you plan to keep everyone in the dark? Killing your childhood friend tends to take its toll. Especially considering all that he did to you. You’re far from ok, yet you want to do this all alone...isn't that the same mentality that got you in this position in the first place?” His sharp eyes were cold, and calculating as their gazes clashed.

Irina removed the towel from her hand and regarded the wound, purposely ignoring him even as he waited for an answer. She flexed her fingers carefully, watching to see if the wound was going to bleed anymore. She didn't have the luxury of band-aides and it wasn't like she could explain this to the nurse. 

There was no lie, no excuse to explain this away, ever her skills of persuasion had their limits.

“If you're just going to berate me for my choices, I don’t believe I need an extra party for such an activity. If you’ve said all that you had to say, you can leave.”

“I’m good thanks, I think I’ll stay a while.”

She resisted the urge to fist her hands. Instead she tossed back her blanket and scooted to the edge of the bed and began to slide from the bed.

“What are you doing?!” The redhead demanded swiftly rising to his feet, worry in his golden eyes. If anything happened to her, he knew exactly who would take the blame in Karasuma’s eyes.

“Leaving obviously.”

Her fingers curled around the first crutch, as her good leg began to buckle under her weight. Irina over-corrected and hadn't had the other crutch ready to catch herself. She felt herself falling as she hadn't been prepared for the weakening of her muscles. It wasn't a surprising phenomenon had she been less hasty, less angry she might have considered that option.

Hands pressed against her shoulders aware of the wound that stretched down the center of her chest. He carefully helped her sit back on the bed. Watched as she coughed into her hands her head tilted away from him. He shifted away from her and retrieved the fallen crutches from the floor. 

“If you're that determined, catch your breath and then we'll see about the courtyard. They have wheelchairs, you know, ” he pointed out with a heavy sigh.

The frosty glare she sent him was telling. He watched the way her hand wiped at the sheet under the blanket once her coughing fit was under control. She hadn’t said anything and he could hear the wheeze of air with every intake of breath. 

He held up his hands. “Alright, alright.” he joked easily, but he was watching the way she rubbed at her chest as though it hurt. “I can’t say I’d want the wheelchair either,” he continued to talk to fill the silence. 

Karma watched as she ran her fingers through her hair and made a face. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” she muttered to herself, her blue eyes went to her leg and it was clear she was considering some options about how long it would take to heal, the leg was covered by a bandage that went half way down her leg and above the knee cap, the metal rods attached to the bone to keep it centered, straight and attached and allow it to heal. In reality she shouldn’t  be walking on her leg for a few more days, the brace her leg was in prevented her from moving. The risk of reopening the wound was too great, but she needed to get out even if it was for just five minutes. 

“Then let’s go.”

Her gaze darted to the crutches he held out toward her. After a moment of deliberation, she rose once more to her feet, her fingers curling along the crutches as she settled them under her arms and she kept her injured leg off the ground. 

Karma tapped the back of her hand injured palm twice and as she carefully lifted it from the crutch he placed the towel there to avoid the rubbing of her skin on the rubber to cause the cut to bleed. He was already going over some other avenues of getting some bandages and one thought made him shudder as the last thing he wanted to be on lately was Karasuma’s bad side, but if she intended to hide it from the nurses well it seemed the only feasible option. 

 “Ready?” he questioned as he stepped back and to the side, giving her enough room to maneuver as she needed too. He watched her move forward toward the door watched as with every step she got a little more sure of herself and her own strength, but one thing he did notice was how tired she was even just going this bit of distance. 

She pressed forward and he didn’t get in her way even as they slipped out the door and headed down the hallway toward the elevator. As they were tucked away from prying eyes he asked the question that had been bothering him. 

“How did you get them to limit their checks?”

She merely smirked and didn't answer him. Instead she caught her breath, her anger flaring as her body failed to complete a simple walk down the hallway. This couldn't continue. She needed to be healing faster.

Irina watched the elevator as it opened and together they rode up instead of down. As Karma caught her look, he linked his hands behind his head. “They built a small courtyard on the building adjacent to this one a few years ago. It has its own walkway on the seventh floor.”

Her ribs ached from the pressure of her arms being raised. Still she pushed through it and they eventually made it to the courtyard. 

She sat on the wooden bench under one of the small trees and for a moment just took it all in. Her fingers trailed over the wood absently as though she were familiarizing herself with the outside world with the freedom she hadn't been sure she would see again.

It sounded ludicrous but it had felt as though she’d traded one prison for another. She knew it wasn't, she knew and yet she still felt that way. Trapped, and unable to escape with her ever present list of enemies bearing down on her.

Karma lingered against the tree out of sight but it still allowed him to watch her and give her the privacy she was so desperate for. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to the rest of those in his class to see how things were going.

Tagging: @oldloveforever​

[a-pretty-nerd]

Rebellion

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 2

Premise:

When The League of Villians discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you're in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word Count: 1,567

Warnings: Kidnapping, mommy/daddy issues? Fictional politics? Future chapters will include NSFW content and violence!

A/N:

I cannot describe how much fun I'm having writing this. Like I'm genuinley having a blast with this concept. The more I learn about Shigaraki for, "reseach purposes", the more I fall in love with him as a character. He's so complex, that character development, GOD! That charactet design, FUCK! The exploration of the complexities of mental illness from trauma and grooming, DAMN IT! He's becoming an anti-hero and I 👏 AM 👏 HERE 👏 FOR 👏 IT👏 Anyways, Don't forget to check out my Patreon! ❤

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 

You passed out again. Dehydration. 

You woke up in a sleeping bag. Your wrists and ankles bruised slightly from the restraints, but free. You laid there on the floor, looking over you noticed a few bottles of water and a granola bar. You took down one bottle in a matter of seconds before discarding it and starting the next. A horrible aching pain in your head raged on as you took in your surroundings. Light trickled in between the cracked of the barred-up window.

Your heart began to race as you began to sort through your options. Could you manage to escape through the window? Or were you on a second or third floor? Maybe if you asked to use the restroom, maybe there was a window there where you could get a better look.

Poor All Might, he must be so worried. Did even know you were missing? Of course, he knew, it wasn't like you to be out all night and gone in the morning. He'd probably called Mom by now, she's probably on a plane already. She's going to be furious.

After you finished a second bottle and the snack, you stood. You felt better. Not good, but better. You made your way to the door and knocked.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" You called.

"The doors open!" A new voice answered. The door let out a harsh creak as you opened it. It let out into the living space you had been in before. There, the majority of the villains surrounding you earlier sat around. You looked up to the figure that stood, leaning against the wall closest to the door.

"You're new." You mumbled.

"My apologies, Miss. I believed I was absent when you first arrived. I'm Mr. Compress." His sing-song voice reached out from behind a mask.

"A pleasure." You groaned back. "Why is the door unlocked, aren't you afraid I'll break free?" You asked the room. They all turned to look at you.

"I doubt you could fight all of us at once." The red-eyed man had the hand again.

"Bathroom?" You asked. Mr. Compress pointed you in the right direction and you walked off. The only window in there was way too small and too high up to help you. You finished your business and washed your hands before looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired and worn out.

You shuffled back into the living room and found the group lounging around. A Tv played the news non-stop. A few of them were passing the time by playing games on devices.

"I'm sorry...Who exactly are you?" You spoke to the room.

"Wow! You really are clueless!" The girl mused.

"Don't you follow hero news?" Patchwork asked. You shrugged.

"I never really paid attention to what was happening over here. All I know is what Dad has told me. He's mentioned 'The League of Villians' a couple of times, but I guess I wasn't listening. Hero news back home is, different."

"You know of All For One, don't you?" The red-eyed man asked without taking his gaze off the Tv.

"Yeah. You're his associates, or something aren't you? Like his henchmen?" A few chuckled.

"You can call me Toga!"

"Twice!"

"Spinner."

"Dabi."

"'Henchmen'...hehe. No, I wouldn't say that." Red-eye stood and began making his way closer and closer, holding a bottle of water in his hand. Careful to hold a finger away from it. "There is nothing I hate more than heroes. This wretched society that rewards such self-serving narcissists." Closer. "We seek to destroy it." Closer. You're backed against a wall now. You watched him place his last digit down on the bottle. It began to crumble before shattering to dust in his grasp. "My name is Shigaraki Tomura. You can consider me, All For One's heir. The future King of Villians." He came so close the wrist of the hand on his face rested dangerously close to your chin. His red eye stared down at you. Your heart raced.

"Oh yes. I've heard of you." You whispered.

"Good." He hummed before turning back and taking his seat again.

"How could you let this happen!?"

"I didn't know this would happen! She's strong, she's an adult now! I thought she could handle herself!"

"She's just a kid! She could be dead by now or worse!" Your mother cried. Her fists firmly slammed on the table where your father sat. Policemen and detectives scattered about the apartment. When you hadn't returned after a few hours, All Might went down to the gym. He found your bag, but no sign of you. First thing he did was call the police and then your mother. She arrived less than 24hrs after receiving the call. 

“Please Ms. L/N, we’re doing everything we can. We’ve got the best team in Musutafu looking for her.” Detective Tsukauchi was the second person he called. He felt better knowing his friend was on the case, he had faith that if anyone could find you, it was Tsukauchi. 

“Everyone knows if a victim of kidnapping hasn’t been found in the first 24hrs its hopeless! How could you be so sure about this?” 

“I understand your frustrations ma’am, but we already have reason to believe we know who took her, and motive. At this rate, we’re just trying to track down their location.” 

“Its the League isn’t it? They’re using her to get to me aren’t they?” Your father sulked in his chair. His eyes fixated on his hands which sat in his lap. He shook with fear, rage, disappointment, all targetted at himself.  He took sole responsibility for your kidnapping. Your mother fumed across the table from him, arms crossed, and nails digging into her arms. 

“Don’t beat yourself up, we’re going to find her,” Tsukauchi assured him. Your mother sat there, gritting her teeth as she gripped her phone. 

“I have to go.” She spat as she got up. 

“Huh!? You’re not going after her yourself are you?” 

“No. I sent for Xavier, Y/N’s boyfriend as soon as I arrived. I’m going to meet him at the airport.

“Boyfriend? Y/N never said anything about a boyfriend.” Your father watched your mother walk towards the front door as she threw her jacket over her shoulders.

“Yes, well, there’s a lot about her you don’t know, Toshinori. I’ll be back.” 

“What’s it like in America?” 

Toga asked with a wide smile as you sat with them. It was odd, they seemed entirely unbothered by you walking around doing your own thing. The front door was right there, you could have made a run for it. You knew that was a bad idea. They knew, that you knew, that was a bad idea. 

“Oh, it’s alright, I guess.” You sat on the floor against the wall beside her. 

“I heard heroes work for the military there,” Dabi noted. 

“Yeah, they are. Back home, heroes are organized into ‘Military aids’, or ‘police aids’. Meaning, if you want to be a hero, you have to choose between working for the military, or independent police forces. A lot of heroes go into police work because it allows heroes to be community-focused. But Military, that’s where the money is. If you want to be a hero celebrity, that’s where you work.” 

“Yeesh, there aren’t any independent agencies?” Toga asked, pulling her legs to her chest. 

“I guess the police offices work like hero agencies do here. It’s just a group of people who are authorized to use their quirks to ‘keep the peace’.” You used your fingers to create air-quotes. 

“You don’t sound too keen on the idea.” She pointed out with a sly smile. You sighed. 

“I know things seem bad here with heroes, but in America, it’s worse. The system was built so that people wish flashy quirks get the best out of life. It’s created a highly militarized country that only cares for those who have something to offer it. If you can’t serve your country, you’re considered trash.” 

“I’ve seen the anti-hero marches online. Things seem really out of hand over there. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a league over there too.” 

“It’s not anti-hero, it’s anti-military. If we could take away the idea that we’re supposed to serve the system, then heroes could be held accountable for their actions as individuals, not part of a flawed system. When you give these people so much power, they ultimately abuse it and leave the rest to rot.” 

“You sound like a villain,” Dabi smirked. You sighed, having realized how loud you got. You were passionate on the subject. You spent your college years working to analyze and fight against the system. The system your mother so willingly played into and encouraged you to do the same. The system that killed your friend. 

“Maybe here things are a little more simple. But back home not everything isn’t so black and white.” 

“It isn’t here, either.” Shigaraki groaned from his place on the couch, facing away from you.

Taglist

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Managed: Part 3

Pairings: Clark Kent x Reader (Henry Cavill Clark)

Warnings: Maybe swearing

Word Count: 2,777

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“OK, hold the fuck on.” Your best friend from work, Sarah, said as she waited patiently for you to safely enter your currently room temperature hot tub to cool off on your first hot day of spring. “You’re the one dating Clark Kent?! Tall, drop dead gorgeous, hasn’t looked at a single woman since he started at Blue Ridge to the point we were starting to think he was gay, Clark Kent?”

“People thought he was gay?” You asked with a huffed laugh as you sat down in your favorite spot.

“I mean, have you seen how he dresses?” She asked as she got in and sat across from you. “Those tight shirts?”

“So that makes him gay?!” You laughed as you wrapped your ponytail into a bun and secured it with the hair tie on your wrist.

“OK, not exclusively.” She laughed as she hit the display panel and turned on her jets. “It’s all talk, you know. That’s all. He’s just never showed interest in getting to know people and he’s never once mentioned a significant other to anyone... you know how usually that shit just kinda slips out in passing. I don’t know, it’s just an observation.”

“Well now that it’s out, it’s spreading like wildfire. Everyone seems to know now.”

“That’s the fun part of working at Blue Ridge.” She said over the sound of your jets starting up. “Everybody is in everybody else’s business. I’m just surprised that y’all were able to keep it a secret as long as you did.”

“It was more out of fear than anything else.” You started as you looked over at the familiar rumble of a pick up truck and its tires coming up your gravel drive. “He was worried about my job, I was worried about his. Now that people know, it’s like a weight has been lifted off our shoulders.”

“Is that his truck?” You nodded your head and turned the slightest bit to yell at Clark that you were down stairs when he got out of his truck. “Does he live here?”

“We go back and forth between here and his place. We have been slowly starting to throw around the idea of getting a place but it’s still just pillow talk.”

“I swear, you live in that hot tub.” Clark teased as he walked through the side fence.

“Sue me, I’m a mermaid.”

“Got that right.” He chuckled as he came into the screened in porch. “Hello, Sarah.”

“How’s it going, boss man.” She teased. “Or is it baby daddy now?”

“Clark still works just fine.” He laughed as he leaned over the side to kiss your forehead. “I’m gunna go shower and wash this day off me and thank God we have the next two days off.”

“For doctors appointments.” You pointed out. “So many doctors appointments.” With a nod of his head, he said good bye to Sarah and headed inside, while your friend simply shook her head at you.

“Luckiest bitch in the world.” She muttered when she was sure the down stairs door to your house was closed.

“I know.” You laughed with a shrug as you stretched your legs out under the water and got even more comfortable in front of your jets. “He’s a heaven sent angel for sure. That man has the patience of a saint to put up with all my crazy.”

“Yea, and we both know how much crazy that is.” She laughed, which made you pout and splash some water in her direction.

“I’m serious though. He puts up with me and helps me not spiral out of control better than my own mother can. I seriously have no idea how or why he has stuck around this long...”

“Because you are worth it, (Y/N). You are worth this happiness I can actually see in your eyes. You deserve to be happy just like the rest of us... well, not me. I’m a piece of shit.”

“And you have Larry.” You pointed out as you turned in your chair to grab your bottle of water off the side.

“Two fucked up sides to the same coin.” She laughed, whole heartedly. “God, I love that man. Pain in my ass, and I definitely don’t deserve him, but I love him for loving me all the same. We should all grab dinner sometime. Like a...”

“If you say ‘double date’ to me right now, I will drown you, pregnant or not.”

“Spoil sport.”

——

“So I’ve been thinking...”

“Oh that’s a dangerous thing to do.” Clark teased as he got ready for bed later that night.

“Maybe it’s time to revisit us moving in together and buying a house.” Your boyfriend actually froze half way through taking his under shirt off and stared at you as you looked away from your Facebook feed and up at him through your lashes. “Save money before the baby comes and all.”

“So you wanna buy a house to save money.” He laughed as he took off his shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket. “What brought this on?”

“Well.” You breathed as you turned off your phone screen and rolled over onto your side to face him. “Sarah asked if we were living together when she saw you pull up and I told her we were just talking about it, but the only reason I have been hesitant about it was because of work but since work knows, there really isn’t an issue anymore so there isn’t any reason not to now, right?” He nodded his head slowly as he put his folded jeans on his dresser for the morning and sat down on his side of the bed facing you.

“You know that I have wanted to move in with you for months.” He started as he reached out to put his hand on your hip. “So I am beyond excited at the idea of this actually happening. But I want to make sure that you are ready for this and not just jumping into it because you think its gunna make other people happy.”

“No, I know.” You agreed as you scooted forward so you were a little closer to him. “I have wanted to live with you since you asked me to. I know it’s a big step and yes, its already stressing me out, but I know that at the end of it all, I will be with you. And that’s all I want. I just want to be with you. You make me so happy, more than I’ll ever deserve. And I know that it’s time to take the next step in our lives together. Besides that, we can’t really start our family living in two different houses, one of which is with my mother...”

“OK, well that is another thing we need to discuss.” He said as he leaned over so that he was propped up on the bed behind you with his elbow but still partially laying on your legs. “Because I already know you well enough to know that your mother is a big part of your support group and moving you too far away from her isn’t going to work for both of your sakes. She needs you as much as you need her...”

“OK...”

“And there aren’t many properties in this area for sale right now. Trust me, I’ve been keeping an eye on it for a few months.”

“Of course you have.” You giggled as you propped yourself up on your hand to see him a little better.

“But, there are two different plots of land, one across the street and one a little ways up the road that are up for sale and are pretty cheap. We could possibly build a house...”

“We could... And there’s also the bottom of mom’s property...”

“What, in her yard?”

“No, the neighbor’s old garden.” You replied a you gestured in that direction. “Mom made that comment when we first moved up here, of me possibly building down there so she’s a little less alone on the mountain. If that’s not too crazy of an idea to you, we could talk to her and see if she’s still ok with something like that and maybe see if she would sell us that land. Maybe, I don’t know...”

“Honestly, knowing you as well as I do, that would be the best case scenario here.” He agreed.

“That’s not weird for you?” He smirked and shook his head as he moved his hand enough to rub your back.

“Baby, I love you. And I know that family is important to you. I knew a long time ago that we’d be living near your mother and I don’t have an issue with that now, like I didn’t when I realized that. I like your mom, she’s funny...”

“Oh, don’t ever let her hear you say that.” You laughed as you reached down to run your fingers through his dark curls.

“And I know she respects boundaries enough that it’s not going to turn into an ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ situation. But we need to talk to her. And we need to really think about this and make sure building a house is something we wanna do right now. It takes a while to do, and there’s a chance, even if we start on Monday with talking to the city and getting the ball rolling, we might not be in the house before the baby is born... You’ve stopped listening, haven’t you?”

“No, I’m hearing you.” You said through your giant smile. 

“No you’re not.” He laughed as he sat up and gave you a chaste kiss. “We’ll talk to mom after your morning appointment.”

“You’re way to good to me.” You sighed as he got up to brush his teeth for bed.

“I’m just treating you like you deserve, sweetheart. That’s all.”

——

“OK, scale of one to ten.” Clark said behind you as you walked through your almost finished house, making sure all the details were exactly right like you did every night you got home from work. “How badly do you crave a trip to Disney?” You stopped and looked back at him before gesturing to the Disney character drawer pulls that you had put on the drawers of the dressers in your closet, and the Star Wars ones in your bathroom.

“Really?” You asked as you gestured toward the guest bathroom, that was going to be finished to look like the hallway in the Haunted Mansion, and the stacks of boxes in the master bedroom behind him of the collection of Disney things the pair of you had collected over the years. “Really?”

“So like a four?”

“Like a ten million.”

“Enough to wanna go on a short baby moon in a few weeks?”

“Is that why I was approved for my paid time off days that I never requested off?” You giggled as you turned turned back to the closet to look at the painting that got finished in there today. He laughed whole heartedly behind you and nodded his head behind your back.

“I thought I beat the response on that and we gotta use them anyways or we lose them. Hey...” You paused your inspection and turned around with your hands on your bump and your back, and he smiled and pulled you toward him by your shirt. “Let’s go to Disney for a bit. The house is close to being done, you haven’t found a single issue with it in the the last seven months, and I think we should just relax for a few days while we still can. Before Wendy comes...”

“Her name is Evangeline.” You countered with a smile. “The sooner you accept that...”

“Yea, yea, yea.” He chuckled, knowing that your daughter’s name was going to be Evangeline (since he picked it out in the first place), but just wanting to pick on you to see the cute annoyed face you gave him every time. “I’m still partial to Tegan...”

“Then you shouldn’t have given me Evangeline.” You said in a sing song voice as you turned to head back up to your mom’s place for dinner, since your kitchen was not even close to being finished yet. “It’s all your fault.”

“You haven’t given me an answer, sweetheart.”

“Why do we have to wait a few weeks to go?” You asked as you stepped over some boxes of flooring that was waiting to go in your kitchen once the island was installed.

“Because that’s the way it works.” He countered as he helped you squeeze between all of the  cabinets for the kitchen and the bathrooms that were going up later that week when the painters were done. “That’s when I could get a site at Fort Wilderness so we can use your mom’s camper to save us some money...”

“Wait, how are we affording Disney right now? We have so much money tied up in the build...?”

“I still know people working at Disney, sweetheart. So I called in a few favors from people who were more than happy to spare some tickets, let us use their discounts, and spread a little pixie dust on two expecting Disney fanatics.”

“Ok, but even still, it’s gunna cost us...” You tried as you stepped out the front door on to the porch.

“Let me worry about that.” Clark interrupted as he locked the door and you turned back to face him.

“You can’t keep doing that.” You said softly with a shake of your head. “You can’t shut me down when it comes to money anymore. I understand you want to give me the world and you don’t want me to ever have to worry, but that’s not how this works. We’re building a house, and starting a family, Clark. And you can’t take on that financial responsibility alone no matter how long you have saved up for it. You’re not the only one who has. But you have to let me... please. Because otherwise, I will keep canceling orders on things like the paint, and those drawer knobs, and these rocking chairs and rebuying them on my name, on my cards...”

“I was wondering how I had more money in my account than I should have.” He sighed as he sat down on one of the two rockers and gestured for you to sit down as well. “I don’t like it...”

“You don’t have to like it.” You grumbled as you sort of just flopped down after a long day on your feet. “Just like I don’t have to like growing a child. We still gotta do it though.” With one more sigh, he nodded and sat back in his chair.

“I’ve had money for the house for years. Evangeline is throwing me for a bit of a loop, but I um... well I opened another credit card and it’s covering her expenses...”

“Clark, you didn’t have to do that.” You sighed as you leaned to the side the slightest bit to reach out for his hand. “Because you’re not the only one saving money here. And there’s no point in me saving money just for it to gain interest in a bank when it could be used to help us better ourselves by... oh I don’t know, buying a crib and diapers and cute little dresses and sweaters and little baby booties. It can buy those towels I love for the guest bathroom, which, by the way, it already has and they will be delivered on Tuesday.”

“I thought you changed your mind on those and that’s why they were canceled.”

“Nope, just repurchased.” You clarified as you sat back to rock yourself back and forth.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He said softly after a few moments. “It’s just... hard. I was raised to be the man of the house and that leaves me with the burden.”

“And if that’s the case, then I’ll stay at home and parent. But either way, I still have money saved that can help us out here, OK? Money for a house, and a wedding. May even be able to afford a trip to Disney and the baby I’m growing, too. So you are not allowed to take on the burden of our life together alone anymore. Or you can sleep in my mom’s basement while I enjoy our house with Evangeline all by ourselves.”

“Alright, fine. You win.” He breathed with a nod. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, right?”

“Oh, don’t you know it.” You giggled as you stood up to head home. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

What I Want Most - One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s life has been all work and no play lately. When Gabe, his friend, coerced him into tagging along to a club, he couldn’t say no as Gabe has been pestering him for a while now. What Dean didn’t expect was that he’d meet his match in that club in the form of a stunning woman with underlying daddy issues.

Warnings: NSFW, mostly daddy kink, rough oral, praise kink, rough sex, one-night stand to enemies to lovers (is that a trope?)

Word Count: 6840 (whoops!)

A/N: Apparently, I can not write pwp anymore. This should have been a one shot but it ended up a mini series. Sorry.

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“C’mon, man!” Gabe urges, his hand comes up to pat Dean’s padded shoulder. 

He’s still in his suit, having gone into work because of that damn project. The deadline is on Monday, and that’s also the day that the execs want to talk to him. He still doesn’t know what’s it about, fears the worst. Maybe he has a reason to? Dean doesn’t know why they would fire him, though. Since he had the news that they wanted to talk to him on Monday, he’s been working harder, knelt himself deeper into the workload, was barely home and if he did, it was just to sleep, only to get up and go to work before dawn. 

It’s crazy. It really is, because it’s not even his dream job but he still needs it. At least until Sam moves over here in a couple of weeks. So, the goal is to hold on to this job for as long as Dean can.

Gabe has picked him up from work, complaining that Dean hasn’t got any time for drinks anymore. Little does Gabe know that he’s been drinking himself to sleep every night lately. And Gabe’s fucking persistent. He was waiting outside the building until Dean had come out and now he coerced him into standing in line for a hip club that has the reputation for debauchery and illegality. It’s just a rumor. Dean’s never been here, but Gabe apparently had.

“This better be good, Gabe,” Dean grits his teeth. The wind is chilly tonight, but for most of the people in the queue, especially women, there's apparently no reason to wear more clothes. 

“It will be, once we get in,” His friend says and rights his suit. It’s weird to see Gabe in a suit, a rare sight, but he wore it because suits always get you into things in the city, “There’s going to be so many girls, huh?” Gabe elbows him in the ribs, “Maybe you can find one to help you to unwind,”

They’re next in line and Dean moves up with Gabe, his hands in his pocket as he shrugs. Well, Gabe is not really wrong. It has been a while since he scored, even longer when he had something steady. It’s not that Dean didn’t want to. It’s more like he can’t find the time. His last relationship, or what felt like it, was over a year ago, and already then, she ghosted him because Dean ghosted her first. Not deliberately, though, he was just busy. And business is a constant lately.

Maybe Gabe is right, Dean wouldn’t mind finding someone tonight. It would be welcoming to take off the edge, forget the looming Monday for a couple of hours. 

They are finally at the front of the queue, and the doorman ushers them through the open door. As soon as they enter the building, the bass of the music hits him. The bass vibrates through his body, traveling up his spine. 

There are plenty of girls, scantily clad, dancing and laughing, waiting for someone to pick them up and buy them a drink. He wonders if he’ll find one he likes. He’s picky, doesn’t want to hook up for the sake of hooking up, if that makes sense. Dean kind of hopes he’d find one with a buried daddy issue, which is really not hard to find in the city, he just needs to be alert and read their body language.

He follows Gabe across the dance floor as the man shoulders his way through to the bar, finds a spot and plants himself there at the counter, making himself bigger than he really is. Dean joins him, smirks proudly at his friend as he orders them a drink. It’s him paying, like he always does with Gabe. Gabe is a good friend but Dean still earns more so that’s the least he can do for what Gabe’s doing for him, being there whenever Dean needs a friend.

While they wait for their drinks, Gabe looks around, eyes scanning the dance floor. Dean watches him at first, watches him smile at something, and turns his head to look at the source that produces the smile on Gabe’s face. 

That little shit has already found his prey. 

“Don’t wait up for me, I guess.” Gabe looks back to Dean and takes his drink, walks across the dance floor to dance with a girl who’s more than willing to share the drink with Gabe. 

Dean turns back to the bar, his elbows braced on the counter as she shakes his head and chuckles. 

Suddenly, there’s a voice beside him and it seems like it’s talking to him.

“Hey, big guy, can you move a little?”

He tilts his head to look at the woman, who appears to be alone. Dean’s interest is piqued. 

“Sure, sweetheart,” He moves a couple of inches to the left, gives her room to press herself against the counter. 

She smiles, leans herself over the top to talk to the tender, her tits squashed on the bar top. While the bartender prepares her drink, she’s still leaning over the counter but she turns to him with a smile. With the tilt of her head and body, he can see that her tits almost spill out. Dean can’t look away even if he wanted to.

“You come here often?” He asks with a crooked smile. 

“Nah,” She smiles back, “I just moved here today, starting a new job on Monday. Just needed a break from unpacking so a friend brought me here. You?”

“First time,” Dean replies, “Where’s your friend?”

“She went to the back,” She says, “Apparently there are rooms?”

Dean shrugs, “I wouldn’t know.” With his next breath, he adds, “Names Dean, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean, I’m Y/N,”

When her drink arrives, a seat at the bar becomes available and Dean urges her to sit down. She does, albeit reluctantly. While she sits, her skirt rides up a little, exposing the tender flesh of her thighs. He’d like to touch, he really does, but Dean has to be clever about it. 

They are talking while Dean orders more drinks.

“What about your parents?” He asks after a while of talking. He knows that she’s been living in another city, works in the same field as he does, came here for a job but when Dean asked where she’s working, she wouldn’t say and that’s a good girl because people can’t be trusted, not even him. She just finished talking about her one sibling whom she doesn’t talk to anymore. It’s different for him and Sammy. 

“Just my mom, I never knew my dad,”

Yahtzee.

They keep on talking and Dean gets bolder, stands beside her at first with an arm around her waist. He rubs circles on her back with his thumb and she smiles at him, laughs at his stupid jokes too. 

After one more drink, she’s scrambling out of her seat and stands back at the bar, and he should be wondering why but he isn’t. He just knows. She presses her body against the counter and Dean cages her in from behind, lowers his mouth to her ear, places a soft kiss there that makes her shudder noticeably. He chuckles low. 

“You wanna come back to mine?” He whispers lower than he chuckled out before, noses behind her ear and moves lower, plants little kisses down her neck, making her arch her back, driving her sweet ass against his crotch. He’s semi-hard from thinking of what he’ll do to her, only getting harder with the rubbing. 

“You want that?”

“Yeah,” Dean darts out his tongue, swirls it around her earlobe and there’s an actual moan. 

His right hand travels down the front of her body, fingers span wide on her stomach and it dips lower. He watches her breath hitch in her throat, feels her shivering. 

“What would you do to me, huh?” 

Instead of answering right away, Dean’s hand goes further down, hitches the seam of her skirt up a little, teases the tip of his middle finger along her clothed pussy. 

“Oh god,” She groans and throws her head back to rest on his chest while her back is still arched. 

He chuckles, “Call me Dean,”

His hand goes further down, and she parts her legs a little. A fucking good girl, indeed. He rubs long her lace panties, feels the fabric damp. He gets bolder too, his fingers hook into the crotch of her panties, pulling it aside. 

It’s skin on skin and Dean lets out an audible groan at the wetness he feels, bites into the junction of her shoulder where it meets her neck. It prompts her to drive her ass into him harder. 

“You’re fucking soaked, baby, is that because of me, huh?”

He flicks at her clit with his thumb, dips just inside of her wet pussy with the tip of his middle finger. 

“Uh-huh,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Dean chuckles as he pushes his finger in some more but not too much. It’s just a tease after all. He closes his eyes, groans again. He’s fucking hard by now and he presses closer to her ass, making her feel what’s going to await her.

“You’re so wet and warm,” He breathes out next to her ear, “Who’s making you so wet, huh?” 

“Fuck,” 

“Who, baby?” He goes further in, applies more pressure with his thumb.

“Y-you… you, daddy,”

Y/N doesn’t seem to have noticed the word she let slip out, or she’s too far gone to care if he’d be appalled by it.

He sucks in her earlobe with a chuckle, releases it before he nibbles at them. Not so much that it hurts, but enough to inflict a little pained pleasure, “Yeah? Did daddy make you all wet, huh? Jesus, you’re so tight and warm, making me want to fuck you so bad,”

“Do it,” She drives her ass back, wriggles with it deliberately, “Please? Daddy?”

Jesus fucking Christ. 

She really is into this. 

“Gonna take you home first, baby, you up for that? Huh?” His other hand massages up her throat and Dean paints along her mouth with two of his fingers. He can’t really see but he can feel. 

Nodding her head, she opens her mouth, sucks his digits in, and swirls her tongue around them. 

Fuck.

“Your mouth, baby,” He whispers, “Feels good around my fingers, would love to see them around daddy’s cock,” 

“Mmmh,” A moan of approval accompanied by a shiver.

“Would you like that, huh? Like for daddy to use your mouth? Let you suck my cock like the good girl you are?” Her pussy clenches around the one digit and Dean grins, “Yeah you do. Gonna use your sweet mouth, can’t wait to feel those lips around my fat cock, baby girl,” He pushes his fingers deeper into her mouth, feeling her retching against him, “Yeah, gonna make you choke on daddy’s cock. That’s what you like, don’t you?” 

She hums around his digit, and her pussy clenches some more. 

Dean really hit the jackpot tonight. He should send Gabe a thank you card for bringing him out here.

“C’mon, let daddy take you home,” 

Y/N didn’t realize the word that slipped out of her mouth, but she was glad Dean ran along with it. Using it even more afterward too. He got harder hearing it out of her mouth, an added bonus, really. There aren’t a lot of guys who are into it and god, that guy is hot and is fully on board with it? She fucking loves this city. 

He doesn’t live too far, it was just a ten minute ride, where he moved close to her and let her drape a leg over his thighs. His fingers are in her pussy, fucking her with them while he fucks her mouth with his tongue to the same rhythm. Her hand is on his crotch, palming and rubbing him through his slacks. 

Dean groans into her mouth, parts just for a minute to catch his breath, and whispers low,  “Jesus, can’t wait to get my dick into that tight pussy, baby girl,”

Fuck. She can’t wait either. His filthy mouth turns her on so much. 

The cab comes to a halt at a building which is in the nicer part of the city. She wished she had enough money to live here one day. Maybe she will one day with the new job she’s starting on Monday. 

He lets go of her long enough to pay the driver and she tugs her skirt down as she gets out. Dean holds out a hand for her to take before he guides her into the building and into the elevator. 

Pushing her against the wall, he presses his one thigh between her legs, the skirt riding up in the process. He kisses her again, his one hand braced on the elevator wall, his other hand around her throat, applying enough pressure for her to not feel like he’s restricting her. His mouth hovers around hers and he moves in, pecks her lips gently, “Come on, rub your sweet cunt on my thigh, baby. Get yourself warm and nice for me,”

She nods and he claims her mouth, kisses her hard, the scruff rubbing against her cheek, his tongue licking into it deep as she moves her hips and rubs her ruined panties over his clothed thigh.

God, the friction feels phenomenal. 

The elevator pings, and Dean chuckles as he pushes himself from her, chuckles, because she’s still rutting against nothing. 

“Fuck, you’re really something,” He whispers as he manhandles her out of the elevator only to drag her along the hallway.

It’s easy, she thinks, so easy for him to manhandle her around. He’s so broad and strong and just... fuck , she wants him so bad. 

He comes to a halt in front of a door that says 823 , reaches into his pocket to pull out a set of keys and she stands behind him, reaching her arms around his body. Her one hand palms over a clothed, yet still so fucking hard cock, while her other hand tries to unto his belt buckle. 

“Baby,” Dean chuckles, “Can’t open the door when you’re distracting me,”

“Just want you so bad,” She says, her forehead leans against his back and she feels his muscle shifting. 

Y/N got the belt loose before Dean found the keyhole, her hand sneaking into his pants, traveling over the tuft of pubic hair until she wraps her fist around his dick. 

He lets out a groan and closes his eyes for a moment before he goes on with trying to get into the apartment. 

Dean shakes his head, “You really want that dick, huh?”��

“Yeah,” She whispers against his back, her hand now jerking him off. She squeezes a little more at the head of his dick, and pads over his slit to smear the precum around his tip. 

“Fuck, baby girl,” Dean mutters under his breath and she hears a click before he turns around, making her release her grip around his cock. 

He crashes his mouth on hers, kisses her hard, his fingers fisting in the hair at the back of her head as he pulls her into the apartment with their lips still attached. He kicks the door closed with one foot. 

After a while of intense kissing, Dean pushes her away, making her stagger back. 

“Strip, baby,” He says in an absolutely dirty voice all deep and husky and she does because god, she would be damned if she didn’t want to be his good girl tonight. 

Her shoes are off quick and she pushes her skirt down, her underwear comes right after before she pulls her top over her head.

Dean has released his cock, is fisting it while he watches her undress herself in front of him, groans when he sees her nakedness. 

“Beautiful,” He lets out, smirking a little. It’s a boyish grin and that’s when he slips out of his role a little, she thinks. With his next breath, he catches himself again.

Normally she’s pretty self-conscious, but she has the feeling that the guy standing before her who’s ready to get his cock wet, doesn’t mind how she looks since they came this far already. Plus, the light’s still off, but the light from the moon and skyscrapers shines in, making her see enough to want him even more.

His dick is heavy and hard in his fist, as he massages it up and down. Her mouth waters at the sight.

“Get down on your knees,” 

God, yes. 

Finally.

Y/N kneels before him and Dean takes a step further in as he groans. Her mouth is already open and inviting, but he takes his time, rubs his heavy dick over her face. 

“Looking so good for daddy, baby,” He huffs out. 

The rubbing smears his precum on her face. She feels wet drops here and there and the scent of his arousal is intoxicating. God, it’s making her drool. 

“You want my dick, huh?” He asks, tapping his dick lightly to her cheek, “Want to show me how good you suck cock?”

“God, yes,” She agrees with a frantic nod of her head.

“Call me daddy, baby,” Dean chuckles, “Open up your mouth wider, stick out your tongue,”

She does what she’s told.

“Good girl. That’s daddy’s good girl,” He says almost fondly and slaps his dick against her awaiting tongue, “Now suck,”

Well, she doesn’t need to be told twice. Sealing her lips around the head, she starts to suckle at it and Dean groans, throws his head back as she looks up.

“That’s right,” He whispers as soon as he catches himself, “Look up at me, I want to see how much you like sucking my cock, baby,”

She tries her best, she really does. His cock is thick, the taste of precum and a day’s worth of musk is heavy on her tongue, the scent penetrating her nose. It makes her suck him harder, makes her leak profoundly between her legs because she just wants him so fucking much.

“Spread your legs, touch yourself,” Dean mumbles, “I wanna see you touching yourself, baby. Wanna see you make yourself come while you suck my cock,”

Oh god, yes. She’s so close too. It’s no wonder, as she’s been balancing on that fucking edge since he fingered her in the club. 

Spreading her leg but still on her knees, she pushes a hand in between, fingers herself, and rubs against her clit. The sound of her wetness is loud in the room. Dean groans when he hears it.

“So fucking good, baby girl,” He huffs out. His hand comes to push a strand of hair out of her face to see her better, “Sucking daddy’s cock so well,”

“Mmmh,” She hums in approval with his dick in her mouth and fuck, hearing him praise her just does things to her and she comes, quick, hard, humming and shrieking with his cock in her mouth. It makes him push his pelvis against her harder, making her choke when the tip of his dick hits her throat.

“Good girl,” Dean hums as he pulls his dick back but he leaves her to suckle at his tip, “Such a good girl for daddy, I’m so proud,” His hand finds the side of her face, applies pressure on his palms as he grips it, “I’m going go fuck your face, okay? Can you take that, huh? Take my dick?”

She looks up and hums, nodding her head.

He smiles down fondly, his teeth showing white and the crinkles around his eyes run deep. His grip around her face tightens a bit as he starts to fuck into her mouth, getting deeper inside with every thrust and she braces her hands on his thighs, fingers gripping at the fabric of his pants when she feels his dick choking her. 

Dean presses his pelvis to her face, his pubic hair tickles her nose and he stays there for a while until she taps at his thigh because she feels like she’s going to pass out if he doesn’t let her come up for air. 

And it’s weird. Really weird. She should be scared of doing this with a stranger, yet she trusts him. He has won her trust in such a short span of time. Some would call it naivety. 

When he releases her face, she gulps for hair, trying to fill her lungs before he thrusts in again and he does. He gets faster too. The drool is running down her throat, her chest is wet. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispers between thrusts, “Your mouth is fucking perfect, baby. You taking my cock so well,” 

It makes her wetter hearing it and she’s sure that there’s a pool of her juice right below her. 

“You want my come, baby? Want me to come in your mouth?” 

Oh, god. More than anything right now. 

She wants to feel him, to fucking taste him, so she nods her head as he stops his thrusts for a second. 

Dean grins cockily. It’s really a good look on him, “Take it all, okay? But don’t swallow yet. Keep it in your mouth, baby,”

Another nod. 

“Jesus,” He groans as he picks up his thrusting, “You’re perfect, baby girl, so good for daddy,” 

His thrusts are faster before he comes and when he does, he lets out a deep growl as he pulls his cock out and fills her mouth with his cum. 

Y/N does as she was told. She doesn’t swallow, instead, she opens her mouth, letting him pour in every drop he can milk out of that beautiful cock of his. 

Dean’s spent dick is getting softer, but it still looks impressive, at least when it dangles so close to her face. 

There’s a drop of cum on the corner of her mouth and he scoops it up with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth. His eyes are on her, a glow around him after his release. It makes him even more attractive and she wonders how fate is sometimes cruel to give her something she craves but takes it away again because it’s a one night stand. That’s all there is. He knows it as much as she does.

His other hand goes up below her eyes, brushes away the smeared mascara and with his thumb still in her mouth he tries to angle his stance to get her other eye as well. 

Her mouth is full of cum and drool, almost spilling over but Dean takes his time, stands back to marvel at her. 

“You look so pretty,” He says, again with a fond undertone, “Would take a picture if I could,” The cum’s floating over, and Dean pushes his thumb inside her mouth some more, “You may swallow now, baby,”

She does, closes her eyes to get the thickness of his cum down with his thumb still in her mouth. She sucks at the digit, signaling to him that it’s all gone.

“Open up,” He whispers, “Show me,”

Y/N smiles when she does, opens her mouth wide to show him that she’s swallowed it all.

He chuckles, “Good girl, you’re really a good fucking girl, baby,” 

Taking his thumb out, he brushes it along her lips before he grabs at her arm and pulls her up. He kisses her then, letting out a languished groan when he tastes himself on her tongue. 

“Down the hallway, the room to the left. I want you spread out on my bed, play with yourself okay?” 

Dean kisses her on her nose and she nods before she makes her way to his bedroom. Climbing on his bed, she positions herself with her back against the headboard and spreads her legs. Her one hand plays with her pussy, fingers dipping in deep, before rubbing at her clit wetly. She closes her eyes, thinks about what just happened. Thinks about his voice that she’ll probably never forget. Thinks about his taste that she won’t be able to erase out of her mind. 

It’s not long before Dean joins her, in one hand bottled water, in the other are her clothes and shoes. He’s really being considerate. Or he’s a neat freak. Either or. Not that it matters.

He drapes her clothes over a chair next to the bed, sets her shoes right below it before he unscrews the water and hands it over to her to drink. The coldness of it travels down her throat, making her shiver. Maybe she shivers of anticipation too, who knows. 

Setting the water on the nightstand, Dean continues to undress, taking off his suit jacket and drapes it over another chair. While doing it, his eyes are on her. 

She’s still rubbing herself, fondles her tits one-handed too, pinching her nipple, and arches her back.

“That’s it,” Dean croons, “Touch yourself, but don’t make yourself come, I wanna feel you come on daddy’s cock,” 

Oh god.

She wants that too.

He watches her some more as his fingers slowly unbutton his shirt. Too slowly and it’s not fair because she just knows that he’s teasing her. When he takes his shirt off, she can see how broad he is, can see the muscles moving. He’s soft and firm and so fucking delicious. By the time Dean takes off his underwear, his dick is already more than semi hard. It’s impressive, really. She still can’t believe that she had that down her throat.

When he’s naked before her, he tugs at his cock, jerks it while his eyes are on her and he walks closer, climbing on the bed and walks closer to where she is on his knees. 

“Jesus,” He growls, “You’re making me hard again, baby,” 

There’s a smile tugging at her lips as a sense of pride washes over her. 

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” She says it in her best sultry voice.

“No,”

“No?” She frowns a little.

Dean chuckles, “No, I gotta taste you first,” He shoulders himself between her thighs, “Be a good girl, hold your legs up for daddy,”

Shamelessly, she hooks her arms around the back of her knee as she pulls them up and apart, almost folding herself in half. That’s how eager she is to spread for him. 

His big hands are on the back of her thighs, helping push her back as he hovers above her wet pussy, “That’s my good girl,” He chuckles, warm air hitting her core, and she trembles.

He doesn’t stall, instead, he buries his face right in there, sucking and lapping around her sensitive nub like it’s the only thing that keeps him the fuck alive. 

“Your cunt’s so sweet, baby,” He moans, as he spreads kisses all over her pussy, “Could eat you for days,”

Alternatively, he switches from sucking to lapping, and her hand finds his hair fingers, pulling at it, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. He even starts to hum and that drives her fucking crazy.

It’s when he pushes in a thick finger that she almost loses it. Has to throw her head back and close her eyes when he curves the finger just right. He soon uses another finger, rubbing against her inner wall with it while he sucks at her clit and she just knows. She just fucking knows that she’s going to come again.

Her grip tightens in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp but Dean goes on, licking her and sucking her while he thrusts his fingers inside of her.

“Da- fuck- daddy,” She bites on her lip and the wave that hits her is strong, making her release her own legs, making her squeeze them around Dean’s head, “Fuck, oh my god,”

Dean chuckles as he spreads kitten licks on her clit. He pulls his fingers out and they pop out with a wet squelching sound, “You’re doing so good for me, baby, but please, call me daddy,”

The way he looks up from between her legs makes her heart race faster. Half of his face is drenched with her slick and there’s a glisten in his eyes while his lips are crooked into a smile that’s full of bravado.

He’s still fingering her lazily, circling his thumb soothingly around her clit, not applying too much pressure because he knows that she’s sensitive. Dean leans down and kisses her, swirls his tongue around her own. He parts with a bite on her lip, making her squeal and laugh. 

“Can you fuck me now, daddy? Please?” She pouts a little for the effect but god, she’s so desperate for his cock. Desperate to feel him inside of her. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this and you can say no, okay?” He starts while he lays himself next to her, kissing the side of her face while he rubs between her legs. Dean dips down sucking a nipple into his mouth, bites on that too, chuckles when she moans.

“What?” She asks, fearing the worst. Fearing that he’ll say that it’s been a mistake and he only wanted to go this far and no further, fearing that maybe he’ll say that he’s too tired, or that he wants to put off fucking her for real for another day, or fuck, what does she know? There are so many possibilities that run through her mind right now.

Dean noses along her cheek, his nose is still damp, and she can smell her scent off him, “I was wondering if I could fuck you without condom, and before you say anything, I know it’s stupid but god, you feel so fucking good around my cock and you’re so fucking wet, I really want to feel it,”

Oh.

Y/N can’t believe what she’s going to say either. She’s never been so careless before but fuck, she’s really so far gone, and as she said before, she doesn’t know what it is but she fucking trusts Dean. 

“I can’t believe that I’m saying it either, but please please, fuck me raw, daddy,”

“Jesus,” Dean groans as he quickly captures her mouth, tongue swiveling against her own. He sucks in her tongue before he releases it, “Come on, get on top of me,”

With one swift movement, he manages to manhandle her on top of him and she straddles his body, moving down inch by inch. He groans out again when she feels her leaving her wetness on his body on her way down. 

Spreading herself over his hard cock, she grinds her pussy lips on it, slicks it up with her juice, teasing him in the process. 

“Fuck, baby girl, don’t be a tease now,” 

She chuckles but doesn’t stop and he lets her, probably enjoying the view and her playfulness. When she’s had enough and almost bursts herself, she grabs at his cock and points it upwards. Slowly, oh so slowly, she lets herself down.

Dean let out a groan, bites down on his bottom lip as she works her way further down his shaft. He helps a little, pushing his hips up, and down again when she manages to take all of him. 

Her hands are braced on his chest and he rubs along her thighs. She needs a moment to get used to it, her walls fluttering around his girth.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters under his breath, “You feel so fucking good, baby, like I thought you would. So wet and tight,”

Y/N’s plenty wet, Dean’s right about that and she gets even wetter as she starts to bounce on his shaft.

“So good, baby,” He coos, his hands on her hips, helping her guide herself up and down, “So pretty bouncing on daddy’s cock, fuck,” His one hand goes to her tit, squeezes it tight before he slaps down on her nipple, “That’s it, baby, fuck me,”

And that, she does. His words make her wetter, make her bounce on top of him harder. Up until she’s worn out and retorts to grinding. 

Dean pulls her down by her arms, kisses her as he thrusts his hips up to not lose the rhythm, “Is my baby tired, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” 

“Should daddy take over?”

“Yes, please,”

With a chuckle, Dean turns them both around until he’s on top, without slipping out of her. He gets up on his knees and pulls her closer by her legs so that her ass is on top of his thighs as he begins to fuck her deep and slow.

“Like that, baby?” He asks with one thumb circling her clit.

“Uh-huh,” 

There’s really no coherent word that she could bring past her lips. 

“Yeah?” He asks as he thrusts harder. He changes angles then, puts her down on her back and pushes her legs up so that he can thrust in even harder, “Like it hard?”

“Fuck, yeah,” 

“That’s a good girl, baby,” Dean whispers, “Your cunt, that’s mine tonight, isn’t it?”

His thrust gets deeper, just the way she likes it, making her roll her eyes to the back every time he hits her cervix.

“Yours,” She manages to say, “Fuck,”

“Who am I, baby girl?”

“Shit,” 

He starts to rub her clit while his slows his thrusting, but he still goes in deep, reaches her every corner where she wants him most, “Tell me, I want to hear you say it,”

“Daddy-, fuck, daddy, you’re my daddy,” 

“That’s right, baby girl,” He coos, “I want you to remember that, okay? Remember who makes you feel good,” 

He talks like she could ever forget him. It’s so fucking hard to and she doesn’t think she’d be able to even if she would try.

“Oh my-,” She bites on her tongue, knows that she should say his name, “Daddy, I’m fuck- you’re going to make me come,”

“That's okay, baby, come,” He pants, “I wanna feel you coming on my fat cock, can you do that for daddy, huh?” His one hand goes to her throat, claws around it and squeezes it just right. It gives her the much added trigger to explode.

Fuck , who taught him to fucking talk like this?

Dean chuckles, “I can already feel your cunt squeezing around me, baby, you’re close, so fucking close, ain’t you? Come now,”

It’s not like she needs permission, they didn’t work that out but fuck, if she’s not a good girl. So she comes, right around his cock. He releases his hand around her throat, brushing over it just lightly to smooth away the pain.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dean groans as her walls squeeze down on him. His movement starts to falter and she can feel that he’s holding himself together, “You feel so good coming on my cock, baby. You just got tighter too, fuck,”

It’s about only three hard thrusts later that he starts to tremble, “Where do you want me to come?” 

She looks up at him, her hands curl around his biceps with every hard hit to her cervix, “I want, fuck, I want you to come inside, daddy, please? Wanna feel your cum running out for days,”

“Baby, you’re a fucking nasty girl, ain’t you? Fuck,” 

Oh god. He’s right because that’s what she fucking is. She has no shame whatsoever. 

“Gonna come so deep in your cunt, baby, mark it as mine,” He thrusts faster but not as deep anymore, “How does that sound?”

“Please,” She is basically begging him.

“That’s my good girl, taking my cock so well and now my girl wants my cum too, fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” He growls low, and pushes in twice more, hitting her cervix before he stills and spills his cum deep inside of her. 

Dean lets himself fall on top of her, braces his elbows on the side of her face so as to not crush her. He dips his head down, kisses her deep and tender while his dick still twitches inside of her with his release.

They took a shower together after that, cleaning themself off their filth and cum, and Dean’s worn out but he couldn’t help himself, made her come again in the shower on his dick alone with his thumb buried in her ass as he fucked her from behind. If he should fuck her again, he wants to try that back hole too, is almost sure that she’d let him because she went nuts when he stuck his thumb in there. Jesus, he hopes there’ll be a next time. It doesn't happen often that he wants to see a one night stand again, but with her, he’s ready to make an exception.

Now she’s really tired and almost falls asleep in his arms while he carries her over to his bed. Dean tucks her in and slides in next to her, pulling her into him and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He kisses her gently, hand brushes away the hair from her face, knuckles grazing her cheeks.

He feels her smile into the kiss.

“Thank you,” She whispers and is already drifting off.

Dean chuckles, “You’re really something else, baby,” 

  *

He wakes in the morning, realizes that the bed next to him is empty. Tilting his head around, Dean looks at the chair, sees that her clothes are gone along with her shoes.

Heaving his aching body from the bed, he sits up and rubs his hands over his face, “Fuck,”

She’s gone. Dean doesn’t even have her number. He really doubts he’ll see her again and that’s a fucking shame. 

*

Monday rolls around and Dean’s nervous. 

He’s pissed too, because he called Gabe and persuaded his friend to go to the club again but of course she wasn’t there. He waited longer than he should have, turned down four girls because he wanted to meet the right one. He had been losing sleep because it had gotten late and the thought of having to be in the office in five hours doesn’t help. 

So he sits in the meeting room, waiting for his bosses to arrive to maybe fire him, even though he fucking aced the presentation to the project this morning.

“Hello Winchester,” Mr. Turner says as he sits down and Mrs. Mills takes the chair next to Mr. Turner. They sit across from him. 

“Mrs. Mills,” He nods, “Mr. Turner,”

“Have you been informed why we called you in today?”

“Not, really no.” Dean shakes his head as he rubs his sweaty hands on his slacks. 

Mrs. Mills smiles, “We are thinking that you’re doing a great job,”

“I am?” He cocks an eyebrow, as if he can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Mr. Turner chimes in, “The reason for this meeting is this. You know that Mr. Campbell is retiring in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah,” 

Dean knows. He’s been invited to the farewell party organized by Mr. Samuel Campbell himself. 

“Right,” Mrs. Turner nods, “We are considering you for the position.”

“Really?” He can’t hide the grin, and even if it’s a job he absolutely doesn’t want, it feels great to be considered for it.

“There’s a catch, though,” Mrs. Miller says and of course there is. There’s always a catch in this company. 

“We have a newcomer from an external company who also applied for the job. The person has a good reputation and great recommendation letters.” 

Of course. Dean nods. They always have. 

“We want to watch the two of you for about a week, two tops, see how much you’re willing to give of yourself, how driven you both are. We’re going to make a decision and please don’t take it personally if it’s not you. I’m sure the next position that opens up will be glad to have you.”

“Is this a competition?”

“See it as such, yeah. We talked about it in the boardroom and we really think it’s fair to give the other person a chance to get some more work experience in the company before we would consider them suitable for the job. With you, Mr. Winchester, we already know it, but that doesn’t mean that you have the job for sure.”

“Right,” 

He’s never good at losing but that’s because Dean never loses. He’ll have an advantage over that dude. It’s probably going to be a piece of cake. He barely has to lift a finger, probably.

“Are you ready to meet your competition? There are projects you have to work on together, so it would be good if you get acquainted with each other.” Mrs. Mills asks.

“Sure,” Dean shrugs with a nod.

Mrs. Mills gets up from her chair to walk to the door. She opens it and keeps it open wide and then it feels like the air has been punched out of Dean’s lungs.

He’d recognize that face anywhere. He also remembers those long legs in heels.

“Mr. Winchester, meet your new colleague, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,”

Chapter Two

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[firetrucks-fastcars]

Character headcanons: 1, 2, 3 both for Tarlos and Buddie too if you don't mind. 😊 (Sorry for not choosing only one, but I couldn't because I love all of them.)

Tarlos:

1. physical weak spots-

For TK it’s his neck. His neck is sensitive and ticklish and he hates to be touched there. The team uses it to their advantage, walking by and poking his neck to watch him squirm. The only person he can stand to touch his neck is Carlos because as far as TK is concerned Carlos can do what he wants.

For Carlos it’s his left knee. He hurt it playing football in high school and it never healed quite right. It aches with the weather and he walks with a slight limp after long shifts. TK teases him for being an old man but he’ll gladly sit with Carlos’ legs in his lap and massage the soreness out of it.

2. emotional weak spots-

TK’s worst fear is disappointing people. He already feels like he’s let his dad down with his addiction and overdoses. So he works hard to make sure no one is ever disappointed in him. Eventually the pressure of trying gets to him and he breaks which reminds him of how the hell he ended up with a drug addiction in the first place. It takes a lot of convincing from both Carlos and Owen for him to believe that they don’t need him to be perfect.

Carlos struggles everyday with his job. People don’t like cops, he knows that. He likes to believe that the good outweigh the bad but that’s not always true. On the news everyday is another incident of police brutality and racist white cops. Sometimes he struggles, actually thinking he might be part of the problem. Michelle and TK can talk him down most of the time, reminding him how good he is and that he’s good at his job and does it fairly.

3. scars or painful spots-

TK has many scars, both emotional and physical but there’s one that’s the worst. He has a long scar on the back of his head from his first overdose. When he fell he cracked his head against the side table in his bedroom which left him with another thing to heal from. It’s mostly covered by his hair, but the hair in that spot in thinner and the skin is still tender even almost ten years later. The first time Carlos asks about it, running his fingers gently through his hair, TK snaps at him. He imediately feels bad and tells Carlos the story. Carlos never brings it up again but he makes a habit of running a soft finger over the scar tissue and kissing the back of his head when they’re cuddling.

Carlos has scars too, it’s kind of comes with the job. He has one that stretches across the inside of his right bicep. The first time they sleep together after they make their relationship official, TK asks about it. He has his head pillowed on Carlos’ chest and his hands are stroking over his skin when his fingers find them lumpy scar tissue. Carlos takes a deep breath before starting the story. He tells him about his sophomore year of high school when some of the boys on the football team discovered he was gay. They jumped him in the locker room after practice and one of them had a pocket knife. He cut his arm deep and long, then left him bleeding on the concrete floor. The coach found him and called his parents. They took him to the hospital to get stitched up and he never went back to school. They homeschooled him for the rest of the year until he transferred to another high school. TK looked up at him with tears in his eyes. He didn’t have the words to say what he wanted to tell him, so he just leaned foward and kissed the scar.

Buddie:

1. physical weak spots-

Buck’s is obvious. Even though the crush injury to his leg is healed, it still hurts him. After the surgery to remove the pins, he was out of work again for a few weeks. Eddie spent way too much time mother henning to make sure he wasn’t falling back into a depression. Once he was back at work, he was under strict orders from Bobby to take it easy. Even months later, his leg still hurts. After nightmares, he still feels the pressure of the truck on his legs. After long shifts on his feet, his joints still cramp and ache. Sometimes his leg even tenses up and he can’t move it. Luckily Eddie is more than glad to give him massages.

Eddie’s is more hidden, if you’d never seen him shirtless, you wouldn’t know about the bullet wound that never quite closed up right. It still caused shooting pains in his shoulder, probably the nerves damage. Most days it was bearable but others it was anything but. There were days that he could hardly move his arm. Those were the days that Buck would steal his phone and call in for him, telling Bobby that Eddie’s arm was hurting and that he’d take his shift. Eddie hated that he had to do it for him but he was also thanful for Buck knowing his limits and forcing him to take a break.

2. emotional weak spots-

Buck has abandonment issues. Everyone knows it. Buck has a deep, eternal fear of everyone he loves leaving him. He wakes up some nights hands flying out frantically, making sure Eddie is still beside him. Sometimes Eddie wakes up to find Buck’s side of the bed empty because Buck is leaning against Christopher’s door, watching their son sleep. Sometimes Buck has bad mental days, he draws in on himself because he convinced himself that Eddie was going to leave. Those were the days that Eddie would just sit with him, holding his hand and trying to convince him with his actions that he wasn’t going anywhere. One those days words meant next to nothing to him. Sometimes Christopher would join, sitting on Buck’s lap and leaning into him, just talking about anything, trying to keep Buck’s mind in the living room with them.

Eddie’s weak spot is Christopher, hands down, no question about it. He worries that what his parents say is true, that he isn’t a good father and that Chris is better off without him. He hates when Christopher has nightmares, because there’s nothing he can do about it. But it’s when Christopher looks up at him with that smile and calls him ‘daddy’ in his sweet little voice that he knows he’s doing something. He’s never going to be a perfect father and he’s sure he’s going to let Christopher down again, which scares the hell out of him, but all he can do is keep loving and protecting his son.

3. scars or painful spots-

See #1 for both of these 

[scenariosbutmakeitgay]

Hello there can you write a White x reader which our chaotic rice cake with daddy issues found comfort in the reader and fell in love? Thank you so much!

I thought it’s gonna be ready sooner tbh, but here ya go anon

-

The Hell Train wasn't the most comfortable location you've ever been to during your career in FUG. Not that you were the one to complain, of course. Everything in the express just seemed to be too repetitive. If it wasn't for your lovely company, which included such rare exhibits as an ex-kpop star,  a literal demon or a girl with a fashion sense stolen from a Halloween party, you'd certainly wouldn't enjoy it as much. You were assigned to monitor the situation and make sure it ends up as a success. White was definitely an interesting one. If his real power was as great as everyone thought, then no wonder FUG wanted him back. On the other hand, Jue Viole Grace seemed even more promising. You weren't sure what this kid's up to. Different tales about the Slayer candidate were spreading around the Tower, and you wanted to check on your own if they were true.

“Time will tell, I guess,” you muttered under your breath.

“Tell what, little spy?” White asked, suddenly appearing behind your back.

His voice sent shivers down your spine. Not that it was unpleasant, but when the Slayer spoke, he sounded almost like a predator that's about to attack a prey. Maybe it wasn't even far away from the truth. He's like a god to FUG, so killing you wouldn't make much of a difference for the Elders.

“Lots of things, little Slayer,” you mocked him.

To be honest, it wasn't the smartest thing to do. Unless you didn't value your life, of course. You weren't even able to react as White's sharp blade made a cut on your throat. You hissed in pain. The wound wasn't deep, but bled a lot.

“FUG has its hierarchy for a reason,” White said. “And in every possible way, I'm above you.”

The Slayer felt particularly petty today. His big duel with Jue Viole Grace was coming, and he definitely didn't like how his companions acted about it. Almost as if they were worried that the greatest being in the whole universe is going to lose with a mere irregular. Absolutely unacceptable,   but White was kind enough to ignore this little nuisance. That small talk with you, though. It made him furious. Back in his prime, no one dared to insult him. Especially when they were a fellow FUG member. Mocking a god was a blasphemy, after all. One shall face a fate crueler than death if decided to do so. But the look in your eyes when he cut your throat was somehow wrong. It wasn't the one of true terror White has seen so many times. More of indifference, and a bit of amusement.

“Don't you fear me, spy?” he asked. “I can end your life if I want to do so.”

You looked at White once again.

“I fear gods, not demons.”

The man smirked.

“An entertaining one, I see,” he said. “But you better watch your tongue, because I might cut it off soon.”

“The pleasure would be mine, oh great Slayer,” you replied. “Yet I must excuse myself now, there's still some work to finish.”

White wasn't sure if he considered you bearable. Surely refreshing, but your snarky remarks were giving him a headache. Who did you even think you were that you talked to him like that? Led by curiosity, he found the blonde light bearer he was looking for. She should be in possession of some useful information. Rachel, wasn't it?

“Tell me something about that spy who came with you,” White ordered her. He's the one in charge, after all.

“Spy? Oh, you mean our scout,” Rachel replied. “I don't know much, but they're a D rank regular. They were one of the Slayer candidate's companions before he joined FUG. No connection to the 10 Great Families. That's all I was told.”

White walked away unsatisfied. The girl was as useless as one could possibly be. Back in his days, light bearers were way more handy. You lacked some crucial manners, but at least you were amusing. The blonde was a plain bore.

Your superiors were a pain sometimes. Prying into everything, impatient, and extremely annoying. When you roamed around the train, you heard a conversation which seemed to be about your humble self. It's not like the attention was not to your liking, it was just quite uncommon. A few moments later you saw a tall figure of your favorite Slayer.

“Missed me already?” you asked with a wide grin on your face.

“I missed the times your mouth was shut for sure,” White said.

A small giggle left your lips. You didn't expect him to act so sassy.

"How adorable," White thought. He was used to fear, hatred, and disgust. "An odd one for sure."

“Do you have any other hobbies beside spying on me, little one?” the man asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Maybe, but that's definitely my favorite one.”

The duel was supposed to begin tomorrow. The closer it got, the more anxious White felt. He didn't show it, but facing the Slayer candidate made him slightly nervous. It was beyond disgusting. He was a god, for fuck's sake! He couldn't possibly lose to a kid. Or could he? No, no, NO! White threw a glass across the room, and it shattered with a blunt crash. He wasn't sure if he was going mad or was insane from the very beginning. Suddenly, he heard a quiet knock on the door.

“Enter.”

You were standing there, but something was lacking. Where did the cockiness disappear?

“Are you okay, Slayer?” you asked. “I heard something crashing.”

White knew that he probably looked like a mess right now. No, not probably. He certainly did.

“Why would you bother?” he replied bitterly. “Gods don't need pity.”

You sighed, and closed the door behind you. What a stubborn one.

“I'm not here to pity you. Gods might not need help, but humans do, you know.”

Were you crossing the line? He wasn't your friend, after all. You waited for White to say something, but he remained silent. The dullness didn't suit his eyes. You sat on his bed next to him, and put your hand on White's shoulder. He was hesitant at first.

“Why are you so persistent about everything?” the man asked.

“Because I know that there's something hidden behind your mask of arrogance. Something that you fear to show,” you said.

Maybe you were right, maybe not. White didn't care at that moment. He laid his head on your legs, and let you play with his hair. The warmth of your body was oddly comforting. Driven by a sudden urge, he straightened his arm to cup your face. You were pretty. The prettiest to be exact. And just like that White closed the distance between your lips. The kiss was short, but sweet.

“You know, you haven't even told me your name,” he said.

“Call me by yours, then.”

...

"Were you always this cheesy?"

[stefciastark]

Webpril Day 15 ~ Endgame Fix-It

Summary: Tony survives the Snap and in recovery comes up with a little something to help him return to normalcy. Peter can't wait for Tony to come back home.

A/N: We're halfway through the challenge! Thank you all for staying with me all this time, through all kinds of prompts fills and scenarios. Only 15 more to go :) x This Endgame Fix-It is not super in-depth, I just wanted to have a little bit of cute fluff and just depict some of the time after the Snap. One day I would actually love to write a full-length Endgame Fix-It fic, but one project at a time :)

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

Yesterday marked one month since the Snap. One month since Peter had seen Tony. After spending almost two weeks in a coma tied up to so much hospital equipment that Peter lost track of all the wires, Tony had woken up to only being able to move three out of his four limbs. It didn’t dawn on him for some time that his right arm had to be amputated and wasn’t just paralysed, and when Peter saw Pepper come home that night, he saw the heartbreak written on her face.

Peter had asked if Tony had taken the news well. It turns out, he had. What he hadn’t handled well was the prognosis of six months for his mind to be back at its fast-paced, pre-Snap, genius-level self, the taxation on his body from using the Stones also affecting his brain. Of course, for Tony, this meant that he was still smart as a whip.

So, over the last two weeks, Tony had been laying in his hospital bed, tablet in hand, obsessively designing and prototyping myoelectric prosthetic arms - with Bruce’s help - with haptic feedback and joint-torque that would return to him some semblance of normalcy and functionality. And, about three days ago, Tony had done it. The eighteenth prototype had worked, to Tony’s relief, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue the trial and error process.

The first seven he fabricated had hurt like hell, the vibrotactile feedback he had managed to install had amplified every sensation, and somehow - neither Peter nor Tony had any idea how it had happened - managed to amplify the phantom pain he had initially experienced. The pain of something that no longer existed intensified by replacing it with something that did exist. No matter how well he’d done in science class and how brilliant Tony was, it made sense to neither of them.

The next four prototypes Tony had felt nothing, having cut the sensitivity so far back in the fear that he’d pass out again from the overstimulation of his nerves. There was a fine balance to strike, and it’d become Tony’s mission to find it.

The last seven prosthetics he had nearly perfected, and then it was just a matter of tweaking the small things like fine motor control, temperature feedback, and maybe adding some cool features like a built in repulsor - not like that could go wrong.

But today was the day. Peter was practically vibrating with excitement. Tony was going to come home to the lakehouse that day, albeit under strict instructions to basically lay down and do nothing; Peter was positive that was not going to happen.

“Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home!” Peter heard the light thumping of Morgan’s feet on the hardwood floor, muffling slightly as she darted over carpet. He saw a blur of pale pink in his peripheral - her fluffy bunny jumper had become her favourite and a staple in her wardrobe. Pepper had gotten it for Morgan when Tony was recovering as something to comfort her, and she’d barely taken it off since.

“Hey Morgan, don’t run inside or your mom’s gonna kill me!” Peter seriously hoped she wasn’t wearing her sneakers...she wore those everywhere and he didn’t want to have to sweep up wet flecks of dirt and grass again.

Peter was surprised he didn’t hear the sounds of their arrival before she did. The faint rumble of the engine and then the silence as it cut out was followed by the slamming of the driver side door.

Peter set his laptop on the ottoman, the dim screen displaying his physics homework involving the formulas for cylindrical and spherical capacitors. He did an awkward half-walk half-jog to catch up with Morgan who had almost made it to the front door.

He heard the thnkas the passenger side door swung shut.

He pulled the door open to greet Pepper and help with the bags, assuming she would be the first one through the door, but he was instead standing face to face with Tony, who looked worn and tired, but alive. He was paler than usual, though if it weren’t for Peter’s enhanced eyesight it would have been imperceptible. The prosthetic looked sleek and so...Tony. It barely looked out of place on him, Tony and Iron Man two sides of the same coin. It was a more subdued shade of the iconic red on his suits laced with fine golden accents. There was some bright silver mixed in between the different metal panels that made up the top of his hand, fingers joints, and forearm as well.

Tony’s features were drawn, but all exhaustion melted away as a raw and radiant smile spread across his face, eyes tender and warm.

“Hey kid, miss me?”

Peter had wanted to keep it cool, he really did. He’d rehearsed it in his head, how he’d give Mr Stark a hug, look him in the eyes proudly like the young man he was and tell him how great it was to have him back and thank him for saving the universe.

Instead what happened was a rapid deterioration of his emotional walls, and he ended up in Tony’s arms, tears streaming down his face in an excellent imitation of Niagara Falls. It had sort of gone to plan, but without the “great to have you home” or “thanks for saving the universe”. Well, at least he managed to do one out of three of those things.

Tony couldn’t help the tears that pricked at his eyes in response, and he blinked them back furiously. He didn’t need this to turn into a Crying Party. He felt Morgan wrap her small arms around his legs, and he put his left arm over her shoulders.

“How’s my little Morguna?” He smiled fondly, ruffling her hair gently until it formed a messy halo on her head.

“Welcome home, Daddy.”

------------------------------------

The ending credits of ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ played softly over the speakers, the TV screen tinting the walls a warm shade of gold. It was Morgan’s favourite movie at the moment, and she had threatened to eat the last two Jell-O cups if they watched anything else. Seeing as Jell-O was one of the few things Tony could stomach during his recovery and Peter loved dousing his in whipped cream, they weren’t about to risk the loss of such a beloved snack.

When Pepper walked into the living room to check on Tony and put Morgan to bed, she smiled warmly at what she saw. Tony lay half reclined on the couch, legs resting on the small mahogany coffee table, a grey fluffy blanket draped over his knees. Three Jell-O cups lay empty atop the latest issue of Wired magazine. Morgan lay curled beside him, her head resting on his lap covering him in a cloud of brown hair. Peter was nestled in the crook of his arm, head leaning gently on Tony’s left shoulder.

All was as it should be.

[despressolattes]

AFTERMATH | CHARACTER FILES

book masterlist » book one masterlist

< previous chapter

I wanted to take a quick break just to reevaluate the character files, from Lilah's point of view. ——————

LILAH RAE MIKAELSON

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

Lilah is an ancient vampire who never got the chance to be a kid, and may be the most messed up of all of the troubled kids at the Salvatore School. From the start, she was living a life someone else chose for her: living with Dahlia because of a choice her grandmother Esther made, living the life of a vampire because of a choice Dahlia made for her.

The only choice she made for herself was to keep her family just beyond reach once she got free, and she grew into the habit of being a side character in her own life. With the aftermath of her father, her uncle, and her cousin's mom's deaths, she has started lashing out in anger, slacking on her studies. She has a history of being a ripper, but has been under control for over 500 years. Unfortunately, from the world she was thrown into, Lilah believes it is her job to make everyone else happy before herself.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

CHILD OF A MIKAELSON — Lilah learned that certain personality traits and behaviors came directly from her bloodline, ill-tempered, stubborn, and unconditionally loyal.

SAVIOR COMPLEX — She believes it is up to her to protect everyone else, even at the expense of her own happiness.

ABANDONMENT ISSUES — With the life she lived, she is scared every new person she meets will leave her one way or another: physically or by death.

DADDY ISSUES — While she refuses to acknowledge it, her everlasting love for her father has caused her to push away a lot of her relationships, including at one point, Hope, and currently, Roman Sienna.

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

Lilah needs to realize that her savior complex needs to be directed inward, and understand that she can't save everyone, but she can save herself.

HOPE ANDREA MIKAELSON

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

Hope Mikaelson may be the most unique of them all. She has grown up knowing she is the mythical tri-brid: part witch, part werewolf, and part vampire - a melage of supernatural lineasges once thought impossible.

Hope used to be unable to forge meaningful connections with the other students besides her cousin, Lilah, but has since formed close friendships with Rafael Waithe, Josie Saltzman, Milton Greasley, and Kaleb Hawkins; she has formed a frenemy relationship with Lizzie Saltzman; and she has found herself a boyfriend in Landon Kirby.

Due to her often disastrous past, she resigned herself to isolation for so long, and has slowly came out of that cave she concealed herself into. She considered it a path would would provide the least heartbreak, but has since decided she was wrong.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

PTSD — Hope suffers from bouts of what she describes as an "inner darkness." She believes this to be a side effect of her childhood possession by the villainous Hollow, but these episodes are just as likely to have been caused by the severe and repeated psychological traumas she has experienced.

DADDY ISSUES — As the child of Klaus Mikaelson, a man who many call 'evil', Hope will have to battle her fear of becoming her father, while holding fast to her love for him and the values he instilled in her: bravery, conviction, perseverance, and loyalty.

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

While she is getting better on the isolation side and the anger issues, Hope has a long way to go. She thinks she knows what is best for people because of her own hurt, and makes decisions that can often hurt people more than help. She has to learn to let people make their own decisions for themselves. Her fear of getting hurt is projected onto them, and she wants to protect them from the pain she feels herself.

Despite her past, she is a powerful young student with great potential. She also expressed the belief that her existence is some sort of "cosmic mistake." Surrendering to this mindset would mean buckling under the burner of her family legacy, and could lead Hope down a dark and uncharted path. As the tri-brid, Hope has the power to change the world, but she must first accept that she has not only the potential, but the willingness to become the hero she was born to be.

ROMAN SIENNA

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

Roman's past dates back decades. His story with the Mikaelsons started when Klaus Mikaelson pities his adopted mother, adopted sister, and himself after killing his adopted father. He lives in consent regret for his help in the death of Hayley Marshall, and loves Lilah Mikaelson fiercely. He tended to sit around quietly during Lilah's fits of isolation, believing that her distance may be a result of a mistrust he put into their relationship when he helped his mother, unknowingly, hurt her family. He is a listening ear for both Lilah and at times Hope, and wants to give back to Alaric, who took him in even after his wrongdoings.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

PTSD — After his father's death and being saved by his adopted mother, he felt indebted to her. He listened to anything she wanted, believing everything she did was good. This lead him down his path of mistakes.

CLASSIC CODEPENDENT — He relied on his adopted mother for acceptance, blindly trusting in her. He also relied on Lilah afterwards, seeking her love as a way to cope with how bad he felt with his mistakes.

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

He has left the Salvatore School to do independent recruiting, which may do him some good. Without being dependent on Lilah to feel less guilty, he may be able to forgive him for the mistakes he made, and also forgive the deceased Klaus Mikaelson for the harm he caused him as a young vampire.

LANDON KIRBY

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

He bounced between foster home to foster home. He has intelligence, loyalty, resilience, thoughtfulness, and charm. He has learned to subsist, on his own, by any means. With the best of intentions, he relies on deception as a defense mechanism to protect himself and those he cares about the most. He seems always on guard, especially since he never felt like he fit in at any of the schools he was at.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

RESILIENT RESPONSE TO TRAUMA — self explanatory

FEAR OF BEING ORDINARY — self explanatory

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

Landon's problems with honesty may continue to affect future relationships and connections with people. With a consistent home and counseling, he may be able to make a huge emotional recovery.

RAFAEL WAITHE

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

Rafael is a charminy, charismatic boy, who is extremely loyal to Landon for sticking around during the hardest moments of his life. While driving, he took a turn too fast, causing the death of his girlfriend at that time, and unlocking his werewolf gene. Rafael's time in foster care resulted in a traumatic childhood and anger issues that he is trying to keep under control. He seems to not be able to talk about his own feelings, and acts rationally.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

SAVIOR COMPLEX — Rafael thinks its his job to stick by Landon at all costs, making sure his foster brother is happy and safe, often times putting himself in danger or hindering his chances at being happy (like the time he left the Salvatore School because they wouldn't keep Landon).

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

His determination to live by the truth causes him to risk heartbreak when he realizes that the standards he has in people in his life cannot be lived up to in a world of supernatural. His feelings can become dangerous as he lacks the ability to act upon them, and can leave him reckless. If he doesn't work on conquering his inner demons and continues to conceal them under the mindset that he has to protect those around him, it'll end him hurting himself with the risk of him losing control of his violent tendencies.

ELIZABETH "LIZZIE" SALTZMAN

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

She has some psychology issues that she is aware of, and is attempting to fix. She doesn't want to hurt anyone, but has trouble controlling her inner voice from becoming her outer voice. She has a sinister lineage and a questionable biology, and posses the power to cause great harm. She has mood swings, can be self-absorbed, and over-possessive, even over things that are not in her possession. She is attached to the superficial and has trouble controlling her breakdowns.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

CHRONIC LOW SELF ESTEEM

SUPERIORITY COMPLEX — she masks her insecurity by pretending to be better than everyone else around her

BIPOLAR DISORDER — her highs are portrayed in ruthless narcissism, but her lows are violent outbursts that can hurt someone, herself or anyone else, if not contained properly

CONTROL ISSUES — she turns it into her job to create something picture perfect out of herself and those around her, always trying to manipulate the situation in her own way.

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

She has to address her image-control issues and accept help for her mental disorder. Otherwise, she will continue down the path she is on, pushing those that she wants to hold onto away.

JOSETTE "JOSIE" SALTZMAN

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

She is supposed to be the level headed of the twins, always taking care of Lizzie. She takes after her biological mother and her father more than her birth-mother, Caroline. She lives in the shadows of her sister in attempt to try to protect her sister from herself. She is quick to protect Lizzie, and always puts herself first.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

CLASSIC CODEPENDENT — She puts everyone else's needs before her own, sublimating her own problems to always be ready to help her sister's inner conflicts.

ABANDONMENT ISSUES — Loss of her biological mom, absentee birth mom, and a father who has divided attention.

FAMILY HISTORY OF PSYCHOSIS

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

She needs to learn to stand on her own, without internalizing her own needs and ignoring them. To live a life that doesn't drain her, she needs to step out of the shadows and not be dependent on being her sister's source of calm.

MILTON GREASLEY

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

Lilah doesn't know him well enough to know

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

Lilah doesn't know him well enough to know

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

Lilah doesn't know him well enough to know

ALARIC SALTZMAN

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

The man who loves the kids he works to protect. He is a father figure to many, providing a safe haven for kids who aren't always safe. His divided attention causes rifts between the two girls he fathered, and the other two who look to him as a father.

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

PROJECTION — the trauma of his past with the supernatural causes him to want to protect the students from it, not allowing them to learn certain things about the world.

GUILT — he is haunted by the legacy of the people he couldn't save, and the sacrifices he had to make along the way to safeguard his school and his children, fearing that the choices will either get the school exposed, or make him lose his children's trust.

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

If he continued to maintain the school alone, he will quickly be in over his head. In the face of increasingly dangerous situations, he must be careful not to keep the secrets from his daughters, and has to be better at dividing his attention from his daughters.

ARIANELLE VICTORIA "N/A"

I. BACKGROUND & BEHAVIOR OBSERVATIONS

she's a mystery

II. CLINICAL DIAGNOSES

still a mystery

III. LONG TERM RECOMMENDATIONS

to be updated as Lilah learns about her

——

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX