#but they live further away and while they are so wonderful. i would like to have more than One Singular Friend.

[ficsbyrike]

Your Possessiveness Will be the Death of Me

pairing: caleb x reader

TW: graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, toxic relationships

Summery: caleb won’t let you go to the hospital

Word count: 3,833

Notes: I promised someone that my next Caleb fanfic would be fluff but apparently I am incapable of writing anything happy 😭😭 might be a little ooc

A wanderer. Claws. The stinging feeling on your abdomen. The rest was a blur.

The city had recently become more dangerous with an increase of wanderer sightings. You thought—foolishly—that because of your hunter training, this wouldn’t affect you in any significant way. More on site work, perhaps, but nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It never occurred to you that you could become a victim of a wanderer yourself.

You had been walking down the street when out of nowhere, in a cruel sneak attack, a wanderer had jumped out and ambushed you. Rendered defenseless for a few moments, it was able to leave a pretty nasty gash on your abdomen before it was promptly dealt with.

It stung badly.

It felt as if the sky was very low. It was cold as shit out. You could see your hot breath rise up in puffs of white through the inky black sky, and as if the universe conspired to spite you even more, it had begun snowing.

Your blood glistened brightly in the neon lights of the city.

It was around 2:30 in the morning. You have to be up early tomorrow. God…

You raked your brain for a moment. The warm blood seeping between your fingers made it hard to focus.

Linkon Hospital was too far away for you to walk to without collapsing half way through. And, in some cruel joke, your phone had been smashed on the pavement while you were fighting the wanderer so there was no way you could call anyone for help.

You only had one option. But it was your last resort.

Caleb lived close by, but he didn’t want to see you. It wasn’t just a hunch or a feeling, you knew. Although he didn’t outright say it, you ended on pretty bad terms last time you saw each other. Regrettable words were thrown, tears were shed. Even though Caleb tried to explain himself—why he left, why he lied about being dead—you called the conversation there, saying you weren’t in the mood to fight anymore. Since then, Caleb has sent you countless text messages in hopes of staying in touch. At first, he would apologize continuously. Then, when he perhaps realized that his attempts were futile, he resorted to simply sending short messages about how his day went, what interesting things he saw today, and good morning good night texts. You pridefully ignored all of the messages. They angered you, even. You felt as if he was trying to guilt you into forgiving him by using his status as a long-time best friend and pretending like nothing was wrong.

He knows what he did. And you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

With those thoughts in mind, you promptly blocked his number until further notice. Although sometimes you wondered whether he was still sending you messages despite knowing they weren’t getting through to you.

If you showed up at his door now, would he turn you away? Even if he was angry at you, he wouldn’t turn away a shivering, injured woman. Right? But even if he didn’t, it would be so awkward to confront the issue with him again. Perhaps you just won’t say anything unless he brings it up himself. Still, he could simply shut the door in your face and leave you on the street. And he had every right to do so, with the way you’ve been treating him. You probably would have done the same in his situation. Probably.

Swallowing your last bit of pride, you began shuffling over to Caleb’s residence, your hand pressed tightly against the fresh wound. He had sent you his new address during one of his routinely text messages, and you had unconsciously memorized it because it was a part of town you always passed by to get to the train station.

With every step you took, you felt pressure in your wound. It would open up again and again and fresh blood would seep in between your fingers. This only made you more antsy and you felt your heart speed up.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long walk, you finally stood at the front door of Caleb’s house. It was cute. A townhouse surrounded by similar looking buildings in the middle of the city. Even though the others had distinctions about them—flower beds hanging out windows, chairs and fairy lights dotting the balconies—Caleb’s house was the one with the least character. It stood there, gray with no lights in any of the windows, as if he had only just moved in a few days ago.

You brought your hand up to knock on the door, but then you hesitated. You were angry at him, but that was fine because you knew that sooner or later you would forgive him. But you couldn’t have the same assurance that he would forgive you.

You shook your head, eracing the image of Caleb’s darkened eyes from your mind, and knocked.

Whatever happens happens.

For a few moments, there was silence. It would only be natural if he had gone to sleep, considering the deep hours of the night. But then, to your surprise, you heard the noise of shuffling coming from the inside, followed by another short silence. Just as you thought that he was ignoring you, the door swung open, revealing Caleb’s tall frame in the doorway.

He was a bit paler since the last time you saw him. And a bit thinner too. You guessed it was just in your nature to worry about him, as you had done so many times in the past.

It was still cold as shit out. Your thin hunter uniform is doing little to protect you from the chilly air. But somehow, your skin still felt hot. Snowflakes still slowly glided down into your hair.

You cleared your throat, “Caleb.”

Just as the words had left your mouth, you wished for the earth below you to open up and swallow you whole. You come to his front door in the middle of the night looking like hell—exhausted, dirty, blood pouring out of your side and your nose—and the only word you can manage is his name? Were you stupid?

You scanned Caleb’s eyes for any emotions. Was he angry? Or at least disappointed in you?

He didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze falling onto your wound. You shifted self consciously.

“What happened to you?”

His question caught you off guard, prompting you to look up at him again.

“I got into a fight.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit,” he said, and you sighed.

Surely this was the same Caleb you knew. He wouldn’t just leave you out here.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

You swiftly shake your head.

“It's minor. I’m not crippled. I’ll live,” you lie through your teeth, “can I crash at your place? I’ll be out of your hair by morning. It’s really cold out here.”

You dragged your one of your hands against the bottom of your nose, smudging the blood pooling there.

Caleb stepped aside, a familiar smirk decorating his face, “be my guest.”

***

Caleb’s residence was just as barren inside as it was outside. Only the bare necessities scattered his living room. But it was warm.

You tried taking off your shoes, but with your wound, it was a little hard to do. Once Caleb saw you struggling, he quickly leaned down and helped you.

“Thanks. Do you by chance have any disinfectant? And some gauze?”

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”

“No. It seriously doesn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me missy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Go sit on the couch.”

You did as he commanded, stumbling over to the couch before sitting down. Momentarily, there was the sound of running water and soon enough, Caleb came back with a clean, wet towel. He tried to gently lift up your shirt, but your hand stopped him.

“I’m fine. Really. Can I sleep on your couch? I’m really tired.”

Caleb’s worried eyes met yours, “you are not fine. You’re bleeding all over my floor. Stop being so stubborn and work with me here, yeah?”

He spoke in that same friendly voice, but it was obvious that there was concern in his expression.

You gently let go of his wrist with some hesitation, biting your bottom lip as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the couch next to him. Your wound was now completely exposed, along with your bare stomach. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but just having the wound out in the open was enough to put you on edge.

He inspected your injury. His brow furrowed before he brought the damp towel to your skin. You hissed and recoiled slightly. Caleb flinched, but held the towel gently in place.

“Sorry pipsqueak. It’s gonna hurt no matter what. Just… squeeze my arm if it gets too much.”

You didn’t say anything.

Caleb’s touch was warm. You felt his soft fingers on the tender skin of your side. It almost made you shiver.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? Any later, and you would’ve bled out on the goddamn street,” he murmurs, and for a moment, you didn't know how to reply.

“My phone broke,” You say dumbly.

Then there was silence for a few moments. It was quiet. The only sound was his steady breathing and the clock ticking as the seconds slipped by.

“Are you angry?” You ask when he didn’t say anything.

Caleb shook his head, “no. You have every right to want to avoid me,” he sighed, “I just wish I wasn’t your last option.”

Silence again. Tik-tok… tik-tok…

“I thought you might turn me away,” you finally admitted.

“You know I wouldn’t let you bleed out on my doorstep. No matter how angry I get at you.”

“No, I don’t know that,” you whisper, “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore…”

Caleb finally looks up at you, a hint of hurt betrayed in his eyes, “Do you think… you think I changed that much?”

“I don’t know. But the Caleb I knew would never pretend to be dead for a whole year, leaving me by myself. So, yeah… I guess I don’t really know you anymore.”

“You had other people to turn to for help.”

“Sure. But in the end, who’s taking care of me?”

Caleb sighs again and turns back to your wound. Although he is trying to seem preoccupied, you can tell that he has a lot on his mind.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” he finally says, “for now, let’s take care of your wound, yeah? The bleeding hasn’t stopped yet. I’ll need some water to wipe you down and see how deep your injury really is. Let me take you to the bathroom. It’ll be easier to do this there.”

Caleb helps you up. Then, he helps you walk over to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your upper torso firmly but gently. Then, when he’s sure that you are able to stand upright on your own, he meticulously picks out the temperature of the water, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

He soaks the towel under the thin stream of water. Your old blood dyes the sink red, leaving a gruesome sight.

You feel dizzy from the blood loss. And slightly sleepy too. You grab onto the edge of the skin in an attempt to pull yourself together. The dim, buzzing light and the splashing of water continuously lull you to sleep.

Finally, when Caleb decided that he got most of the blood out from the towel, he wrings it, and brings it up to your wound again.

You take a sharp breath, colorful curses spilling out of your mouth unchecked, “haah… Caleb…”

He gently wipes away at the edges of the wound, trying hard to be as tender as possible. Despite this, he cleans up your wound with practiced efficiency leaving you to wonder how many times he has patched himself up during dark nights like these.

“You’re doing well,” Caleb says, running the towel under clean water again.

The cycle repeats a few times. By the time Caleb deems that he had cleaned the wound thoroughly enough, you are standing there, subtly trembling in pain. The sink, the floor, and both yours and Caleb’s hands are covered in your blood. You hope that it looks worse than it actually is.

“How is it?” You ask finally.

Caleb rustles through one of the storage compartments, and takes out fresh white gauze. However, your blood on his hands stains it as soon as he touches the bandages.

“It’s pretty deep. You’ll need to take it easy for a while,” he says.

Gritting your teeth as he wraps the gauze around your abdomen, you hold your breath.

“Relax,” Caleb utters, “the worst part is over.”

He wraps the gauze around you a few more times before securing it with a little bow at the end.

“There. Good as new.”

He lets out a sharp sigh, dusting his hands off like a mechanic, and straightens out to look at you again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. But I’m worried. Should I go to the hospital?”

“No need. I’m here to take care of you, right?”

You nod.

You didn’t know what came over you then, but your body acted faster than you could think. You placed your hands on either side of his face and planted a small kiss on the edge of his lips.

He seemed stunned for a minute.

“You know I missed you, right?” You whisper, your fingers gently running through his raven hair.

“I thought you hated me,” he breaths.

“I do. But I can do both at the same time. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I missed you too.”

“I hope you never leave again. Because I won’t forgive you a second time.”

Caleb’s eyes flicker before he leans in closer and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

God, it was as if you were made for each other.

All of these years of yearning to the most recent worries that plagued your mind came bubbling up to the surface until they finally exploded like a volcano.

He wraps his arms around you. The need for him to be closer to you became stronger, to the point where it was almost animalistic. Your exhales became his inhales as he pushed you up against the skin, deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled within his hair, and his hands slowly mapped out the bare skin of your back. You couldn’t help but shiver.

You hated him so much. But God… it was impossible to stay away. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing that nothing good was going to come out of this. Maybe he would hurt you again. Maybe you were stupid to come running back to him at the first sign of affection. But that didn’t matter at this moment. Right now, you only knew him. He was your world. And you were his.

“Wait, wait. Caleb,” you gasp suddenly, “fuck.”

Caleb immediately steps back as if he was burned.

“What’s wrong?”

You look down at your wound. It was still bleeding. A faint dark red color peaked out from behind the bandages, a signal to it probably opening up again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. It’s very late. We’re both not in our right mind,” you say, heart still hammering in your chest.

Caleb hesitantly nodded. His face and t-shirt was smudged with the blood that undoubtedly came from your hands.

“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” you say again.

A dull throb pulsed over where your wound was, and although you trust that Caleb did a good job of cleaning it, you knew that he wasn’t a medical professional. Maybe you needed stitches. It would be a shame if you bled out in Caleb’s apartment for no reason other than your own carelessness.

“Damn it,” He curses, “I should’ve been more careful, you’ll bleed through these bandages too.” Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I’ll be honest, I’m not really comfortable with letting you out of my sight just yet. I just… just let me try to add a few more layers of gauze, yeah? And if that doesn’t work, we’ll figure things out from there.”

Caleb takes out more gauze and wraps it around your lower torso again, a bit more tighter this time. He steps back to inspect how much of the gauze has already been bled through, his brow furrowing.

“Damn it…” he mutters.

You put your hand on his arm to stop his continuous fidgeting, “Caleb. Calm down.”

“You’re right. No… I just… You’re bleeding. How are you still bleeding? I’ve never seen you be this chill about an injury before. You remember when you were learning how to ride a bike when we were kids? You would cry so hard when you so much as scraped your knee against the pavement and would run to grandma so she could comfort you.”

“I remember. You were not the best teacher. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten my front teeth knocked out.”

“You were sensitive as a kid.”

“I grew out of it.”

“Apparently.”

There was another pause. It seemed that every time you and Caleb found a common ground, there was something that would always bring you back and remind you that everything had changed. He was not the reckless little boy from your childhood that you remember. And, in turn, you were not the sensitive little girl that he remembers.

When did everything become so different?

Caleb’s apartment suddenly became cold again.

Caleb shook his head before speaking, “never mind. Have you had dinner? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now.”

There was a beat of silence again, as if Caleb was choosing his words carefully, “not even rice? Or maybe some broth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’ll order you something. Whatever you want.”

***

Caleb lended you one of his shirts since yours was stained with blood.

As promised, he ordered you takeout from a place that worked late and forced you to eat dinner. Even though you felt a little sick, you still made yourself eat.

He didn’t have a dinner table, so you sat on the couch while Caleb fed you.

“Why don’t you have a dinner table?” You inquire, “haven’t you moved in months ago?”

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

It was nice to catch up with him, even though it was a little awkward at times. You would talk for a few minutes before falling into silence again. Then someone would say something and the conversation would strike up again.

No one mentioned the kiss from earlier.

The familiar and slightly domestic atmosphere was almost enough to make you forget your previous worries. Almost.

There was a slight buzzing in your head, and then a wave of dizziness overcame you, harder than before.

You calmly, although wobbly, got up from the couch, and looked down at Caleb.

“Caleb, take me to the hospital.”

Caleb followed you up, “Hold on. Wait.”

You started walking towards the door, feeling like you could collapse at any moment. Caleb beat you to the front door, blocking it with his body.

“You’re not in the condition to go anywhere. Look at you. You can barely stand!”

“Then you take me!”

“Listen. I’ll take care of everything. You can’t go anywhere, even with my help.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me on this, pipsqueak,” He grabbed your arm a little more forcefully then he intended, “You’re not leaving in this state. No one will take better care of you than me.”

You bite at your bottom lip. What has gotten into him? Was he really just willing to let you bleed out just because he didn’t want you to leave?

Mustering up your last bit of courage and strength, you forcefully tug back on your arm that Caleb was holding, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. The plan was to get around him when he was caught off guard, however, when you retreated your arm in such a sudden motion, the muscles on your abdomen contracted, causing you to shudder in pain.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to put up a fight any further.

“Damn it, pipsqueak. I told you not to argue with me on this.”

Caleb gently helped you up, not minding your little stunt. He helped carry you to his room, tucking you into bed, bringing the covers all the way up to your chin even though you were hot. His scent enveloped you.

He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, “you know I only want what’s best for you.”

You nod.

You realized that perhaps you should’ve seen this coming from the very beginning. The way he clung on to you when you first came, the way he never let you out of your sight. He wouldn’t let you go now. No matter how much you struggled against him. And you couldn’t say that you hated the idea. This was the person you loved the most. The person who knew you best. The person who would take care of you better than anyone.

He was the person you turned to at the end of the day.

Caleb respectfully sat down on the floor across from you, resting his head on the edge of his bed. Lost in thought, his fingers met yours. Then he brought them up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss.

“I’m mad about you,” he whispers, “I think I’ll die if you ever continue to ignore me like you did.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Sleep tight, pipsqueak.”

It was four in the morning and the door was closed and Caleb's breathing gradually evened out. The light sound of cars passing on the street below was the only sound. In the haziness of the deep hours of the night, you were back in grandma’s house for a moment. You had snuck into Caleb's room again because you were scared of the sound of cars outside and the shadows on the wall of your room.

The pain in your side is unbearably excruciating. You carefully peel the blanket up to see Caleb’s sheets covered in blood. Your shirt had completely soaked through, and there was no doubt that your gauze had done little to prevent the blood flow. You felt unbearably hot, and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

Without thinking much further, you covered yourself with Caleb’s blanket and turned to the side, scumming to deep sleep shortly after.

At least you were with the person who knows you best.

At least you were with the person who loves you the most.

Masterlist

[sheerfreesia007]

Always In The Nick Of Time

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Word count: 1,479

Content warnings: Fluff, attempted assault, mention of knife

Summary: You’ve pretty much got your life figured out and Jeongin doesn’t really have to guide you much at all in your life. But when things turn dangerous for you he’s always alerted and is able to reach you in time to save you, but is that enough for you?

A/N: This little series was all inspired due to @jellymochii brainstorming for her GaurdianAngel!Felix fic. Please go read her fic as well it’s a wonderful piece!

“Ugh, why are they so close to each other? Don’t they know anything about personal space? Gross.” Jeongin spat out with a soft sneer as he watched a couple cuddle close to each other on a park bench. Today you had decided to come hang out with your best friend at a local park that was in the middle of both of your apartment complexes and he had tagged along to try and enjoy himself but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Looking around he noticed that you weren’t around him and he frowned softly as he began to look around the park wondering where you had gotten off to.

Shrugging his shoulders he figured you’d be okay on your own as he walked further along the path that winded through the park. He always loved that he was able to enjoy the living world like this since he had been paired with you as your guardian angel. You were so low maintenance in your everyday life that he often found himself growing distracted with the living world around him. He rarely ever had to step in and guide you like the archangels had instructed him to do, you were already on the right path and had a set of goals and dreams that were in line with your path already that he barely had to do anything. It was only when you were in dire trouble that he had to step in, and while that wasn’t too often there were still times when he would have to intervene. Thankfully he had formed a small connection with you almost like a warning for him in the form of a pulling or tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach when you were in trouble. It was like an alarm for him that he was needed to be at your side.

Like right now there was a dull pulling sensation in his lower stomach and Jeongin raised his head quickly looking around the park for you in concern. He couldn’t see you from where he was standing over by the small cherry blossom tree so he began to rush around the park as the tugging sensation began to grow in his stomach. Just as he ran towards the playground he spotted you standing in between a crying young child and a man dressed in a black hoodie and dark sweats, he was glaring at you menacingly with a sneer on his face and Jeongin’s eyes darted down to the glinting knife he held in his hand. Your best friend was trying to guide the child away as she held her cell phone up to her ear while talking to the emergency line.

“I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE! GET AWAY FROM US!” you shouted angrily as you scowled at the man in front of you. Jeongin rushed to your side worriedly as he watched the man with the knife cautiously. When he heard loud shouting coming from behind you he turned his head to see two police officers rushing through the park to get to you but they were still so far away. 

Just then Jeongin felt a sharp tug in the pit of his stomach and he turned just in time to see the man lunge forward with the knife extended out towards you. Without a second thought Jeongin grabbed you by your shoulder and yanked you back behind him as he scrounged up enough spiritual energy within and created a powerful barrier around you and the crying child. The man bounced off the barrier and fell back on his ass while Jeongin seethed where he stood, his chest rising and falling rapidly before he whirled back towards you. The police officers rushed past towards the man and quickly detained him before one took him away and the other collected the knife and walked over towards you to get your statement.

As the officer was writing down your statement of what happened today Jeongin stood to the side feeling drained from using his spiritual energy as he tried to gather strength to stay by your side to make sure you were okay. He watched as the police officer quickly wrote down your statement before he thanked you for your time and walked away. A middle aged woman came rushing over to you and Jeongin frowned softly wondering if she was someone he needed to worry about but your best friend being by her side helping her as she bawled her eyes out gave him reassurance that she wasn’t a threat to you.

“Thank you so much for keeping my little boy safe!” cried the woman and Jeongin relaxed further as he realized that she was the mother of the little boy. “That was my brother in law and my soon to be ex-husband’s family has been a bit much lately about custody of our son. I’m so sorry that he almost hurt you.” she said as tears poured down her face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m fine, I wasn’t hurt and your little boy is fine too. That’s all that matters.” you said easily with a wave of your hand. She nodded her head in thanks before sweeping you up in a tight hug as she cried into your shoulder. When she was done hugging you she then scooped her son up in her arms and quickly took him out of the park.

“You really are the lucky one, aren’t you?” asked your best friend teasingly and you rolled your eyes at her. Jeongin frowned softly at the question wondering what she meant by that but you easily fill in the blanks for him.

“Not this again, c’mon. Just because I have a lot of close calls doesn’t mean I’m the lucky one.” you gripe out to her and she scoffs softly at you.

“I mean, then what is it? Is your guardian angel always on vacation? They only show up at the last possible second to save you.” she tries to explain and you scoff dismissively at her once more before turning away from her, Jeongin frowns once again when he sees the soft furrow of your brow when you turn away from your best friend. You quickly say goodbye to her and start heading back to your apartment with Jeongin following behind you at a slow pace silently wondering what’s bothering you about what your friend said about him. 

You’re quiet during the whole walk home and only when you get into the apartment do you make any type of noise. A long weary sigh slips past your lips as you toe off your shoes before walking into the middle of your living room and turning around in a circle with a soft frown on your face.

“Do you want to be my guardian angel?” you ask suddenly and Jeongin almost flinches at the question you ask as his whole body stills in place and his eyes widen on you. “Am I that much of a burden on you that you don’t want to guide me through life?” you ask worriedly and Jeongin can see the tears beginning to form in your eyes. “I mean, she’s right it seems like you’re always somewhere else until something bad is about to happen to me.” you say dejectedly and Jeongin suddenly understands why you would feel like this. He steps closer to you and watches as a single tear slips down your face before your whole face crumbles in sorrow. “I don’t mean to be a burden, I want you to guide me. I don’t want you to just be there when things get bad.” you say softly before sighing loudly and shaking your head at yourself. “This is stupid. You’re probably not even there.” you say quietly and Jeongin feels his heart thud heavily in his chest.

He strides over to you feeling his spiritual energy filling him as he reaches out and grabs your wrist before tugging you into his arms. He cradles you close to him as warmth encapsulates the two of you and he hums softly.

“How can I guide you when you’re already walking the path you’re supposed to be walking?” he asks softly and watches as your eyes widen as you hear his voice. “I’m always by your side even when you can’t feel my presence. You’re already doing everything you’re supposed to be doing that I don’t need to guide you much, you already do my job for me. But I will always be by your side and will always intervene when things go sideways. You’re with me for life sweet girl and you can’t ever get rid of me.” he tells you reassuringly as he raises a hand and combs your hair back out of your face as tears course down your cheeks as a sweet smile slips onto your face.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

@channiesrightasscheek

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 15

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 14

---

He’s not here.

Wait a minute. Tommy said he’s not here.

He’s not here. That’s what he said.

He didn’t say something happened. He didn’t say he… you know…

Maybe he made a stop. Maybe he detoured. Maybe he went to Ricky’s.

Confirmation. You needed confirmation.

You needed him to say it.

In fact, even if he did say it, you needed more. Proof. The way you did with Pete.

As they said in the world before.

Pictures, or it didn’t happen.

No body, no… crime…

So… unless you saw his… you know… as far as you were concerned, he was on his way back.

You braced yourself, taking in deep, stuttered breaths, trying to will the question out. It felt as if you were in a fog, an underwater fog, if that made sense.

“Is he…?”

Tommy was silent. His eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know. He told us to leave. He was fending them off.”

Maria was wiping the dried blood off his face, “I’m okay,” he told her, “Fell on my face, but Hank reset my nose. I’ll be okay,” he gently took her trembling hand away from his face, giving her a hug.

“So, when you left, he was…”

“Alive, yes, but Elena, there were maybe five of them and one of him, and he kept falling. I wanted to go back, help him, but he just kept telling us to leave…”

And just like that, it was as if your brain reset itself.

“Oh, so he should be, what, a few hours away? Okay. I’ll just wait for him here,” you said, walking towards the security office, pulling a chair and plopping yourself on it.

“Elena,” Hank gently said, lowering himself to your level. “We stopped for the night, twice, about four hours at a time, and stopped every 3 hours or so to rest the horses. He didn’t catch up to us.”

“Well, maybe he stopped when you stopped, only further back. He’ll be along. I’ll wait.”

You studied the book Tommy just gave you, a small smile on your face. He remembered. He’d been listening. You’d always wondered if he did; every time you and Ellie talked he stood still, looking out for threats. You’d always assumed he wasn’t paying attention, but he did. He knew you were looking for this book.

You wondered if he was the one who had been scavenging the stuff Tess brought you all this while as well.

Your thoughts were interrupted by another chair being placed next to you. Ellie had decided to sit with you rather than go to school.

“Elena, Ellie,” Tommy said, a sad look on his bloodied face.

“You should go get cleaned up before you see Jake, Tommy. You look like shit. It’s okay. We’ll let you know when he gets here,” you said, squeezing his arm a little.

He stood there, not moving.

“You heard her, Tommy. Go see your son. We will wait for Joel here,” Ellie was so stern about it Tommy gave in, going to his horse and getting something else.

It was the whole set of the Chronicles of Narnia. You had told Ellie about it, even looked for them any time you passed the remains of a book store or library. She was looking forward to reading it, disappointed to see that the small library in Jackson was devoid of the books.

“He heard us,” she told you, smiling.

You nodded.

There was a strange look on her face after that. A look you decided you didn’t want to entertain at the time, and one she herself decided not to indulge in.

So there you sat, the two of you, waiting for your travel mate, the man who cared about the both of you in his own ways, eyes locked on the gate, hands holding each other’s, unmoving, waiting for Joel Miller to show his face when the gate opened next.

You sat there with Ellie all the way to night time, the guards placing an oil drum behind you and lighting some woods to keep the two of you warm, your brothers, Diana, Liv, Maria taking turns keeping the two of you in silent company, bringing food and hot chocolate and coffee to keep you alert. The guards gave you both blankets, and soon enough, the two of you nodded off, leaning against each other, sleeping in intervals of maybe ten minutes or so before being jolted awake by clicking sounds and Joel’s screams.

You were shaken awake sometime near sunrise by a worried Will, Benny standing a little way behind him, offering to get you and Ellie home. You shook your head, sitting straight, eyes back on the gates.

Will and Benny decided it was better not to say anything to you or Ellie, having heard from others how the two of you reacted to the fact that Joel didn’t return. Will tried again, telling you it’s not good to be sitting out in the cold all day and all night like that, but you wouldn’t budge. You wanted Joel to see you there when he returned. You wanted him to know you were waiting for him. That you wanted to be with him. Live a life as a family with him and Ellie, the three of you together.

They left for patrol soon after, and Marcus came to bring you and Ellie food, offering to take the books home for you so they had less chance to get wet in the snow. There’s so much 21 years old plastic coverings could do, he said, before wincing to get up as he held the books to his body, a hiss escaping his lips.

You and Ellie immediately shot up to help him, and he asked if the two of you could walk him home, his wound stinging a little. Of course, the two of you said, and went with him, you, letting him use you as a crutch, Ellie, carrying the books Joel had found for the both of you. It wasn’t until you and Ellie were standing in your old house’s living room that you realized he had tricked you into going home, both of you delirious from the cold and lethargy, having hardly slept at all the night before. Rest, he said, once you had, he would come get you two to wait at the gate for Joel himself, placing the books on the coffee table before closing the door behind him.

The living room was warm, the fireplace roaring with fire. Tommy must have come in and lit it for the two of you. Ellie looked at you for a second, before taking the blanket that was thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch and folding it, telling you she was going to clean up, straighten the house a bit, so Joel wouldn’t have to worry about it when he got back.

Yeah, that’s a good idea. Let’s clean.

The two of you spent the next five to six hours scrubbing the house top to bottom, cleaning every crevice with the exception of Joel’s room and the basement. For some odd reason, neither of you could go there. You scrubbed your old room, the bathrooms, the kitchen, even took out everything from the cabinets and scrubbing the insides, washing and wiping everything before placing them all back. The house was gleaming by the time the two of you were done.

And then the two of you just stood there. Again.

“I’m gonna go shovel snow,” Ellie said, going to the back garden.

Now what?

You went to the basement door, your hand on the brass knob you had just spent 30 minutes polishing, turning it.

You stood in the empty basement, looking at the shelves Joel had put together for his projects and tools. The place was meticulously organized, there was a place for everything. Wood pieces in a crate in one corner, metal in another. You smiled at the thought of Joel coming home all excited to store the scraps he found on patrol, some project or other on his mind, seeing the end result in things that probably looked like garbage to others.

You went to the stool that was stored away under the cleared worktop, running your hand on the table as you pulled the stool out, sitting on it, elbows on the table. You imagined Joel sitting here, working away, his eyes focused on the work. You looked at the shelves above the table, shoe boxes labelled with the odds and thingamajigs on them, mason jars with screws and nails by size.

And right there, right above what you imagined was his eye line, front and centre to his sitting position, was a wooden box. A beautifully carved wooden box.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help yourself. You took it down, placing it on the worktop.

You opened the box, and immediately got overwhelmed with feelings you didn’t know you could feel.

The top layer was filled with dices. Wooden dices. Of different sizes and stages of completion. Some carved, some not, the carved ones of varying alphabets, each one representing a letter in your name, some more practiced and perfect than others.

You lifted the top layer out. Your eyes began to prickle, your lips, tremble.

The rest of the box was filled with metal scraps. Scraps that was meticulously carved and shaped into various items, all incomplete thus far. A plain bracelet, what looked like pieces of a chain mail, a bracelet that had been pounded on, creating an interesting pattern on it, a few pieces of metal that looked like army tags, your name written in pencil on them, a few had haphazard printings of your name, a rough, partially worked piece with a cursive ‘Ele’ spelled out, the rest still in pencil, small enough to be a locket, like those you saw some women wore around their necks in the before, made of gold.

There was a smaller box with stones in them. Not gem, you thought, but some were polished so much they shone like one. There were broken ones from where he might’ve drilled into them, experimenting, but kept the pieces, nonetheless.

And in a small velvet pouch, right at the corner of the box, two silver rings. The bigger of the two with your name carved on the inside.

This was the box. The one he asked you not to snoop into if you ever wandered down here. A box filled with you. His thoughts of you.

You had to stop. The prickling in your eyes got hotter and hotter as you packed the box back up and carried it with you upstairs. You went up to your old room, wanting to lie down a little, rest, as Marcus had said.

But you didn’t go into your old room. Instead, you were drawn to his, that box he had once warned you not to open clutched to your chest.

His room was like him. Simple. Manly. Understated. But oh so him. You sat on his bed and picked up his blanket, unconsciously bringing the soft material to your nose, inhaling the deep scent that was all him.

And just like that, your brain reset itself again.

You broke.

You sobbed, wailed, cried in hysterics, his name came out in screams from your raw throat.

The last time you saw him, you slapped him, broke up with him. That look of resignation on his face was all you could see right now. He left thinking you didn’t want him anymore.

God only knew how long you sobbed on his bed, head on his pillow, his smell all around you. You wrapped his blanket around you, wishing to God knows who that you could have one more chance to feel his arms around you, his lips on your temple, see his dimply smile again.

You cried until your throat hurt. You wailed until your voice went away. You sobbed until your tears dried.

By the time your body gave up, unable to produce anymore emotions or any bodily fluids that come with it, you saw Ellie watching you from the slightly open door, tears falling thickly down her face. You wanted to comfort her, wanted to ask her to join you in Joel’s bed, but your body wasn’t responding. So the two of you just stared at each other for a while, a shared grief flooding your faces, two people who did not want to say the possibility of the reality out loud.

You didn’t know when exactly, but you fell asleep, the box clutched to your chest, his blanket all around you, your face in his pillow, breathing in the comfort that only his scent could give you.

**********

You stirred when you felt a calloused hand gently caressing your face. You opened your eyes, Joel lying next to you.

“Hi darling,” he said, smiling.

You were shocked. But… he was…

“Sorry I’m late,” his eyebrows scrunched in mock apology, although his teasing smile remained.

You lunged at him, burying your nose in the crook of his neck, chastising him for making you so worried. He laughed, the vibrations from his chuckles reverberating into your chest as you took deep, deep breaths to take his scent in. He had showered, dressed himself in that dark green flannel that used to belong to Frank. The one he wore from your place in Boston. The one you thought you had discarded when you first got back to Jackson.

He always looked good in that flannel.

Anyway, he’s here. That’s all that mattered anymore. He’s here. He’s safe. He’s back.

He lifted your head away from his neck, kissing you. And you kissed him back, putting all your apologies and relief that he was back into it. It was not a tame kiss. Your tongues mated with each other’s, your hands all over each other’s bodies. He pushed you onto your back, placing himself between your legs, peeling your clothes off one by one as he continued kissing you. You couldn’t think, your hands ceased to function. You let him undress you, his mouth trailing all over your body, kissing and licking at every inch of skin he revealed as he took your clothes off.

The room was quiet, save for your whimpers and the sounds of his lips worshipping your body. But when he laid down between your legs and worshiped you like no man had ever done before, the fact that a teenage girl might be downstairs became a distant memory as you screamed his name out loud, your body lifting off the bed as he took you higher, higher, higher, and brought you to heaven.

You didn’t even have the chance to come down to earth before he was on you again, kissing you like your lips were air and he was a man starved for oxygen, your hands, having found the will to work again ripping his clothes off him. When your bodies united, you floated away unto the heavens again, lips melded, bodies joined, and he brought you to heaven one more time, this time joining you himself, groaning and grunting as he buried his face in your neck, telling you again and again how sorry he was for making you worried about him.

The sound of a door slamming jolted you, and you sat up, finding yourself in the dark, fully dressed, your eyes still puffy, your throat still raw, alone in Joel’s room. You scrambled out of bed, looking for him all over the house, praying to a being you didn’t know you believed in for him to be somewhere in the house. Please, let this be one of those dreams you’d always had about him, the ones where you thought you were dreaming, but found out later it all had been real. This had to have been real, right? Your lips still felt his, your body still felt his warmth, your nose still smelt his scent.

But no. Joel was nowhere to be found.

It was all a dream. Just a dream. Or a nightmare.

Where are you, Joel?

**********

A week went by, and you spent your days waiting by the gate. Ellie kept you company, neither fully believing he was gone. You needed more time, he needed more time. He’ll come back, you knew it. He had to. You needed him to.

You almost clawed one of the younger guard’s eyes out when he mentioned getting ready to carve a wooden headstone with Joel’s name, in preparation for a funeral. The poor lad was only worried that he would do a bad job, Joel was, after all, the best woodworker they had. Tommy hissed and spat at the poor young man for even saying that, telling him there was no funeral to be had, not yet, only refraining himself from punching him because Jake was there. He brought Jake to see you every day by the gate, hoping to cheer you up some. It sort of worked, the little boy’s gummy smile might be the one thing that could cheer you up these days.

Every single time the gates open, your heart swelled with hope, only to deflate again when it was just another patrol group coming back. You were there so often the guard dogs got comfortable enough to lay at your feet, keeping them warm as you waited. You had taken to peeling potatoes and various vegetables right there at the gates, feeling guilty that you were finally cleared to work, but would rather wait for a man who may or may never return instead.

You spent your nights waiting by the gates, going to your old home near midnight, sleeping on the couch, unwilling to risk breaking like you did again if you entered Joel’s room. You didn’t want to leave Ellie alone in the house, yet, moving back in felt too soon and final, as if accepting that he was never coming back. So you slept on the couch, just so that you could be alerted as soon as possible should he come back.

On day ten, Maria asked you to help set up the quarantine rooms. The patrol team had radioed ahead – they found two ladies wondering some miles away and were bringing them back.

You went ahead to help, and watched as the two ladies, cousins, apparently, come in, the dogs sniffing at them diligently to detect any form of infections. After 24 hours, you helped them settle in one of the smaller houses in the far corner of the town and showed them around the next day.

They had travelled for months, they told you, their family farm attacked by raiders. They were kept as prisoners in their own home, used as sex slaves by the raiders, until they managed to escape in the middle of the night, burning the house down with the five men in it.

The older of the two, Lydia, was about five years younger than you, and her cousin Teresa was even younger. You introduced them around, the ladies quickly making friends around town, both ladies settled quite nicely in the vegetable farm.

Before you knew it, five more days had passed, ten days since Joel was originally supposed to be back. You found yourself slowly resigning to the fact that he might never return but refused to say it out loud. No one did, not even Hank and Tommy, despite their initial tries to get you to face reality. Ellie spent more and more time with you. She refused to open the books Joel got her, wanting to open them when he returned, whenever that may be. The Return of the King was safely placed on the bookshelf in his living room, also waiting for his return to be unwrapped.

You had breakfast on the 13th day with Ellie and Marcus, telling Ellie she had to go to school that day, the teenager rolling her eyes at you, bargaining that she would do maths with you at the gate if you would let her skip school, yet again. You said no, and she begged Marcus to help her out, only to be met with a stern shake of the head from him, telling her he’s not getting in trouble with you. She tried her luck with Will, Benny, and even Liv and Diana when they joined the three of you for breakfast, Benny telling her she’s fresh out of luck. As you and Marcus walked her out to school, you passed the two new ladies, who greeted the three of you politely.

“That Teresa is pretty,” you teased him, Ellie overenthusiastically agreeing with you. “I think she thinks you’re pretty, too!”

He laughed, shaking his head a little, “Nope, something about her is off to me. She seemed like someone who would agree to move in with you, said yes when you propose, and then retract it later that same day,” he told you, cringing and shuddering a little, shrugging his shoulders.

Ellie snorted, “That was oddly specific! What movie have you been watching to get that from a smile?”

The three of you laughed so much at his declaration you had to stop walking, basically bent double from laughing. Marcus was laughing so much he was legitimately in danger of ripping his nearly healed gunshot wound.

“Elena! Ellie!” Tommy came running, out of breath, looking as if he was about to explode. “They spotted someone. Come on, the gates,” he said.

All laughter was forgotten. You and Ellie ran at full speed towards the gates, Marcus following behind, going to the hall to alert your brothers. By the time they got to the gates, a small crowd had gathered, you, Ellie and Tommy front and centre, arms around each other, holding your breaths in anticipation.

The seconds felt like weeks. After what felt like hours, the guards shouted for the men to open the gates. There was no thundering hooves to be heard, so this was not patrolmen. This was a lone person. The gates opening had never been slower, the groans had never been louder.

And there he was, the man you loved, walking slowly into Jackson, pulling Captain by the reins, covered in muck and blood, his body looking thinner than it was when you last saw him, his hair unkempt, longer than you'd ever seen since knowing him, his beard and moustache so long you could barely see his beautiful lips, limping a little, his eyes searching the crowds. He smiled weakly at you as soon as he spotted your emotional face, handing Captain’s reins to one of the guards.

You ran towards him, Ellie and Tommy close behind, but he held his hand up, asking the three of you to stop, just as the dogs got close to him, immediately barking madly, snarling, heckles raised, bodies stiff, telling everyone they smelled something on him.

He stood there, a look of resignation on his face, regretful eyes on you, as the guards raised their guns at him, ready to shoot.

---

Part 16

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Chapter 2 // Next (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, nonsexual and sexual nudity, implied prior noncon, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Rowan stared down, transfixed on the boy kneeling at his feet. The starkness of it all washed through his blood like ice. His eyes swept over the pale, naked skin, a canvas covered in scars that spanned hues from pale white to deep red. Fresh bruises overlaid the scars, a similar patchwork of purples and blues that belied the shape of handprints and bludgeoning tools. As he drank in the carnage, it dawned on Rowan that the boy was even scrawnier than he’d suspected when peering through the bars of the cage on the sales floor. Now, in the bright lights of his condo, he could see frail that ribs showed through the taut skin of the boy's back.  

Then, Rowan’s eyes locked on the thick, standard-issue leather collar, the only item resembling clothes this boy had been afforded for transit. It was tight around his neck, a small padlock affixed in the back. Rowan knew that the key had been secured somewhere in the box, likely in a packet along with the rest of the paperwork. The paperwork, of course, that was affixed to the lid of the empty box just a few feet away.

“Hey there,” Rowan said, using the same voice he would if he were speaking to an injured child. What else could he do? He was in a position of undeniable power and influence, and the least he could do was try to reduce the threat of his very presence. “My name is Rowan Bailey, but uh, you can just call me Rowan. Welcome home. Well, it doesn’t have to be your home forever, but uh, for now, yeah? Oh, man, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’m already talking too much, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to know that you’re safe now. That’s the most important part. You’re safe now, and you’re going to live here for a little while, and I’m going to help you. You’re safe, I promise”

The boy didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t lift his head. Rowan bit down on his lower lip, still tender from where he’d worried it raw overnight. Part of him wondered if even a single word of what he’d just said had gotten through, stirred any understanding, instilled any comfort. How could it, when Rowan didn’t even believe in himself?   

---

The pet strained to make out what Master was saying. There was a warm buzz of words above its head, but it couldn’t discern a single one. Master had certainly said a lot, and the pet could only hope that there hadn’t been any important instructions. Its first impression with its new master was important, it knew that. Its old master had discarded it for this same insolence, this same tendency to ignore his words and to exist only between the ringing of its own ears.

So the pet strained further, titled its chin up just a little bit, hoping that it could steal a glance upwards and to Master’s lips. Then, only then, it might be able to discern the commands from the other rambling words. And if it failed to do so now, it would certainly feel the sting of its disobedience in short order.

---

The boy didn’t move, much to Rowan’s disappointment. He felt almost certain that he’d said something wrong, or otherwise not said something that he should have to get his attention. It’s not like he could ask the boy’s name – he knew that the so-called pets were expected to respond to their ID numbers, but there were no proper names given – and it’s not like they could speak as equals until some serious deprogramming had taken place. As far as the boy was concerned, Rowan owned him body, mind, and soul. There was no conversation to be had.

Rowan took another breath to muse over his current situation. He wrung his hands together to hide the fact that his fingers were shaking, body buzzing with adrenaline. All he’d done so far was talk, rambling and tripping over his words, a directionless prattling of platitudes. Since he hadn’t issued an explicit command, perhaps, it was possible the boy wasn’t going to move or respond until Rowan gave him something more to work with.

For all his time and effort invested into the PLF and its mission to liberate people from oppression, Rowan had never spent much time with victims in active rehabilitation, and certainly none in the early stages of rescue like this. He was trained to blend into the crowds of buyers, of skeptics, of men poisoned by lechery, lust, and power. His mission was to capture the horrors, the abuses, to steel his stomach against the cogs of the system and the bodies it crushed as they turned. And with the coolness of an undercover operative, he’d sit at this desk into the early hours of the morning, stitching together the footage and audio that he’d spent his weekends capturing. It was the niche in which he’d thrived, and it was one that he’d never had an interest in moving beyond.

Facing the victims that had been pulled out of hell was a different skillset altogether. Rowan believed it wasn’t just a different skillset, but an entirely different personality type, that was required to do such important work. To try and heal the victims, to see them clawing their way to personhood from brokenness, had always put a deep discomfort in his bones.

But now, his own discomfort would have to be secondary. He’d made the decision to bring this boy into his home, and now it was his solemn duty and obligation to bring the boy from where he knelt now and into a future of freedom. Rowan knew that it would take the heart of a man much stronger and braver than himself in the moment, but for now, he was all the boy had.  

“Alright,” he said out loud, hoping his voice sounded steady despite his nerves. “I’m going to head over to the box you got here in, yeah? I’m going to grab the papers there and find the key to undo your collar. Once I get that off, I’ll show you your room and some of the clothes I got for you. I think- well, I know that the papers lied about your weight, so I’m sorry if the clothes are a bit big. You can get dressed and then I’ll make us lunch. I’m sure you’re hungry – have they fed you? Oh, that’s a stupid question, of course they haven’t, they never give food or water before transport. Right. That’ll be our second order of business, then. Collar off, bedroom and clothes, then food and water. That sounds like a plan, yeah?”

Rowan thought he could see the boy’s head perk up just slightly, almost imperceptibly, eyes peeking up between thick black eyelashes and unkempt hair. But as soon as Rowan peered down at the boy’s face, that same gaze darted back down.

“Oh, it’s okay, you can look at me,” Rowan continued to ramble as he fished the key to the collar’s padlock out of the black bag that included another standard-issue collar, an ID tag with Rowan’s contact information and the boy’s WRU number, and a referral card to WRU-sponsored electric collars. Once the collar was off the boy’s neck, this whole bag would be disposed of, Rowan was sure of that. He’d never have to wear such a cruel device again, not so long as Rowan was breathing.

Despite his attempt at reassurance, the boy kept his eyes glued to the floor. If they were going to make any progress, Rowan knew he couldn’t let it bother him, and he certainly couldn’t take that behavior personally. They had to take this at the boy’s pace, not his own. However slow that would be, Rowan had to be okay with it.

“I’m going to touch your neck now,” he said as he leaned down towards the collar. “You can let me know if I need to stop. I’m just going to unlock this collar, and then I’m going take it off.” Just as the rehabilitation materials had encouraged, Rowan walked through every step of what he was going to do, using plain words and reassurances.

He also knew that he’d receive no protest. Resistance and the concept of refusal were trained out of victims of the system, so he just had to hope that he was doing right by the boy in removing the collar right from the start. Part of him wondered if this action was for his own comfort rather than his new guest’s comfort, but he couldn’t stomach such a blatant sign of the system binding this victim. There was no way he could hope to begin rehabilitation with a mark of ownership sitting heavy on the victim’s neck.

The padlock came undone with just a slight twist of the key, and the collar came unbuckled just as easily. Rowan eased the collar off and stuffed it in the bag, tossed the key in after it, and cinched it shut. It would go in the bin just as soon as the boy was settled in.

“There, how’s that feel? It must feel nice to let that skin breathe a bit. I’ll take care of that – I promise you’ll never have to see that collar again.”

---

The pet felt more naked without its collar than it actually felt from its true nakedness. The collar from its old master had been exchanged for a standard-issue collar once it had been processed through the facility, but it seemed that Master had no intention of fitting it for a new one at the moment. That was okay with the pet, of course it was, because its job was to abide by its new master’s preferences. If that meant that it would go without a collar, so be it. Perhaps Master had a different mark of ownership that he preferred.

Master was talking still, going on and on, a soft hum of sound that wrapped through the hall. He’d stepped to the side, so the pet couldn’t try to read his lips even if it dared to look up. Given that there was no shouting, or no blows against its body, it figured that there hadn’t been a command yet. It strained its senses for the sharp bark of a command, a change in tone that would indicate the pet’s attention was needed, but none came.

Instead, Master began to walk down the hall, spilling words into empty air. After a moment Master’s footsteps stopped, and turned back towards the pet.

Oh, the pet realized with a jolt of fear up its spine, Master wanted it to follow.

So, follow it did. It did so on its hands and knees, as was expected unless given the command to stand and walk, and it followed Master down the hallways of its new quarters. Something inside its chest tightened, a sensation of both fear and excitement. What awaited it down this hall? What would its first few hours here with Master bring? Its skin puckered with the lingering chill of transport, and its body ached with the final bruises and scars of the latest refurbishment cycle, but it could bear whatever lessons Master was going to imbue. After all, it wanted nothing more than to serve Master with all of its being. It wanted to be good.

---

“You, ah, can walk if you’d prefer. Upright, that is, on your feet. Or, uhm, if that’s more comfortable for you right now, that’s fine too.” Rowan felt like he was tripping over his words as he looked back at the boy crawling behind him. It was enough to make him feel like he was going to be sick.

This isn’t about you, he reminded himself again. This isn’t about you and your comfort level. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

The second bedroom was the first door past the kitchen, a door which Rowan had left ajar. He’d purchased a two-bedroom condo with the intention to use the second bedroom as his office, which it had been for the last three years. That was, of course, until the early hours of the morning as he’d prepared for the boy’s arrival.

In many ways it was still more of an office than a bedroom. A few hours had only given Rowan so much time to redo the space in preparation for his guest’s arrival. There were some things – including way too many boxes of old AV equipment piled in the far corner – that wouldn’t have a place in the condo otherwise. But Rowan had still managed to take out the desk and his main workstation so the futon would fit comfortably. He’d also filled the filing cabinet drawers with the clothes he’d purchased for the boy, a temporary fix that would have to be sufficient until he got a proper dresser set up. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was certainly more than the boy would have been afforded in the training facility.  

“Here we are,” Rowan said as he swung the door fully open and turned on the light, “this is your room. I know it’s really messy right now, and that there’s a lot of junk in here, but I’ll have that moved out in no time. But, yeah, the futon is yours, your bed I mean. All of those blankets are yours too, but you don’t have to use them all, just however many you want. I didn’t have more than one extra pillow, but I have another one on order. I’ll get around to ordering you a proper bed this week, you know, a mattress and all, plus some new sheets. Those sheets there are clean, I promise, but I didn’t have time to patch the holes or deal with the fraying. I mean, okay, I didn’t have time to do even half of what I wanted before you got here. But this was kind of a last minute thing. I know that doesn’t make it right. But, I mean, those clothes are yours, feel free to put them on. If you don’t like those, there are some more in the filing cabinet over there, some different options for pants and shirts and stuff, maybe you’ll want to layer up. I bet it’s a little cold in here for you, yeah? I can turn up the heat. Or if you’re fine, I won’t. It’s your call, yeah.”

Rowan wished he had the ability to shut up. He was usually more composed, more succinct in his words, concise and direct. Silence and attentiveness was his trade. Now, with the world shifting beneath his feet - the feet at which a young man knelt - he felt like he was coming undone. Words came freely from an otherwise tightly-sealed mouth. But the boy crawled into the room with fluid determination, clearly indicative he’d retained something from Rowan’s rambling.

Instead of going to the bed, and instead of proceeding towards the filing cabinet with the clothes, the boy crawled to the center of the floorspace that Rowan had cleared and resumed his kneeling position there. Motionless.

---

The pet tried to glimpse what it could of the room as it moved forward, head bowed, eyes supposed to be on the floor. There was something resembling a bed to its left, and piles of boxes to its right. There was some furniture further into the room it couldn’t quite get a good look at, not from this angle. Still, it could sense the room was small, furnished as though it were an afterthought.

Master was much chattier than its old master, a continuous hum of noise that should be words, but words that the pet couldn’t quite hear. It was still all too distant through the ringing in its ears. Fear replaced frustration, it always did now, ever since the last of its hearing had started to fade. Its attempt to obey any commands, even at the training facility, were usually its best guesses. Only when its old master or its trainers would raise their voices, bringing their yells to a fever pitch, could it reliably decipher what they wanted.

Of course, it couldn’t raise the issue with them. For as much as hearing had been taken from it, speaking had been taken from it as well. A pet was seen, and not heard. Its old master had commanded complete and utter silence, and since the pet had failed to obey that simple principle, it had paid in its hearing.

Silence. And so now, as it knelt and prostrated before Master, it ensured its breath was level. No errant wheezing, no sobs choked up in the back of its throat, no whining or whimpering. Silence, beautiful silence, and listening as best it could for whatever command might follow.

---

“You go ahead and get dressed, yeah? I’m going to head to the kitchen get us both something to eat. I’m not really sure I have the stomach for it – hell, I’m not sure you do either – but it’ll be easier to tackle the day with some food in our systems. I’ll make sure to get you some water too, you’re probably parched. I’ll shut the door so you have some privacy, and I should be back in just a little.”

Rowan still wasn’t sure whether any of his words were getting through, but he knew he had to try. A few steps back and he shut the door, giving the boy enough time to cover himself in private. In the meantime, Rowan turned his attention to making something resembling a meal. He had picked up a smattering of ingredients from the supermarket last night, as much as he could grab in the fifteen minutes before it had closed. That haphazard grocery haul had included a few varieties of jams and breads. Rowan had no idea if the boy had any personal preferences for his sandwiches, and he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to learn any time soon.

“Can’t go wrong with a PB&J, right?” He muttered to himself as he opened the fridge to grab the bright purple grape jelly. “That’s a solid meal, shouldn’t upset the stomach, palatable by most people’s standards. Yeah, some peanut butter and grape jelly for me and him, that’s the plan.”

The sandwiches came together quickly, although Rowan paused to put an extra spoonful of peanut butter on the boy’s sandwich, and then another. It looked like he was at least thirty pounds lighter than had been marked in his WRU papers, and likely at least twenty pounds lighter than he should be for his size. Although Rowan wouldn’t be able to tell for certain until he convinced the boy to stand, it seemed that there would be a lot of dense and calorie-rich meals in the boy’s future. But as with everything else, healing from starvation would require time and the intervention of professionals much better equipped than Rowan. A sandwich would have to be a good enough start.

Rowan fished his phone out of his back pocket and glanced at it. The screen was blank – no missed calls, no missed texts. It seemed that the rehabilitator hadn’t called him yet. After double-checking to make sure that his ringer was on so he wouldn’t miss the call when it came, he grabbed the plate with the boy’s sandwich, as well as a fresh glass of water, and took it back to the bedroom.

A knock on the bedroom door elicited no reaction, not even a creak of the floorboards. Rowan hadn’t exactly expected an answer, but he still paused an extra moment before pushing the door open.

To his disappointment, but certainly not his surprise, the boy was kneeling in the exact same position he’d been left in almost ten minutes prior. The blankets hadn’t moved, the drawers hadn’t been opened, and the boy was still naked. He clearly hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Alright, you don’t have to get dressed, I guess,” Rowan tried. Again, he would certainly feel better if the boy got dressed, but he wasn’t going to push his luck. Not yet. Clothes would come in due time, and as long as he was meeting the boy’s needs, discomfort was survivable.

Instead of pressing the matter further he knelt and placed the plate and glass of water within his new guest’s reach. Even this didn’t elicit any movement. Maybe, just maybe, Rowan thought he saw the boy draw in a slightly deeper breath, skin shifting over his stark and visible ribs. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.

Before Rowan could speak again, his phone rang.

Ah, shit. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that it was the call he’d been waiting for.

“I’m real sorry, I have to take this call,” Rowan said while scrambling to his feet. “I’ll be back soon – you can go ahead and eat and drink, yeah? That’s all yours.”

A few seconds later and he was out the door, phone up against his ear.

“Hello, this is Rowan Bailey.”

“Mr. Bailey, this is Angela Herrera, the PLF Rehabilitation Specialist assigned to your case. Mr. Greyson Valentine reached out to me personally to make sure you had immediate support for this unexpected intake.”

Again, just as with Grey’s call, Rowan felt an immediate sense of relief. He wasn’t in this alone. Not now, not ever. There were people that were going to fight for this victim with the same zeal and enthusiasm as they had for so many others. It didn’t matter that Rowan fucked up by taking this on so brazenly, not in the grand scheme of things. Help was on the way.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice. And, please, Rowan is just fine. Did Grey – I mean Greyson – tell you the details of our situation here?”

“Rowan, got it. As for the details, well, I got the Clifnotes version via email. It seems that you brought a ward home from a liquidation event with no prior notice or planning. You’re currently lacking any advanced rehabilitation training, and no rehabilitation training with high support cases like this one. You’ve held a primarily investigative job with little to no interaction with victims in rehabilitation at all. And, if I can make a guess from your voice, I’d presume your new guest has already arrived?”

“Yeah,” Rowan said with a wry chuckle, “you’ve got the gist of it. And now I’ve got a naked man in my spare bedroom, and I’m trying to get him to eat a sandwich or get dressed without either of us crying. I’m in over my head here, if I’m being honest. I just wanted to do a good thing, but now all I can think about is how much I’ve fucked up.”  

“You did a good thing. I promise, no matter how ill-equipped you might feel right now, you still did a very, very good thing. Rescues aren’t always as clean and well-prepared as they seem in the rehabilitation materials and training modules. For every perfect rescue, the ones where the ward is painstakingly selected based on their best chances at successful rehabilitation and reintegration, there are scrappy, impulsive, and unexpected rescues from well-meaning individuals like yourself. And let me tell you upfront, most of those rescues get happy endings too. That’s where I come in. My job is to support you and make sure that this goes as smoothly as possible, and we can work together to get our new friend healthy and confident in their personhood.”

Her voice was level and soothing, as though she’d practiced these words dozens of times. Maybe she had. It was her job, after all, wasn’t it?

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she said, and Rowan heard the faint shuffle of papers. “And I’m already getting materials prepared so I can come over and do an assessment and get you guys started on the path to recovery. What does your availability look like for a visit today or tomorrow?”

“I’m completely free until next Monday, which is when I have to go back to work. I took a few days of PTO to handle this whole… situation.”

“I can work with that. It looks like you’re not too far from me, so how about I head over in a few hours? I want to make sure I have all of my materials here in order for you first, but after that, I’m ready to get this case opened and some progress started for both of you.”

“Please,” he said, and he hoped after the words left his mouth that he hadn’t sounded as desperate as he felt. “Today is great. Any time, as soon as you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

“Sounds like a plan, then. I’ll finish getting my things together and then I’ll be on my way. Focus your energy on surviving the next few hours, get him as settled as you can, and then we can take it from there together. I’ll see you soon.”

Can’t be soon enough, Rowan thought, casting his gaze back to the closed bedroom door.

---

The pet stared at the food lingering just within its reach. Its stomach growled with a painful gnawing sensation, a hunger that it felt in its very soul. It couldn’t remember the last time it had eaten a full meal, even a proper serving of the standard issue nutrient shakes at the facility. The last time it had real food, proper food like this, had been with its old master. And even then, it had been many, many months. Maybe it had been years. Only good pets got proper meals, and its old master had been certain about one thing: the pet was not a good pet.

Even after Master had left the room, the pet knew better than to touch either the water or the food. It hadn’t been given permission to eat, not yet. No matter how thirsty, and no matter how hungry, it knew that if it were to survive under Master’s rule, it would have to be obedient. That meant that until it was explicitly allowed to touch this food, until it was given the order to eat and to drink, it would continue to wait patiently.

Hunger was a familiar companion by now. Food was denied as part of its training, often one of its first punishments, and its continued disobedience now showed in how frail the pet had become. It had watched as its ribs began to appear, first barely perceptible across its abdomen, and then so sharp that they caught shadows in the low light. Then came the dizziness, the shakes, the difficulty with its memory. The skin over its collarbones had been pulled tight, and it felt like coldness sat in the hollows between its shoulders and its neck. Its fingers had always been thin, but now they were skeletal, the tendons of its hands dancing like the strings of a marionette whenever it moved.

Those same hands rested patiently on its thighs now. The aesthetics of its body had never bothered the pet, and it knew that its hair and body were to be kept according to its masters preferences. Maybe Master would expect it to keep this particularly lithe form, which the pet wouldn’t mind. It only hoped, a hope that was brief and fleeting, that it would be permitted to eat enough that the incessant shaking and dizziness would finally cease.

The sight of feet reappearing pulled the pet from its wandering thoughts and ever-present hunger.

---

Much to Rowan’s disappointment, both the sandwich and the water remained untouched. Again, just as the first time he left the room, it appeared that the boy hadn’t moved at all.

This second instance of inaction gave Rowan immediate pause. This behavior was exactly what the paperwork had said about the boy, hadn’t it? He’d been sent to the liquidation floor because of apparent selective disobedience to commands.  

But Rowan hadn’t given a command, not in the sense that most people did when they spoke to their pets. His suggestions had been conversational at best, his best attempt to emphasize the importance of the boy’s autonomy from the very beginning. The rehabilitation handbook had said this method worked for some individuals who were eager to grasp that first bit of freedom.

Others, however, would sometimes require the familiarity of commands and hierarchical structures before they were comfortable enough to come out of their shells. It seemed that maybe this boy would be a part of the latter group.

Rowan had hoped that he would go his entire life without feeding into the depravity of the system, that he would never issue a command to another human being, that he would treat all persons as equals to himself. But his own choices, his own rash decisions that brought the boy here in the first place, meant that this philosophy would have to change.

It wouldn’t hurt to try gentle persuasion one more time, though, would it? For his own sake, Rowan knew would have to try.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft despite the lump in his throat, “I need to make sure you’re eating and drinking, okay? I don’t know when they fed you last, or if you’re even feeling okay right now, but can you at least drink that glass of water and eat that food? Please?”

Nothing. Not so much as a blink or a twitch that showed any recognition of what Rowan was asking. The boy hadn’t even acknowledged Rowan’s presence besides following him to the bedroom.

Fuck, he groaned internally. There was no use in putting it off any longer. He’d gotten himself into this mess, and now he was going to have to get them both out. It was time to grow a spine.

“You need to eat and drink,” Rowan said, raising his voice ever so slightly. He winced in spite of himself. “You’re going to drink that full glass of water, and eat all of the food on that plate. Now.”

To his horror and surprise, it worked.

---

Master’s voice split from its warm murmuring to a tone that was sharp and commanding. It was the cue the pet had been waiting for.

Cautiously, ever-so-carefully, the pet raised its eyes to meet Master’s lips. It peered through the web of its greasy-thick hair and tried to make out exactly what Master wanted it to do. Lips moved, sharp words cut, and the pet thought it understood.

Drink the water, eat the food.

There would be no second chance to get this right. The pet was incredulous that those were truly the words that Master had uttered. But that increase in vocal pitch, paired with the movement of Master’s lips, was all that the pet could abide.

Even if it was wrong, and even if it had mistaken the precise command Master had issued, it was hopeful that it would at least get a mouthful of water to soothe its parched tongue before the punishment came.

The pet slowly moved its hand from its lap and towards the glass of water. It braced itself for a kick to the ribs, or perhaps another blow to the head, but none came. Hand trembling, both from the fear it couldn’t mask and exhaustion of the last few days, it grabbed the glass. Just as methodically, still waiting for a correction, it raised the glass to its lips. A final pause. No correction came.

It drank. It drank with a ravenous thirst, one that one single glass wouldn’t quench. It could have easily drunk another glass, no, three or four more glasses. The taste of the cool water over its tongue was heavenly bliss. The relief and release of the drink was enough, just for a moment, to dissolve the fear of being in a new place with its new master.

Fear returned as it reached out to grab the sandwich. Eating this would be more challenging, requiring just enough grace so that not even a single crumb spilled from the corners of its lips, but still demonstrating the swiftness and efficiency that was expected of a good pet. Wasting food was a sign of disrespect, and the pet was absolutely grateful for a meal like this. It had no intention to disrespect Master and his generous offerings.

As carefully and daintily as it could, the pet tore its teeth through the bread and the thick spread of peanut butter and grape. It was so hungry that it didn’t pause to appreciate the flavors or textures. Instead, it focused on devouring as neatly as was possible in a near animal state. Without its training it might not have accomplished such a feat, but somehow, it managed to eat the entire offering without a crumb dropping to the floor.

A rumble came from Master’s lips, that same warmness that he’d been using since the pet first emerged from its box. Although some part of it expected some punishment for eating, it didn’t come. Instead, all the pet could feel was some queasiness: it had been so long since it had eaten a meal of that size, and its stomach was soured by the heaviness and a lingering hunger from the recesses of its mind. The signals in its body were conflicting between hunger and nourishment, and the pet could only hope it would keep the meal down long enough for it to make a difference in its foggy mind.

Maybe the meal had been the punishment in and of itself? Maybe, just maybe, keeping itself together after the meal was its first test?

Then another command, a sharp voice, and Master’s feet turned towards the door. The pet hadn’t had the opportunity to look up at his lips, but the options were to either stay or to follow. It paused to think, a moment in time to decide its fate. Master had left the room before, but hadn’t issued a command, and the pet had done right by staying. Now, Master was leaving, but had clearly spoken a command. It paused a moment, but could intuit that the command had been to follow, rather than to stay.

And so it followed.

---

“Follow me to the bathroom, let’s get you cleaned up,” Rowan barked out. He still tried to speak gently, but it seemed that a sharper, more commanding tone was the only thing that was going to work for now. It felt too much like shouting for comfort, and the act of issuing commands itself was disconcerting, but the boy didn’t seem bothered. Still on his hands and knees, the scarred houseguest followed Rowan’s every step.

It was a short walk across the hall to the bathroom. The smell of bleach still lingered in the air, but at least Rowan had been able to mask the stench of mildew and weeks of neglect. For now, though the white tiles didn’t gleam, it was serviceable for a shower.

Rowan patted the new towels he had folded and placed on the toilet tank. Although he wasn’t issuing a command, because the boy hadn’t looked up, Rowan raised his voice slightly nonetheless. It was the only thing that seemed to get through to him.

“These towels and washcloths are yours, so use as many as you need. Soap, shampoo, conditioner, it’s all in the shower. Go ahead and clean yourself up, yeah? Take as long as you want, use hot water, use whatever is in there. It’s not much, but I’m going to pick up some more things that are just for you later this week.”

He stepped towards the door, lingering for just a moment to see if they boy would respond. Instead of verbal recognition, the boy’s frail frame clambered over the lip of the bathtub and into the newly-cleaned porcelain. Hands started to reach for the knobs to turn on the water, head still bowed, so Rowan took his leave.

---

The pet tried not to wrinkle its nose at the heavy stench of powdered bleach lingering in the air. It could already feel the burns that would form on the skin of its palms as it scrubbed the bathroom clean with the caustic chemicals. It knew it shouldn’t have preferences, but it did anyway. They couldn’t beat the preference out of it, no matter how hard they tried. There were so many cleaning products that were easier to work with, that didn’t burn its lungs and throat, that didn’t make its hands raw and red with pain the way that powdered bleach did.

But the bathroom wasn’t the thing that Master had asked it to clean, at least not yet. There was no use dreading an uncertain future. Instead, Master had asked it to clean itself, make itself presentable.

There was no surprise there. The fear and discomfort had served it well, and would continue to serve it well as it learned what Master expected of it. It had shown restraint in waiting to eat until a command was issued, and it had showed obedience in following Master’s commands to follow and to shower. But now, the pet was being asked to read between the lines. A good pet was not only responsive, but could anticipate its master’s needs with effortless grace.

There were few things that a new master would want to explore with their pet on their first day, and the pet was well-acquainted with what likely came next. It certainly wasn’t as clean as its old master would have required before such activities, having only received a quick hose-down before it was loaded into its box. There was still some dried blood stuck to its skin, and its scalp was thick with grease and dandruff that it hadn’t been able to wash out since it began its refurbishment those many weeks ago. Its nose was blind to it by now, but the pet was certain that it smelled faintly like the fear and sweat that clung to the training facility walls.

If it had any hope of pleasing its new master, it would have to spend the time and effort to clean itself up a bit more. First impressions, particularly first impressions of its primary skillsets, were of the utmost importance.

After a few moments of scrutinizing the silver knobs on the wall, it eased the showerhead on. It flinched as the cold water hit its skin, it always did, but then it relaxed into the gentle stream. This was better than any of the rough hose-downs it had received while at the facility, and better than the showers provided for its old master’s pets. The privacy felt like an unearned privilege, and the pet was determined to enjoy the luxury while it still could.

Nerves made it hard to hold steady as it climbed to its feet. Without Master present, it didn’t have to kneel, and standing would make it easier to clean itself. Its head swam with a familiar blackness and ringing in its ears, and it leaned on the tiled wall until the dizziness passed. The food that it had just eaten would help, even if it would take some time to feel the effects of the nourishment. And maybe, just maybe, it would steal some water from the tap now, drink a few mouthfuls as the cold water ran down its face…

No, it reminded itself with a sharp correction, balling its fists up as though Handler Green had shoved the cattle prod into its ribs. This was its first day with Master, its first chance to prove its worth, and it was already thinking of disobedience. Master had already given it something to drink, and it should be grateful. There was no need to steal even a single mouthful now, not even from the freely flowing showerhead, not even in the privacy of solitude.

It banished the thought from its mind and got busy with scrubbing itself clean. First came its hair, so much longer now than when it had entered the refurbishment program, the curls heavy with water and shampoo. The shampoo was light, faintly floral, and the pet relished in the sensation of soap pulling the grime and blood away from its scalp. When it glanced down at the floor of the bathtub it saw that the water was rust-colored as it flowed down the drain.

Once its hair was clean, shampooed twice and rinsed thrice, it took to scrubbing its body down with determined and practiced vigor. Every inch of skin was worked over, even the skin that was heavily bruised and covered in scabs. It allowed itself the grace to wince as it pressed down on the bruises and still-healing wounds, but it still scrubbed away at them with the same determination.

Mostly, it tried not to think about how much its ribs had begun to stick through its skin, and how easily they would break under the slightest application of force. It was fragile now, filthy and covered in the marks of its disobedience. Its insolence was captured by the permanent paint of scars from head to toe.

It scrubbed, and rinsed, and then scrubbed again, until the water turned from copper, to pale pink, to clear. Its arms had begun to pucker with goosebumps under the steady flow of cold water. But finally, with a final rotation and a check that the water was indeed flowing clearly now, it shut the water off.

The towels waiting for it were warmer and fluffier than anything it could remember being given at either the training facility or by its old master. As it wrapped itself in the terrycloth it sighed a small sigh of relief, an exhalation it was sure made no sound. Even if it couldn’t hear such quiet breaths itself, it had learned when others could from its old master’s many corrections. A sigh, by itself and behind a closed door, would likely go unnoticed.

After it had dried itself it carefully folded the towel and placed it on the floor. It would have to figure out where Master kept his dirty clothes and towels sooner or later, especially since it would be responsible for the laundry. There would be time for that soon. But now, since it was clean, it was time to get to work.

The pet settled back down onto its knees, carefully selecting the tiles of the floor to kneel on rather than the rug in front of the sink. It wasn’t going to seek out small pleasures and privileges that it had not yet earned, not on this first day. Everything it did would show that it was good, that it was obedient.

The tiles were better than cold cement it was accustomed to, anyway.

A few moments later the door pushed open. Master was back, here to fetch it, take it back to the room it had just come from. That soft murmuring of Master’s voice came again, the conversational tone like water lapping on a white-sand shore, not the hot knife of a command. The pet still tried its best to listen attentively through the ringing of its ears.

Then, the command came, cutting sharp through the susurrus. Follow. And so the pet did.

As it expected, it was led back to the same room it had just come from. Its heart fluttered in its chest. It remembered where the low-lying bed had been pushed against the wall, and how far it was off the ground. Climbing up on the bed from the ground would pose little difficulty, a single fluid motion enough to situate it comfortably atop the flat surface.

Master walked towards the bed with broad strides, and with a rush of adrenaline, the pet climbed up onto the bed beside the towering pile of blankets. Fabric and plush bedding were soft beneath its knees, and it gave a small sigh of relief that the bed was so comfortable.

There was no time to relish in the comfort, however. The instinct of its training and prior service took over. There were multiple options for it to begin, to entice Master’s senses, but one came to the forefront of its mind. That one, it decided, would show off both grace and the care it put into its servitude.

It placed its hands evenly apart, symmetrical and in line with its knees, forming carefully orchestrated lines throughout its body. Once it found its balance it arched its back, pushed its hips firmly into the air, and lowered its chest towards the bed. Weight shifted forward, onto its forearms now, and it felt confident it would be steady despite its latest wave dizziness and nausea. Although it couldn’t quite see itself from this angle – there was no mirror here like there was in the training facility – it was confident that its posture was perfect.

There were many things the pet had failed at during its training, and during its time with its old master, but this had never been one of them. Of its many tasks and duties, the pet was certain that it was able to pleasure its masters. And despite its fear, it was certain it could do the same for Master now. This was its chance to prove itself, make a good first impression, show Master that it was more than its inability to hear his commands.

All that remained was to slowly, carefully, turn its head to the side, look up at Master and push its lower lip out ever so slightly- And as soon as its eyes met Master’s, Master shouted with a roar of what the pet knew was fury.

A/N: And in this chapter, we spend 8,000 words to eat a sandwich, make a phone call, and take a shower. I wonder what happens next!

Taglist

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@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

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@maenr @whump-enthousiast

[tricoloreddango]

☆Glass Breaking☆

Chrollo Lucilfer x female reader

Second and last part to [link]. I recommend reading first part to make a sense of the story.

contents: angst / slight manga spoilers / childhood trauma / Chrollo has an identity crisis / mentions of suicide / non-con attempt (only in a nightmare and as a paranoia) / non-consensual touching / mentions of violence / manipulation / generally suggestive.

Do not read it if you’re a minor or uncomfortable with mentioned topics.

Word count: 8.7k

The hotel suite you were made to stay in was all silent, ignoring the occasional buzz of the AC keeping the place cool. The place was all modern, but with some darker and raw design that wasn't helping your current mood. You doubted it was paid for in the first place as well. No, for someone like Chrollo or other members who sometimes visited, it was much easier to get rid of the person that rented the suite, take over once that person is disposed, and protect their identity at the same time.

Said Chrollo was gone somewhere again, having left without telling you much, as he’s been doing so the entire time of your stay here. It’s been few weeks after he’s taken you with him, with it signalling the start of your new way of living. Every question about his whereabouts were dismissed with a wording too general for you to make a specific guess, unless his leaving was for more trivial reasons such as shopping.

Even just the idea of doing something as simple as shopping felt odd when you thought of Chrollo, now that you’ve learned Chrollo isn’t Eric and that Eric was a completely different person in his being anyway. For all you were not told, he might as well be killing someone during his current disappearance. Probably was.

However, his absence was beneficial to you, or so you assumed. Only then you were able to try to spot any of the smallest details that could let you get out of this place, and today, was meant to be another of your escape attempts. You were now standing near the dark grey door leading out of the hotel suite, ready to discover the mechanism of the electronic lock as another thing on the list of crucial to your leaving details. You didn't plan to go much further than to the reception to ask to call for help; rather you'd make someone working here try to reach out hunter association right away.

Only for your dream to be ruined. You froze in your stand, your hand falling off of the handle when you heard a cheery voice behind you, one you didn’t expect to be heard; not today. You thought you were alone in the suite, deducing that with its quietness.

“Here you are, snooping around again,” Shalnark said with a mock disappointment yet his voice stayed as happy as always. Perhaps to him, your attempts were nothing but childish (and rather adorable, condescendingly), amused that you thought you’d be able to leave. A random and nenless woman, surrounded and known by the wolves aroud her, should only choose to submit to her current situaton.

“Boss wouldn’t like hearing about you trying to find a way out, for…” Shalnark paused, pretending to think of the right number as if he didn’t know it immediately, “… fourteenth time this week!”

You turned around with a sense of unease. You should have known that your moves would have been watched around people like them, people like Chrollo. You were still not entirely sure what the roles of Phantom Troupe members were exactly, especially when they were mostly assigned to simply watch you while Chrollo was gone; not to mention they'd been evading any more serious concerns you had.

Their superiority over you exerted itself in the fact that it was hard to tell each time another troupe member was in the chamber as their moves were too quiet to be spotted to an amateur like you, or even hunters. You could be in another room, just a wall between, and you'll be unaware someone has entered.

You looked at blonde haired young man, wondering what should you say. It wasn’t that being caught again stressed you—it was simply being in presence of members like him that made you anxious, knowing about many crimes the Phantom Troupe was accused of. Especially when, regardless of how many escape attempts you had, so far, there was no consequences for you—somehow. Maybe they all found them that funny and pathetic they didn’t even take you seriously.

“Chrollo also does things I don’t like yet he doesn’t consider my opinion on that,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. Your words made Shalnark laugh. Yep, you really were an entertainment for the public at this point.

“You’re always so sarcastic, no wonder boss likes you so much!” he giggled, but then stopped for a moment, as if catching himself in some forbidden act. “Don’t tell him I said that though.”

Your eye twitched at the mention of Chrollo “liking you.” You well remembered his given reasoning for forcing you to be the part of his life, and while you tried to make the sense of his wording back then, it still sounded like a mental talk today. This reasoning wasn't enough excusable to drag you out of your own life anyway. You didn’t want to be liked by Chrollo if this is what being likeable by him means. Were you that much of an odd person to draw his interest? You found yourself common in and out. The sarcastic speech was nothing but you being unable to keep your frustrations to yourself, not an attempt at being sassy.

“And why is that?” you asked with curiosity, wondering if Chrollo happens to have a weak spot Shalnark could have just implied; something to use. “Boss is just trying to be all cool and mysterious, you know. I don’t want to ruin his image!” he teased you, not giving you any serious answer in the end.

Next, his hand was on your back as he led you back deep inside the suite, and into a living room with a good view of the city and spacious couch and glass coffee table, tall ceiling, cement walls—all interior in same gloomy colors. You were pushed down onto the black leather couch, and being shoven a remote into your hand. “If you’re really that bored, just watch some movie.” As if you didn’t have enough of them already. “I have some work to do,” Shalnark announced and disappeared into one of the rooms in the corridor. But before he closed the door, he shouted back at you, “And don’t move anywhere, I will know you did!” The door was slammed shut.

The suite was quiet again, but this time, every second felt like an anticipation for something. You didn’t remember the last time you felt truly calm, as your “hostage” situation had you stay stressed out. You missed your life, you missed your aunt, but above all, you missed your autonomy and feeling of safety.

Yes, your life wasn’t glamorous working as an IT worker all day, neither was your pay. There hadn't been much to look forward to that you didn’t do already everyday. But you had a choice and such ability makes people who they are, as that’s how they express themselves; and at least you weren’t dealing with a deadly group of criminals. You were still unaware of Chrollo’s intentions with you (besides “I want to understand you” talk), not sure how far he’d go in hurting you, but expecting the worst just in case—hence your ongoing anxiety.

The silence was killing you, so you turned on the tv. Switching between channels back and forth, you didn’t find anything interesting, but you stayed on news channels for few minutes, hoping to see a report about yourself. You didn’t. It really got you thinking of multiple theories. Was your aunt uncaring about your disappearance? Or, did she report it, but you just weren’t that important in eyes of public to be put on the news for people to know? Or even worse, was she forced to be silenced, perhaps with violence? Chrollo promised to not hurt her as long as you comply, but you couldn’t believe him. Secrecy leads to mistrust, mistrust leads to resentment.

A random commercial channel stayed on when you shoved your head back against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. So much boredom was forced upon you. Chrollo took you outside, knowing you’d be both an annoyance and resentful if he keeps you inside all day, but you never had a full control of the choice where and for how long. You felt more like a dog being walked, and it’s not as if you enjoyed his presence much. You liked Eric from before whole Chrollo reveal, but he was an illusion of who Chrollo truly was.

Another thing was the cause of your kidnapping. Normally, women are kidnapped to be tortured, raped, killed, trafficked or as a hostage. And you instead were living a, somewhat, normal life. With occasional affection Chrollo expressed towards you, it felt disgustingly domestic too.

You could never feel safe regardless, due to how powerless you were. Not even a hunter, not even a nen or knowledge how to learn it you possessed.

You were getting lost in thought until a voice shook you aware again. Twice in a row wasn't good for your health. “A penny for your thoughts?” the voice teased gently.

You immediately sat up straight, seeing Chrollo has returned and was standing inside the room. You were really going to get a heart attack with these people soon!

“Chrollo, what the hell,” you grumbled in annoyance, to which Chrollo chuckled. He was eyeing you bit intensely, liking what he’s seeing, though not in a suggestive way really; you weren’t wearing anything other than a simple sweatpants and T-shirt anyway, unless he foud you desirable like this anyway. He was content with having your person here, especially when you were making his fantasies come true. “I don’t think I’m to blame here. You looked zoned out.”

“I wouldn’t hear you enter even if I wasn’t.”

Chrollo only smiled in amusement, before he walked towards you and sat down on the coach next to you, with a space between you two thankfully. You tensed up impulsively, and even that small wriggle got his attention. Looking sideways at him, you noticed he was dressed up rather casually today, not betraying any location he had spent his time at—just some black jeans and black long sleeve, all mysterious and... You suddenly laughed as you remembered Shalnark’s words. Perhaps the blondie was right.

Chrollo looked at you in curiosity, not at all offended, merely curious. “You’re laughing, something I don’t see often. Care to share why is that?” he said with interest. Looking at him, you switched from laughing to a sigh. Should you really say what Shalnark told you? “Someone described as you trying to be all cool and mysterious,” you said through a snicker anyway.

His eyes widened, but just slightly; there was no embarrassment or anger either. “Shalnark, you mean?” he assumed. When you nodded, he couldn’t help but ask, “And do you find it to be true?”

You didn’t know if the question was meant to be tricky, meant to see how far your disrespect could go, but you went with honesty as always. “Well… you do act all mysterious. You’re also annoying to me, since you hide so much from me.” Yet you fell into your own trap by answering him, as the question made you thought of your current position and your tone was getting heated up. “When will you finally explain everything to me—” you wanted to add angrily, but all of the sudden, Chrollo pulled you onto his side.

His right arm held you close to him, wrapped around your waist, and he ignored you trying to squirm away. He leaned forward to grab the book from the coffee table, one he left behind before leaving today, and leaning back, he looked at you again. “Let me go, Chro—”

“Calm down. You were stressed out lately, so let’s refocus your mind elsewhere,” he said way too calmly for your own emotional state. You felt nothing but gaslit by him; considering he didn’t even address your concerns and with that, acted as if there’s nothing bad going. You had a lot to worry about, having been literally kidnapped.

Any further protests you had, Chrollo kept holding you like this until you finally stopped trying to get away and cursing him, all resigned as he was more stubborn than you. Only then he opened that damn book, left handed too, and started reading aloud for some reason. His arm pressed you even closer to him, with your head forced against his shoulder. You wanted to ask him what he’s doing, but you gave up on the idea, knowing this infuriating man wouldn’t answer you. You really couldn’t handle a man like him—you, always honest, inquiring and expressive; and him, all nonchalant, secretive and confusing.

The further confusion led you to finally look down at the book’s pages, trying to understand him at least through the stories he was reading. Of course you heard him say same words aloud, but you preferred to read yourself. You didn’t even realize when you now were focusing on the story yourself, your mind finally quiet for once in the spread of last few weeks.

‘It was of course nothing to worry about, he accepted the setback only because he was looking for a fight. If he stayed at home and carried on with his normal life he would be a thousand times superior to these people and could get any of them out of his way just with a kick,’ you read. Kafka.

Following with the flow of the book wasn’t that easy, considering you tended to consume books that are easy on the mind as a form of relaxation and not classical literature, but you tried your best. Your another effort was you trying to understand Chrollo, wondering if the book was picked based on its quality, or if it had an even more significant meaning; all without realizing you were giving him exactly what he has wanted the entire time. Understantment and exploration, job forced on you.

Chrollo glanced at you for a second, you all so prettily unaware, and back at the book’s pages. Leaving you confused and uninformed about his intensions and actions was a key part in making you understand him. If you aren’t provided an answer, you’ll look for an answer yourself, with that you’ll be going through a natural process of getting to know Chrollo—a catalyst he has created for you. He could have told you things about yourself, but not only he did not understand everything about himself, your thoughts about him were meant to be more deep should you be forced to think for yourself.

Not to mention a possible attachment. Sometimes you sparked a bit of possessiveness in him as he doubted he’d like any man being so intimate with you. You were his to explore and he was yours to understand.

Reading along with Chrollo eventually put you under a spell of nothingness on your mind, especially that his voice was smooth and calm enough on your ears with them involuntarily soaking in the sound, and you were finally shifting your attention somewhere else than your problem. You didn’t even question his method of calming you down anymore... or his intensions.

But whether you learned something new about Chrollo… you noticed he wants you to enjoy same books he does, as he has occasionally stopped for your sake so you could catch up after needing to reaad some line multiple times; he also liked physical contact more than verbal communication, as his fingers were absently rubbing your arm. And…

“So you’re ambidextrous?” you finally asked after good quarters of break from speaking due to reading. Chrollo turned his head to look at you, also enjoying the little weariness in your voice. Good, you were getting relaxed. “You noticed, huh? It makes things easier, when…” He had to stop himself here, realizing it’s too soon to tell you about his ability. Its existence would propably only scare you further, should you realize how much he can hurt you with it if he chooses to. Regardless, he looked somewhat satisfied that you found out a detail about him. A small detail, but it meant you pay attention to who he was.

“When?” you asked with a raised brow, wanting him to finish his thought. “When I work,” he said simply.

Hearing ‘work’ was like a sudden whiplash. You now were self aware again, having realized you were getting so comfortable in his presence, forgetting he’s a literal murderer and monster. More awake, you tried to get away from him again, which he didn’t let you, no matter how little the space in his arms felt compared to the huge living room or how much the leather squeaked under your protests.

“Don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you,” he said calmly, but his big grey eyes, so empty to observe when looking at them, watched you like a hawk. Chrollo didn’t derive any sadistic pleasure from observing your distress yet it couldn’t be said his intentions were innocent in their nature either—to him, observing a humanity he was lacking that you didn’t, was a show greater than many. It was something you could describe as finding enjoyment at your expense in the end nonetheless.

“But you already are!” you rebutted, your voice now both angry and anxious, “You think I’m not hurt by this situation already? I don’t want to be here. I want to be home.” The situation of his eyes remaining on the same hunt for your emotions made you feel patronized and frustrated with how little Chrollo took you seriously

He didn’t speak for few seconds, looking at you intensely, weighing your words. No hint of pity or sympathy you would have wanted for your comfort or hope. “And what is home to you, exactly?” he finally asked. How infuriating it was to hear, when he was trying to twist it into some psychological or philosophical conversation. You wanted for him to acknowledge your feelings, not to play with them!

“Chrollo, I don’t want to talk to you like this,” you said seriously. "I'm not a psychiatric patient."

“Answer me the question and I’ll answer one of your questions,” he proposed. Your eyes widened at the sudden deal proposal. Not that it shouldn’t be a bare minimum for him to answer questions, if they were about things that concerned you, but if he wouldn’t do it any other way than through gaining something himself first… It was your sole chance. “A-any question?” you asked hopefully.

“Any,” he responded immediately. You couldn’t believe he’d actually promise that, because the question you could ask can be the most invasive and reavaling there is possible. “But why would you want that?” you asked with suspicion. “Didn’t I say it when I had come to visit your aunt?” ‘Visit’ felt condescending and downplaying to you, considering the nature of what happened that awful night. Your aunt on the floor… you never got a chance to see if she’s truly okay afterwards, but you tried to remember what he said exactly.

“It means you are mine and you will be for a while, (Y/N),” he said intensely. “And I plan to make you understand me, and understand you as well.”

And membering it again appeared unpleasant to you. Your face frowned at the thought. You got the message though. “So you’ll answer any question about yourself because you want me to understand you. But you also make me guess everything, so why would you suddenly allow me to know something, anything as well?” you said confused, and now you look frustrated instead. Can this man be any more unpredictable?

“That’s true, but I’m doing this as unfortunately not everything can be guessed. More specific events or opinions, I don’t think even you would have guessed,” Chrollo stated with a small smile, and his fingers now played with the ends of your hair. He noticed it was getting drier upon the forceful and stressful conditions… he’ll ask someone to buy you a better conditioner than the hotel offered. “Tell me what you consider home, and I’ll answer any question, no matter what it is.”

You exhaled shakily. You could bullshit about what home meant to you, giving some pretty and warm answer, but you knew he would see through you. Or rather, he did so already—he must have noticed at some point, that your memories responsible for a process in what made the idea of home to you weren’t happy. Your entire being screamed “something happened to me so I am a bit bitter and not trusting”. What stopped you was the fact that being so vulnerable was extremely scary, not just because it’s Chrollo you are supposed to say this to, but especially because of this argument anyway. Not that your trauma wasn’t easy to speak about for any reason.

“Home to me is…” you started unsurely, and didn’t like how more intense his gaze became, as if staring inside your entire being, “…a nice fantasy, but I don’t think I’ve truly ever experienced home to be the way I’ve wanted it to be,” your voice was shaky.

“That’s rather vague. I still don’t know what home is to you, just that it’s not the way you wanted it to be,” he said bluntly, crushing your heart a little. How can he be so emotionless in the face of you baring yourself to him?

“What?” you moaned out in distress. You couldn’t take the tension anymore and decided to blurt your definition quickly, “Home should be a safe place for me but it never was. My parents, they both were terrible people, one narcissistic and other absent, so I never had that home as I had to raise myself! I didn’t get any warmth or affection so home is nonexistent to me! Are you satisfied now?!” you shouted the last part. It was a miracle you didn’t cry yet.

Chrollo’s face was painted in a small surprise, his eyes rendered more lively too, and eventually, he nodded as if considering your answer to be acceptable. Inside, he felt satisfaction from having you reveal another part of yourself. “Thank you for telling me that. Now I can tell why you’re always so honest yet insecure.”

Your mouth opened in shock, and your hand was flying straight at his face. How dare he treat your experience as something more akin to experiment than you speaking up about your trauma? Rather than caring about your feelings, he was making them to be an observation for his own enjoyment.

To which Chrollo caught your hand with ease and kissed the palm of it instead, something that to you seemed as an attempt to further patronize you. He then held your hand tightly in his, on his lap, not letting go no matter how much you tried to pull it back. His palm was bigger than yours and even more stronger, leaving yours locked in this prison.

“You’re getting so heated over this. I just find what I said to be truth… not to mock you, but to understand you.” You were getting allergic to the word ‘understand’, but Chrollo’s face truly didn’t carry any mockery; instead he rubbed his thumb against your palm soothingly, as much as he can be affectionate. “Eric” was affectionate too, but it was a play. Chrollo wasn’t faking this affection, no matter how new it was for him to be expressing it.

“I don’t want to be understood by you. That’s a shitty reason to kidnap someone for! I think you’re the last person to be able to understand me. You’re just so…” you said through gritted teeth, but your eyes were becoming teary. “Uncanny feeling?” he replied for you, saying exactly what you’d say. “See? I do understand you,” he said calmly, his face showing some eagerness for you to agree with him.

And you wouldn’t. “Predicting my next move isn’t exactly knowing or understanding me! It’s just observing repeated behavior and making conclusions, and speech isn’t that hard to guess!” you protested with passion.

Chrollo laughed quietly, shaking his head. “But I was right about honest and insecure, wasn’t I?” You fell silent. He was right and it made you naked yet resigned, having you finally relax somewhat in his hold with his arm around you. It hurt. Chrollo was hurting you but no matter what you’d do, he’d make you like a fool and say he just wants to know you. He was good at attacking your weakest points.

You moved to the next part of the deal, needing to switch the topic away from you; Chrollo was just a brute in your eyes. Expecting violence from him, instead you were given another type of cruelty.

“In any case, I answered your question. Now it’s time for me to ask you,” your voice was determined, something Chrollo liked. You were making yourself get to know him regardless of what your initial intention was. You were also so beautifully expressive and alive and not ashamed of that, again. He liked to think about your first few meetings and how you behaved back then.

“Go on, darling,” he said with a slight tease. Being called ‘darling’ so suddenly threw you off your game a lot, and you now felt both embarrassed and dreadful. He added more coil to the fire, “What? It’s not like we didn’t do worse things, did you already forget-” “Shut up!” you said, flustered; though more from anxiety. That one night you had before he had revealed his identity didn’t need to be reminded in this moment. Sleeping with your enemy, not realizing he’s one. The fact you felt good back then sounded shameful today, and abused your sense of pride.

Chrollo just wanted to throw you off your game, but you were back on track. “My question is…” you paused, not sure what you exactly wanted to ask. You had so many questions yet only one will be answered, so you had to prioritize the most crucial one. Your aunt, your future, who is Chrollo…

Chrollo tilted his head to the side, waiting for your question. His hand squeezed on yours.

“Okay…” you finally decided. “I want to ask you, why are you like this?” The surprise on his face was delicious to you, a rare moment for you to have control for once in this situation where you were defenseless, but it wasn’t a question to make because you were curious. No, you just assumed that this answer can answer many other questions you had if you are given a chance to understand him enough to read his motives; more beneficial than asking one specific question.

“I would have assumed you’d ask about your aunt or your situation, darling,” he chuckled. “Your question isn’t much specific either, but I guess mine wasn’t too, so I’ll humor you.”

Your legs tensed up, you were sitting your feet on your heels, as you waited in anticipation. You didn’t expect him to open up but you weren’t complaining—you only hoped his answer won’t be anything heavy and burdening for you to remember, as if you didn’t have enough struggle with him.

“There’s many things that can shape a person… but I guess, for me the main reason was growing up in Meteor City,” he said in thought, making you confused. You also were positively surprised he was telling you something so important. “What is that?”

Chrollo stared at you intensely, for a moment having few flashbacks from his childhood, before he spoke, “I don’t blame you for not knowing. Most people are not aware of this place’s existence and it doesn’t exist on official maps.”

Curiosity got into you. What can this place be, for it not being considered to be existing? There were so many undiscovered things on this planet, so many secrets, you wondered just how much he or hunters knew that you didn’t. Another thing to be frustrated about. Though, you were getting a general idea that something bad must have happened in Meteor City for him to mention. You didn’t interrupt, nodding as you were willing to hear him out.

Chrollo continued speaking in composed voice, “It’s a junkyard city. Thought it’s not just trash that’s dumped here—it’s people and strays too. In fact, you can leave anything here.”

Your hand tightened under his and you gasped in horror, making him smile more. Not knowing of a place like this was one thing, but to hear about its environment… you couldn’t bear the thought of people being placed on same level with trash here, disposable as much as garbage. “And you grew up here?” you asked for confirmation, trying hard to not show some sympathy. Yes, the story sounded awful and no child should have been placed in this city, and you could have guessed it shaped Chrollo a lot, but he was still a person hurting you in the end. It’s just that, a human with empathy would experience some volume involuntarily.

Chrollo nodded. He was drinking in your reaction, all fascinated about how you’re feeling about his life-him. You were forced to understand him more and more, but getting there on your own without intending to. “I grew up here. I’m not sure why I was put in Meteor City, or who my parents were, but I certainly never existed in official records. No one in Meteor City does. We’re as nameless as trash is. We are the ones to give ourselves our identities.”

“Is Chrollo just an idea then? The same way Eric was?” you muttered. His hand tightened on yours again. He liked your question, he liked you were getting close to him, he liked how insightful you were with him sometimes for those past weeks. You didn’t have a chance to speak for yourself in your childhood, but in return you have learned how to read others to make sure you’re not doing something wrong.

A skill delightful and lucky for him.

“I guess you could say that. I see myself in you more than I see it in myself,” he mused, his tone both amused and content with you. There was a lot of other things that happened in Meteor City and he wasn’t always so lost. Though it could wait. You’ll get there eventually, and maybe then you’ll agree you two make a full puzzle picture.

His body turned sideways to face you better, and he finally let go of your waist and hand yet put in up on your face instead. “You and I are not so much different,” he stated seriously. Your face scrunched under his words, not liking being compared to the mass murderer and what not (you didn’t know the full extent of his crimes). “I’m not a criminal nor a murderer,” you said with disgust. Chrollo just sighed, bit disappointed by such a black and white answer.

“Yet you still have other ways of dealing with what happened to you, not necessarily the healthiest type—” “What the hell did I even do?!” you said angrily. Surely your coping has been never on this level of debauchery.

“You speak so openly about your opinions and other things yet never about yourself. You’re just as closed as I am. But that’s not my point. You and I both have been denied of a place to call safe or grounding.”

That bastard. Your lips trembled now. Being forced to face your own trauma, the neglect, lack of care and safe environment, even some hint of sympathy towards him and people of Meteor City—you finally couldn’t handle emotions enough to leave them bottled up. “That’s not… it’s not the same anyway. At least I wasn’t living surrounded by trash. At least I went to school. At least I had food on my plate even if we struggled. I still had it better than you—”

“But it’s not only about material things, isn’t it?” Chrollo asked the most sensitive question.

In a sense, your childhood experiences were somewhat comparable. While you had parents growing up, and you had a place to stay, you never quite had a place you could have called home. It was being alone and betrayed and disappointed by everyone and neglected; regardless of what type of physical environment you were raised in.

Chrollo watched your eyelashes get wet enough to the point where the little crystals had to start falling down, like a paper towel that soaked in too much liquid and was dripping wet. He couldn’t cry easily, but it seemed you’ll cry enough for both of you. That living room suddenly felt very small, suffocating you, and Chrollo’s invading speech was swallowing you just as much.

“Yeah, I guess…” you stuttered through a sniffle, “I guess when I think about what happened in my childhood, financial struggle is the last thing that comes to my mind, even if it still existed. It’s the emotional neglect and loneliness that comes first… Items can be bought later in life, but anything else…”

You now no longer were controlling your sobs, and you didn’t reject Chrollo when he pulled you into his arms. His hand rubbed your back and he didn’t scold you for leaving snot on his chest where your face hid. He didn’t say anything, but you had a sense he did understand whether he pitied you or not. His words clearly meant that. You didn’t like being seen as someone of this level of inhumanity and cruelty, and yet, you unfortunately or fortunately had something to relate with. His chin rested on top of your head.

He didn’t know how to express or understand himself, so he looked for answers in hurting others and seeing what makes them feel more and less, depending on what he makes them go through. However, with you he didn’t need to be cruel. He needed to prod you to reveal your shame and things about yourself at best, and your history was similar plenty enough you ended up feeling for him when he couldn’t feel for himself.

When your cries were dying with your emotions being released, you felt sudden emptiness; all wiped out and forced to feel tired. Being embraced by another human, being given an affection you weren’t given much in your life, it was rather easy to fall asleep in his embrace. Working so tirelessly your entire adulthood, you didn’t even have time to make friends either. Close ones at least—since you didn’t like being vulnerable with others.

Chrollo didn’t count how much time has passed since he let you sleep against him. He only counted how many breaths you took and exhaled and how many times you snuggled closer against him. He even counted how many times his heart fluttered in a way alien to him.

Eventually, he carefully lifted you up into his arms and carried to your hotel suite’s room. A couch wasn’t most comfortable.

☆

When you woke up in your bed, it was Pakunoda sitting on it. The outside looked dark enough to be 10PM already, making you feel disoriented as hell.

Whenever you have seen Pakunoda during your forced stay with Chrollo, you felt as if her presence was most bearable among all members. You didn’t let your guard down fully though—all of them were, in the end, dangerous.

You slowly sat up on the mattress, removing the blanket from your body, feeling all hot and thirsty after the nap. Blinking away exhaustion, you looked at her silent form.

“Something’s up?” you asked, curious of her reason to be here. Perhaps it was dinner time, though late as you slept through it.

Pakunoda didn’t answer your question immediately. She pondered over her words to say for a moment, wanting to say something that has been weighing heavily on her mind lately. She wouldn’t tell you of her own jealousy, but she would tell you of her growing sense of pity towards you.

“You’ve made many mistakes, Y/N,” she said sternly.

“M-mistakes?” you asked with voice confused and nervous, but a sense of unease filled your chest. It had to be about Chrollo. Were you too careless?

“When Chrollo,” she didn’t even say ‘boss’ this time, “takes someone into his life, whether it’s a troupe member or you, he doesn’t let them go. You just gave yourself to him the moment you chose to accept him.”

“Accept him? I didn’t accept him!” you protested right away, now wide awake. How can it be said you accepted this man? He took your life when he took you, and he didn’t leave you any choice. He kept playing with you one way or another.

“You did. At least from his perspective. You certainly didn’t reject him,” she warned. “Chrollo gathers possessions by stealing, but he usually releases them by donating them to Meteor City. But it cannot be said for people. Items are just a thrill of chase, holding them isn’t as fun,” just like your aunt’s painting, “but people—he makes them loyal and they stay with him under their last breath. You are perhaps even more precious to him than any of us.” Pakunoda hid her disappointment about this.

Every word Pakunoda said, you had terror spread throughout your body. Your hand gathered the blanket, as you felt nauseous. Your ears didn’t want to hear that Chrollo might never let you go.

“H-how can I be more precious to him, when you’ve known him for years and I was here for just few weeks?” you stuttered from the nerves. Pakunoda sighed.

“Each spider is just a leg. Chrollo is the spider that is completed by the legs. But this is just Phantom Troupe Chrollo. There’s also inner him who’s always incomplete, or should I say had been that much incomplete. You must have been making him feel better recently as he seems to be in a good mood.”

“I’m supposed to be one who completes the real him then?” you sounded quite disgusted and disturbed. You (somewhat) handled understanding why he ended up doing what he’s doing, you handled feeling pity for him, you handled some comparison; but becoming the matching piece to him scared you. A man so ruthless, often cold even if still humane somewhere, one who stole not just you... you didn’t want to live with him nor become like him. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” You had no idea how else she’d be able to refer to all that.

“I didn’t need to,” Pakunoda said seriously. “I know him better than everyone. I can notice him trying to provoke you everyday, craving a reaction for something he didn’t know how he should’ve reacted to,” she sighed. Pakunoda grabbed your hand just like Chrollo did before, but hers wasn’t strangling it. She looked at you with more softness too.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” your voice trembled as you wanted to cry again. “I want my life back.”

Sadly there was no answer.

“You don’t have to have it miserable as long-“

“Don’t even suggest that,” you hissed out. You knew she was trying to tell you the easiest thing you could do is give in, because Chrollo was not letting you go.

“I’m afraid that’s the only thing left for you, besides suicide. Though I doubt you would want to actually die; that is if you would even be able to. I doubt you have many chances to kill yourself,” Pakunoda announced with a small pity. She let go of your hand and stood up, leaving the room for you to think everything through.

You didn’t stifle down your tears. You thought about your entire experience: “Eric” coming into your life, sleeping with him, him hurting your aunt and kidnapping you; now Chrollo refusing to give you any answers, dragging you from hotel to hotel, not letting you go and finally, finding out you’re probably never leaving.

You remembered his words about him saying living with him must be better than working for shitty companies, and while it’s true he has made sure you’re fed and safe, you didn’t feel any calm here. It wasn’t about what he has given you, but about what he had taken from you.

You came to the final conclusion—there’s no way you could have stayed here. You had to get out somehow, you just didn’t know how to assure safety of your aunt—

Nevermind. You weren’t getting out of there. You didn’t want to have Chrollo end up killing Cynthia in spite. Any previous attempt of escape was dumb, you realized with guilt.

Crying yourself to sleep then.

☆

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you felt something warm and heavy against you, creating a breathing sound, behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to guess it’s Chrollo, especially with the cologne you have had time to memorize. The issue was you didn’t want to be held by him. You let him do it before, but circumstances were different. You tried to get out of his grasp to no avail.

“Go back to sleep,” Chrollo said, and his voice sounded rested enough for you to know he didn’t sleep before you woke up; most likely just watched you like a creep.

“No, Chrollo, let me go!” you trashed again. Useless. “What are you even doing in my room?”

“Technically, this room is rented by me-” “Stop being so literal!” It’s always like this. You couldn’t have told if he loved being literal or was simply nothing but being manipulative.

Chrollo only sighed and gently turned you around in bed so you could face him. You gulped in discomfort when your face ended up so close to his, since you both were lying on your sides and he held you close. You both couldn’t see each other that clearly, but moonlight falling inside through the hotel tower’s windows shone enough to make out your contours.

“I’m here because I wanted to. That’s all there is to it,” his voice carried a tease, meant to rile you up a little. Chrollo’s fingers brushed your hair away from your face, his whirlpools of grey marveling in how vulnerable you looked.

Chrollo can be and is a man of control, if he chooses to. With you, he didn’t want to and he couldn’t have, neither he needed to. That why his eyes landed on your lips. He has gotten a taste of them before he took with you, not to mention he has touched your entire body. It’s been weeks he restrained himself from doing more than touches meant to be more gentle and never fully intrusive, but even he wasn’t immune to desire. Desire not even meant to be entirely sexual, mostly driven by your entire persona he forced you to show; of course you were an attractive woman to him as well. Special included, as his attraction didn’t appear without right conditions. Physicality of a woman wasn’t enough for him to get involved.

“I don’t think I can wait. Or rather, I should not have to wait any longer, my love.”

Before you had a time to react or get away, quickly having realized his intention, his lips were on yours and he had you pinned down to bed.

Your scream was muffled by his mouth. Being under him, Chrollo’s hand ran under your shirt, stroking your belly and waist. His kiss was deep and eager, not denying himself for once. Having control himself was negative in an aspect of build up needed to be released upon you. The legs that tried to kick at him, his other hand forced bend to the side and hold down with an irop grip. When you cried out again, he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

When he finally withdrew to give you time to catch your breath back and collect tears in your eyes, them most expressive than ever, he spoke in soft tone, not matching his current cruelty:

“This is just the beginning of our journey, love. Until every breath you take is mine too.”

☆

You woke up with a gasp, sitting up on the bed immediately. Same cement walls, dark wooden floors, big windows and a horrendously sized wardrobe greeted you but there was no Chrollo. It was too dark to be morning yet, but you couldn’t sleep more anyway after a nap before. To make your mood worse, there was rain and storm outside and the sound of raindrops hitting against the glass was too loud for your panicked state.

You realized it was a recursion of a dream, being forced to wake up twice, once in a dream and then in reality. Chrollo didn’t try to force himself on you, but you were still terrified by the idea your mind would have come up with such a nightmare. A meaning was rather clear to you—your own mind was telling you all the control was taken away from you, and that Chrollo wanted to absorb you entirely. The nightmare also caused for you to have new fear instilled into you, making you wonder if Chrollo would ever turn this nightmare into a reality. This paranoia or perhaps a rational and logical thought, depending on how cruel he actually was, made you nauseous from anxiety.

Kicking the duvet off of you, you stood up on your feet, wincing at the coldness of the floor.

You left the bedroom, and walking through the hallway, you ended up in the kitchen to quench your thirst. You felt unease when seeing Chrollo who happened to be here as well, and you were for a second feeling like an actual victim of what happened in the dream.

Chrollo observed you for a while, burning the image of your sleepy form into his mind. You forced your eyes shut to protect them against a bright light and you were rather adorable and vulnerable looking when you were so sleepy and grumpy in the morning. Only to make you feel pierced through with his penetrating gaze, for what that felt like thousandth time in the span of past weeks.

Facing Chrollo not only after a nightmare, but also the conversation with Pakunoda was very intense and stressful. He was now even more scary to you than usual.

“Something’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft. Chrollo hasn’t gone to sleep yet; and he has appeared in the kitchen right before you, because hearing your noises of distress in the bedroom through his walls, he knew you’d come here for water. It was a perfect occasion for him to continue his game with you.

“I just had a nightmare…” you responded quietly. Gone was your usual neurotic attitude with him, replaced by meekness caused by your fears.

Chrollo approached you and you flinched when he put his hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to mimic reassurance that he’s there for you.

“What was it about?” he inquired, massaging your shoulder. You were not ready to tell him or preferably you’ll never tell him. Not that he wouldn’t have a few guesses. Perhaps he’d even feel satisfied you thought of him in your dreams as well.

“Uh… I forgot already,” you lied, but you didn’t have enough care to worry about whether he’ll believe you. For once you didn’t want to be honest. For once dishonesty didn’t feel suffocating, even if being blunt was part of your personality. You couldn’t be vulnerable with Chrollo. You wanted to protect yourself.

Surprisingly, he didn’t question you. He simply nodded his head and said, “I see.” He then grabbed a glass and poured a water for you from the fridge, one all fancy.

You accepted the water and drank the coldness eagerly and the temperature helped you ground a little too. Chrollo watched you drink, especially your throat gulping down the liquid.

He took an empty glass from you and put in a sink, and looked at you again. “You don’t have to be alone tonight, you know.”

Your face frowned as a defensive mechanism, with you wanting to automatically say no. “You want me to sleep in same room with you?” you asked with discomfort. How could you do so after all you heard and saw in the last 24 hours? You were exhausted in way different than physical. You were worn out not even emotionally but spiritually.

“Yesterday you were sad too and yet you allowed me to comfort you,” he pointed out, but to you things were now different. You needed only few hours—the talk with Pakunoda and the nightmare—to be creeped out by his presence again.

“And? You wouldn’t give me any other choice anyway if I tried to protest,” you felt proud you came up with a perfect argument. Yes, you weren’t accepting his comfort, you were just resigned because he’d do what he wants no matter what you wanted.

However, Chrollo didn’t seem discouraged in any way. He’ll always be one argument ahead of you. “You felt safe enough to fall asleep in my arms—”

“I was exhausted!”

“Exhaustion didn’t stop you from forcing yourself to stay awake any other day,” he said calmly and you knew he won.

“I… I’m still not in a mood for this again at the moment. I just wanted some water and then I’d go back to sleep…” you argued again, but your hesitation was clear to him.

“In that case, why is your body shaking?” You stared in confusion, but when you forced yourself to focus on your body and not thoughts, you realized he was right. You were trembling and it wasn’t a chilly air in the suite as a cause. It forced you to realize the extent of how shaken up you were at this point. Your tremble became worse as now you were crying.

Chrollo didn’t say anything but he reached out for you and scooped you up into his arms. “Stop…” you said but it came out weakly. You couldn’t tell if you were just too tired to fight him or you were subconsciously craving the comfort.

As he carried you through the corridor out of the kitchen, you once again became enveloped by his warmth, strong and unshaken hold, and his perfume; though now less intense after a shower, but quality enough to stay after having his body washed.

At this point he might be conditioning you to feel relaxed by him anytime you’re distressed, with you recognized familiar sensations.

Chrollo moved you inside his room. To your surprise, it was much smaller than yours. He either wanted you to have a bigger space (how kind of him) or preferred them as a result of growing up in Meteor City. Albeit, the design of the space wasn’t much divergent from your own or the rest of the suite.

He then laid you down on his bed and placed himself next to you, before he pulled a duvet over you two, which also put you in an illusion of being trapped with him despite its warmth. Chrollo held you in his arms but mercifully enough to not do so too tightly, should you feel panicked in your sensitive and crying state.

Just like yesterday, his palmed rubbed you down your spine up and down; to your comfort without slipping under your shirt like it happened in your nightmare. All the same, the fear of him suddenly attacking and forcing you remained in your chest. Thankfully the rain was no longer pounding in your ears, but became a soothing background.

For Chrollo, he wasn’t sure how to comfort your feelings in ways other than physical. He would be able to do so with any other woman… the problem lied in the fact with them he was an actor. With you, he didn’t find a power within himself to pretend. Somehow, you were forcing an honesty out of him too.

He spoke when you finally stopped being so shaky and felt tired enough to close your eyes and fell asleep, “I really don’t want to ever let you go, Y/N.”

With these words spoken into the night and heard by Chrollo only, he knew if you were awake you’d be shaking again.

[februaryberries]

rlly dwelling in the Not Having A Friend Group rn. like I can talk to people and I have ppl I consider my friends but they r from all different areas and aspects of my life. and I don't talk to any of them regularly anyways. ppl are lucky if they hear from me once every few months, and idk how to like. not do that, bc also when everyone is kinda at the same level of distant, how do I pick who to reach out to? it's not that I like that person above all the other ppl I haven't talked to either. and like my definition of friend has changed bc I'm not close w ppl anymore

RAHHHHHHHH I'm feeling the loneliness and the isolation (that I have brought up on myself) extra hard tonight.

[umilily]

sometimes i'm scared that i've been this way for so long that i don't know how to be anything else anymore.

[chuluoyi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow…” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[chiumii]

baby doll ~ sim jaehyun x reader

౨ৎ inspired by this request !! ♡ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 제이크 ] ☆ in which jake eats out his virgin girlfriend for the first time and ends up going batshit insane with obsession & possession

word count ; 2.7k

dom! jake x sub! reader . corruption kink , oral , lots of praise , very very slight degrading if u squint , fingering , neck kisses , hickeys , Jake is a little bit of a pervert , not proof read , this kinda sucks oh well

Jake and you have been together for four months , and the two of you have decided to take things slow.

he was so so patient with you- so kind and loving , never has he ever made you feel uncomfortable or forced to do anything. he wanted to go at your own pace, even if that meant he had to rub one out after a heated make out session in private once a while.

he was the sweetest boyfriend ever and he loves you so much..

so much he began to slip into insanity

you two have had conversations before, such as establishing a safe word and what kinds of things the two of you were kind of into

which led him to discover that you were in fact a virgin.

ever since you told him that small fact about yourself, he drove himself further into madness.

how on earth were you a virgin?

he thinks to himself on a regular basis. you're too fucking gorgeous.

the thought of having the perfect little girl who has never experienced having sex was phonenomal. he wanted to show you all the different ways he could make you feel good, which positions he could fold you into, he wanted to force perfect whines and moans out of your mouth as he fucked his cock deep inside you for the first time. he wanted to teach you how to suck him off- imagining your round eyes looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full of his length was too much for him to contemplate.

Jake knows its wrong, but when he's snooped through your room a couple times while you were in the shower. he imagined what your naked body looked like when it was wet, how the water droplets would travel inbetween your breasts and thighs- the picture made him unbelievably hard-, he then found himself discovering the awful cute panties that are folded neatly in your underwear drawer that have adorable matching bras. he also discovered a measly pink vibrator tucked away in a box of that underwear drawer, completely dead and his mind began to race.

have you came to the thought of him at all? do you imagine him fucking you as you use the pathetic little toy on your clit?

he couldn't seem to stop his dirty thoughts that began to cloud ever part of his being.

the thought of you wearing one of those adorable pieces of underwear underneath your clothes made him feel all sorts of things. and oh god whenever you would walk around your apartment with just a hoodie on made him wonder if you were wearing one of the cute lacy panties with a black bow stitched in the middle.

here you were, reaching up on your tippy toes to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

and that god damn hoodie of his that you're wearing began to ride up to show the curve of your ass, the lacy underwear peaking out from underneath.

Jake felt himself growing in his jeans just at the sight, you truly had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

"come here baby" jakes voice traveled through the apartment. you pop your head out of the kitchen with the biggest smile on your face.

"coming, I was just getting water" you trot into the living room, setting down the glass of water onto the surface of the coffee table. you stand up and look at him, that cute smile on your face still prominent.

his hoodie falls around your mid thigh, the article of clothing completely swallowing your figure and he begins to wonder how you look underneath.

he would love your body regardless of its shape of course, but that doesn't stop the dirty thoughts that form in his skull. every fiber of his being is telling him to rip it off of you and stuff your face into the couch below him and fuck you raw- but he decides on the latter.

"come here doll, let me look at you" your feet patter on the hardwood floors as you walk over to your boyfriend, standing in between his spread legs. his hands find the outsides of your thighs , his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your exposed skin.

"you're so beautiful" his words make a deep blush coat your cheeks. his hands suddenly grip your legs, shifting your body so that you can sit on his lap facing him.

you gasp at his forwardness, but lean into his touch nontheless. your head leans down and your breath fans his face. Jake looks up at you through his eyelashes, admiring your beautiful face that's beet red at his gentle words.

you both lean in for a kiss, your chapstick smearing onto his lips as your mouths move together. your hands move to wrap around his neck, pushing your body into his front.

the kiss quickly began to escalate, your mind was fuzzy, your hands were frantic, and your pussy began to wetten.

his tongue intruded your lips, sliding against yours while his hands moved from your thighs up to your hips underneath the hoodie you were wearing.

his fingers played with the hem of your underwear, a quite whine leaving your throat- to which Jake happily swallowed. your hands moved up to his head, your fingers lacing in his thick locks in order to tug and pull on them.

now it was jakes turn to moan into your mouth, his fingers tightening on your hips as he began to grind his growing bulge into your core.

everything felt hot and overstimulating , your head began to hurt as you quickly pulled off of your boyfriend.

your lips were kiss swollen and your face was red. Jake looked up at you with concern, his hands instantly slipping out of the hoodie in order to cup your cheeks.

"what's wrong my love, are you okay?" you nodded your head trying to catch your breath. your eyes fly closed and your hands grip into his shoulders.

"we don't have to baby doll, lets put on a movie and cudd-"

"I- I want to.." your voice was small, tone laced with embarrassment. jakes eyes widen in shock and he tilts your head to look at him.

"we don't have to if you dont want to , im okay sweetheart I promise" he reassures you , as hes done for the millionth time since the two of you started dating. your eyes open and lock onto his.

"I want to, Jake... I really really do im just- nervous is all.. what if it hurts?" oh my god.

Jake feels his chest tighten and he bites back a smirk, his hands moving down to cup the slope of your waist. he wished you wouldn't have said that, because all he wants to do now is manipulate your body into any position he wishes while he takes away any and all sense of innocence you have in your body.

"how about this baby, I'll eat you out and finger you until you're ready for me, hmm?" jakes eyes darken slightly , you avert your eyes from his with an embarrassing huff.

"what it... what if i.. I dont know.." you stutter over your words, not wanting to finish the stupid sentence.

"big girl words, doll" you sigh again and cover your face with your hands, muttering into your palms

"what if I taste bad" your words are muffled, but Jake can hear them regardless. he takes his big hands and wraps them in his hold, forcing your hands away from your red face as he speaks to you.

"you will not taste bad , I swear... how on earth would you have a bad taste, you are the sweetest girl to ever walk this damn earth" his compliment makes you giggle.

there is absolutely no way you could taste bad and he knows it.

he's smelt your underwear before out of pure curiosity and has never been more obsessed with the idea of eating you out ever since.

before you could protest, hes picking you up into the air. your legs wrap around his waste and your arms tighten around his neck with a squeal.

"Jakeee" you drag out his name with a giggle as he walks over to your room. he sets you on the foot of the bed and you feel even more embarrassment at all your stuffed animals looking at you.

Jake stands inbetween your legs, his hands on your knees in order to keep them apart.

you lay on your back and reach above your head, turning around your stuffed rabbits that rest in front of your pillows before sitting up and facing him.

Jake has to stifle a laugh that threatens to bubble up passed his chest, but one makes it out anyways.

"dont laugh at me.. I dont want them watching" you are too fucking adorable, his heart swells in his chest at your words.

Jake leans downs, his body towering over yours as he brings you into another kiss, this time it's more heated; demanding as his mouth moves against yours rhythmically. your hands move to his back, arms wrapping around his shoulders. you feel his hands at the base of the hoodie. he breaks the kiss with a wet pop, he looks into your lust-filled eyes- a silent plea.

"can... can we keep it on..?" you ask him, and he instantly responds.

"of course baby, anything you want sweetheart" Jake brings one of his hands to press against the mattress behind you before he gently leans you back, your head falling onto the mattress gently.

you feel yourself growing wetter, your clit pulsating in your panties as he kisses you deeply once more. your hands move to his hair- tugging on it once more.

Jake bites your lower lip and you hiss, your hips grind up into the air in a desperate search for friction. he trails his kisses to your neck before sucking down on your skin, leaving the prettiest purple marks that have you arching your back while breathless whimpers drip off your tongue like honey.

Jake detaches from your neck and sinks down to his knees in front of the bed, his face coming down to your clothed pussy. he pushes the hoodie up around your stomach, baring your underwear to him. your face is hot and you worry about how you taste and look, attempting to control your breathing as you lay down on the mattress.

"shh baby, its okay, I got you" his words reassure your overthinking mind. he brings a cold finger up to your clothed clit and presses down, earning himselfa sharp inhale from the perfect woman above.

he rubs his digit in soft circles, coaxing your body to relax.

"j-jake.." you whine as he chuckles. after a moment of concentrated massaging to your clothed clit- he sees a prominent wet patch form on your underwear and he curses at the sight.

without thinking, he pulls your panties to the side and slips his fingers through your wet folds. your back arches and your eyes close at the feeling.

"so wet for me already?" he teases you. your mind is racing - as is your heart while he pulls his fingers away from your heat in order to pull your pretty panties down passed your ankles.

you sit up on your forearms as he places his hands on your knees in order to pull your legs apart.

and the sight of your dripping pussy makes him fall for you all over again. the unholy thoughts that run ramped in his mind are sick, the way he wants to split you in half and fuck you dumb overtakes his thoughts- but he calms them in an instant.

he brings his face closer to your heat so his breath fans your aching pussy. your arousal drips down your ass and onto the sheets before he brings his tongue out in order to lick a stripe up your pussy- making you shudder in your hold.

he does it again, and again, and again- making your breathing rapid and uneven

"so sweet.." he mumbles before wrapping his arms around your legs in order to pull you down onto his face- his lips automatically wrapping around your clit.

your mouth slacks open in a gasp followed by loud moans. his tongue works its magic against you- flicking and sucking around your sensitive bundle of nerves. your hands fist in the sheets, using them as leverage to keep you grounded.

Jake groans into your pussy as he feels your hole clench around nothing- so he brings his middle finger up to your cunt before sliding it inside your tight pussy.

you quite literally suck his finger inside you before clenching around him. Jake lets out a stream of curses into your wet pussy

"fuck.. so tight. such a perfect baby doll falling apart in my hands" you moan at his words, your hips rocking into his face.

the unfamiliar feeling of Jake eating you out makes body feel weak and your mind feel empty- stars beginning to form in the darkness behind your eyelids.

Jakes finger pumps inside your pussy, curling in desperate search for that sweetspot deep inside you- and when he finds it, your back arches even further off the bed as you squeal. he chuckles against you- sending vibrations through your entire body starting at your core.

"found it" you feel tears well up in your eyes, and Jake decides to scrape his teeth gently against your clit- making you hiss at the odd feeling.

"god you're so fucking beautiful, my perfect little angel" his finger repeatedly kisses your cherry-sweet spot, the pleasure overriding your senses as you grab his hair and grind into his face.

"j-jake please.." you have no idea why your begging, but the sound of you moan his name as you come undone in the palm of his hand makes jakes cock rock hard- straining against his jeans and he swears he could come just by eating you out.

his grip on your thigh tightens, his tongue concentrated on your puffy, swollen clit.

an unfamiliar feeling forms in the pit of your stomach, and you begin to feel hot and uncomfortable.

"j-jake i.. feel weird hmm, pl-plea-se" your moans pick up volume and your legs attempt to close around his head, but the grip he has on your thighs is strong and unmoving.

"doing such a good job for me sweet girl, wanna cum angel?" you shake your head frantically, the wave of your orgasm beginning to crash down on you.

"y-yes please" you answer, making Jake pout his lips into you.

"such a good girl, you can cum baby, I got you sweetheart im here" you fall into this hands as the coil in your tummy begins to unravel, your hands come to cover your eyes and your legs begin to shake.

your moans turn into high-pitched mewls and cries

"oh my god Jake!" one of your hands comes down to your side in order to reach for your boyfriend, and he just about breaks down.

you're reaching for him.

you want to hold his hand as eats you out, as you come all over him.

he unwraps his arm from your leg and instantly grips your hand in his, and that pushes you over the edge as your fluids squirt out of your pussy and all over his face- dripping down his chin to stain the sheets below.

Jake gawks at you, his mouth slack open and his eyes wide as you become a puddle

the realization of what just happened hits him;

you just fucking squirted for him.

"fuck- you're so perfect oh my god- such a good girl, pretty girl" as you begin to settle down, Jake pulls his fingers out of you and stands up before leaning down to face you.

he tucks a stray hair behind your ear as he kisses your forehead.

"you did such a good job for me baby doll, so pretty" he compliments.

"I-i was?" Jake nods his head and takes you into his arms.

"yes baby, the best"

[thoughtssvt]

first times with nanami kento

cw : hand holding, kissing, oral, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie, aftercare, gender neutral reader with AFAB terminology in reference to genitals

formatted in a half headcanon half fic style

nanami kento is a gentleman.

nanami kento is the type to be direct with things he wants. he’d wait outside of your place of work so he could walk you home. asking you to wait a moment as you stepped on ahead of him just so he could ask you if it was alright to hold your hand.

nanami kento didn’t steal kisses. his eyes would linger on your face as his heart swelled and skipped a beat. his fingers would dance over your knuckles, “may i kiss you?” he’d ask just above a whisper, only moving to cup your face in his hands when you squeaked a yes. he’d always asked for kisses every time after that. “you don’t have to ask every time,” you giggled nonchalantly like you were teasing him with no real bite to it. his ashen brows would furrow. “of course i do.” he’d wave his hand in dismissal as you stuttered an explanation. “with me you will get used to it,” and you did.

nanami kento seemed to be playing by the rules of some unspoken book. he was a gentleman but after countless dates that always began with permission to hold your hand and ended with a gentle kiss you were beginning to wonder if he was even attracted to you.

you’d come up with a plan to take things to the next step. you’d invited him in, refusing to let the date end with a parting kiss in the frame of your front door. you’d kept the pleasantries before the two of you ended up on your living room couch. “is it alright if i kiss you?” he asked like you heard countless times before and like all the other times you said yes. this time you sat a little closer, this time you rested your hand on his thigh. “i want to… do something tonight,” you’d said with pink tinted cheeks to which kento had listened intently. “well, go on,” he said gently, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk that sent fire flooding into your gut. he’d taken your hand in his, motioning you to stand, setting a pillow down in front of him before leading you between his legs.

nanami kento was big.

you’d just about cursed, screaming in your head how he should’ve warned you about how big he was before you got between his legs, but he was patient. he cupped your face in his palm as you kissed down his shaft, his breath hitching as you licked a steady stripe from the base of his cock right to the tip. he lent you a stable hand at the nape of your neck and for a moment you were worried that he would push you down further, make you take more of his length. it had you rubbing your thighs together, your core growing wet, but you couldn’t really decide if you were disappointed or not when he made no effort to stretch your mouth. as you bobbed your head up and down you’d realized that he was reminding you that he was there with you in the moment. you didn’t need to take more than you could handle if you didn’t want to. with your nerves at ease a newfound excitement grew in your chest. you reveled in the sounds he made. the soft huffs and “fucks” especially the, “you’re doing so good for me, taking me so good it’s driving me crazy.”

you’d looked up at him with half lidded eyes, both of you panting softly. it was his turn to please you.

nanami kento gave you one simple instruction. “lay back and feel good.”

he caged you between his body and the bed, lips intertwining with yours in a heated kiss. humming deep in his chest as he trailed them down your body. just for that moment while his tongue was busy circling your nipples he’d let you look away from him, throw your arm across your eyes because you don’t know if you’ve ever felt something this good.

“keep your eyes on me,” he whispered from where he laid between your bare legs. “watch me,” he rasped as he planted soft kisses along your inner thigh, each getting closer and closer to your heat. you couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as your eyes met and he leaned in to rest his tongue on the growing wet spot of your underwear. he paused for a second, his eyes fluttered closed, the softest moan buzzing through his lips as he savored his first taste of you.

“can you lift your hips for me?” he asked when he was done teasing and you could no longer discern your wetness from his saliva. your hips snapped up almost embarrassingly quick. it was then that you realized what little he’d done had already turned your legs to jelly, your thighs shaking as he pulled the fabric off you so painstakingly slow, though not without a word of praise for how good you did.

nanami kento liked to take his time, you’d realized. he pressed his tongue firmly against your sex, leisurely mapping out each fold, softly hushing you as you bucked your hips when he’d gotten just close enough to your clit but not quite there. he’ll get there, he reassured you. licks then became open mouthed kisses, contented hums soon following as he sunk lower to your weeping hole. he tasted it on his hips first before dipping a relaxed muscle against your entrance. he moaned. much louder than any of his previous sounds.

nanami kento liked to take his time, but that didn’t mean that he could always hold himself back. one taste of you from the source had him in a daze. he couldn’t help himself from moving up to lave at your clit, coaxing more of your sweetness out and onto the sheets below you. you were suspended in a deliciously torturous rhythm of gentle sucks against your bud and his tongue fucking into your slick entrance. he intertwined your hand with his as your shot down toward him when the pleasure became too much, resting your clasped hands on your hips as he continued to eat.

nanami kento was greedy, but that would come some other time. one of these days he’ll spend a whole work day between your legs, a thumb rubbing circles onto your clit so he’d have an endless supply of your nectar. for now he had something else in mind. he opened you up on his fingers, tongue swirling spirals around your sensitive button. when you came he refused to slow his movements until your legs twitched uncontrollably and your moans just about turned into whimpers of pain. he pulled away slowly, licking his lips clean before slipping his fingers out of you, taking his time to lick each digit clean wanting to get as much of you as he could get.

“i’d like to do that again, but i’m assuming you only have one more in you,” he whispered in your ear with a smug grin and he was right. all you wanted now was to be filled with him.

he propped himself up on his left forearm, placing it in the space between your head and your shoulder as he gathered your slick onto his cock, sliding between your folds, letting your body prepare for his intrusion. he’d kept a close eye on you as he pushed in, letting out a shaky breath as the head of his cock popped in. his free hand found its place on the other side of your head as he slipped in inch by inch, immediately stopping at the slightest sign of discomfort.

he forced himself to stop the growl that rumbled within him when he reached the hilt, stopping to wait for your comfort. you were milking him as your body adjusted to his size. he was torn, unable to decide whether he should look away from you to calm his instincts or keep his eyes on you because he didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment. he chose the latter.

his movements were gentle when you assured him that you were okay and that he could move. he’d started with minute rolls of his hips, then short shifts of his hips out and in until all the discomfort dissipated from your face and your whimpers turned into enticing moans. he’d rested his weight onto his forearms, clasping his hands under your head as he craned his neck down to press his lips against yours, his hips moving in sync with your body, thrusts picking up the pace when he knew your moans yearned for more.

nanami kento trusted you when you stuttered for him to cum inside. he’d give you anything you wanted, especially this. he licked the pad of his thumb, bringing it down to toy with your clit as he kept the pace of his thrusts. he fucked you through your orgasm, slowing when his own hit and he began filling you with warm spurts. he snapped his hips with every upstroke making sure to fill you like you wanted. he only pulled out when he began to feel his erection flagging, cooing a shush as you gasped softly, overstimulation uncaring of the fact that he was pulling out and had no further plans of continuing.

you barely noticed his momentary absence until he was between your legs again with a warm wash cloth gently cleaning you up. he massaged your sore hips, letting your legs naturally straighten as the muscles relaxed. he wiped down the rest of your body with another cloth, draping a soft blanket over both of your bodies when he was done. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. he slowly introduced the conversation of what you liked and what you didn’t like– one list dramatically shorter than the other. the air around you comfortable, soft giggles making your shoulders bounce as your legs tangled together.

you’d confessed that you were beginning to think that he wasn’t attracted to you, which he vehemently denied despite your assurance that you now knew that wasn’t the case. you’d figured out that nanami kento was a gentleman. he wouldn’t dare do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but once he was given the opportunity he would show you just how much he desired you.

A/N : ooo this is the first nsfw piece i'm posting on here how exciting. I hope you enjoyed!

nanami hc pt. 1 | nanami x reader masterlist

MDNI banners by saradika

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii!! I love your writing for the batboys!

So my request is Jason and Dick with a s/o and their like cuddling exchanging kisses relaxing and one of their brothers get them for a mission and see their brother (Jason/Dick) with their s/o for the first time. (Maybe the other batboy didn't know Jason/Dick had a girlfriend)

Okieee! Have a great day!

Dick

Cuddled himself into your side, burying his head into your neck, on the verge of falling asleep but not quite there yet as he hummed whenever you ran your fingers through his hair.

‘You like it when I run my fingers through your hair, you might as well be purring.’ You told him while giggling as he tightened his grip on your waist when he felt you shift slightly beneath him. ‘You’d like that wouldn’t you.’ Dick said sluggishly as he pushed his head further into your hand, impatient as he waited for you to continue running your fingers through his hair whenever you stopped briefly.

‘I would but you already act more than enough like a puppy regardless. I guess what they say about dogs and owners looking alike is more true in your case but instead of looks it’s personality.’ You said as you gently tugged his hair, causing him to groan as he then retaliated by deliberately kissing under your jaw and down your neck slowly as he could.

‘You think you’re funny don’t you?’ Dick asks against your neck.

‘I think I’m hilarious when you’re concerned dickbird.’ You gasped when you felt him nibble on your skin, ‘but you love me for it really.’ You added as he raised his head to look at you with a cute little pout across his tired face. You hated how exhausted he looked and so you had decided earlier that day that he was scheduled for some much needed rest, even going so far as to drag him to bed when he was too stubborn to leave a case for a measly five minutes just to eat food.

‘I do, love you I mean.’ Dick said softly as he raised his head to kiss your lips as you hummed happily against him, just as the door to his room swung open.

‘Alright dickhead, time to-‘ Jason looked up to see that he had clearly instructed something and instead of leaving he decided to stand in the doorway awkwardly as he cleared his throat.

‘I didn’t know you had company in here.’ Jason then said.

‘What do you think I normally do?’ Dick asked his younger brother as he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Piss us about usually.’ Jason replied almost casually that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sibling spat. ‘Now I’m sorry to cut your lovers embrace short but we need to go, preferably now because I don’t know how much longer Tim and Damian can remain together in awkward silence.’ Dick sighed and kissed your cheek as he begun to pull himself away from you begrudgingly.

‘Sorry peanut, I promise you I’ll cuddle you as soon as I get home.’ Dick said when he saw you pout, hand tugging at his shirt which only made him want to say fuck it and stay in your arms, but he knew he couldn’t leave Jason alone to deal with Damian and Tim the entire night without them unironically pissing the other off somehow. ‘For now I’ve got some siblings to keep away from killing each other, so keep the bed warm for me yeah?.’ He adds as he cups your face and kisses you on the lips, nose and forehead.

‘It’ll be cosy and warm when you come home, that and probably smelling of dog too.’ You said as you kissed the space between his brows, cussing dick to smile and relax beneath your lips, he didn’t want to leave, he really didn’t but he knew that when he did come back it’ll be all the more worth while.

‘That’s fine by me, sweetheart.’ Dick replied, completely ignoring Jason who was wondering how the fuck you managed to deal with his brother for as long as you have.

Jason had you cosied up to his side as he continued to read a book he has been meaning to catch up on for a long while but couldn’t in due to the random spikes in crime as of late.

Which unfortunately meant that quality time between yourself and Jason was short lived. So when you were finally able to have Jason by your side for longer then an a few brief moments, you were bound to leap at the opportunity to cling onto him and smother him in kisses, much like you were doing now across his jawline and down his neck.

‘Miss me that much chipmunk?’ Jason asked with a smile as he paused his reading to rear his head back, allowing you further access to his neck, smiling to himself as he felt your lips caress his skin pleasantly. Jason was very much in need for affection after going without it for far longer then he might’ve liked, especially when most days it seemed as though your affection was all that helped Jason in getting through the day; and being deprived of such was a different kind of torture for Jason when he had finally gotten accustomed to it since the start of your relationship.

‘I did,’ you admitted, kissing his pulse on his neck before pulling away to smile up at him, ‘but with how tightly your holding my waist, I’d say you’ve missed me just as much jaybird.’ You added cheekily as you gestured down to the hand that was gripping your waist almost protectively with a playful glint in your eyes.

Jason scoffed as he then tugged you closer to him, making sure to rest his forehead against your own as he spoke, ‘I did miss you chipmunk, I’m not ashamed to admit it because most days it seemed as though you were the only thing keeping me going most of the time.’ He smiles sweetly at you as he kissed your forehead, you closed your eyes and leant into his touch happily, finding bliss at long last.

Only for the door to Jason’s room to burst open. ‘Jason! Are you ready yet Damian’s- oh.’ Dick stoped mid sentence when he noticed you cuddling up to his brother’s side.

You and Jason looked at Dick, who seemed frozen on the spot with his sudden stillness and unblinking eyes, before looking at each other.

‘Is he…okay?’ You whispered to Jason, concerned.

‘He’s fine. Dick’s just being…well a dick.’ Jason replied as he picked up a pillow and threw it in Dick’s direction, ‘Paging dr dickhead.’ He adds as the pillow hit dick square in the face as you slapped Jason on the bicep. ‘Be nice to your friend? Brother? I don’t know-‘

‘I didn’t know you had a significant other Jason!’ Dick exclaimed, completely forgetting what he was doing there in the first place as he smiled widely at you both.

‘And there’s a good reason for that.’ Jason growled as his hand on your waist tightened.

‘So they’re the reason you didn’t want to come out on patrol tonight?’ Dick continued as he made himself comfortable on the edge of Jason’s bed. ‘Who knew my little bro Jay jay was in love.’ He teased and he tried to pinch Jason’s cheeks, only for Jason to smack it away with a grunt, dick shrugs as he played on his stomach and kicked his legs. ‘So tell me how you met, leave no detail out of it.’

Needless to say dick has to be dragged out of the room by the scruff of his neck by an agitated Jason as he dropped him off with Damian, who was sharping his sword, and said ‘he’s your problem now.’ And went back to his room to you to cuddle.

[lilacxquartz]

Can you write a homicipher fic with Mr crawling where Mc is deep cleaning their apartment and he's confused on what exactly they're doing and just like doing domestic stuff? Thank you!💜💜💜

in an attempt to clean;

mr. crawling x reader/mc

plot: you do all sorts of curious things but mr. crawling still can’t quite understand some behaviours — a/n: i hooope this is what you wanted!! like my mind ran with mr. crawling perhaps being sentimental about the stuff you cleaned up, so i went with it, aha, mc is in the real world here and mr. crawling is like, a live-in guard ghost — themes: gn!reader, domestic fluff, character study — w.c: 1.1k • ao3 • masterlist ✮⋆˙

Even if he didn’t quite understand the order of the world that you came from, Mr. Crawling still tried his very best to adapt to you and your way of living. He was perfectly happy just living in your home and existing within your space, finding every nook and cranny to be deeply fascinating. Every other surface had a hint of your scent, with other places, like the bedroom, signaling your once lingering presence—like a signature.

He traced around the areas where such things were left behind, from empty bowls from where you had breakfast to where your dirty laundry was thrown off to the side after a long day. This often led you to pause and tilt your head at such odd behaviour, but you also didn’t quite mind. He did many odd things, after all, such as hovering around in the corners of your home, watching you from a distance while you worked on… whatever it was that needed doing.

Had this been any other situation, you would have probably tried to flush him away with the help of a local shaman, but it was all fine. You brought him back with you for a reason. He wasn’t malicious at all, at least not to you. If anything, he was a little like a guard ghost—determined to keep you safe—no matter what.

However, at some point, too much of your ‘presence’ was left behind and you had to talk yourself into committing to a deep clean. You had admittedly put it off for his sake, finding his almost, enticed state of wonder to be endearing, but a clean space meant a clean mind, or however the saying went.

And things had to go.

At a glance, the apartment was a complete mess. Dust clung to the walls and tables, and there were dirty socks in every other direction. Trash was also becoming something of a problem and for it to not get any worse than it already was—something had to be done—before it was past the point of no return.

Just as you were about to dive in towards fulfilling your task, however, you felt Mr. Crawling’s presence materialise right behind you like a sudden, looming shadow and sure enough, when you turned around, he was right behind you. He was now Mr. Standing more like, you internally tutted, given that he no longer took the liberty to pad around on his hands and knees anymore, instead filling out the whole stretch of room. From the floor to the ceiling, he made himself known.

“What… you… doing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. He had his finger pointed towards the bin bag in your hand, seeming almost alarmed.

“Cleaning…?” you replied, demonstrating taking some trash from the coffee table and dropping it into the bag. As you did so, his hand flinched away and he seemed rather upset.

“Object… away?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded, quickly filling up the bag with more and more pieces of trash that were otherwise littering the surfaces, all the while he seemed to twitch at the very sight, as if he wanted for you to stop but wasn’t sure how to ask you of such a thing.

And before you could continue on your spree any further, Mr. Crawling took a step forward, confiscating an empty crisps packet right from your hands. In turn, you raised an eyebrow, jumping up to grab it from him, but he kept it purposefully out of your reach.

“Give it back,” you huffed, unsure what exactly has gotten into him.

“No,” he shook his head, his tone sounding rather petulant, “I keep.”

You blinked a couple of times, sounding exasperated. “W-why?”

“Treasure,” Mr. Crawling could only reply, clutching the piece of trash to his chest like it was the most sacred item.

You withdrew a deep sigh. Of course, Mr. Crawling had gained some sort of attachment from the things he saw you use. It was actually sort of oddly sweet if it didn’t have the possibility of attracting bugs and potentially growing mould.

“I’m not throwing everything away,” you tried to reason, gesturing at what got put into drawers and what didn’t, “just the trash, the…” you trailed off, trying to find an appropriate word that you both knew, “the dirt.”

Mr. Crawling hesitated, looking at the crisp packet in his hands. “D-dirt… bad?”

Finally, it clicked. At last! You were finally getting somewhere. Oh, how you loved to see him understand you. It was so rewarding, but also, you almost felt bad at just how upset he sounded, but it had to go. “Yes, very bad. Dirt makes… people… sick,” you tried to charade out next, performing a show of you clutching your stomach and looking nauseous.

“Sick?” he asked, trying to understand before looking even more alarmed than when he had first seen you pick up the trash to begin with. “Sick, bad! Sick, bad!”

Before you could respond however, he was in the process of obliterating that poor crisp packet into nothingness, so you warily had to approach him, pluck it right out of his wary hands, and mime out the rest of your intent. When you took hold of the package, you feigned sickness, and then when it entered the bag, you acted right as rain again. All healthy while looking very much alive.

At first, he was horrified at your display but then seemed to get the memo, glancing around at what could potentially make you sick and what was fine to hold onto and so, over the course of the next hour, you slowly but surely got through a deep cleaning session while he kept bringing you all sorts of objects—perhaps missing the memo as to what counted as clean and what counted as dirty—but at least you were finally, actually getting somewhere.

Things like broken mugs were brought to you, along with more empty packets and forgotten socks alike. Some things he was much more defensive about throwing away, but you let him keep the stuff that you were certain wouldn’t actually bring strange things into your home, like that torn and tatted baggy hoodie you had—he refused to let that one go.

“Why do you want to even… keep that?” you asked, watching him cosy up to the piece of clothing.

“Smells… you,” he gleefully replied, taking a deep whiff of the fabric before towering over you, repeating the motion against the crook of your neck, “smells… good.”

“Ah,” you smiled a little, not protesting a single bit, “yeah, you can keep that.”

You supposed that life with Mr. Crawling, after all this time, was still a messy sort of affair, but that much was fine. It was moments like these that made it all worthwhile, reminding you of why you wanted him to stay in the first place.

Even if it did mean that things took forever to get done now.

[naughtyjjk]

just a massage (pt. 2)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism notes: if you haven't already, make sure to read part 1 here first!

it’s been a week and nanami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. it’s terrible for him mentally, for his day-to-day living in general. every time he closes his eyes, you’re there in his mind. you with your naked body and perfect curves and smooth skin… the way you were so vocal and reactive to his touches…

he’s thought about you more than he’d ever admit, especially at night, after a long day of work, when he’s finally able to take off his clothes and lie down in bed and wrap a hand around his aching cock. yes, he’s jerked off to the thought of you—multiple times. he can’t seem to stop, addicted to the fantasy that he conjures. and it’s bad, it’s so bad of him, but he’s also never come so hard before and you make him irrationally horny.

today, nanami gets to the massage parlor and opens up his schedule. that’s when he sees your name there, a session booked for 1:30 pm. he blinks, wondering if it’s a dream. it’s not. he moves through the whole morning on autopilot, speaking politely to clients who are not you. they’re all irrelevant and he’s both looking forward to and dreading the time of your appointment.

he promised that he wouldn’t repeat what happened last time. it had been far to inappropriate, far too unprofessional, and he could easily get fired if anyone found out. but… his cock has other ideas. he doesn’t know if he would be able to hold back once he sees you again, in person, there to tempt him with your hot, sexy body. at the same time, a part of him wants to find out how far he can push you, test the limits to see how much you’re able to endure. it had been obvious that you were into it just as much as he was last time.

inhaling, nanami looks at the clock. it shouldn’t be long now before you get here. he has to tame his thoughts so that he doesn’t get himself all worked up over nothing.

but fuck, he wants you. he wants you so fucking bad.

.

“you booked a longer session this time,” nanami greets you as you walk into the room. he’s shirtless again, of course. at this point, you can probably guess that it’s a deliberate choice, as if he’s testing your resolve from the very start. like last time, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of shorts that barely does anything to hide what he’s packing down there.

you divert your eyes before you end up staring for too long. everything about the massage parlor looks exactly the same as it had when you visited last week, with its white walls and minimalistic decorations and the different bottles of oils all lined up on the counter which, as nanami has proved previously, can be used for more than their intended purposes. but there is something that changed, though, and you sense it as soon as you see nanami.

“well,” you reply eventually, “we left off with some unfinished business.”

there’s no beating around the bush anymore. neither of you bother to keep up pretenses this time because it’s inevitable where this will lead. and this is something you both clearly want. you know that you’re not the only one who had been looking forward to today, that nanami wants it just as much as you.

“right. but you know,” nanami drawls, “last time, while you were in the changeroom after our session, i think i heard some… noises. any idea what that could be?”

flushing, you feel your entire body heating up with embarrassment. you curse yourself for not being quieter at the time and you clear throat, glancing away. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“hm.” nanami looks at you unconvinced. he takes a step closer. “it couldn’t have been that you were doing anything naughty in there, right?”

“o-of course not,” you say, hating how guilty you sound.

thankfully, nanami doesn’t press you any further. “good. i mean, no one else heard you… but it would’ve been bad if someone did.” he grabs a few of the items from the counter and walks over to the bed. “now, where would you like me to massage this time?”

sitting back, you make a vague gesture. “just—continue where we left off. same as before.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “come on, now. let’s be a bit more honest,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “we both know what you’re really here for.”

“everywhere,” you blurt out, arousal hitting you without warning. “my whole body… the front this time, too. make me feel good.”

eyes darkening with desire, nanami nods, pleased with your answer. “much better. we’ll start with you lying down on the bed again.”

you position yourself the same as last time, on your stomach with your face down and legs spreading apart instinctively. you hear nanami chuckle at your eagerness.

soon, oil is poured over your back, warm hands spreading it all over. your muscles relax at once and you’re reminded of how skilled nanami is. along your spine, he applies pressure to his palms, drawing out soft sounds from you. nanami runs his hands parallel, gliding them down all the way to your legs, then back up again, and repeating the process until heat starts to coil inside you.

after a moment, nanami asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“nothing,” you mumble. a lie, obviously. there’s only one thing that could be occupying your mind while nanami is touching you like this, rubbing your body sensually, and that’s—

“hm.” nanami says. “want to know what i’m thinking about?”

“wh-what?”

“how much i want to fuck you.” nanami’s voice is low and he uses both hands to squeeze your ass over the towel. in response, you moan, arousal hitting you hard. “how horny you make me. i've been thinking about it since our last session…”

breath hitching, you feel a rush of heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire, a wetness starting to soak your pussy. it’s no secret that you’ve been imagining the same scenario for the past few days, every second that you’ve been apart.

“how long has it been since you’ve had sex, darling?”

“ah—i don’t know. weeks, maybe,” you say, exhaling. you’re losing himself to the sensation of nanami’s hands as he moves them again, this time drawing circles on your inner thighs. “months.”

skirting along the edge of the towel, nanami’s fingers slip under just for a second to brush against your ass. “and how are you feeling? pent up from all those months without relief?”

“y-yeah.” you swallow hard. you’ve been more on edge than you’d like to admit, more irritable in general the longer you go without getting laid. sometimes, you’ll be flooded with dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate times, often waking up to wet dreams and an ache in your pussy to be filled.

“mm, and do you miss it? having sex?” nanami’s hot breath is right by your ear, a low whisper when he asks, “getting fucked?”

shuddering, you can’t help but moan softly. “yes.”

“it’s not enough to satisfy the craving by yourself, is it? it’s been so long…” nanami murmurs. “you want someone there with you, someone to touch you, someone to make you feel good.”

“kento… oh…”

last time, this was the point in the massage when he had stopped. but nanami shows no signs of slowing down, and even when his hands lift from your body, he makes sure that you know he’s not done yet.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you today,” nanami tells you, and you’re hit with another wave of arousal. “now, turn around for me.”

you do as you’re told, flipping over on the bed to lie on your back, facing up at the ceiling. your heart hammers away in your chest as nanami eyes you up and down. you expect him to start working down from your shoulders, but he seems to have other plans when his hands move directly to untie the towel around your waist.

“w-wait, i—”

pausing, nanami glances at you, a smirk on his face. “what’s wrong? are you embarrassed that you’re wet already?” he slides the towel lower just a little. “have you forgotten how you were begging for it last time?”

nanami doesn’t wait for you to reply before unwrapping the towel all the way. like this, you can’t hide your desire anymore. and you’re more than aware of how wet you’ve gotten, pussy dripping and soaking the bed. you see nanami’s gaze flicker down, pausing in his actions to admire your body. you feel so exposed like this, naked on the bed while presenting yourself to him, and the tension between you grows thicker by the second. it’s all so arousing.

taking the bottle of oil, nanami holds it over you and pours out the liquid directly so that it leaves a trail from your chest all the way to your stomach. you can’t help but flinch slightly, feeling it tickle as it drips. a few drops fall directly onto your pussy, causing it to throb, and your breath hitches as you bite back a moan. nanami licks his lips and then his hands are on you again.

first, he runs a single finger down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, stopping just before touching your pussy, above your clit. the process is slow. slow and sensual. spreading the rest of the oil evenly across your skin, nanami takes his time in feeling you all over, making the anticipation build and build inside you.

next, your breasts are the main area of focus as he draws large circles on both sides, dipping near your armpits, along the underside, and trailing back up the center. slowly, the circles get smaller with each round, closing in on your nipples. but as soon as he’s about to come into contact with those hardened nubs, nanami retreats and starts all over again. he does it three more times—large circles spiraling closer, closer, closer. tracing just around it. caressing the sides. and you always think that this time, this time, he’s going to finally reach your nipples.

he never does. you groan, frustrated. it’s the first time you’ve experienced something like this; the first time you’ve ever wanted your nipples to be touched so badly. the worst part is that it’s really getting to you, turned on from barely anything. your pussy begs for attention, leaking more of your arousal as you mentally curse nanami for being such a fucking tease.

at that moment, nanami leans in so that his mouth is hovering just above one of your breasts and your heart pounds at the possibility of what’s to come. but all he does is blow against it gently and chuckle. 

“your nipples are so hard…” his tongue pokes out, swirling it in the air just above your skin, exactly like how he would if he were to suck and lick at the sensitive nub. he holds your gaze but never makes contact with his tongue. still, you can feel the phantom sensations there, and you want so badly for him to take you in his mouth. “want me to touch you?”

god, yes. you let out a whine. all of this teasing is going straight to your pussy, so wet with desire. but nanami’s mouth retreats and he goes back to using his hands, circling your breasts with his fingers.

when you don’t think that you could take it anymore, you feel it—a single finger brushing across both your nipples, just grazing them, the lightest of touches. you’re so turned on at this point, the anticipation having built up inside you, that you gasp, squirming on the spot as you try to adjust to the sudden, unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“ah—”

“look at you. so sensitive, so riled up from barely anything,” nanami says, waiting for you to regain your composure.

it’s not your fault. nanami made sure that your body would be extra responsive by taking it slow, making you crave it, and one barely-there touch is hardly enough to satisfy you. but that’s all you get for a while as nanami repeats his actions with the sole mission of making the experience as agonizing as possible for you.

eventually, when you least expect it, the pattern changes. nanami flattens his hands over your nipples and rubs them, going from palms to fingertips, the oil adding a delicious glide to every movement. he grabs both your breasts and fondles them, massages them. cupping them with his palms and squeezing with his large hands.

“ohh…” you moan, arching into the touch. soon, nanami switches to grasping your nipples between his fingers, pinching the delicate nubs with the perfect amount of pressure, and it sends a rush of sensation throughout your body. you whimper. “fuck, k-kento…”

“does it turn you on when i play with your nipples?” nanami asks, hyperattentive, watching every reaction that your body makes. “such a naughty girl.”

fuck, it’s only your second session here but nanami has already figured out your body’s weaknesses, all of your most sensitive areas, the erogenous zones, and how to take you apart. you shouldn’t be falling for every one of nanami’s tricks. you shouldn’t be this easy. but you gave up control the moment you laid down on this bed, and nanami just seems to have that effect on you.

having gotten the reaction he wanted, nanami moves on. he had spent so long playing with your nipples that you almost forgot the feeling of those tantalizing hands on the rest of his body. but you’re quickly reminded when he travels down to your stomach, your lower abdomen, purposely avoiding your pussy and going straight to your legs.

it’s the assault on your inner thighs that eventually ruins you. because nanami is running his hands up your thighs, stopping right at your pelvis, and doing it over and over and over—repeatedly, for what seems like forever. occasionally, his fingertips will brush against the outside of your folds, but the touch is fleeting and never goes any further than that, only serving to taunt you.

you groan, wishing nanami would just get on with it. when you express this, you only get an amused chuckle in response.

“so impatient. and you’re all wet for me already…” nanami says, those words making you even more aroused. “that’s it, let your body crave it. i would love to eat you out and taste you on my tongue.”

you certainly wouldn’t complain if he did just that. but nanami only spreads your legs and runs a finger past your pussy, spreading your wetness there. he circles your clit once, and you moan. then he goes further down until he finds your entrance but doesn’t push inside. he continues to do that—playing with you, teasing you, turning you into a writhing mess on the bed.

oh, you want him so bad. you’ve never wanted a man this fucking bad before. your body is burning, the need and desire growing exponentially by the second.

“there are so many things i want to do to you.” nanami swallows, looking like he wants to devour you but is doing everything he can to hold himself back. “but i’ll keep it simple for today. you look like you won’t be able to last much longer, anyway.”

without warning, nanami slides his hand back up to your clit, pinching it between two fingers, slick with oil. your entire body jolts as you feel pressure being applied there, a choked out moan escaping your lips. nanami rolls the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub and you throb at his touch, breathing significantly harder now.

it had already been overwhelming before, but now your whole body burns with pleasure, with desire—wild and untamed. heat sears through you, fast, hot, making you somewhat delirious. you lose control of yourself as you buck up and circle your hips, trying to feel more of it.

“remember, this is still a massage,” nanami says, voice low, and you’re not sure who he’s trying to fool. he pinches you again, the perfect amount of pressure, and you arch off the bed with a whimper. “all i’m doing is giving you a massage…”

his hand flattens and he rubs your clit up and down, then in circles, slow at first and gradually increasing in speed. there’s no pattern to his movements; nanami is completely unpredictable, leaving you guessing, never allowing you to adjust to the sensation at any given moment. all you can do is lie there and take it, at his mercy, chasing after whatever he’s willing to give you. but you can’t exactly complain, though, not when it feels this fucking good.

“k-kento—” you cry out as all your nerves ignite at once, tingles of pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

“is this how you touched yourself in the changeroom last time?” the pace quickens, nanami drawing tight circles around your clit. “did you imagine that i was the one touching you? getting you closer and closer?”

moaning, you try to reply but your head is swimming with pleasure and it’s infinitely more arousing now that nanami is really here, playing with your pussy. it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

and then—it hits you fast, hard, entirely by surprise. one minute nanami is changing up his rhythm and the next, you find yourself bucking into the air uncontrollably, moaning loud and needy, and fuck, you’re—oh god, you’re going to come, you’re going to come—

“not yet, baby,” nanami says, voice low and stern. a command. his hand immediately withdraws from your body, keeping you right on the edge but never tipping over, and instead moves to hold your hips in place as you convulse on the bed, helpless to ride it out as your orgasm ebbs away. your pussy throbs and throbs, aching, dripping with your wetness. you’re left painfully unsatisfied. fuck, it’s not fair.

chest heaving, you whimper, having been denied your release. your whole body is on fire, and you’re so fucking turned on. you need to come. you need to come so fucking bad.

“kento,” you plead, willing to do anything to get his hands back on you. if this gets drawn out any longer, you’re not sure if you’ll survive. “kento, please—i’m—i can’t—please—”

almost idly, nanami trails a hand around the outside of your pussy, keeping his touch gentle like he has all the time in the world. it’s only a single finger grazing against you, but your hips flinch, moaning at the feeling of it. “do you really want it to end that quickly? i would love to see how desperate you can get. it won’t take much more for you to come, will it?”

you’re trembling and your pussy throbs every time nanami makes contact with it. you’re still unbelievably close to the edge despite calming down a bit now, and you’re sure that all it’ll take is a bit more stimulation from nanami before you reach your climax.

“can you—oh,” you start, words dissolving into a moan as nanami touches you again, fingers prodding at your entrance this time. it takes deliberate effort for you to gather your thoughts and finish the sentence, but you’ve become shameless, too aroused and horny to maintain any sense of dignity. “c-can you fuck me instead? i wanna—hah—wanna come on your cock.”

“mm, tempting. really tempting. but i don’t think so,” nanami tells you. his fingers latch onto your clit again, circling around it faster than before, and it’s so fucking good, so distracting that you’re barely able to hang on to his words. “i won’t fuck you today. i want to get you really desperate for it, let the tension build up until it makes you lose control. and when i finally give you what you want—tomorrow, or the next day, or even a week from now—i’ll break you apart slowly and leave you writhing under me. think of how good it’ll feel to finally have my cock in you after all this time, hard and aching inside you, filling up that tight little pussy.”

whimpering, you’re not even able to formulate a reply. that has to be the hottest proposal you’ve ever heard, like nanami has somehow figured out all of your dirtiest fantasies and is making them a reality. your mind is clouded with an arousal so strong that you’re struggling to process everything. but nanami isn’t even done yet.

“eventually, if i fuck you… when i fuck you, i’m going to take you apart slowly and push you to your limits until you show me just how badly you need it. you’ll be shaking under me, begging to have my cock in you. god, darling, i’ve wanted to ruin you since our first session together.”

you moan brokenly, hips thrusting wildly on the bed in response to his words. holy shit. nanami knows exactly how to get you all worked up. what’s worse is that every word he says is a cruel reminder that his cock isn’t inside you, isn’t fucking you, isn’t even out of those tight, tight pants yet.

“hah—fuck, your cock—n-need your cock—”

“i’ll give you something just as good.” nanami is watching you intensely, taking in the way your body responds. he bends your legs, hands sliding almost innocently across your entrance. “i can massage your insides. how does that sound?”

it sounds incredibly fucking hot, that’s what. and suddenly, you’ve never desired anything so badly before. “y-yeah—ngh, please—”

“spread your legs for me, baby,” nanami tell you. doing as you’re told, you follow his guidance to expose your pussy even more, aroused and horny beyond belief. “good girl. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

a finger runs along the outside of your pussy, slick with oil, and you choke out a moan, lifting your hips to try and feel more of it. thankfully, it goes in soon enough, not wasting any time, and nanami sinks a finger into you, the slick oil helping to ease his length inside. you let out a startled gasp as he goes deeper and deeper, past the first and second knuckle, all the way until his whole finger has been swallowed up.

once he’s all the way in, nanami groans at the tightness that envelopes him, the way you clam down as if refusing to let him go. but he starts pulling back out, inch by inch, and you’re helpless to it; all you can do is moan at how good it feels. he pumps it in and out a few times almost experimentally, taking in how quickly you’re falling apart on the bed before him.

“you can imagine that it’s my cock fucking you if that helps,” nanami whispers in your ear and the suggestion has you whimpering. “but of course, my cock is bigger than this. think you can take another?”

“Y-yes—ah—yes, yes, more—”

“look at me,” nanami says, waiting until you turn your head before adding a second digit, stretching you open. you gasp, panting as soon as he starts to thrust into you properly. “see how hard i am because of you? my cock feels like it’s going to burst out of these pants.”

and it’s true; your gaze falls on nanami’s bulge, so hot and obscene within the confines of his pants. the fabric shifts every time it twitches, pulsing like it’s trying to break out, wet and damp where the tip is. nanami’s free hand moves to touch himself, hips rolling into his palms, giving himself some relief for the very first time.

god, you swallow. you would do anything to have him pull out his cock already.

but nanami’s only goal seems to be to get you as worked up as possible, bringing you right to the edge with his dirty words. “mm, yeah. think about how fucking good it’ll feel to have my cock throbbing inside you. thrusting into your tight little pussy, nice and deep.”

his fingers curl, sending an unexpected jolt through your entire body. you cry out, back arching off the bed, head thrown back as an intense wave of pleasure overtakes you. “a-ah—! shit, kento—o-oh my god—”

grinning, nanami makes sure to aim for the same place again. “is this the spot? does it feel good here?”

“hah—fuck—y-yeah, good—hng, so fucking good—”

nanami hums, but the next few thrusts he makes purposely avoids your g-spot. each one is shallower than the last and you can’t help but squirm as you get increasingly frustrated, until he pulls out altogether.

“that’s a good look on you. it seriously turns me on to see how desperate you are now,” nanami says, licking his lips. his eyes are dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of you, running his hands along your thighs and watching your pussy throb. “it’s almost a shame we have to end things here today.”

you take a few seconds to process what he’s saying, and once you do, all you can think is, no, no. not again. you didn’t get to come yet. you need more, need your release, need those fingers back in you. need to—

“th-that’s it?” you ask in disbelief when it becomes clear that nanami isn’t going to continue. the towel is wrapped around you once again. your pussy aches in protest at how abruptly things ended, still dripping and dripping and dripping with unresolved arousal.

fuck. you refuse to let nanami leave him like this again; you’re determined to get a better outcome, unlike last time when you had to get yourself off in the changeroom. you’ll break down and beg if you have to. you want to come on nanami’s cock, on nanami’s fingers, and you know that nanami wants it, too. but whenever it seems that he’s about to go further, he always stops, right when you’re most anticipating it.

it’s especially frustrating because he’s gotten you all worked up, so fucking horny that you can hardly even think straight, but it never goes far enough for you to be fully satisfied. you’re kept on the brink of release, never allowed to come. it’s so cruel. it only works to turn you on more, to an unbearable degree.

but nanami doesn’t even acknowledge it. he only looks at you innocently. “our time is up for today,” he says, then leans in close, voice lowering to a whisper. “did you really think that i would let you come so easily? you’ve been a very naughty girl.”

fuck, that shouldn’t sound as hot and sexy as it does. it definitely shouldn’t be making you even more turned on.

“i—” shit, you think. you glance down at nanami’s very obvious erection, the desire he clearly has, too. i want your cock—want you to fuck me. but it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on going any further today, so you only manage to stammer out, “i don’t think i can go out like this.”

because you’re in arguably a worse state than nanami. despite the towel doing the bare minimum of hiding your arousal, your legs are still trembling slightly and the wetness between your legs isn’t going away.

“ah.” nanami’s eyes flicker down as he licks his lips. “you’re right, we can’t have you leaving like that. why don’t you take care of yourself now?”

you stare at him. when nanami only meets your gaze expectantly, you ask, “you mean… right here?”

“yes. we pride ourselves on customer satisfaction, you know. i can’t let you go when you clearly still have… unfinished business.” nanami smirks, evidently smug for getting you to such a state. “and don’t mind me. there’s still some time before the next appointment, so i’ll just be cleaning up the room.”

and you can’t believe it. what nanami is essentially asking you to do is masturbate, get yourself off, while you’re being watched.

the idea of it is crazy. but it’s undeniably hot, too. so fucking hot.

a few steps away, nanami is busying himself with setting up the equipment, but it’s obvious that he never strays too far. he’s still paying attention, making sure to keep you in his peripheral vision, intent on not missing out on anything.

hesitantly, you unwrap the towel around your waist until you’re fully naked once more. you sigh and glance down at yourself. it’s almost embarrassing because it’s far too noticeable just how fucking horny you are, with the way your pussy is swollen and so, so wet, making a mess on the bed.

across the room, nanami’s movements have stopped. he’s openly staring at you now, taking in the sight of you greedily. there’s hunger in his gaze as he grips the counter next to him, transfixed on the way your pussy is fully exposed, practically begging for attention.

you make eye contact, and a charge of tension passes between you before nanami nods once. “go on. show me how you make yourself feel good.”

so, you get comfortable again on the bed, hyperaware that your every action is being watched. it makes you more excited than you’d ever admit as the shame and embarrassment and humiliation all mix together with intense arousal, clouding your mind. you run your hands over your own body, starting with your breasts, cupping them and teasing your hardened nipples. just like nanami did earlier. soft moans escape you, pleasure surging throughout as you turn your head to look at nanami with half-lidded eyes.

nanami remains silent, but his expression gives him away. there’s no mistake that this is turning him on too, and you swear that you see him twitching in his pants, the fabric shifting over his bulge. but still, he’s far too composed, and you want to break down his self-control, get him so worked up that he can’t resist coming over and fucking you anymore.

traveling down your chest, across the planes of his stomach, your hands come to a stop at your hips. you spread your legs, bending your knees so that your feet are planted flat on the bed, giving you easier access to your aching pussy.

you’ve waited long enough. the slow tease of nanami’s massage and the beyond erotic proposal of masturbating in front of him have all caught up to you and you can’t delay this any longer. trailing a hand down to your entrance, you push a finger inside and immediately moan at the feeling of being filled again.

“fuck… yes,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself over to the sensation. you’ve only just touched himself, barely even started at all, but you’re already feeling it.

it’s hot and wet inside your pussy, the oil helping to loosen you up. you drag your finger, moving in and out of yourself, feeling how needy and pent-up you are as your hips roll slightly, growing impatient. you squeeze a second finger inside. moaning, you scissor them apart and pleasure floods through you.

and then you begin to thrust, going at a fairly slow pace. but still, it’s enough to have your thighs shaking, so fucking sensitive. you can feel yourself falling apart.

your fingers curl, angled just right, and your nerves come to life, firing jolts all the way up your spine. “o-oh—ngh, shit—kento—”

at the sound of nanami’s name slipping past your lips, mixed in with a moan, you hear the hitch of a breath to your side. opening your eyes again, you blink to clear your vision, and see that nanami has made his way over to the bed, standing right beside you. something about him being this close, watching over you with his cock hard and bulging in his pants, has your arousal spiking.

suddenly, you can’t stand the slow buildup anymore. your speed increases, thrusting into yourself faster before you even realize it, pushing as deep as you can go. the rush of pleasure is immediate, and your head falls back, breaths growing ragged. there’s a moan but this time it doesn’t come from you; nanami is the one who made the sound, low and strained. he looks like he’s at his limit just by being there as a bystander, watching you on display.

“fuck, that’s it,” nanami encourages you, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch. replace your fingers with his own. “in and out, steady thrusts. just like that…”

receiving instructions from nanami only makes you more turned on. your hips lift off the bed involuntarily and you can’t help staring at the twitching erection in his pants. “ah, feels—feels so good—"

“i bet it does,” nanami says. “look at how much you’re getting off on this. you secretly like being watched, don’t you?”

“f-fuck,” you break off into a moan. the answer to his question is evident in the way you’re dripping from your pussy, walls clenching around your own fingers.

and nanami must notice it too because he tells you, “don’t forget about your clit, baby. i know you like it there.”

reaching down with your other hand, you circle around your sensitive clit, body jerking at the added stimulation. and this is going to be your undoing, you know, because you feel the familiar buildup of your orgasm reaching a peak inside you, the crescendo of something bigger. already, you feel like you could come at any moment.

on top of that, nanami is relentless. “good girl,” he murmurs. “faster now. get yourself real close for me.”

you obey because you have no choice, because nanami has always been the one in control here. it’s getting dangerous now as you finger yourself faster, drawing tight circles around your clit, whining at the pure pleasure that’s accumulating in your stomach, between your legs. and you’re squirming, unable to contain the sheer amount of arousal inside you.

“shit—hah—o-oh my god, fuck, fuck—” you moan brokenly. then you use all of your willpower to force yourself to stop, both hands pulling away. your hips buck up in the air desperately, but you don’t want to come yet. you look over at nanami, chest heaving, and plead, “i-i want you, kento…”

growling, nanami grips onto the side of the bed, fingers digging into it to physically restrain himself. you can see the way the muscles of his arms contract, so strong, so tense. holding himself back.

“trust me, i want to fuck you so damn bad,” nanami says, and his voice alone is enough to make you more aroused. “you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you. if it weren’t for my next appointment, i would bend you over right here and have my way with you until you’re screaming.” he swallows, gaze dark and filled with desire. “but today, it’s enough for me to just watch your pleasure. so, be a good girl for me and use your fingers to fuck that pretty pussy of yours and get yourself off properly this time.”  

holy fuck. you’re throbbing hard just from those words alone, before you even touch yourself again. you can’t possibly resist; your hand moves automatically to do as you’re told, two fingers sinking into yourself again, pumping in and out with urgency. your other hand resumes its assault on your clit, gasping and moaning, overwhelmed.

there’s no buildup this time—you go fast and hard right away, too fucking turned on to make yourself wait any longer. beside you, nanami hums with approval, always watching.

“hah—hah—ah—yes, k-kento—kento—”

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” nanami says. “find your g-spot for me. come on, baby. i want to see you make yourself come.”

you cry out when you do exactly what nanami tells you, applying pressure to the most sensitive nerves inside you. your hips are thrusting wildly, out of control, and all of the stimulation combined is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“oh fuck, o-oh fuck—” you choke out a moan, sounding wrecked. “i-i can’t—ngh, can’t take it anymore—i’m—hah—i’m gonna—”

nanami groans. “yeah, let it out. make yourself come.” his voice is strained, eyes transfixed on your body. “that’s it, such a good girl… make a mess of yourself and come for me.”

god. god. the dirty talk has your pussy throbbing, throbbing, clenching tight around your fingers, preparing for your release. you’re trembling, so close to being pushed past the limit. so fucking close. there’s no way you’ll last much longer now.

“hng—fuck—” once again, your eyes land on nanami’s cock in his pants, bulging out, stretching the fabric thin, and it’s the thought of his cock—touching it, sucking on it, fuck, having it inside you, stretching you open and filling you up—that eventually tips you over. you moan loud. “ah, c-coming—i’m coming—”

your release hits you less than a second later. you pump your fingers, curling to your g-spot, other hand rubbing your clit urgently, and that does it for you, back arching beautifully off the bed as your orgasm crashes through your body. your mouth falls open in a silent cry. it’s mind-numbing, absolutely filthy, pussy pulsing and pulsing. you ride out the pleasure in waves, panting, feeling like you might lose consciousness from how good it is.

in you half-delirious state, slowly coming down from your orgasm, you look up at nanami. you’re both impressed and extremely frustrated at his level of self-control. throughout the entire session, he never touched himself even once, despite the fact that you know he must be aching for it, so hard that it has to be painful. and he’s gotten no relief at all, his cock still locked away in the confines of his pants this whole time, occasionally twitching and throbbing without any stimulation.

maybe it’s because the timing just didn’t work out for the two of you. maybe nanami really does have to prepare for his next client. but if your positions were reversed and you happened to be the one watching nanami masturbate, such an erotic and filthy sight at your place of work, you has no doubt that you would’ve succumbed long ago.

you wonder, what would it take for nanami to finally give in? this is the second time that you’ve had to get off using your own hands at the massage parlor. and you just came, which felt good, incredible, but you’re still left somewhat unsatisfied because what you really wants is for nanami to fuck you already.

getting up from the bed, you brush a hand against the bulge between nanami’s legs. nothing more than a graze of your fingers. but that alone is enough to make him gasp, swallowing back the moan rising in his throat.

you asks, “can you really go back to work like this?”

nanami swats your hand away, cursing. he shuts his eyes to even out his breathing before settling his gaze on you again. “fuck, are you still that horny?”

grinning, you lick your lips. “if i say that i am, will you finally fuck me?”

nanami sucks in a breath, glancing over at the clock. “you really should go now. i wasn’t lying when i said that the next client will be here any minute.”

it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but you know when to accept your loss and drop the subject. for now, at least.

“i’ll go for today, but you’ve teased me twice already,” you say. then you lean forward, whispering into his ear, “next time i come, i won’t be leaving until i get what i want.”

.

part 3 will be the last part! also tumblr has been buggy recently and won’t let me tag some people... i’m sorry if your name is here but you didn’t get a notification :(

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

(comment to be added!)

[007reid]

187. spencer reid (18+)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you're dealing with a dumb, whiny boy and you are wondering where your boy genius went.

warnings: 18+, sub!spencer & dom!reader, dumbification, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, handjob, orgasm denial, begging..you know the rest ;)

a/n: this is a result of too much ai spencer tiktok edits....wrote in a rush on my phone late at night but that's how fanfiction are meant to be written. enjoy angels <3 requests are open if anyone want to drop by!

“okay spencer, this is an easy one. can you answer it for me baby?" you pause expectantly, and it takes him a while, but spencer only mewls in response, frustrated. "what states are next to louisiana?”

you see spencer’s eyebrows slowly pent up in thought but then he immediately gives up in lieu of letting out another pathetic moan, bucking up uselessly to your fingers. “answer the question baby," you prod sweetly, kissing your words into his cheek.

“i-hnfgg…” he pants breathlessly, eyes shut tight and when they flutter open, they are round with plead. “please, it hurts so bad, please let me cum i—“

you let go of his cock entirely and he whines, trying to shuffle closer so that you would touch him. in response you move away further, smirk at your lips. “be a good boy for me and i will.”

“i am being a good boy for you!” spencer whines, his eyes blown with need and watering, body writhing pathetically against the sheets. his dick is flushed an angry red and you know he’s only several strokes away from coming undone, being so closely attuned to your boy. “i’m being good i—“ his words hitched in his throat as you gently caress only the tip of his cock, teasing.

“the good boy i remember is super smart,” you slide up to him, pressing a leering kiss on his jaw. “the guy has an iq of 187. can you believe that? how rare is that?”

spencer doesn’t answer, his pleas and whines soft and stuck in his throat as he keeps trying to buck up his hips to get more of your touch, but with no avail. “hm? how rare is it spence?”

“i don’t know!” he cries, tears leaking and wetting his pretty lashes. “i—please it hurts so bad, just please let me cum i’ll do anything, please!”

“answer me and i’ll let you cum baby boy,” you say smoothly, removing your hand from him (which elicited a very impatient groan) to spit on your palm before going back again, moving your hand up and down his shaft deliberately slow. you know it drives him crazy, even crazier than he is right now and you soak in the satisfaction of it. “how many people has your kind of genius spence? hm?" you add encouragingly. "get this one right for me and i’ll let you cum baby.”

“i…uhh….” he's slow, and even slower with your hand working and overstimulating his already-sensitive cock. “one out of every hundred million people. 1000 who ever lived,” he finally decides to peel open his eyes again, searching your face for any hint of approval. as a response you flick up your wrist quickly and he nods his head back, an obscene and needy moan coming out of his mouth.

“and the states surrounding louisiana?”

his head snaps back immediately and stares at you in betrayal, like a kid being scammed out of his cookie, completely flustered and debauched. “you said one question!”

“i changed my mind baby,” you soothe, pressing an apology kiss in the corner of his mouth. “the faster you are the faster you get to cum. do you want to cum honey?”

“yes! yes i wanna cum so bad,” he cries, hands coming up to rest lightly at your waist and you can feel the tremble in them. the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach has been there for at least half an hour now and you’ve just been toying with it, reliving it then bringing the pressure back. now he’s an absolute mess, curly hair sprayed on the pillow and stuck to his forehead, his pretty, delicate face ruined with tear stains, but it just makes him prettier. he’s completely at your mercy, writhing and whimpering and begging you to do something about his looming orgasm and you denying him of it.

“then answer the question baby boy,” you murmur encouragingly in his ear, fingers still teasing him. he’s so sensitive and overstimulated to the point that a single touch can make his entire body jump, so you are careful. too much and he might actually loose it, and you both know this. “you remember it, right spence?” you press, "the question?"

“hnngg,” he whimpers when you start biting on the lobe of his ear, grabbing and squeezing onto the sheets for dear life. “umm…arkansas and… i-i don’t know,” he admits shamefully, then desperately tries to make up for it. “but i got the first one! you said if i get it i could cum. i’ve been such a good boy for you, just this one time, please!” he begs, not in control of what he says anymore and it shows. he’s completely delirious and fucked stupid, and you take pity on him.

“aww, my sweet boy,” you coo sweetly, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair and pulling it away from his face for him. “i’m sorry angel, but if you can’t get it right, you don’t get to cum,” you whisper faux apologetically in his ear. you see when spencer’s eyes widen with horror, and the tears begins to fall freely.

“please,” he begs, his fingers pleadingly reaching out to try to touch you, convince you to change your mind. it’s a foolish and naive attempt, and he knows it too but can’t help taking his chances. he’s desperate for anything. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll be your best boy. i promise. i swear. it hurts so bad y/n please, i cant take it—“

“fine,” you give in, only because you know for a fact that he can't last any longer. really, you're surprised he's managed to make it this long so far; you had already planned his punishment in your mind. your boy deserves his reward.

you speed up your movements and the sounds coming out of his mouth becomes wanton, sobs becomes louder and his whines a pitch higher and he’s strung high like a violin string, ready to snap. “cum for me, pretty boy.”

at your command his body gives out obediently, thick strings of cum spitting out of his cock, painting your hand and his hips, coating at his thighs. he twitches and his thighs tremble weakly as small blurts of cum starts to collect at the tip of his cock and you kiss him during all of it as he cries against your lips. he pants hard, and when you accidentally swipe a finger over him, he whines painfully and inches out the way, sore. when it’s over, he collapses into you, spent.

“thank you,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful, his voice muffled and his face buried in your shoulder. you laugh, fingers smoothing out the mess of his hair, pulling his head back and pressing kisses all over his face. spencer needs the aftercare, especially after being edged on for so long, needs the love and the assurance and the cuddles afterwards. "i love you."

"and i you," you say, smiling when he whines predictably, unsatisfied.

"you gotta say the whole thing," he says, looking mildly upset, lips jutting out and giving you the fattest, most foul and adorable pout, eyes big and searching.

"'m sorry," you weave your fingers with his, and he presses a kiss against your knuckles. "i love you."

[justabigassnerd]

A Different Man

Pairing - Tim Bradford x reader

Word count - 5,241

Warnings - inaccurate hospital scenes, mentions of needles, drugs, medicines, angst, fluff

Summary - after an incident with Lucy, Tim wonders if it's time to be honest about his marital status

A/N - hey y'all I'm back with another anon request which I hope I did justice! we all know I love writing for my pookie Tim so I had a blast writing this. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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If it was up to Tim, he wouldn’t be at work right now. But the Vice President chose to visit Los Angeles meaning he had to go to work when he would rather be relaxing at home. Now, Tim was patrolling LA with his rookie Lucy Chen, keeping a careful eye on their surroundings as they drove around. Eventually, the duo are directed to a homeless encampment where Tim makes an announcement that all the people living there have to pack up and move so that the stretch of road they were living on was going to be used for the visit. As they all packed up their belongings, a fight broke out between two women and Lucy was quick to step in yet her best efforts still got her caught up in the tussle, when the women dragged each other, and Lucy, to the ground, Tim was quick to step in, handcuffing one woman while Lucy got up and handcuffed the other. As Lucy got to her feet, Tim glanced over at her, stopping when he noticed something.

“Chen. Stop. Don’t move.” He instructs, watching as she looks at him confused before following his gaze down to the used needle sticking out of her thigh. At that moment, it was like Lucy could focus on nothing but the needle and all the diseases it could bring if it had actually embedded in her leg. Noticing Lucy’s distant gaze, Tim instructs other officers to take both women away so he can focus on making sure Lucy is okay and gets taken to the hospital.

“I didn’t see it,” Lucy mutters, looking up at Tim with a terrified expression.

“I have to pull the needle out. Stay still.” Tim says, feeling bad upon seeing the expression on his rookie’s face but he knew he couldn’t show any signs of worry because that would only panic her further. Tim pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a box to put the needle in and he crouches down alongside Lucy, carefully extracting the needle from her leg and trying not to react when he sees the small traces of blood on the tip of the needle from where it had clearly made contact with her leg.

“What’s the protocol for when an officer is exposed on duty?” Tim then asks, straightening up after putting the needle away. He already had a good idea of how worried and panicked Lucy was and he needed to keep her focused on her job to stop her from spiralling. When he clocked that Lucy wasn’t focused he calmly gained her attention and got her to tell him what it was they needed to take as next steps. Lucy wasn’t used to Tim being so calm and gentle towards her but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” Tim asks after Lucy tells him what protocol is for an incident like this.

“Shaw Memorial,” Lucy replies, getting a nod in return from Tim before he turns to another officer, making sure they know to keep an officer posted in the area while he takes Lucy to the hospital. Tim drives Lucy to the hospital and when he’s parked the shop, he escorts her to the first nurse desk he can find, letting her approach the desk herself.

“I need to get my blood tested. I got stuck with a used hypodermic needle.” Lucy says, trying to keep her voice steady as the nurse begins to look around, apologising before he grabs a clipboard, holding out to her.

“Just fill this out for us and take a seat in the waiting room. A doctor will be with you shortly.” Gino says with a friendly smile.

“You must be new. She’s got a weapon, so what if someone tried to grab her weapon? The hospital protocol dictates that an armed officer be seen immediately. So set her up in a room right now and find a doctor.” Tim says, an authoritative tone to his voice as Gino straightens up, nodding nervously before leading Lucy and Tim to a private room so she can safely fill out her information and wait for a doctor while he goes to grab one. Gino heads straight to your office, knocking on the door and entering with permission.

“Gino, what can I do for you?” You ask with a sweet smile, removing your gaze from your computer to Gino.

“Doctor Bradford, there’s a police officer who’s been stabbed with a used needle and needs bloodwork done,” Gino explains, watching as you nod, shutting off your computer and getting up from your seat.

“I’ll go and get acquainted with my patient if you could get the equipment I need. And Gino? Please call me y/n, Doctor Bradford is too formal.” You say with a slight chuckle as you follow Gino to the door of your office.

“Sorry.” Gino apologises as you both step into the hallway.

“No harm done.” You say dismissively, waving your hand loosely, turning in the direction of the room Gino tells you your patient is in.

“Oh just a heads up, the police officer's partner is a really grumpy guy,” Gino warns, and at the warning, you had a feeling you knew who was going to be in that room.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Bradford.” You introduce yourself as you walk into the room, smiling sweetly at the woman sitting on the end of a bed, not missing how her eyes flicked between you and your husband who was standing across the room, his arms across his chest.

“B-Bradford?” Lucy asks, eyes widening slightly as Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes at Lucy’s miraculous mood switch.

“Yes. Tim’s my husband.” You say with a soft laugh as you pick up the completed form from alongside Lucy, eyes scanning it and inputting the information into a file for Lucy.

“Sorry, that was so rude of me. I’m Lucy Chen. I’m Officer Bradford’s rookie and I just didn’t know he was-”

“Chen,” Tim said simply, making Lucy stop talking, apologising as she relaxed slightly.

“Don’t apologise Lucy. In fact, excuse me one second.” You say, walking over to Tim, taking his hand, leading him to the corner and glaring at him.

“What?” Tim asks, looking at you, confused.

“Do you seriously talk to everyone like that? Even the rookie’s you’re teaching?” You scold, watching as Tim sighs lightly.

“I gotta be tough. That’s my way of teaching. It’s how I learnt in the Army and how I learnt when I joined the force.” Tim says, explaining himself.

“I get that Tim but in the hospital? The poor girl is probably terrified and thinking of all the worst-case scenarios possible. Just tone it down a little.” You ask, eyes flicking over to Lucy who was wringing her hands nervously, eyes flicking all over the room as she takes deep breaths. At your words, Tim lets out a soft sigh, nodding lightly.

“Okay. I’ll tone it down for now.” He agrees quietly, getting a nod in response from you and a soft squeeze of the hand before you drop it focusing back on Lucy just as Gino enters the room with all the stuff you need to draw blood.

“Thank you, Gino.” You chirp happily, taking the tray from him and beginning to prep yourself.

“You can go back out to the desk, I’ll page you when I need you to run this down to the labs.” You then say, glancing over your shoulder to smile at Gino who nods and exits the room.

“He’s new, isn’t he? He didn’t know the rules about what to do when an armed officer needs to see a doctor.” Tim says, sidling up alongside you as you pull on gloves, sitting on a stool in front of Lucy and rolling your eyes.

“Yes, he’s new. I take it you were the one who made sure he knew the protocol?” You say glancing over your shoulder at Tim before focusing back on the needle as you prep it.

“I think he would’ve found a room for me if Gino hadn’t corrected himself,” Lucy says with a soft laugh.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Tim’s always been one to find his own solutions to things.” You say, smiling fondly at the many memories you have of Tim fixing situations himself when he wasn’t satisfied with the options he had.

“You must have some great stories about Tim,” Lucy asks, making your eyebrow rise as you catch on to what she was hinting at.

“What kind of story would you like? I’ve got some good ones from when we first started dating.” You say, making sure the needle is in Lucy’s arm and drawing blood.

“Hey, no.” Tim attempts to cut in and you just hold a hand up, silencing him quickly which makes Lucy giggle at how quickly her training officer was silenced. At first, Tim pulled a slight face behind your back when you held your hand up, but when you looked over your shoulder and blew him a little kiss, Lucy saw how quickly Tim melted at the gesture. Even if he was trying to be his normal, tough self, she could see how he had a huge soft spot for you.

“Tim, could you go and get Gino for me? I’m almost done. Ooh and could you grab me a snack from the vending machine?” You say sweetly, smiling over your shoulder at Tim before you pop one of the last vials of blood into the holder.

“You better not start gossiping the moment I leave.” He says lightly in response, a small smile on his face as he crosses over to you to give you a quick kiss on the top of your head before exiting the room.

“I’ve never seen him act like that before,” Lucy says as you finish putting things away before focusing on cleaning Lucy’s arm and giving her a cotton ball to put on the puncture wound to stop any extra bleeding.

“Seen him act like what? A big softie?” You ask jokingly, smiling at Lucy.

“Well I mean he was nicer than he usually is when the needle first pricked me but he’s like a whole different person with you. He actually listens to you for starters.” Lucy says, explaining herself while she thinks of the man who had put her through so many Tim Tests.

“This conversation doesn’t leave this room, okay? He’s a tough nut to crack but he’s strict because he knows you can handle yourself. He wants you to be the best police officer you can be. I’m not involved in the work aspect of Tim’s life. He likes to keep it that way and I just guess he feels he doesn’t have to put up a front when he’s with me.” You explain with a small shrug. You remembered what Tim had been like when you first met. He was closed off and it took you a while to even talk to him enough to form a friendship, and then it took another year and a half before you both had the courage to act on your romantic feelings for each other. Before Lucy could reply, Gino entered the room again to take the bloodwork to the labs to be run through tests to see if the needle infected Lucy with anything. After Gino left and there was still no sign of Tim, you continued to chat with Lucy.

“It’s nice to see him so relaxed with you. It’s like he’s a whole different person with you.” Lucy says, smiling softly.

“That’s the Tim I’m used to. I’m sure with time he’ll learn to be a little less military towards you.” You say softly, smiling at Lucy who nods lightly.

“I hope so. There’s only so many Tim Tests I can handle.” Lucy says with a gentle laugh.

“Oh, he’s told me all about them. I don’t think I would be able to handle them.” You say with a chuckle, and before either of you can say something else, the door opens and Tim enters the room.

“You took your time.” You tease lightly, swivelling around on the stool to face him.

“The nearest vending machine didn’t have your favourite so I just kept looking until I found one that did,” Tim explains, holding your favourite snack out towards you while you smile softly, taking it and standing.

“You didn’t need to do that. I would’ve been fine with anything.” You say softly, smiling up at Tim who smiles back.

“I wanted to,” Tim says, his voice matching yours in softness as he pulls you closer for a kiss.

“Aw, you two are so cute!” Lucy gushes as you pull away from the kiss, giggling lightly as Tim looks over at Lucy.

“Chen, this doesn’t leave this room,” Tim warns, pointing a finger at her as she frowns, caught out in her plans to tell Jackson and Nolan.

“Okay fine. But I need to go to the restroom.” Lucy says, standing and crossing to the door. You bid her a quiet goodbye before turning to Tim.

“I should probably go back on my rounds. You and Lucy are welcome to keep using this room until I get her results from the lab. I’ll come back when I have the results, promise.” You say to Tim, taking his hand and squeezing it softly while your other hand tucks the snack Tim had bought you into your pocket.

“Take care of yourself, won’t you?” Tim asks softly, trying to hide his worry. He knew some patients could get rough with doctors and he always worried about whether someone was going to hurt you.

“I’ll be okay. We have security and if I really need help, I do have my handsome, strong, police officer husband around.” You say softly, your smile widening slightly as Tim raises an eyebrow, hands drifting down to your waist.

“Handsome, huh?” Tim teases, moving to kiss you again as your hands move to his shoulders, one hand resting on his shoulder while your other moves around to the back of his neck, cupping it as you deepen the kiss before your brain kicks in and reminds you of what you’re supposed to be doing.

“As much as I’d love to stay here with you. I have to go. I love you.” You say after pulling away from the kiss. You wished you could stay with your husband but you knew you had a job to do.

“I love you too,” Tim says, giving you one last quick kiss before letting you leave the room so you could go on your rounds.

You visit the various patients that you need to check in on, checking their progress and giving out advice that they need to aid their recovery. You loved checking in with your patients. Sure, there were some who were permanently grumpy and barely acknowledged you or the work you and the nurses were doing for them, but the majority of your patients were sweet and made the job worth it. As you finish up with a patient who was in recovery from a surgery they had the day before, you exit into the hallway and see a few nurses gathered by a door as they cart a woman out on a gurney. You head towards the gathered group and just as you approach the room, Tim and Lucy step out of it.

“What happened? Are you both okay?” You ask worriedly, reaching to grab Tim’s shoulders, eyes scanning him worriedly, checking him over for any injuries.

“y/n, I’m fine. We’re both fine.” Tim says softly, reaching up to his shoulders to gently lift your hands off, holding them in his hands and squeezing softly.

“What happened?” You ask, eyes flicking between both Lucy and Tim waiting for an answer.

“I bumped into this woman in the restroom, she told me about her brother who had been involved in a car accident and after she left I noticed a bottle of bleach on the floor. She was going to inject her brother with it to kill him. She claimed he wouldn’t want to live like how he is now but I just couldn’t let her go through with it so I had no choice but to tase her.” Lucy explains, her voice was shaky as she recounts the events.

“Is everyone okay?” You ask, glancing behind Tim at the room.

“The patient is being checked over now but thanks to Officer Chen’s swift actions, the sister never pushed the plunger,” Tim says, smiling over at Lucy who smiles back weakly.

“I was just doing what needed to be done,” Lucy says with a shrug.

“Look, Grey’s called me back to the station,” Tim says, looking between you and Lucy.

“Do you need me to come with you?” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim who shakes his head.

“No, you stay here and wait for your results. I’ll come back when I’m done. If you need anything I’m sure y/n will help you.” Tim says as you nod.

“Of course. Lucy if you need anything at all while you’re waiting, just shoot me a text.” You say pulling your notebook out of your pocket and scribbling down your phone number to hand to Lucy who takes it with a nod.

“Thank you,” Lucy says gratefully, tucking the paper away in her pocket before you both look over at Tim.

“I’ve got to go. I love you.” Tim says, giving you a quick kiss and hug before turning to Lucy.

“Chen, take care of yourself.” He then says, patting her shoulder before excusing himself, heading down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

“I said it to Tim earlier but you’re welcome to keep using the room Gino put you in until I have your results.” You say softly, reaching to rest a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before quietly excusing yourself so you could continue your rounds until the lab results came back.

As it pushes into the afternoon, you finish your rounds and take care of some appointments you had booked for the day and eventually you get paged by the lab and you head down, picking up Lucy’s blood test results and reading them over before heading back to the room Lucy had been using. However, when you entered the room it was empty, so you walked to the waiting room to see if she was there and you soon found her sitting alongside another police officer.

“Officer Chen.” You say softly, getting Lucy’s attention as she shoots out of the seat, the other officer following suit, resting a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“Yes?” Lucy says watching you as you smile softly.

“I have your results. Would you like to follow me to my-”

“No, sorry, can you just tell me now please?” Lucy asks, cutting in and watching carefully as you nod, eyes moving down to your clipboard to flip through the paperwork.

“So your initial tests came back negative for any viral infections like HIV or hepatitis. But your bloodwork indicated the presence of a staph infection.” You explain, seeing how Lucy relaxed at your first sentence before she grew worried again.

“What does that mean?” Lucy asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she worries about what it could mean for her future.

“It just means we need to get you started on some intravenous antibiotics right away. Some strains of staph infection are drug-resistant so we’ll monitor the wound for any abscesses or cellulitis.” You explain to Lucy, watching as she releases a big breath before turning to the police officer standing behind her.

“Go. I’ll call Tim. He’ll be here for you by the time you’re out.” He says softly before Lucy pulls him into a hug, thanking him quietly before she releases him and turns to you with a small smile and nod.

“If you just follow me.” You say, gesturing with your head for Lucy to follow you to your office which she does and while you settle in your office chair, Lucy eases herself down on the chair opposite your desk. You copy the bloodwork data onto Lucy’s file and print out a prescription, informing her of how to best care for her wound, when to take her medication and where she can pick it up from. After talking her through everything and checking Lucy’s wound over just to be sure it was okay for now, you stood in front of her with a small smile.

“I’ll walk you out, I’m sure Tim’s here now.” You say softly, leading Lucy back to the waiting room where Tim was waiting, rising from the seat he was sitting in when he noticed the two of you approaching.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tim asks, looking down at Lucy who nods, finally able to relax for the first time since the incident.

“Everything’s good,” Lucy replies, smiling at Tim who nods lightly, a small smile of his own on his face.

“If you have any concerns about anything Lucy, you’re free to give me a call whenever.” You say, making sure Lucy knew that you’d help her no matter the time.

“Thank you for everything, Doctor Bradford.” Lucy thanks you gratefully.

“Please, call me y/n.” You say with a small laugh, not missing how the police officer stood behind Tim gasped lightly with widened eyes as he realised what Lucy said.

“Sorry, did you say-?”

“Yes, she said Bradford. Tim is my husband.” You say, moving to stand next to Tim, taking his hand in yours as you smile up at your husband.

“If I find out you and Officer Chen have been spreading this around later Officer West, I will put you both through the most intense Tim Tests I can think of and it’ll have you questioning whether you want to even continue in the LAPD,” Tim warns lowly.

“Jackson and I would never do that,” Lucy says quickly, standing up for her friend as you sigh lightly.

“Tim, surely you’re tired of dancing around everyone. I don’t mind if people know about me. In fact, I’d like to get to know your colleagues. They’re part of your life too.” You say softly, turning to face Tim as he mirrors your actions.

“Are you sure?” Tim asks quietly, watching you nod.

“I’m sure, Tim. I’d love to get to know the people you work with. I’m your wife and I would like to be more than just a secret.” You admit, watching as Tim’s eyes drop to the floor briefly before looking back up at you. You understood why he had been so hesitant to tell people about you, he was worried that he’d somehow get involved in a case involving a dangerous person which could put you at risk. But you were capable of making your own choices, and you knew that even if you were at risk, knowing Tim’s work friends would make you feel safer.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.” Tim mutters softly, taking your hands in his.

“Don’t apologise. I know you wanted to keep me safe and I appreciate that. But you can’t hide me forever.” You say, squeezing hands softly and reaching up to press a kiss on his lips.

“Okay, I’ll stop trying to hide you,” Tim replies after you pull away from the kiss, his smile soft as you glance over to Jackson and Lucy.

“I think you two are safe.” You say with a laugh watching as they exchange a quick fist bump.

“I won’t give you any Tim Tests yet,” Tim says, releasing your hands and turning to face the two.

“You won’t give them any unless it’s part of training.” You say, nudging Tim in his side as he lets out a small grunt of pain at the jab.

“Does that mean we can tell Nolan?” Lucy asks, testing the waters and watching Tim’s reaction carefully. When you hear Tim let out a small huff of a sigh, you speak up.

“You can tell Nolan but only Nolan. Let Tim do the rest.” You say. You didn’t know who Nolan was but you could only guess he was the third rookie that had joined the LAPD alongside Jackson and Lucy.

“What she said. Anyone else knows before I tell them, you know what the punishment will be.” Tim says, raising an eyebrow as both Jackson and Lucy nod hurriedly, aware of what Tim Tests he could potentially put them through.

“I should probably get back to work.” You mutter, noticing the time on the clock behind the nurse’s desk.

“Yeah, I’ve got to take Lucy back to the station,” Tim says with a nod, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll see you when I get home.” You whisper softly smiling up at your husband before watching him leave with Lucy following close behind while Jackson stays put.

“I know you have to get back to work but it’s honestly incredible how different Tim is with you,” Jackson speaks up quickly, catching your attention as you laugh softly.

“Funnily enough Lucy said a similar thing.” You say with a soft laugh as you shrug, making Jackson let out a gentle laugh of his own.

“I won’t keep you. I should probably find my TO.” Jackson says, nodding with a soft smile as you smile back.

“If your TO is Angela, tell her I say ‘hi’ will you?” You say, beginning to back away and shooting Jackson a quick wink when his jaw drops before turning around and making your way back to your office to continue with the rest of your shift.

By the time your shift came to an end, you were just about ready to drop. It had been a long day and when you got home you were greeted by Tim who pulled you into his arms almost the moment you walked through the door.

“Tim. I love you but I need a shower.” You giggle as you feel Tim press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll get dinner sorted then.” He replies softly, releasing you from the embrace and letting you go off and shower and change into something comfier. By the time you had finished showering and changing, you could smell the dinner Tim was preparing.

“It smells good.” You say as you enter the kitchen, sidling up alongside Tim and winding your arms around his middle as he turns the stove off.

“I could’ve had a career as a chef.” Tim jokes lightly, welcoming your embrace. When you release Tim from your embrace so he can finish up the food, you begin to grab some plates and cutlery for when Tim is ready to plate up the food. Once the food is plated up, you sit at the table and eat your dinner, conversing the whole time. When you finish your meal, you both tidy away everything before retiring to the sofa, cuddling into each other while Tim finds a tv show to put on in the background.

“Are you really okay with telling people about us? I feel like I put you on the spot.” You mumble, resting your head on Tim’s chest and looking up at him.

“I’m more than okay with telling people about us. You’re right. You deserve to know my colleagues, and I don’t know how much longer I can go hiding you. You deserve to be shown off.” Tim replies, squeezing you tighter as a smile crosses your face.

A week later, you pulled up outside the Mid-Wilshire police station, parked your car, and stepped out. You headed into the building with a smile as you met Tim in the reception area.

“Hey.” He greets you with a smile, capturing your lips in his for a soft kiss as he pulls you into his arms.

“That’s a nice welcome.” You say with a smile as you pull away from the kiss.

“Only the best for you,” Tim mutters softly.

“You big softie.” You say with a laugh as Tim rolls his eyes.

“y/n!” You hear Lucy’s excited voice say as she rushes over to you, hugging you close as you reciprocate the embrace, smiling widely.

“Hey, Lucy. How have you been?” You ask. Since Tim had started telling people about you, you’d met various people from Mid-Wilshire station as you swung by the station every so often but Lucy had been the one you’d formed the closest friendship with.

“I’ve been doing well! But between you and me I think you need to stop by more. Tim’s always happier after you visit.” Lucy says, muttering her words lowly so Tim doesn’t hear her as you laugh lightly.

“Well, hopefully, these make everyone a little happier.” You say with a smile, holding up the bag of various cakes you had gotten from a bakery you and Tim frequented.

“Oh yes! I knew there was a reason you were my favourite Bradford!” You hear Jackson exclaim as he approaches you, making you laugh as you hand the bag to Nolan who also joins the group as you glance over at Tim who rolls his eyes and shrugs at Jackson’s comment.

“Everyone’s going to love that you’ve done this. You and Tim have been talking this bakery up for a week now.” Nolan says, opening the bag enough to peek in at the goodies inside.

“I just got things I thought everyone would like.” You say, watching as the three rookies take it in turns peeking inside the bag and trying to figure out what each thing is. As you watch them discussing their theories quietly, Tim walks up alongside you, wrapping an arm around your middle and tugging you into his side.

“I can’t believe I have to share you with all these guys now,” Tim mutters, and this time it is your turn to jokingly roll your eyes.

“Well, just remember, I married you. So you don’t need to worry about someone ‘stealing’ me away.” You joke, leaning into Tim’s side.

“It’s relieving to hear that.” Tim jokes in return, chuckling lightly.

“I hate to do this so soon after arriving but I need to head back to the hospital. I don’t want to see any of you guys in there as patients. Got it?” You say, pointing at Tim and the three rookies who all nod hurriedly before you turn to face Tim.

“Stay safe out there.” You whisper before giving him a soft kiss.

“Always,” Tim replies after you pull away, letting you say your goodbyes to the rookies before walking you out to your car and giving you one last kiss before watching as you get in your car and drive away to head back to work.

Since you had made friends with the people he worked with, Tim found himself more willing to be friendly with those around him at work. Most of the time he was still the tough training officer that everyone was used to, but you had taught him not to burn all his bridges too soon, and that it was okay to have friends at work.

And with you making the effort to know those he worked with, Tim was sure he fell in love with you all over again.