#he dresses like an idiot it could honestly be anything

[apple-jorts]

I have an important question for you Terrance nation !!

How do you artistically interpret Terrance’s pant-shorts?? I personally interpret them as high rising socks and shorts, but I’m curious how u guys see it!!

Lil poll for funsies 😄

Edit: good info guys, I don’t think this coulda ended any better than a three way tie. Final verdict is that he alternates depending on the weather 🙏

[nyankochan]

Golden Hour

synopsis: want to risk playing a game with the mob boss? if you win, whatever you want is yours. money. power. you name it. but are you willing to risk the stakes in you lose?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x casino dealer!reader

Content: afab!reader, Gojo being a menace, mean dom! Geto, dirty talk, Oral (f. Receiving), rough sex, penetrative sex (protection is used), after care, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names, Geto has tattoos, size kink, I hope I didn’t miss anything but I apologize if I did

Word Count: 8.4K ಠ_ಠ

A/n: I actually have no idea how to play poker

After working as a card dealer for Club Tengoku in the heart of Shibuya for seven years now, you’ve met your fair share of assholes and idiots. It honestly came with the job description you willing still took at just barely eighteen years old. It provided good money. Don’t get it wrong. It didn’t bring in nearly as much money as your clientele exhausted on a daily, but it still covered your meager bills and expenses.

The hardest part of the job honestly wasn’t even the few douchebags that cussed you out for “stealing their money” when they lost or the drunkards that openly flirted with you. No, it was maintaining a sense of professionalism and boundaries. No matter how bad you wanted to, you could never react the way you wanted. Screaming. Crying. Punching someone’s teeth out when they piss you off. No. You have to keep your composure, smile, and ask “would you like to play again?”

And the one time you broke that rule was because of him.

“Ughhh I hate this shitty job!” Your coworker and closest friend, Utahime, shouts exasperatedly slamming the locker door shut. “If one more creepy old bastard tries to hit on me then I may actually gouge his eyes out!”

“Please don’t get blood on the black jack tables,” you sigh, buttoning up the shirt to your dealer’s uniform. A simple black dress shirt and slacks. A gold trimmed vest with a black tie completes the look, identifying you as one of the dealers in Club Tengoku. “It was a pain in the ass to clean after that last fight you instigated.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Utahime huffs under her breath, haphazardly throwing on her tie. You have to straighten it up for her. “Some idiot accused me of rigging the game when he lost 60 thousand yen.”

“One of these days you’ll get fired before you can quit.”

Utahime had worked at the Club as long, if not longer, then you. She had a short temper and less patience for assholes than you. Though she’s been written up a number of times for her behavior, you think the manager of the club keeps her on to keep plenty of pretty faces on staff to draw customers in.

That, and almost everyone on staff cannot quit until their debt is fully paid.

Likely if you work for Club Tengoku, then you either dumb or desperate. Sometimes both. Whatever reasons originally bring you to the Club, work, sex, pleasure, love, money, etc. you’re property of the owner, Zen’in Naoya, until he either gets sick of you or you pay your debts back. Either with your labor or with your body.

You aren’t quite sure how much Utahime owes but her contact with Naoya cited 12 years of employment. Yours thankfully was almost complete. 8 years. 8 years of work a the Club in exchange for covering the debts you gathered when your shitty ex scammed you and left you with his debts he gathered from a Host Club in Roppongi.

Apparently, the particular club had ties to the yakuza (not that you knew that at the time) and your punk of an ex skipped town after leaving you at the club by yourself. You being young and dumb, only 18, didn’t know what to do except to accept Naoya’s assistance as he happened to be there that night. In return, you had to work with him for 8 years to pay off the 100 million yen debt your ex accumulated. You’d be done in three months, finally.

You weren’t quite sure what to do after your contracted ended. You had enough money saved to move from Tokyo if you desired, but go where? You had no other friends or family outside of Utahime and your coworkers. Naoya wasn’t the worst but he had his moments. Since you behaved and kept to yourself most of the time, you never got put on his radar (not like you had any options at the time).

Maybe he’d let you stay a couple extra months to let you get back on your feet until you found another job. You didn’t really want to leave Utahime on her own either, but for the time being, you’d been searching for other opportunities.

At nine, your shift starts. You and Utahime enter the upper level where the casino is, met by the overstimulating noise of slots, coins dispensing and laughter. The scent of booze is nauseating, and gives you a headache along with the bright neon flashing lights of all the machines. Utahime is on the black jack table. Tonight, you’re at poker.

After rotating out the prior dealer, you take your spot behind the table. As usual, you take out a new deck of cards, freshly out of the package, and shuffle them, waiting for players to join your table. Two gentlemen eventually join, one of them with a woman hanging off his arm like an accessory.

“Welcome,” you say, perfectly rehearsed. “All games at Tengoku have a starting bet of 10 thousand yen. Are you ready to play?”

The first few hours honestly pass by in a blur. The first game concludes with the gentleman with the date wining 30 thousand to turn around and lose half of it the next round. Someone plays three of a kind. Another folds just to lose it all in the end.

It is long. Tedious. Full of mixed emotions from the clientele ranging from anger to grief. Nothing out of the ordinary as you quietly and discreetly manipulate the game from behind the scenes.

See, part of the dealer’s role at Tengoku was to make it interesting. So that Naoya doesn’t lose too much money, the dealers are all given special contacts or glasses that allow them to see through the cards. A slight difference in the shuffle can make a game quite interesting, to say the least.

“My, maybe this is just my lucky night, but how often do I get to see a pretty dealer at the casino?” A deep, yet suave, voice says. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as two gentlemen sit at your table. The white haired man, dressed impeccably in a three piece suit and sunglasses though indoors, leans in too close into your personal space. “Say, what do I have to do to win you as a prize?”

You fight the urge to make a face, and continue with your usual elevator speech. “Welcome. Games at Tengoku have a starting bet of 10 thousand yen. Are you ready to play?”

“Why not make it interesting?” The man smiles a charming smile. “Let’s raise and start off with 100 thousand, yeah?” Minus the gentleman that sat with him, the other three individuals at the table looked nervous. You however continue to do your job as expected.

“Understood, the starting bet for this round is 100 thousand yen.”

You shuffle the cards meticulously, discreetly folding the aces into separate parts of the deck so that when you deal them out to everyone, the white haired man is ensured not to have any high cards. When he looks at the hand he’s been dealt, you notice his eyebrows furrow, seemingly in both shock and perhaps annoyance, yet his poker face is rather good, so he doesn’t let off too much that he has a bad hand.

“Each chip is worth 10 thousand yen at this Club,” you say. “We will go clockwise starting from the dealer’s left.” Nodding towards the timid looking gentleman who sat at the end of the table to start, the game begins.

“C-check,” the man stammers, choosing not to add to the exuberant bid already.

“Raise,” said the black haired man that originally sat with his cocky-white haired companion. He slides five chips across the table, raising the bet amount to 150 thousand. He has a rather cool demeanor. You can’t tell from his composure what he’s thinking, but he seems somewhat bored, if you had to guess.

You can also tell that the man has serious money, him and his companion both. His sleek three-piece black suit fits perfectly tailored against his broad shoulders. A shiny watch glistens on his wrist as he absentmindedly rolls one of the chips across the table, only for it to fall a few inches away. And his hair, pulled back into a somewhat messy bun is the only “imperfection” to his otherwise perfect appearance.

The man notices your stare and smiles. You turn away, face warming at being caught.

“I’ll call,” the white haired man says confidently despite his bad hand, placing five chips of his own down. The last two players call, matching the current bet.

You flip over three cards: a three of spades, the six of diamonds, and the jack of hearts.

The game proceeds slowly, or at least, it seems that way, because the entire time, you can feel the black haired male’s gaze burning holes through your head. You have a rather strong poker face, and try not to let his stare intimidate you, but for some reason, it feels as if he’s reading you like an open book. I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work…you can almost hear him say.

Your eyes begin feeling dry from the contacts, so you want to wrap the game up as quickly as possible. But by the end of the game, he wins with a full house: two fours and three eights.

“Damn you Suguru,” the white haired man groans, throwing his hand on the table. He had an ace, a five, a seven, a nine, the jack of clubs, and a four. None of the suits matched up except for the ace and the jack. “Why are you so good at this game?”

The man, Suguru, smiles as you slide the stack of chips totaling 270 thousand across the table. Naoya will have your head knowing you lost that much, is all you can think of, so you don’t almost catch Suguru’s words that make your blood run cold.

“I just know the best way to counter a cheat, is all.” Suguru’s charming smile contorts to a chilling smirk, and you keep your gaze down, trying not to let your fear show.

“What? So one of you bastards was trying to cheat, huh?” His companion mistakenly assumes, looking between the other players at the table.

Suguru then slides the chips right back across the table. You try your best to regain your composure and hide your unease. “I’d like to play again, Little Dealer, and this will be my starting bet.”

Luckily, at that moment, your coworker comes to relieve you from your post. You quickly skitter away, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, weaving through the crowd of the casino and disappearing just like that, missing completely the way Suguru frowns in dissatisfaction.

“Awe, I wanted to redeem myself in front of the cute dealer,” Gojo complains, rocking back in his seat so that the two front legs come off of the ground. “I had a shitty hand.” Geto stands from his seat and begins heading the direction you left. “Hey, where are you going? You left your chips.”

“You can have them,” Geto replies coldly. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Bring me back a gin and tonic!”

Geto saunters around the casino, eyes scanning the scene. It’s far too noisy for his liking, and everything blends together, so he can’t pick out your small stature from the crowd, much to his annoyance. A headache gnaws at his temple, and a passing waitress comes at an all too perfect time with a tray of champagne, which he snags.

He knows you rigged the game. He knew from the moment you shuffled the cards. But he doesn’t know how you did it, and he was a curious yet greedy fellow. He had to know how you did it. And by a stroke of luck, he spots you coming out from a door labeled employees only, while rubbing your eyes.

“Those contacts seriously burn,” you think to yourself. Once relieved from your station, you rushed back to the employee locker rooms to take out the contacts. Though they appeared clear, no different from any standard contact, the chemicals they had in them to allow you to see through the cards irritated your retinas. If possible, Naoya preferred everyone who didn’t already wear glasses normally to wear the contacts to garner less suspicion from the guests. But after a few hours, the shits became unbearable to wear. And you couldn’t mess with your eyes without running the risk of another client, particularly Geto, catching on.

Something about that man unsettled you. He was nothing like the man he sat with, who was loud, prideful, and quite obnoxious. No, he was quiet and observed his surroundings like a predator surveying its territory before figuring out when and how to strike. You couldn’t be too sure if he caught on how you rigged the game. After all, you only intended to make winning difficult for his friend, because he got on your nerves. But even still, your sleight of hand should’ve been so slight that no one would have noticed. You’ve done it for almost eight years in a row without no one catching your little trick.

“So we meet again, Little Dealer.” You don’t have to turn around to know who the suave voice belongs to. As you’ve been trained over and over, your facial expression blanks before you turn around to face Geto after correcting your posture.

“Hello again, Sir. Is there something I can assist you with?” You say politely. Geto looks unamused. His gaze is even more intimidating up close. He downs the last bit of his drink and sets it on a nearby table.

“I want to play another round,” Geto says.

“Certainly,” you nod. “If you go to any of the tables, another dealer can-”

Geto’s grin widens and he leans in close to your ear, just barely a whisper against the deafening slot machines. “I want to play again with you, little cheater.” The crucial error on your part is when your expression wavers, and much to Geto’s surprise, you look terrified. Nonetheless, he knows he has you in the palm of his hand. You take a step to turn and book it, but Geto’s quicker, grabbing your wrist before you get too far.

You try and fail to wrench your hand free. “P-please don’t tell,” you muster up a whimper.

Geto’s smile falters briefly, a strange shiver running down his spine. It was strange to see the seemingly cool headed and composed dealer look suddenly so…helpless?

“My, my, is there a problem here that I should be aware of?”

Your eyes widen, and you quickly and this time, more forcefully, snatch your arm away from Geto. You turn and bow towards Naoya, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. His usual “secretary” stands at his side (though you and Utahime are 99% sure they’re fucking), and he wears a sickeningly fake smile that you can’t stand. You know he’s pissed, but is just trying to put on a facade to keep up appearances.

Geto is startled by the man’s sudden appearance. He came up right behind him, yet Geto didn’t detect his presence at all. And for you to suddenly submit so willingly…

“There are no issues, Mr. Zen’in,” you say, trying to hide the quiver in your voice. “I-I was just returning from my break, when this gentleman here approached me, inquiring about playing one of our games.”

Naoya’s eyes narrowed slightly. You feel your chest constrict as the sound of your heartbeat resonates within your ears. You hold your breath and try not to cry. If he found out you, inadvertently or not, revealed one of the club’s greatest secrets, you were as good as dead. Forget leaving the Club in three months. You would be Naoya’s until the day you die.

“Y/n, look at me,” Naoya demands. You slowly raise your head only to be met face to face with his sharp brown eyes. “Are you lying to me?” He hisses, quiet and low.

“N-no sir, never.”

“I had stopped to ask about another poker table,” Geto spoke up. “The one I was playing at got a little too rowdy, as some of the other guests likely had too much to drink. I had stopped her to see if there was another table I could play at.”

Naoya puts back on his fake smile, but he leans away from you, allowing you to finally breathe, to face Geto. “Of course,” the charismatic businessman says. “I apologize for the inconvenience Mr….”

“Geto. Suguru Geto.”

“Ah, of course.” Brief recognition flashes across Naoya’s face, before his attention is turned back to you. “Mr. Geto here is a V.I.P. guest of ours, so make sure you tend to his needs with utmost respect, got it?”

You nod, bowing your head. “Yes, Mr. Zen’in.”

“And Mr. Geto, please have a bottle of wine, of your choosing, on the house, if my employee here has caused you any problems.” Naoya walks off, his secretary in tow, who gives you a sympathetic look.

Though he’s gone, your heart doesn’t stop racing. For the 7 years you’ve been employed, you’ve managed to stay off of Naoya’s radar and complete your job without incident. Why did now, of all times, did you have to piss him off? Though on the outside, he didn’t seem like it, Naoya was terrifying, heir to the powerful Zen’in family whose connections were so deeply interwoven throughout Tokyo that pissing him off almost guarantees you’d never work anywhere in the city again. He controlled your fate. Geto surely knows the influence Naoya has to be considered a V.I.P. So why did he stick up for you?

Your hands tremble still as you bow in apology to Geto. “I’m sorry for any trouble I caused you tonight.”

“Are you really sorry if you can’t elaborate on what you did wrong?” Geto nonchalantly asks, making you flinch.

“I-”

“Hey! Suguru! I’ve been looking for you!” A loud voice makes Geto sigh and roll his eyes; the many distractions were starting to irritate him. With a pretty girl wrapped around his arm, the white haired man from earlier approaches his friend.

“What do you want, Satoru?”

“You never came back with my drink,” Satoru complains. “I thought maybe you would be at least getting head somewhere, not standing in the middle of the aisle looking stuck on stupid.” He pushes up his sunglasses with a goofy grin that only widens when he sees you. “Ah! It’s the dealer! Hey, I wanna rematch. That first round was a fluke. I need to redeem myself.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“She’s done for the evening,” Geto cuts in. “Her shift just ended, right?” You dumbly nod along. Though, it was only a little past eleven, and your shift didn’t end until one.

“Too bad,” Satoru huffs. “Another time then! I won’t lose that badly again. My pride as a member of the Gojo family won’t allow it.” Then he’s gone, pulling the woman along with him. She giggles and snuggles up against his arm.

“I must be returning back to my shift then,” you say, putting back on your polite persona. “Have a good rest of your evening Mr. Geto.”

“Not so fast.” Geto catches you by the arm. “I said your shift just ended, did I not?”

“B-but I-”

“Let’s play a game,” he interrupts. “I don’t think you know who I am, but if you want me to keep my mouth shut about your little trick, then you’ll do as I say, got it?” You meekly nod, unable to pry your arm nor gaze away from the dark haired man. “Good. Now, go grab a deck of cards and meet me in the hall.”

His commanding voice, something about it was so attractive that you felt your face heating up as you scurried away to grab a deck of cards from one of the tables not in use. Your heart…you could feel it racing, but instead of the erratic pace it beat before Naoya, it was a somewhat fluttering feeling. And it made you nauseous.

As expected, Geto waits in the somewhat dim hallway just outside the casino. He leans against the wall, flipping what looks like to be a poker chip in the palm of his hand. Now that you get a better look at him, without all the fluorescent lighting and distractions, he’s pretty damn handsome. Tall. Well built. And dashing in a suit and tie. Your heart continues to flutter, annoyingly so. Once you approach, Geto straightens up, pocketing the poker chip.

“You’re quite obedient, aren’t you,” Geto muses. “Come, I’ve requested a private room where our game won’t be disturbed.”

You say nothing as you follow the man down the hall to the elevator. He holds the door open for you to enter, before pressing the button to take you up to the twelfth floor.

Club Tengoku doubles as a hotel, but the average cost of a room for one night is more than what you make in a year. It’s in the heart of Shibuya, so Naoya can charge whatever he wants, you supposed. The first three levels are all kinds of gambling rooms and bars. The first level of the basement is one of the Clubs. The B2 level…you’ve been there once and it’s not your scene.

“You look quite young to work at a place like this,” Geto comments, watching the number slowly climb higher.

“I just turned twenty five,” you mumble.

“Like I said, quite young.” The elevator opens. Geto exits first and you dutifully follow along, eyeing your surroundings with apprehension and curiosity, as your job never takes you anywhere besides the casino, and occasionally, the club. Everything looks expensive, even more so when Geto unlocks room 1205 to reveal an impressive suite so big it looks like a miniature apartment instead of a hotel room.

A large kitchenette connects to the living room where glass windows overlook Shibuya Scramble, which looks dazzling and dreamlike in the dark of night, still bustling as the name implies. It seems like there are at least two other rooms, but you don’t want to appear nosy and stand awkwardly by the door.

“Take a seat and make yourself comfortable,” Geto says, shedding his jacket. He takes two wine glasses out from the cabinet. “Do you want red or white wine?”

“I-I’m not allowed to drink on the job,” you reply, sitting on the edge of the leather couch.

“That’s not what I asked. Red or white.” Geto’s firm voice has your knees feeling weak, and you mumble white. Geto pours each of you a glass, setting the drink before you on the small table beside the couch. He sits directly across from you, swirling the wine within its cup.

You don’t quite know where to start, drumming your fingers against your legs while keeping your head down to avoid eye contact. Naoya would kill you knowing that you’re in a client’s private room. Not that some of your coworkers didn’t have intimate relations with some of their clients. It was quite common in fact. But that behavior was saved for the private rooms of the club. The hotel was off limits.

“Do you have a preference for what game we play?” Geto finally asks, after spending a few seconds just examining you, taking in all your features and nervous ticks, from the way you play with your fingers nervously or how your ears redden with embarrassment. Quite cute if you asked him to be honest (which he hardly was).

“N-no, Sir,” was your reply.

“Then how about Go Fish?” A simple game like that? Seemed rather mundane. “But let’s make it interesting,” Geto adds. “Any time someone gets a book, they get to ask the other any question they want to know, and they must answer honestly. The winner gets to make any request of the loser.”

“Why should I agree to your terms?”

Geto sips his wine, then sets the glass on the table. “I’ll tell your little boss that you let slip a company secret if you don’t. Wouldn’t want that, would you?” He takes your silence as compliance. “Shuffle the deck. No fancy tricks.”

You shakily take the deck out the box. You carefully shuffle, trying not to do anything that would raise suspicion. Once. Thrice. Four and you’re dealing them out. Geto goes first, but you’re the first to get a set of the eights.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“Geto Suguru, or was that not made clear before?”

“No, what is it that you do?” You clarify. “Why are you considered a V.I.P?”

Geto smiles. “You need another set to ask another question, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, he obtains the next set. The twos.

“How did you cheat earlier at the poker table?”

You knew the question was coming. There was no point in lying. “Mr. Zen’in has special contacts imported from Macau’s black market that allow us to see through the cards.” Geto stares at you, waiting for you to elaborate more to which you remain silent. He then chuckles.

“This game is going to be quite interesting.” Next, he gets all the queens. “Why did you intentionally deal Satoru a bad hand instead of all the players?”

“He was annoying. That’s all.” Luckily, you have the next set. “What kind of job do you have, Mr. Geto, that makes you a V.I.P. here?”

Geto shrugs. “I dabble in a lot of different things. It’s better to have your hand in several different pots instead of putting all your eggs in one basket, no?” That doesn’t answer the question in the way you were hoping, but you let it slide. And the next question is yours to ask.

“What brought you to the casino? Forgive me, but you don’t seem like the type of man to indulge in gambling.”

“Oh?” Geto leans back slightly. “What type of man do you think I am?”

Your face warms as you realize the implications of your words. After clearing your throat, you add, “it’s not your turn to ask a question.”

“Fair, fair,” Geto laughs. “Let’s just say, I’m very greedy, and I enjoy the casino’s opportunity for more.” He places down the four twos. “Now, why do you work here?” The man then places down all four sevens. “And what’s your relationship with that Zen’in guy?”

Him placing back to back sets throws you off. It not only puts you in the awkward spot of having two questions to answer, but it also places Geto in the lead. And your current shitty hand doesn’t have a potential match in sight.

“I…inquired some debts when I was 18,” you answer after a brief moment to collect your thoughts. Geto patiently waits for you to continue. “Mr. Naoya Zen’in covered them under the condition that I worked for him for eight years…” you pause, biting your lip, but your opponent shows no emotion towards your response and the game continues.

In the end, you hardly learn anything about Geto and he pries out much of your life story, additionally sealing his own victory when the game concludes. “Looks like victory is mine,” he says the obvious part out loud. He’s a little disappointed by how soon the game ended, not because he enjoyed it (well partially), but he didn’t quite find out all he wanted to know about you, yet. You were vague but honest when answering questions about your debts, but Geto still couldn’t understand why someone like Naoya would do anyone a favor. Let alone why you worked under him in the first place.

With the kind of work Geto did on a daily basis, he was quite familiar with the Zen’in family and often did business in other areas, but he always remained cautious to not become too intertwined with the web of a trap that was Naoya Zen’in. If Geto considered himself to be greedy, then Naoya would be insatiable, utilizing any means necessary to secure more power for himself. You were hiding something about your relationship with him, which was fine with Geto. He’d find out sooner or later.

“Now, for my prize,” Geto ponders for a moment and during the time, your breath hitches. The next moment, he’s in your face, so close that hints of his cologne tickle your nose. He’s so close that the slightest miscalculation in movement could make your lips touch. Antisly, you press your thighs together, heat burning between them, and you hope that he can’t hear how loud your heart beats. Geto grins, then backs away. “I will cash it out on another day.”

Your mouth falls agape, but no words leave your lips. Owing a debt to Geto Suguru? What game did you just become a part of?

He doesn’t tell you when he plans to claim his reward for winning the game, nor does he give you a way to contact him to inquire about it. After he escorts you to your car, because by that point it was pushing three in the morning, Geto leaves in a black Cadillac, and for the next few days, you don’t see him at the casino.

As the days roll by, work still mundane and Utahime still complaining about her clients, you grow increasingly anxious. On top of that, Naoya calls you into his office once to reprimand you about not causing any issues. You’re sure he doesn’t believe Geto’s white lie, but he doesn’t question nor bring up the contacts. For now, you’re safe, unless Geto goes back on his word and spills what he knows.

Geto’s white haired friend, Gojo, if you remember correctly, does come back every night without fail, spending upwards of a hundred thousand every time as if it were monopoly money. Must be nice to be able to waste money like it worthed nothing.

He kind of grows on you after you look past his cocky and annoying persona, keeping you company when you are not dealing for any games or cleaning up tables. You badly want to ask him about Geto, but opt out too in fear of it being misinterpreted. Luckily though, Gojo is not as tight-lipped as his companion, and often reveals too much information without you asking, especially if he’s had a few drinks.

“I can’t believe that Suguru didn’t fuck you the other night given how much he won’t shut up about you,” Gojo says out the blue, his speech somewhat slurred as he takes a sip from his third glass of whiskey. “I’ve never heard him bitch about wanting somebody so much.”

“G-Geto talks about me?” You try your best to hold your composure, but you can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. If that was the case, then why did he avoid the casino? Or was he just avoiding you?

“Does he? That’s all I’ve literally been forced to hear about all week,” Gojo huffs in annoyance. “We were at the club the other day and he showed no reaction whatsoever to any of the dancers while I had such a bad fucking hard on I couldn’t think straight!” He rests his cheek against his fist, nearly drunkenly falling off the poker table. Hints of striking blue irises peek over the rims of his dark sunglasses. “Hmm, I guess you got a cute face. Can’t see much of a body from the uniform though. You sure you didn’t get freaky with him? No strip tease or anything?”

You recall the scent of Geto’s cologne. The subtle flex and tensing of his muscles through his shirt with each movement. How his presence alone commanded authority, yet the taunting glint in his eye would suggest something else. Something more alluring and mischievous.

When you realize you’ve yet to give Gojo an answer, who by now was looking at you with a knowing look, you quickly try to deny the accusations. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” the white haired man teases. “He’s an asshole, but an attractive one at that. Any woman would drop their panties for him. Well, probably guys too, but that’s besides my point.”

By a stroke of luck or a cruel twist of fate the devil himself appears, this time wearing a navy blue suit and a rather unamused expression at hearing his best friend’s drunken rambles. Though he only caught the end of the conversation, knowing Satoru, anything that came out of his mouth was likely sexual, inappropriate, or some combination of both.

“Don’t you have to go be annoying somewhere else?” Geto sneers.

“Not until four,” Gojo replies, trying to look down at his watch but is wasted enough that he looks at the wrong wrist.

Geto frowns, trying to swallow back the strange irritation that tugs at his chest. “Let’s play another round of cards, Little Dealer,” he turns his attention toward you.

“Ohh is that your hidden code word for fucking each other?”

Ignoring the man, Geto merely flips him off, guiding you away, a gentle hand on the small of your back, after you procured a deck of cards. As the two of you head for the elevator, you pass Utahime and another one of your coworkers. Utahime’s eyes widen and you mouth to her, “don’t tell Naoya.” Your friend merely responds with a thumbs up and an oddly proud look.

Like before, the ride up is uncomfortably quiet. Geto doesn’t even look in your direction, his jaw set and eyebrows furrowed in clear annoyance. Was he possibly…jealous that you were with Gojo?

“Um…where were you these last couple days?” You try to break the silence. Geto still doesn’t look your way, watching the number of the elevator climb to ten.

“Busy with work,” is all he says before the doors slide open.

You find yourself in a similarly designed room as the other night, back to the same set up as before: sitting across from each other with a deck of cards on the table between you two. Geto takes off his suit jacket. You try not to stare, but the action was just so damn attractive to watch.

“Shall we play another game of Go Fish?” Geto speaks once he’s comfortable. “Same rules as before.”

“But you didn’t cash out your request from the previous night, so how is that fair?” You ask.

“Hmm…then how about this. If you win, I’ll fulfill any request of yours. If I win, you’re mine once your contract ends with Zen’in.”

You freeze, blood running cold. You never told him that your contact would be up soon. You made sure to dance around the question, so how did this man find out?

“Just who are you?”

Geto grins. “Play the game to find out.”

You shuffle the cards. Geto deals them out. You look at the hand you’ve been dealt and off the bat it doesn’t look the best. No surprise when Geto gets the first set, but his question throws you off.

“What do you want to do once your contract ends with Zen’in?”

You blink in confusion, but answer honestly. “I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t know who I am outside of this job.”

The next set and question is yours. “What is your real job?”

“I guess the proper term would be Boss,” Geto hums. “But Head of the Geto Family Syndicate works just as well.”

Your heart tightens. “You’re yakuza…”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Just your shitty luck. Why does fate hate you so? No matter what you do, you can’t seem to get away from the mob, even though you aren’t intentionally seeking them out. Even worse, you’ve been dancing right in the palm of the boss’s hand all while ogling him while he wasn’t looking. And to make matters worse, if you lose, you will be leaving one contract just to walk straight into another.

No. You won’t let that happen. Not again.

“Why do you want me to work for you?” You ask next after securing another set.

“I never said work for me,” Geto corrects. “I said you would be mine.”

“What does that entail?”

The man grins. “You can’t ask two questions, but to answer your first, I want you because I’m greedy like that. If I find something interesting or worthwhile, why would I not try to keep it?”

His stare is intense, daunting yet enticing. Why did he have to be so tempting? You should have never agreed to play along, because you were spiraling faster than you could control.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Geto asks, placing down another set.

Before you stop yourself, you respond, “that I want you, but I can’t.”

“Says who?” Geto prods. When did he get so close? One moment he’s on the opposite side of the couch, and the next, he’s inches away from your face. His familiar cologne fills your nose in a comforting touch.

“You’re dangerous.”

“You’re surrounded by danger already from working for Zen’in. What’s stopping you now?”

Your eyes meet his dark ones, serious but oddly soft. “I’m scared that I will enjoy it more than I should.”

“Sweetheart, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And his lips were on yours. You aren’t quite sure who leaned in first, not that it mattered. He tastes faintly of liquor, but is otherwise gentle. However, he doesn’t linger long, much to your dismay, pulling away after a few seconds too soon to admire your flustered face.

“Let’s call the game here,” Geto says, slightly out of breath. “You were in the lead, so what is it that you want from me?” He cups your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you ask.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Geto does without complaint, this time with more urgency. His scent is suffocating. Your head feels hazy, scrambled thoughts only on the man before you and the way his gentle touch electrifies your skin. A soft moan leaves your lips as Geto kisses across your jawline.

“Is a kiss truly all you want?” he teases all while loosening the tie around his neck. “You could stand to be a little more greedy, you know?” He pops one button of your vest open. Then the second. Then the last, sliding the material down your shoulders. “If you want something from me, you need to use your Big Girl words, or else I can’t help you.”

“I…” The words are stuck in your throat. What did you want? Was it okay for you to want something? “I don’t wanna…” a small whimper leaves your lips as Geto’s teeth grazes the side of your neck after unbuttoning your shirt’s collar. “Don’t wanna be selfish.”

“And I’m telling you to be. Now what do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want you, Suguru.”

The sound of his name on your lips is heavenly, and Geto forgets about teasing you any longer. He pins you to the couch with ease, using one hand to grip your wrists while the other pulls at your shirt, the buttons popping off one by one, all while his lips are on yours again, sucking on them until they’re swollen. His hands tickle your sides as he explores your body, stopping only to unclasp your bra. The cool air makes you shiver.

Kissing you was sweet and addicting, and he wanted…no, needed, to know what you tasted like elsewhere. Swiftly, Geto picks you up, the couch not spacious enough. He clumsily stumbles to one of the bedrooms, his mouth attaching to one of your bare breasts. You whimper as he bites at your sensitive nipple.

“Suguru,” you moan, tugging at his hair, pressing your chest closer making Geto grunt. You end up pulling his hair out of its bun, his black locs cascading down his shoulders. As you both tumble into the king sized bed, it tickles your nose.

“Before we go any further,” Geto suddenly pulls away, walking around to the nightstand. He rummaged through one of the drawers before finding a box of condoms. “Do you have any hard boundaries?” At the shake of your head, he nods. “Still, give me a safe word just in case I’m too much.”

You think for a moment before answering, “gold.”

“Good,” Geto says. He undoes the first few buttons of his dress shirt, tattoos peeking across his collarbone. “Cause if you need me to stop, you’re going to have to scream it, because I’m going to keep going until I have my fill of you.”

Geto grabs you by your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed while pulling your slacks down to your ankles. He settles between your legs, bending down to give a slow lick up up your clothed pussy, tasting your wetness that’s seeped through the fabric. You gasp, back arching off the bed. Groaning at your sweet taste, Geto could feel his cock stir within his pants.

“Fuck…I’m going to savor this.” He pulls your panties down with his teeth. His hot breath on your cunt has you dripping with need. Your pretty lips are already glistening.

“Suguru, please,” you whimper.

“Whatever you want.” Pressing his tongue, he takes a long slow lick up your folds. The sensation is electrifying, high pitched moans leaving your lips which you try to cover with your hand.

Geto spreads your legs open wider, pressing his mouth as close as he can get to your cunt. He is aggressive, messily slurping up all you offer. His tongue weaves through your folds, and his harsh sucks against your clit makes you cry out, fingers gripping at his long hair.

“Gods you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Geto groans, the pain of you tugging at his scalp turning him on just as much as the taste of your arousal on his tongue. “Fuck, baby, pull my hair more.”

“Fuck! Suguru I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull at Geto’s hair roughly, making a throaty groan leave his lips. The built up pressure in your abdomen snaps, and euphoria rocks your body as your orgasm hits you hard. Your release coats Geto’s tongue, and he’s greedy, continuing to drink you up until your legs are trembling from overstimulation.

“T-too much! W-wait-“ you whimper, writhing away. Geto’s grip on your thighs tightens. He delivers one last hard suck against your clit before pressing a parting kiss against your sloppy lips.

“Don’t try to leave me now, sweetheart,” Geto says. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, sliding it down his broad shoulders. Two intricate tattoo sleeves cover his arms from his collarbone down to his wrists. They’re dark yet beautifully done, adding to his handsome appeal. Who knew tattoos could be so sexy.

“I said I’m going to have my way with you until I have my fucking fill, and merely having your taste on my tongue won’t satisfy me.” Geto loosens his belt, already feeling some sort of relief from the way his aching cock pressed against his pants. Fuck. The way he needed you was maddening. His body was hot and just begging to be inside you, to feel your walls clench around him, to have you close and crying out his name.

“Come’ere,” Geto instructs. “Crawl.”

You shakily get on to your hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where he stood. Your face feeling hot from embarrassment but your body betraying you in the way you could feel your needy pussy throb in anticipation. Geto almost loses what little composure he has left when you stare up at him through your lashes, innocent and cute.

“I don’t think I need to spell it out for you. Help me out, will ya?” Geto watches while you loosen his pants so that they fall to the floor. You’re slightly nervous looking at the size of the bulge pressing against his boxers, and your suspicions are confirmed when you pull his erection free. He’s big, thick and stiff against his abdomen, twitching ever so slightly as the cool air teases him. The tip’s an angry red, leaking pre cum already, and you’re dying for a taste.

Geto himself could almost sigh in relief. Any longer and he thought he’d burst. He tears open a condom and gives it to you. “Put it on for me?” You do, rolling it over his length, teasingly slow. Geto shivers at your touch. “Such a damn minx.” He flips you on your backside, aligning himself at your entrance and kissing your jaw. “Tell me your safe word again.”

“Gold,” you reply.

“Good fucking girl.” Geto bottoms out in a single thrust, ripping a moan from your lips. “Fuckkk,” he groans. “Fucking knew you’d fit around me perfectly.”

He experimentally moves his hips, the stretch of his cock filling you deliciously all the way and kissing the deepest parts of your spongy walls. Geto curses again, folds your legs over his shoulders, and rams into you until you’re seeing stars.

“A-h f-fuck S-suguru-“ You babble incoherently. Your mind blank and the air knocked out of your lungs as his cock kisses your cervix again. And again. And again until seconds later you’re creaming around him.

“Such a messy cunt,” Geto chuckles, admiring the ring of your arousal that coats his length as he bullies into your weepy hole, not stopping just because you came. “Just listen to the sound of her sucking me in. She doesn’t want to let me go. Fuck. Gripping me so tightly I could fucking burst. Greedy. Greedy. Just fucking greedy.”

“Fuck-Suguru, s’too much!” You felt lightheaded. He’s too rough, chasing his own high. And with the position he has you in, his cock presses so deep. His face sheens with sweat causing his hair to stick to his face, and his eyes glossed over, solely focused on bringing you over the edge.

“Awe, it’s too much?” Geto taunts, dragging his cock back out slowly, allowing you to feel every inch before slamming back in. “I never said I’d be nice. Go on, give me another orgasm then maybe I’ll consider slowing down.”

You felt your stomach tightening, tears brimming your eyelashes. “S-so mean,” you whimper.

Geto grins. “Mean? I’m just a greedy fucking bastard who wants more than what he needs. I won’t be satisfied unless I have you cumming around my cock over and over until you don’t remember anything else but the way my cock molds your pussy into its shape and the name of the man who fucks you silly.”

He grips your chin, kissing into you with urgency. Your moans muffled into small whines as you arch off the bed, raising your hips to meet his that still when his orgasm hits. Geto groans, biting your lip. He releases into the condom feeling his abdomen constrict and heavy balls tighten to the point of breaking. His body rocks, his face burying into the crook of your neck as the hard orgasm hits him with intensity.

“Ugh…fuck fuck…” Geto captures your lips again, this time more gentle. “Damn I’ve never cum that hard.” He checks to make sure you’re ok, wiping the stray tears that rolled down your cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm…just…blissful…” you mutter sleepily, completely fucked out to the point of exhaustion. Geto laughs.

“Wait one second.” He slowly pulls out, tying the condom up carefully not to spill anything. He disappears into the bathroom only to return a moment later with a wet, warm towel. As he wipes you down, Geto secretly admires his handy work, the hickies and marks already starting to darken purple.

“What are you doing?” You ask, wincing when you try to sit up. Your hips were on fire and your legs felt like jello.

“Taking care of you?” Geto responds as if it were obvious.

“Why?”

“Why?” He scoffs. “I can be a gentleman too, you know.” His eyes soften seeing your slight discomfort. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer honestly. “I liked it.”

“Good.” Geto presses a kiss to your temple, settling beside you. “Cause I intend for this not to be the last time.”

Your gentle smile turns into a frown. Sure…it was great now. But in 3 months time, who knew where you’d be at? Your contract will end with Naoya, if he doesn’t find out what you’ve done beforehand and fires you or extends your time with him. Plus, it wasn’t like you could have a relationship with Geto, or a normal one at that. With his line of work, it would be impossible. And did you truly want to get involved knowing it was how you ended up in your current situation in the first place?

“What are you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?” Geto questions. Though meant to be lighthearted, there’s underlying concern in his voice.

“There can’t be a next time,” you say. “In three months, I’m free from Naoya and can leave. So we should just say our farewells now before we get too attached.”

Geto stares at you blankly for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “You’re so cute, trying to act all serious and considerate.” He pinches your cheek making your pout.

“Stop, I’m serious.”

“And so was I,” Geto counters. When you avoid eye contact, he turns your cheek to face him. “In fact, you actually still owe me from our first game of Go Fish. I don’t quite remember cashing in my request. So I’m using it now: in three months, when your contract ends, you are to come stay with me.”

“But I-“

“I can arrange for you to work or do whatever hobbies you want. That is not a problem. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you, so just stay by my side. Can you fulfill this one selfish request of mine?”

His words are sincere. His touch is gentle, and you find yourself leaning into his embrace despite your better judgment. You’re surprised by how hard his heart’s racing. “Okay,” you finally answer. “I’ll go with you.”

Geto visibly relaxed. His arms wrap themselves around you. “Good…I promise. I’ll protect you.”

You’re foolish. You’re playing a dangerous game that could end up with you getting hurt instead.

But Geto Suguru is a greedy man.

What he wants, he gets.

And he always takes precious care of what is his.

[slytherinboysvip]

Controlling Tom Riddle

Honestly idk what to classify this as, but it’s kinda like idk.. deranged? maybe not but I have more like this up my sleeve if it does well (TW: manipulation, unspoken gaslighting, extremely controlling, idk what else to add)

You loved Tom. You truly, truly did. But he tended to take the term "I just want to lock you up" a little too seriously.

I mean, it wasn’t much at first, barely even noticeable in fact. Simple things such as suggesting what you should wear, insisting the more modest options were much more flattering on you; “It brings out your eyes, doll.”

He would remind you of your favorite foods, and when to and when not to eat them.. “Not now, it’s far too late for late night snacks. However, I have something I think might suffice for you.”

Overtime the helpful things became him controlling everything you wore, no shirts were allowed to be low enough cut for anyone to see down- tall people included. You wanted to comfortably wear your uniform? Absolutely not. It had to be perfect, and to show just how much of a “good girl” you are for him, you get cute bows in your hair every morning; special spell from him.

His behavior didn’t bother you, how could it? Yes you couldn’t wear certain things, but everything you got in return was amazing. Nobody understands him the way you do, they don’t know him like you do. That’s what you’re constantly telling your friends. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s romantic.”

Romance? It really is funny how blurry the lines get between romance and control, dress up per se? Once again with the dressing you- believe me, he spoils your beyond belief. Though, most of it is “My eyes only.” Slowly your closet went from things you’ve gotten from friends, shirts you once loved, to everything Tom approved.

It didn’t matter though, because he still spoils you.

Being in class was an entirely different story. In the beginning you simply couldn’t speak to any other guys, you understood, not wanting him interacting with girls either it seemed fair. Until you couldn’t sit with any of them, problem being, its not like you can just chose where you sit everytime. That doesn’t matter to Tom though, “You seemed to betray me today hun.” Nice name, yet the tone anything but.

It was pretty sudden when Tom just happened to to become your seating partner in every single class, and yes, that somehow included ones he once hadn’t attended. But this was a good thing. You got to be with your boyfriend all day long, that’s so exciting. Watching your every move, telling you what you did wrong on your work “Can’t have a dumb girl, can I doll?”

It was sweet. He was being helpful, you always had help. Just don’t ask for too much, then that makes you stupid, idiotic, dense. That’s according to him though, and yes his words. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’d do without me, you’re just so mindless most of the time. It’s infuriating”

But no matter what it’s always okay because, “You know I never mean what I say, Love. I’ll take you out, even buy you something new”

You see, none of this happened quickly. It was like one moment you controlled your life, the next moment you didn’t. You lived in his dorm, once again don’t ask how, Tom Riddle has his ways. He chose your outfits the days no uniforms were needed, but of course only because “I just love picking out what my girl wears, you love it too, don’t you, hm?”

Now here you are, unable to speak to anyone really, no boys, no friends because well, they only attract unwanted male attention of course. It was crazy to think you’d leave your friends behind for a boy, not just your friends really more like your entire old life, but Tom wasn’t just any boy. No, he had full control over you and you both knew it. You loved it.

I know im saying idk a lot but idk how i feel about this 😭😭

once again i hope you all enjoy <33

[hollybell51]

Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It��s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter II

On my last sweep of the house, I check each pledge before the party. Moonlight™ is now partnered with Greek life on campus, and it's the perfect tool for hazing. As president, the app recognizes me as their manager, so I alone get to boss the mind controlled idiots around!

"Pledge!" I snap.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he barks back, yelling it loud and clear without any reservations.

I forget what his name is; Jason, maybe? As long as he's being puppetted around by the Moonlight™ app, it doesn't matter. He'll answer to anything I call him with a rigid smile and a purple stare. He might technically be asleep, but honestly I prefer underclassmen this way. They're much less annoying.

"Scrub these toilets good!" I sneer enjoying the way he hangs on my every word, "You're the janitor for Delt-Ep-Phi's party tonight! I don't want to see any shit or puke unless you're mopping it up! Got it?"

"Yes, brother, sir!"

Just like that, my obedient janitor agrees to my orders and resumes mopping like his life depends on it. At the very least, Moonlight™ has made these pledges more effective. It would have been impossible to force menial work on a freshman without getting a half-assed result. Too many of the guys at this school are rich kids from prep schools: the kind that would be mortified to be near a mop, let alone clad in some sticky maintenance uniform. I bet Jacob, or whatever the fuck his name is, would be mortified to find out that this thing hasn't been washed in years. We just keep throwing it in the closet for the next pledge we have moonlight as janitor. The only thing that makes the dank BO of the garb bearable is the accompanying scent of cleaning chemicals.

I ignore the smell and give the guy a slap on the neck, leaving him to mop the bathroom in silence. My next stop is the kitchen, where I check on my younger cousin Tristan. Tonight, he's just the dishwasher.

"Sup, dude," I say, "Grab me a beer."

"Yes, brother, sir!" he yells back like an army cadet, obediently fetching a bottle from the fridge and opening it for me.

"How's dish-duty?"

"It's amazing! I love being the dishwasher, brother, sir!" my cousin beams.

It's weird to see him like this; with glowing eyes and forced grin. The Tristan I know is charming and unbothered, normally gliding through conversation with subtle looks and gestures. He's normally got this cool style that wins over girls and intimidates guys, so it doesn't help that he's all dressed up in the frat's old dish-boy uniform. I really hate that an upperclassman wrote on his forehead. That'll make classes next week a bit awkward. I suppose it's just a normal part of hazing, and I'm not going to make an exception just because he's my family.

"You gonna be a good dishwasher for the party tonight?" I probe, taking a sip of beer.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he declares, "I'll be ready at the sink for anything that needs cleaned, and I'll be ready to refill any of my brother's drinks."

"That's right, and remember only brothers can get a refill. Girls have to ask one of us to get it from you," I make sure to clarify. It makes it a lot easier to pick up girls when they have to approach us for their next drink. If only I could use Moonlight™ on them to put them to work as the frat's strippers or something. That'd really be getting the most out of the app!

Heavy bass blares from the other room: the party's getting started. I've already spent too much time with Tristan, so I say bye to my cousin and head on out to the main area.

Standing by the door is our coat rack: his name's Kyle, and he's much better as furniture.

"Your arms tired yet, Kyle?" I sneer.

"No, brother, sir!" he grins back.

I laugh a bit when I notice someone wrote a 'kick me' message, pointing at his crotch. A guy like Kyle could definitely use a good kick in the nuts. The freshman came to our call-out with an insanely high opinion of himself. He seemed to think he had every right to get in because he was a legacy. Apparently, his dad is rich alumni so we couldn't refuse him, but that didn't make him immune to our new hazing ritual via Moonlight™. He definitely got the worst job in the house. He might not be scrubbing toilets or cleaning dishes, but his arms are sure to be sore as fuck by morning; not to mention all the kicks in the groin he's guaranteed to get!

"Are you gonna hold those coats, pledge?" I snarl in his face, getting only a cold smile in return.

"Yes, brother, sir!"

"And why is that?" I spit menacingly.

"Because I'm a coat rack, brother, sir!"

"That's right, and coat racks don't react when they get a kick in the balls, right?"

"No, brother, sir!"

With a chuckle, I swing my foot into his crotch. Kyle jerks, but his lips remain stretched across his face in a toothy grin. His body can't help but flinch at the sudden pain, but it only takes a second for Moonlight™ to reassert control. Barely a few seconds have passed and he's back, stiffly holding his arms out, sweating from the effort of being completely still.

"Thank you, brother, sir!" he manages to say. I guess one of the upperclassmen told Kyle to thank anyone who gives him a kick. That'll be a fun little party trick!

I give the guy a little slap on the face before I leave. Tonight's party is gonna be off the hook! I've still got some time before it starts, maybe I can catch a minute to relax in my room. It's not that late yet, but I'm starting to feel the effects of a long day. I'd love to just lay down, even just for a second.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep...

The next day, I wake up when my phone dings with a notification from the frat group chat...

"What the fuck!" I jump out of bed, "What is this picture?"

Though I don't want it to be true, the picture appears to be me. I'm dressed up like some stupid waiter, with the same cringe smile and glowing eyes as any the other Moonlight™ employee, but that can't be right. We only use the app on pledges! There's no way in hell any of my brothers would sign me up like this!

I rack my brain for any memory of last night's party, trying to recall any clue that'll tell me this picture is a lie. The endeavor only hurts my head, but I do notice that I feel unusually sweaty for having just gotten an entire night's rest. My arm feels sore, and my pajamas feel awkward like I was drunk pulling them on.

"Dude, you were a great manservant last night!" one text reads.

"Totally think you should quit that finance degree and be a full-time butler!"

"I could get used to you fetching us drinks and giving us foot rubs!" another adds, "We should have done this years ago!"

I stare at the texts in horror and step into my bathroom. Sure enough, I see the word 'buttler' written across my forehead in sharpie. Someone must have thought it was hilarious to draw a stupid goatee on my face as well. My eye twitches as I stare at my reflection, rage boiling up inside of me.

"Why the fuck did you do that to me!" I text back, "I'm the fucking president!" Even through the phone, my words drip with malice.

"Don't dish out what you can't take!" one replies simply, "Just a prank, bro!"

I try to slow my breaths, but my fists are clenched painfully tight. I'm gonna beat whoever's idea this was! It's one thing for us to use Moonlight™ on freshmen, but I'm a senior and I refuse to spend my last year in this frat moonlighting as a butler! I'm supposed to be getting drunk and laid at these parties! Not marching around with a bowtie and silver tray, serving drinks and whatever the fuck else!

"I wouldn't get yourself too worked up, dude," a guy texts, "You might be in control now that your awake, but remember you're at our whim the second you fall asleep. I could have you scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush tonight if you don't behave yourself. Lol."

The message makes me see red, but he's right. An overwhelming sense of helplessness falls over me. I could beat those fuckers up now, but what would that make them do later? They already wrote on my face with permanent ink! What if they made me shave my head or get a tattoo! Fuck!

This can't be legal, but honestly, I have no idea what the contract stated when we signed up for the app! How do I even go about cancelling this Moonlight™ job? The tech is so convoluted and hard to use!

In the meantime, I'll be lucky if all they make me do is serve them their drinks and do their chores. I guess I can live with that for a short while.

With a grimace of resignation, I text back, "Good one, guys."

[miss-cincaide]

Pretty Broken Things

Summary: Toji Fushiguro was a cruel, possessive man who didn’t like it when someone played with his toys. He was especially unhappy when someone touched his favourite toy. The last straw was when you decided to not do as told. it was just jealousy, pure and simple.. Or was it?

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Toji Fushuguro  Kinktober prompt 5: Jealousy sex:  WC: 3.7 K Warnings: Dark Content, Minors DNI!This fic contains: toxic relationship, Toji is a huge red flag & yandere, dirty talk, object play in mouth and v (weapon), hj, dub-con, yandere behaviour, dirty talk, alcohol and cursing, mystery and murder (side char) Author note: Am I ever gonna write a healthy, green flag Toji? Honestly, not sure.. But what I am sure about is that, that day is not today!  Enjoy

Toji had the emotional maturity of a pre-schooler!

The spoiled brat kind with a ton of games and toys always cried for new ones, yet once he got them, he’d play with them for a week before discarding them in the back of the closet, never to be touched again. At least until someone paid attention, or, god forbid, played with them. In that instant, Toji would have a change of heart, and those unused things he hadn’t touched in months became the very best things in existence. 

Except toys weren’t toys, but human beings and unused things were the countless women he seduced with his bad-boy persona. All those poor bitches who thought they’d be able to change Toji. To melt his jackass persona, to claw their way into his heart and nest there for life while he burned the world that wronged them. Be special to him, his ‘one and only princess’.

Fucking idiots. Including yourself. 

Still, you knew that no matter how many women he eye-fucked on the dance floor, how many women he had in his lap at the drinking booth or how many throats he shoved his tongue down, the second someone showed interest in you, you would have his full and undivided attention. You were his ‘favourite’ for a reason, after all. 

So you knew exactly what you were doing when you sat at the half-empty bar beside a suit-clad man instead of joining the other fawning girls at Toji’s booth. Before you even managed to get comfortable, the man turned to face you, flashed you a smile and leaned just a little too close for comfort. “Hey, pretty, you alone?” 

You saw his eyes trail down your cleavage, which moderately showed through the little black dress you picked for the evening. The dress was moderately modest and stopped a few inches above your knees, but it hicked up deliciously up your leg as you crossed your legs in your seat. The man’s eyes dropped instantly to your bare thigh, then back up to your face. The lewd grin on his face clearly said he appreciated your beauty. 

You, in turn, resisted the urge to slap that smirk and wiggling eyebrows right off his face. If the bastard thought he could pull off Toji’s signature move, he had another thing coming. Instead, you just gave him an awkward smile that looked a lot more like a grimace. That didn’t deter him; if anything, the man seemed to relish in your smile- the lack of an immediate rejection was taken as an invitation to continue. “Tell you what? Let me buy you a drink, and we will get to know each other a little better.” 

The hell no died on your lips the second you felt Toji’s menacing stare in your back. The scalding glare made you shudder. You knew he disapproved without turning around and seeing his frowning expression. You straightened your back a little and turned your entire body to face the stranger. Then you leaned against the bar and rested your head on your propped-up arm as you looked him up and down with a slightly more pleasant smile. “In that case, an old-fashioned, on the rocks.” 

The man whistled lowly, “A woman with character, I like that; I’m Tom, by the way” he motioned for the bartender to fix you your drink and put it on his tab, completely oblivious to the approaching threat, aka Toji, who abandoned is booth and made his way towards the bar. His baritone voice and the girl giggling on his arm enough on an announcement to draw heads, either in jealousy or frustration at his shameless loud behaviour. You heard him and the girl settle a few chairs away from you and order drinks of their own. 

You saw Toji from the corner of your eye, the unmistakable tension in his jaw and the warning stare that so obviously ordered you to quit playing about. Flipp the wus you were with and come over to him like a good girl. Be good. Be obedient. 

You turned your back more to him, avoided his stare and focused on the man in front of you. But you knew precisely what you were doing as you reached forward and accepted the drink. And then another one and a third. With each promile of alcohol, you became more and more relaxed, your smile less forced, and you even genuinely laughed at Tom’s awful jokes. 

You were entertained, far from happy, but at least you weren’t wasting away another day attention-less and pitiful, waiting for the off chance that Toji decided he was done whoring around and came back to you. 

You snorted at the thought, at your own damn foolishness, and masked by the half-quiet music of the bar and the clang of ice in your glass as you finished yet another drink. You turned expectedly back to your companion. Rather than refill your glass, he flashed you a toothy smile, then wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “How about we take this somewhere private?” 

You gaped. You also heard Toji snort into his drink. That was all the motivation you needed to agree. You let Tom help you off your barstool, then trail behind him towards the back exit of the bar. You doubted the two of you would make it very far from there. As you passed Toji, he froze you with his mere sideway glare.

“You’ve had your fun, doll” Toji growled, his dark blue eyes almost rage-black. “Behave.” 

You stepped in Toji’s direction, and his interest returned to the drink and the older woman that clung to him like a school girl. If you were pathetic for being hung up on Toji; this woman was just pitiful.

Tom glanced over his shoulder, noticed you didn’t follow him and stopped walking. An awkward look on his face, his hand in his hair as his eyes flickered from you, to the woman and then Toji. “Do you know this man?” 

You tore your eyes away from your competition to the stranger, then to Toji’s smug expression as if he expected you to settle on his other arm or replace the old hag he got bored of. Maybe, if you did it cleanly and with a good cat-fight, he’d even get you a drink as a reward. You glanced away from Toji, unable to look at that condescending look that clearly stated you weren’t going anywhere without him. You were His doll, his property through and through. 

 “No clue who that is.” 

You didn’t look at Toji, didn’t spare him a second glance, or even acknowledge the hackling woman on his arm who loudly made comments about you. Clearly, she was familiar with Toji’s favourite routine and intended to provoke you into a catfight. To secure her place beside him for a few more hours. To feel mighty that she could beat someone clearly 20 years younger than her, and to feel better about her own shitty self. 

You followed Tom outside the bar. You tried to look calm, but inside you were freaking out. What the fuck did you just do? God, you just knew Toji was going to make you regret it. Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. You should not have said that. Maybe there was still time to go back and apologize? 

You realized you were fucked.

The stranger pulled open the flimsy metal back door. It gave away with a squeak and your numb legs carried you into the cold outside. You felt sick to your stomach; anxiety spiked to unimaginable levels. You wobbled, stumbled, caught yourself last second without making it far from the damned bar. Tom came to stand in front of you; his hand on your arm steadied you.  “Hey there, you’re looking kinda–” Pang

You didn’t have time to react before hot blood sprayed over your hair and face, some of it dropped on your clothes. Your ears rang, the sound from the gunshot behind you deafening. For a second, everything was still, and your mind could not comprehend what had happened. You just stared at Tom’s face—how the concern look morphed into shock. His mouth opened and closed, a gurgling sound was all that came out. His hand tightened on your arm, then let go, and his body collapsed backwards onto the concrete floor with a ‘duns’. 

The reality came back. Your panic was unmistakable and unmanageable anymore.“Ahh-” 

“Shut up, whore!” Toji’s authoritative tone came from behind you, inside the bar, instantly silenced you. You glanced over your shoulder through the open door. The sight of him with his gun raised will forever be embedded in your memory. You swore it was still smoking, the comic-like white smoke poofing off the nuzzle, but it couldn’t be; that’s not how guns worked… did they? 

Toji stepped towards you, and that small act snapped you out of your trance. He was gonna kill you too; you were sure of it. Your legs moved towards the exit without registering it. No, you weren’t ready to die, you weren’t— 

Slam 

Your back slammed against the wall as Toji pounced on you; his entire weight restrained you with ease. Like a rag doll, he could manoeuvre you how he wanted to with practiced ease. “Owi-” Your whine was cut off as you caught sight of the gun, fliched as he brought it to your face. You could feel its heat and weight on your lower lip, the barrow aimed at you, angled at an awkward angle up. Would he shoot you in the face too? Shoot off your face? 

You froze, too afraid to move. To stunned to make a pip. 

“What don’t you fucking understand, whore? I said Shut. It.” Toji was furious; his eyebrows frowned, and a storm brewed in his expression. Such fucking jealous fury that you could have thought you had pissed in his cornflakes and then hand-fed it to him. A fury not warranted of you leaving a bar with another man. 

“ I decide what’s warranted you brat.” Toji snapped, having easily read your thoughts. “And I told you ‘behave’, loud and fucking clear, didn’t I? DIDN’T I?!” 

“ Yes”, you breathed, your eyes flickered to the side, your gaze landed on Tom’s lifeless body.  Your stomach turned, and bile rose in your mouth until Toji pulled back an inch and then slammed your body against the wall again. Stars danced in your vision, the need to be sick faded as your eyes landed back on his face. Another pained moan fell from your lips. 

Toji used that opportunity to push the gun barrel in your mouth. 

“ You look at me when I’m talking,” he growled, pushing the gun as far in as it would go. “The heck I’m supposed to do with you? Tsk. I turn my fucking head for a minute, and you’re whoring yourself out to some slimeball. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” 

You couldn’t tell what made Toji more furious; the fact that you were ‘whoring yourself out’ or the man you had picked for the occasion. Why the latter would matter you had no clue but you weren’t about to question him when he was in that mood. 

Seconds ticked by, yet to you they felt like agonizing years.

You swallowed thickly, the only movement you dared to do. Toji’s eyes flickered to your throat, then back to your face. The furious expression shifted into a toothy grin. “What are you waiting for? Special fucking invitation? You wanna slut around, then go on, suck this fucking gun like it were that filth dick.” 

“W-what?” You gasped; the words came out muffled. Surely he didn’t just-

“Suck it!” 

He did.  Fuck. How did you even..? Okay, no choice, you had to pretend it was a dick. Or a dildo. Yeah, that could work. It wouldn’t be the first time you sucked off an inanimate object. You just need to get your head in the game, focus, make it look sexy. Believe it. Or you’re done for. 

You took a deep breath through your nose, forced yourself to think of the last time you gave a blowjob, then shifted your head back just a little to give yourself more room to work with. Just a dildo, you told yourself before you started. You bobbed your head back, stuck your tongue out and ran it over the warm metal. Wiggled it over the barrel, lingered on the opening, and then took it back in your mouth as you could. Your eyes water,  lips brushed against Toji’s calloused fingers, then moved back as they twitched. 

You repeated the movement until the anger in his face melted into something carnal. Until you felt his bulge pressed against your thigh. You shivered despite yourself. Fuck he was getting off on this, wasn’t he? You glanced up at his face, and Tojil looked ready to fuck your brains out. 

 “Mmm, good little bitch. Rock that mouth. You look like such a slut sucking on my handgun.”Toji hummed; his eyes never left your. His gaze flickered between your eyes, your lips and the drool running down your chin“God, your mouth is the best thing bout you, isn’t it? Can’t wait to have it on me.”

You flushed, your hand moved from your side to him. You wrapped your fingers around his cock through his sweatpants, the material loose enough for you to grasp him firmly. You could tell he wasn’t fully there yet but fuck he wasn’t soft either. You moaned; Toji bucked into your hand, and you twisted your wrist in time with his thrusts. Your breathing grew laboured, closer to his. He slapped your hand away from himself before he could cum in his pants like a teenager. “Not gonna ah happen.” he rasped, punching the wall beside your head to clear his mind. 

You jumped, flinched off the gun, a string of saliva between you and the barrel. “You say that but...” 

“ Take it back; I like you quiet,” Toji trailed off, readjusting the grip on the gun. His fingers of his other hand over the barrel of the gun gathered some saliva from the corner of your lips and rolled it between his thumb and finger. His eyes ran you up and down before he kicked your legs open. Those coated fingers went straight under your dress, rolling the damp digits over panties, then under in slow, steady circles right over your clit until you threw your head back, moaning.  “Such a nasty slut, I own” 

“Hmmm” you groaned, cracking an eye open as he pressed a kiss to your puffy lips, pushed his tongue it, swirled it in that breath-taking way that only Toji could. You broke the kiss first, panting pitifully. “L-lets go home, baby?” 

“mmmpgh. Nasty sluts don’t need privacy.” Toji sneered; although he was smiling, his eyes still showed nothing but pure jealous fury. “You were gonna fuck that bastard in this very alley, no need to get shy now” He pulled his hand back, gripped the fabric of your panties, then tore them open. “Dumb sluts will fuck anything and everything, won’t they, Y/N?” 

You gasped, whined shook your head; your eyes grew to the sizes of saucers as Toji grabbed your free hand and forced it around the momentarily forgotten gun. The hilt felt warm and clammy, sticky and much heavier than you imagined.

 “T-toji What?” you gasped, shuddering as he trailed your finger over the trigger. 

“Press here, bunny, and you’ll blow yourself a fourth hole, got it?” You didn’t manage to react as Toji lowered the gun between your legs and pushed it in. 

“Toji!” You screamed, bucking away from the metal. His hand, with yours in it, followed your movement.    

“Shh, shh shh like that doll, just like that” The gun pushed deeper into you, coming to a stop at the hilt. He leaned back and took a look at your, your petrified expression, the gun in your pussy and cursed. “That’s it, doll, Treat it like a small dildo, c’mon no need to look so scared, you’ve handled bigger.” His hand let you go and you almost dropped the gun, but Toji caught it and pushed it back into your hand.

 “You drop it- you’ll shoot us both.” Toji growled, waited until you nodded before he removed his hand from the hilt. Your hand remained frozen, unmoving. Toji didn’t care. His fingers went straight back to your clit, rubbing quick circles on it until you arched your back and clenched, then lowered yourself, seeking release on the metal. 

“Ahh y-you’re a monster Toji.” You twisted your face away from him. Toji chuckled and dropped his head on your shoulder, biting at the exposed flesh. 

“ The worst one.” He agreed his fingers picked up speed, so did your hips. Your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around the gun, hand trembled. A little more, a little– “N-nnooah” you threw your head back; despite your protest, your pussy did the opposite, gushing around the gun. Gushing turned to squirting as Toji’s fingers kept going; his other hand dropped down to your hand and the gun and thrust it in and out of you.

 You screamed, and dug your nails into his forearm, the only thing that kept you upright. 

“Fucking nasty” Toji bit your earlobe until you listened. “ You think some random stranger can get you off like this? Match your freak, babydoll? Squirting on my loaded gun in your pussy.” Toji chuckled. “Will you start creaming if I take the safety off too?” 

You mewed, then heard the harrowing click you hadn’t realized was on. Knowing it was off, however, was a completely different story. Your eyes widened, pleasure replaced by panic. He was still jealous? Still not done?!

Fuckfuckfuck. 

“I get it, I am sorry Toji, Please, please forgive me!” you sobbed, your thighs shaking as much as your hand on his arm. 

He was gonna kill you. He was gonna fuck you then kill you. Humiliate you, then pull that fucking trigger straight in your pussy.

FuckingFuckFucktown.

You didn’t want to die; you weren’t ready to die. And you most certainly didn’t want him to pull the trigger inside you. “I’ll do anything just.. Just give me another chance. Please baby, To-bear” 

Toji hummed, his teeth left your skin and his head dropped on your shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Hmm you’re lucky I like you.” He whispered, waited, then twisted the gun a little inside you. 

“I love you, I love you too Toji!” you squealed. 

“ Good. Now then out of love here’s what we’re gonna do, doll” Toji pulled the gun out of your pussy, and stared at the slick dripping thing before he returned it to its holster on his hip. “We’re gonna walk back to m’car, take a trip, and you’ll show me just how sorry you are. And if this happens again-” 

“ It won’t, I promise!” you stared up at Toji with earnest eyes, ready to beg and plead you case as many times as it took for him to go from this to the less manic usual. 

Silence passed until he chuckled, took half a step back, and pulled you to his side. His arm around your shoulder and your face buried in his side, almost as if he tried to shield you from the corpse behind you. “That’s a good doll, don’ make me regret it, cuz if you do…” 

Toji didn’t need to finish that sentence. He didn’t need to. You knew that if you disappointed him again you and the left-behind body would have a lot in common..

— 

The last of the warm sun rays set and were replaced by barely-there moonlight before anything changed in the small behind-the-bar alley. The metal door to the significantly livelier bar creaked opened, and a pair of heel-clad feet stepped out and then shut the door behind them. 

The owner of the feet stood still for a moment, sighed, and then moved closer to the chilled body. As she drew closer, she raised her shoe and kicked the man hard on the fancy dress shoe.

“Oj how long are you gonna waste time laying in the middle of the shitty alley?” A female voice carried through, shortly followed by the light of a cigarette. She made a few more steps, came to a stop in front of her face, and stared down at the man with a bullet wound in his head. She took a deep drag of her cigarette before  she flickered some ash sight onto his chest “And what kind of cover name is ‘Tom’ anyway?” 

“Hey, don’t disrespect the dead, Shoko,” ‘Tom’ cracked an eye open with a lazy grin. He stretched his limbs as though he had just taken a long nap before he slowly sat up, each bone and muscle groaning in protest from laying on the hard pavement god knows how long. Reaching up, he wiped the blood and gunk off his face onto the back of his fancy suit sleeve “- And what’s wrong with ‘Tom’ anyway?” 

“ I’d respect you if you were actually dead. ‘Tom’ sounds like you’re over compensating for your lack of personality with a foreign name. ‘Toru would have worked just fine”, Shoko replied, ignoring his silent request to help pull him up. Satoru whined in response. “Now, let's go before someone actually calls the police on a ‘deadbody’. Last thing I need is to type up another death certificate for you-” 

“-Please do! Then I catch a break from the higher-ups-” 

Shoko kicked his leg, making sure to dive the heel into his thigh until he yelped and shut up. “-Shut it and lets go. Jesus, Toji is a horrid influence on your already awful personality.” Shoko grew tired of waiting for Satoru to pick himself off the ground and turned to leave, not waiting to see if he’d follow.

“ Aww, love you too Shoko, Owie, ow ow ow everything hurts.. huh-hey! Wait for me!” 

Author note: Well this is my attempt at two things at once, Dark dark content and Mystery. Well what do you think? Why was Satoru under cover (Tom?) and was Toji really 'just jealous'?

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[genshin-obsessed]

Hey there! Nice to meet ya! Could I request Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, and Wriothesley's s/o crying when she sees how bloody, battered and bruised they are?

Howdy! Nice to meet you as well! Thank you for the request, I hope you like it ^w^

Your boyfriend wasn't entirely reckless, but there were times when you wondered if he tried hard enough to... you know, not get hit? Normally, you're the one patching him up, and for the little wounds, you manage. But the days he comes back looking like he barely escaped with his life, you can't help but feel that deep seated fear reeling it's ugly head to remind you of the awful reality that one day, he may not come back.

Those are the hardest days for you.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Kaeya

"Ow- hey, gentle." Kaeya said with a soft hiss as he felt the rushing pain through his wound, making the other parts of his arm hurt.

"Oh? Can't handle that?" You asked with a slightly frustrated tone as you kept cleaning the wound, not being much gentler. Kaeya frowned and let out a soft sigh as he turned to look at you. He was silent for a moment as he studied you- you looked angry but he could see you biting your bottom lip a little to keep it from trembling. Not to mention the excessive blinking to keep those tears back.

"I'm... ok, (y/n). I promise. It's just a small scratch. It doesn't even hurt that bad, I was just joki-"

"Stop lying to me." You said sternly, your hand pausing as your gaze met his. You could see the guilt lingering within. "I know it hurts. I know you were scared. I know... so stop lying." Kaeya reached up with his calloused hands and gently took yours.

"I'm sorry. I know I tend to worry you a lot. I'm really sorry." He murmured honestly, watching as your defenses broke and the tears filled your eyes. "Don't cry- please, don't cry." He said with a frown as he hugged you against him tightly. Blood slowly trickled down his arm but he didn't care. At the end of the day, it really didn't hurt that bad because you were taking care of him. But he did vow to be much more careful, seeing the toll it was taking on you.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Diluc

Diluc sat there silently as you cleaned up the wounds. He didn't say a word or even flinch. You were just as silent, soft sighs escaping you when you turned away from him. He didn't say anything, but he definitely heard them. Once you finished up, you turned away from him, gathering the bloodied towels and tissues that lay around you two.

It was odd. Usually, the second he'd come through the door, you'd begin to scold him and the entire time you cleaned and dressed every single wound, even that tiny scratch that wasn't bleeding, your scolding never stopped. But tonight, you didn't say a single word. Not only that, but you avoided meeting his eyes which just sent a wave of discontent through him.

He waited and waited and waited, but you never spoke. As his crimson eyes watched you gather the cotton and tissues, he finally found his voice and called out.

"I'm... sorry."

"You're always sorry." You replied after a moment of hesitation. That was true. Diluc often got injured and would really just have an apology to give you. No assurances or anything. None that mattered anyway. Before you could leave, his arm shot out and he caught your wrist. Ever so gently, he pulled you back to him, turning your head so that you were looking at him.

"I know. I know, I don't have much other than a sorry to give you. But... I need to know if you're ok. I can tell when you're upset and I know you may not want to talk to me right now. But-" before Diluc could finish his sentence, you broke down. Tears filled your eyes and streamed down your cheeks and you fell against him. Without hesitation- without a word- his arms engulfed you in a warm embrace. So, you weren't ok and he could tell, he wasn't an idiot. But when you sighed and said you were fine, it brought him some form of comfort. But this? This was more painful than any wound on his body.

After that night, you saw less and less unnecessary wounds on him.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Childe

His bruises and bloodied wounds almost always started some sort of argument between you two. You just never understood why he was so careless. Fine, whatever, he liked fighting. But why was he always getting hurt? Not only did he get hurt, sometimes it was bad. Stitches bad.

"You keep frowning like that and your face is gonna get stuck like that." He joked, only for you to glare in his direction. He always did that, he always trivialized the worry you felt for him as if it was unnecessary.

"I'm not a kid, stop it. You know this worries me. Why do you always end up this badly hurt?" Childe actually kept a lot hidden from you, especially when it came to his work as a Fatui. It's not that he didn't trust you- no way. It was just safer for you to not know about his work. Having knowledge was already dangerous, so he just... lied.

"Listen," he began softly as he grabbed your working hand, making that frown on your face deepen. "You're right, ok? I should be more careful and sometimes I'm not. But please don't be too angry with me. Not for my sake, but your own. I don't want you to be sad all night."

"Look at you, Ajax," you said, your voice beginning to shake with the emotions you were so desperately trying to contain. "Look at yourself and t-tell me how I'm n-not supposed to be sad." The tears filled your eyes and when you attempted to blink them back, they just spilled. Childe didn't speak. He just pulled you against him, holding you tightly.

"They're just surface wounds, love. I swear to you- with everything that I am- no one is ever going to take me away from you. I'll always come home to you." And he kept that promise. He was a lot more careful though, doing his best to avoid frivolous fights. It was definitely a big change for him, but your tears that night, they hurt more than any wound he'd ever sustained.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Wriothesley

“It’s not that bad.” Wriothesley said as his gaze remained focused on your face. “It barely hurts, really. Can’t even feel it. I guess I’m just strong— Ack!”

You didn’t say a word, your eyes just shot up to Wriothesley who just sheepishly chuckled. Your silence was just the worst. He’d rather you yell at him, throw things at him, insult him— whatever. Just don’t stay quiet. Not that you've ever resorted to any of those, but he finds anger more manageable than silence.

“Come on, I’m ok. It hurts a little but what wound doesn’t? I really am fine.” He sighed after a moment and leaned back in the chair when you once again refused to speak or even look at him. He knew and understood why you were so upset with him. But it’s not like he could’ve helped it. He got into fights, he had to sometimes. If he backed down, he’d lose respect. It’s not like he fights every meathead out there, he just needs to teach certain people lessons. Doesn’t mean they won’t hit him back.

A small sniffle from you made his icy blue eyes shoot to you. They slowly widened as he felt a small droplet land on his arm.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry. I’m fine. I swear.” He said as he sat right back up and tried to grab your face. You brushed his hand away and kept cleaning the wound before he grabbed your wrist. “(Y/n), please look at me.” He murmured, finally making you stop.

“I don’t care if it doesn’t hurt you, it hurts me.” You didn’t have to say much after that as Wriothesley engulfed you into a tight hug.

It put things into perspective, that one little sentence. Those last three words. There was a drastic shift in his behavior after that day. He was more careful and avoided fights unless it was necessary. Even then, he’d try to push back. Did people question him after that? Of course they did, but Wriothesley only fought those who really required it.

[ladykakata]

Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich are honestly good influences on each other

I swear I'll write proper posts sometime, but it's been swilling around my head with my other thoughts, so I might as well put it down here.

Mickey and Ian are chaotic nonsense idiots, and yet I cannot argue they don't have a good as well as bad influence on each other and that develops as they age (and constantly get pulled back together whenever they break up lmao).

Ian's influence on Mickey

It's a running joke that Mickey in the early series is this filthy goblin just running around being a hoodlum and ... yeah, he is lmao. But it's very notable as the series progresses that he starts becoming cleaner and dressing nicer the more time he spends with Ian. The man specifically wore a shirt to see Ian in the mental ward ffs. Not only that he actually *tries* working a normal job and socialising, something he is deeply uncomfortable with, but does it for Ian's sake. It doesn't escape my notice that he specifically wants to work with Ian whenever he can, probably tying in to my earlier point that he is only completely comfortable around Ian.

If you told S1 Mickey he would be helping his paraplegic father into the house and getting home nursing for him, he would wonder what kind of sick joke you were playing. But he does, something that even surprises Ian at first. Ian inspires Mickey to talk more about his feelings, he openly admits to thinking about missing Ian, whereas before he threatened to cut Ian's tongue out for saying that Ian missed Mickey. The idea of Mickey changing ANYTHING for anyone else is foreign ... but not if Ian suggests it to him the right way.

Ian's non-judgemental or at least lightly judgemental treatment of Mickey allows the man to be far more comfortable with himself. Though still highly defensive, I think it's telling Mickey is completely unashamed to be a bottom in front of Ian, and Mickey can make socially awkward gestures or gaffs and Ian doesn't upbraid him or make him feel like shit for doing the 'wrong' thing. Hell, as much as Ian was utterly, UTTERLY confused at Mickey's groomzilla episode, he mostly kept his confusion silent and simply reined Mickey in when he was losing his temper with vendors. The flower shop scene has Mickey blithely retorting that while Ian was gay, he 'just likes having another man's dick in my ass'. Ian in the same scene was tensing his jaw at the homophobia from the florist, and normally Mickey is quick to snap at anyone who considers him gay ("You calliin' me gay?" before slamming a bar owner's head into the counter), he simply bats it away as he's more focused on the flowers he wants and only becomes aggressive when the services are threatened to be withdrawn. Ian was always sure and comfortable with his sexuality and had little to no tolerance of homophobia, whereas Mickey was in either strict denial or profoundly uncomfortable and highly secretive.

Mickey's influence on Ian

The most obvious one is that Mickey was Ian's guardian during his bipolar struggles once Mickey finally realised what a problem it as, and he was determined to nurse Ian until he recognised (to his horror) he couldn't deal with this on his own and Ian really did need professional nursing and help.

What strikes me in a lot of scenes, both before and after that arc, is that Ian almost has Mickey as a constant in his life. It's a topic more for aspects of Ian's personality, but Mickey was the person Ian turned to when he had no-one else in S1, when he was in the 72 hour psychiatric hold he explicitly says 'Mickey is waiting for me'. Ian's life is constant chaos, much like Mickeys, and Ian is the sort of person who needs and thrives on structure when his brain isn't acting out. Mickey was a constant, someone to always come back to and someone he could rely on. In a way, I also see Mickey as someone who can be the impulsive one of the pair, letting Ian take the role of the mediator. It's easier for you to resist your own stupid impulses if your override kicks in because someone else is doing something foolish.

As much as I joke that Ian is the only person Mickey listens to, the same happens the other way around in the bipolar arc. During Ian's Military Police hallucination, it was Mickey who broke through the delusion after the shock of almost attacking Debbie brought Ian abruptly back to reality. Even as Mickey at first acts with his typical aggression ("There's nothin' out there! Fuckin' look!") and literally dragging him to the front door to prove the other side is the same, he gently reassures Ian that everything is alright and herds him upstairs to get dressed. Mickey made sure to get explicit instructions on Ian's medication and even measured it out for him ("Shut up and take your pills, bitch" is still one of my favourite lines).

I had more thoughts but my brain is soup and I still want to do a post on Ian's mental health and how he interacts with the world.

Send a prompt or aspect of these two if you want to hear me talk absolute garbage about these lovesick idiots

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Hi, I started reading your stories and I love the, could I please request a modern!slightly older!Eddie x neighbour!reader? He can tell she always excited when texting on her phone, one day as he comes home, she comes out all dressed up for a date but later he finds out reader was ghosted and comforts her? Maybe smut? Maybe reader gets bruises/hickeys easily?

Fluff, jealous Eddie. Mdni. 18+blog.

Request by anon 💞

🫶🥰

Eddie always noticed you. You were his next door neighbour, always friendly to him and he enjoyed talking to you. As well as being sweet, you were also funny and had a dry sarcastic wit that he was instantly taken with.

On a sunny day in June, he was returning from his shift as the local mechanic in the auto repair shop in town. As per usual you were sitting outside and basking in the sunshine, however every couple of minutes you would look at your phone and smile dreamily.

Come to think of it, Eddie had noticed that you were always texting and smiling secretly to yourself the last few days. He was curious at what was causing you to be so smiley and giddy.

He stops to chat for a bit and still feels that tug of wonder when you continue to text this unknown person with the biggest grin on your face. It was stupid but it made Eddie pouty, he was used to making you smile like that.

It didn't take very long for him to find out the roof of your giddiness. After work the next day, he stopped by the store and got a six pack of beer and figured he would ask you to join him for a drink.

Only when he got home you were locking up and he almost swallowed his tongue as he saw that you were dressed to the nines, wearing a dress that highlighted every inch of your body.

You smile at Eddie and grow flustered at the stunned look on his face, "You look amazing princess" he manages to say and your expression brightens in delight.

"Thanks, I have a date". Suddenly the images of you texting, the giddiness and almost shy way you would stare at your phone all made sense, the pieces clicked into place as he realised you must have texting the lucky dude or girl.

"His name is Andrew, I met him at work and we've been talking for a few weeks" Eddie listens to this and feels the swell of jealousy stir in his veins. Andrew was one lucky dude.

"Have fun, any funny business happens then you call me, okay?" He knows he's being protective but he likes you and doesn't want anything sinister happening to you.

You nod and kiss his cheek then hurry over to your car, Eddie watches you go, his cheeks burn with the imprint of your lips on his cheek.

...

Sullen Eddie settles down for a quiet night but is surprised when an hour later he hears the screech of your tires. He peers out the window and watches you get out, slam the door and head into your house.

Fuck, the guy must have been a dick. Making a split second decision, he decides to go and check on you. Anger burns in his veins at the thought of Andrew getting you upset.

He gently knocks on your door and you answer it, there's a trace of tears on your cheeks and Eddie fumes. "What did the fucker do?" he growls, you wipe your eyes and gesture for Eddie to come in.

"He didn't even show Eddie, I waited for like twenty minutes and texted him but he completely ghosted me" Not only was this guy an idiot but he was a stupid one at that.

Your tears tug at Eddie's heart and he pulls you into a hug. You snuggle close to him and lay your head on his chest.

"He's an asshole princess. If I ever run into him I'll kick his ass for making you cry" your sobs quieten and you let out an unmistakable giggle.

"If you let me take you on a date then believe me you would have the time of your life sweetheart" Eddie stiffens as he realises what he said, he can't take it back and honestly he doesn't want to take it back.

You smile impishly and the look on your face takes Eddie's breath away. "Then maybe you should take me on that date Munson, if you're so sure or yourself"

Like magnets you move even closer to each other and Eddie kisses you, feels heat rush through his body as you begin to kiss him back.

He kisses you passionately, moves to your neck and leaves love bites on your skin, then he stops and you make a little whimper of annoyance, glare at him. He trails a finger over the little bites that are blooming on your skin.

"Sorry princess but wooing first before the rest of the good stuff" he promises and you brighten at this.

"Alright Munson, colour me intrigued" Eddie makes a wow then to do his best to woo and make you happy.

Maybe he could sneak a few kisses before then though... 🤭

❤️🫶

[suzukiblu]

New WIP start behind the cut, based off a request from @itty-bitty-fun: “I'd definitely love to see your take on micro/macro”.  . . . you know that thing when a kink is not really your kink and you’re like neutral on its existence, but then, like . . . someone asks you to actually consider it, and then you get way too invested in the process? no reason. asking for a friend.

“This is mortifying,” Kon mutters into his hands, trying not to die of said mortification. 

“Kinda reminds me of my Barbie phase, honestly,” Cassie says with a smirk, offering him the set of doll clothes she just got back from digging up. He glowers disgruntledly up at her, but it’s technically an improvement on the spare ace bandages from Tim’s utility belt that he’s currently wrapped up in. Kon is not actually a self-conscious guy and wouldn’t normally care about anyone seeing him naked, but normally he is two hundred and fifty pounds of half-Kryptonian muscle and not the size of a goddamn Barbie doll, as Cassie has so helpfully and mercilessly seen fit to point out. 

Actually, probably a Barbie doll would be bigger. Like, Kon did not have a “playing with dolls” phase for several very obvious reasons, but he’s pretty sure they’re bigger than he is right now. He’s more, like, action figure-sized. Which, obviously he’d rather be an action figure than a fucking Barbie, given the option, but also Barbies are bigger than action figures, and–and–

Stupid magic.

“You’re really small, wow,” Bart observes as Kon snatches the doll clothes and eyes them sourly. “I bet we could fit you in Tim’s coffee cup. Or maybe even his utility belt. Or maybe–” 

“Shut up, Bart!” Kon snaps, because he really doesn’t like how this feels, actually, and it’s actually kind of freaking him out, and he probably is small enough to fit in Tim’s stupid coffee cup and that’s just not something he really wants to be a thing right now! At all! Or ever! 

Also, the doll clothes are big and shapeless and awkward and came off a stupid cheesy “legally distinct” knockoff Troia doll, which means they’re also sparkly and kind of itch, it turns out, while also being stupidly flimsy and so paper-thin they're practically see-through. He feels like an idiot in them, and doesn’t even wanna think about how stupid he must look. 

Fuck his stupid fucking life. 

Look, Kon’s a big guy, okay? He’s used to being a big guy. Used to being the meat shield and the tank and the one who gets between everybody and the problem. Like this . . . 

What the fuck use is he, like this? 

The spell’s temporary. It’s not permanent or dangerous or anything like that. It’ll be gone by this time tomorrow, if not sooner. 

But it’s not gone yet, and Kon’s no use to anybody like this. 

“Could put you in a dollhouse for the night,” Cassie hums, giving him an amused smile. “Tuck you into bed like a baby doll.” 

“I actually hate you,” he informs her, and she laughs, because she’s the worst. 

“Actually I really like that idea,” Bart says musingly, tapping his mouth. “You grifin’ never let us take care of you.” 

“I still have TTK,” Kon reminds him threateningly, and Bart just cocks his head, looking him over speculatively. 

“So you’re not as strong, but you're still pretty invulnerable?” he asks. 

“Who fucking cares?!” Kon snaps in frustration. He’s still no use right now either way. 

“I just wanna know if we could fuck you like this and not have to worry about hurting you,” Bart replies reasonably, reaching out to stroke a fingertip down his chest. Kon–sputters, kind of, and reflexively recoils from it. 

And also, like. Burns alive, kind of. 

“I–like this?” he sputters. “I'm like, fucking doll-sized, Bart!” 

“Yeah, I know,” Bart agrees. “Like the perfect size to pick up and play with.” 

“Burning alive” is actually not a strong enough phrase for what Kon is doing right now. 

“You already let us dress you up,” Bart points out, poking at the strap of his borrowed clothes. Kon metaphorically vaporizes into atoms and literally dodges away from the poking. 

“I dressed myself,” he says defensively, mortified by the idea of–what exactly does Bart even have in mind? He's not big enough to do anything for any of them. His dick is definitely not big enough to do anything for any of them. Like–how would that even–how would they even–? 

“Hmmm,” Cassie says, and then just puts both her hands around him and picks him up, because she is again the worst, and–well, and then she flips him around, unzips the front of her shirt, and sits him down to recline right on top of her bare cleavage, his head resting back against her breastbone, which is . . . fine, alright. Like–he’ll live with that. Getting snuggled up to a pair of tits big enough to sleep on is not the worst imposition of his life, especially when said tits belong to the most Wonder-ful member of their whole weird nebulously-defined team situationship thing. 

But also, it’s embarrassing, because what the fuck is he supposed to do for her like this? 

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

silly goose | kwon soonyoung

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii we're back baby. genre is: crack. fake dating sort of. friends to ??? basically in love i guess. everyone is an idiot and it's awesome. warnings: reader is implied to be female, wears a dress, does hair and makeup, reader is briefly followed in a menacing kind of way, soonyoung is literally the most dumbest man ever but in the BEST way, reader's friends are quite honestly the actual worst, there is a rather frightening animal encounter that's mostly just funny but could be triggering if you're afraid of birds, lmk if there's anything else i forgot!!! word count: 8.3k

If one was to look up the definition of disappointment, you’re almost positive they’d see a picture of your mom’s face if she ever found out you were in this situation. You’re disappointed in yourself. It was never your plan to be in a loud, crowded club, smushed up against the bar by two large bikers who are bouncing up and down to the beat of the music so that the spikes on the back of the taller one’s jacket get dangerously close to your eyeball. And yet, here you are.

You desperately search the room for the group of very tipsy women you came here with, but they’re nowhere to be found. Scowling, you start to inch out from behind the bikers into a slightly more open space, but even with your improved vantage point, you don’t see them. You curse. Did they really leave you here?

It’s hard for you to understand why you were even invited to this bachelorette party. The bride is your childhood best friend, but you’ve been out of touch for years. Your lives went in completely different directions after high school, clearly evidenced by the predicament in which you currently find yourself. Where you had never been the life of the party, she seemed to have no life without a party. You found yourself wishing for the thousandth time you could be at home with your books and your remote and your cat.

You decide there’s nothing for it and head outside to try and call your friend. She picks up on the third ring, and her voice is slurred and barely distinguishable over the cacophony of sound in the background of the call. You think she’s saying that they’re taking a bus to a bar across town -- about an hour away from where you are now. To get there, you’d have to call a cab and pay almost $100, or you could walk to your apartment, which is three blocks from here. “I’m going to go home,” you tell her, and she laughs and agrees and hangs up.

You grimace at your phone screen and shiver slightly. It’s a chilly night, and you didn’t bring a jacket, so you decide it’s best if you start walking. The way home is well-lit and relatively crime free, so you aren’t nervous as you set off from the club. 

That is, until you notice someone is tailing you. He’s a taller man, with scruffy facial hair and red-rimmed eyes that scare you. As you glance over your shoulder, he calls after you. “Where are you headed?” he asks.

“Going to meet my boyfriend,” you claim, desperately trying to shake him off. He seems to be picking up speed, slowly gaining on you as you walk, and as you round a corner you see a group of three well-dressed men standing in front of the movie theater just ahead. “That’s him right there,” you say, pointing at them, and the man trailing after you only picks up his speed, so you make the risky choice to jog toward them and grab ahold of the nearest man’s arm. He has his back toward you, but as you wrap your hand around his bicep, he turns to look at you.

Oh, wow, you think. Because you couldn’t have chosen a hotter man to pretend to be your boyfriend -- unless, of course, you were to have chosen either of his friends. It was strange to be surrounded by so many extremely attractive men, almost like interrupting a model meetup. But you quickly recover, smiling at the man whose arm you grabbed and saying, “Hi, honey.”

You try to communicate with your eyes, and though the man at first looks confused, he glances over your head and sees the man who’d been following you and his eyes light with understanding. “Hello, muffin!” he shouts far too loudly. 

You wince. Muffin? you think to yourself. But still, you can’t help but be amused as he puts an arm around you and sends an angry look at the man. “This is my girlfriend,” he yells at him.

“You’re being way too obvious, dude,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends hisses at him. 

“I call BS,” the stalker says, to your horror and surprise. “What’s her name?”

“Mildred,” your fake boyfriend says with no hesitation. 

You try not to let the shock of this answer register on your face. 

The stalker hesitates. “Is he really your boyfriend, Mildred?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Uh, yep.”

“Oh, okay then,” the stalker says. The three of you stare at each other for awhile before he turns around and leaves. 

“I cannot believe that worked,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends says, smacking his forehead. 

“Remind me never to call you in a crisis,” the other one says, chuckling.

“What do you mean?” your fake boyfriend says indignantly. He looks at you, as though wanting your opinion, his arms still around you. “I feel like we nailed that.”

You can’t help but smile at him. He really is unfairly pretty, with perfectly tousled black hair, an artful slit in one eyebrow, and a smile that has you wondering if maybe you do believe in love at first sight. “Thanks for helping me out,” you say, so you don’t have to lie and agree that he nailed it. “Do I really look like a Mildred, though?”

“Mildred is a lovely name,” he says matter-of-factly. “And you are lovely.”

You laugh, feeling a little hot around the collar. “And what’s your name?” you ask him, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He takes it and shakes it with a warm smile. “I’m Soonyoung,” he says. He releases you from his grip with a small shake, as though reminding himself to do it. As if he’d gotten lost in you for a second.

“Soonyoung,” you repeat. “And your friends?”

“Seungkwan,” the shorter of the two others says.

“Seokmin,” the taller one replies. 

“Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Seokmin,” you chant. “Well, thanks so much for your help, guys. I need to get home to my cat.”

“By yourself?” Seokmin says in a worried tone.

“In the dark?” Seungkwan follows, equally worried.

“Without a jacket?” Soonyoung says, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well...” you say. “It’s not very far.”

“How far?” Seungkwan asks.

You hesitate. “How do I know you’re not serial killers?”

They all blink at you. “Us?” Seokmin asks.

“We’re idiots,” Soonyoung says sincerely. 

They all nod in agreement. “Seriously. If we were serial killers, we’d be caught in no time,” Seungkwan says.

“Let us walk you home,” Soonyoung insists. “I want to meet your cat.”

You’re still a bit nervous, but they keep a respectful distance as they walk you down the next two and a half blocks to your apartment building. You quickly realize that they weren’t lying. 

They are actually idiots.

The entire fifteen minute walk, Seungkwan and Seokmin are arguing about whether or not tomatoes are a fruit, culminating in Soonyoung opining that if tomatoes are a fruit, ketchup is a smoothie. The other two are (understandably) outraged by this, leaving you comforted that you actually could probably take all three of them in a fight at once, seeing as how they all seem to share one single brain cell. 

There’s something so endearing about their banter, though. So much so that when you finally arrive at the apartment, you find yourself asking if they want to come in for a minute and escape the chilly weather.

“Are you sure?” Seokmin asks.

“Positive. I have some instant ramen we could make, too. Just to warm you up. As a thank you for getting me home safe.”

They look at each other and then nod. “We’d love to,” Seungkwan says. 

So you lead them up to your door on the third floor. “Your apartment is so cute!” Soonyoung exclaims, admiring the pretty crocheted decorations that line your walls. “I love these.”

“Thanks,” you say. “I made them.”

He looks at you in awe. “You did? That’s so cool!”

“I’m glad you think so,” you say with a smile. 

“What do you do for work?” Soonyoung asks you.

“I’m a social worker,” you tell him. “I work with families in tough situations. Help them get their feet under them.”

“Do you work for the government, then?” asks Seungkwan.

“Make yourself at home,” you tell the three of them, who are standing awkwardly in the entry. As they settle onto the couch, you explain, “I actually work for a subcontractor of the government. We’re a nonprofit. On weekends, we also do a soup kitchen, and help run food banks throughout the county.”

“That must be very fulfilling work,” Seokmin points out. “Do you like it? I hear it can be tiring.”

“It’s good, but I don’t get paid enough,” you admit. “And before you ask, I do have a roommate. She’s just in the hospital. Appendicitis.”

They all wince, and Seungkwan hums sympathetically. You head to your pantry and rummage around looking for the instant ramen, finally locating it and putting a pan on the stove with water. Meanwhile, the guys find your box full of games and pull out the Monopoly. “We should play this!” Seokmin says. 

Seungkwan laughs. “We just met her, and you already want to ruin our friendship?”

Soonyoung pulls out a deck of cards. “How about Scum?”

The three of them set up the game while you make the ramen, and by the time you’re all served up all the cards have been dealt. You watch them over your own bowl of ramen, amused at the gusto with which they eat and heartwarmed by their compliments. You’re generally a bit of an introvert, but even you have been lonely the past few days with your roommate gone, and the unexpected company is warm, inviting, and friendly.

Until Scum begins. Unbeknownst to you, this group of three is the most cutthroat, merciless group of players who have ever lived. Their competition knows no bounds, and they seem determined to destroy each other, by whatever means necessary. “Don’t worry,” Seokmin whispers conspiratorially to you while Soonyoung and Seungkwan argue tooth-and-nail about a minor rule of the game. “They’re always like this, but they really do love each other.”

It takes all of them by surprise when you are the first to get rid of your cards, guaranteeing you the “king” spot. “That came out of nowhere!” complains Seungkwan.

You shrug. “I’m good with strategy games. Never challenge me to a game of Settlers of Catan,” you joke. 

Just then, your cat pokes his head around the corner and mewls reproachfully at all the noise you’re making. “Hi!” Soonyoung says excitedly, quickly dropping his cards to head over to the cat, making little cooing noises at him as he strokes his soft orange fur. “What’s its name?”

“He’s a he,” you tell him. “And his name is Tiger.”

The three men all freeze and look at you. “What?” you ask, looking around at them in worry.

“No way,” Soonyoung breathes.

Seungkwan groans. “You’ve really done it now.”

“What did I do?” you ask, bewildered.

“That’s like, the forbidden word,” Seokmin says, his tone apologetic.

Your eyes land on Soonyoung, whose entire face has lit up. “I love tigers,” he says, looking on the verge of tears.

“Love is an understatement,” Seungkwan says. “He is about to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“Will you marry me?” Soonyoung asks immediately afterward, making you laugh. His hands are still gently cupping Tiger’s face, his thumbs rubbing the cat’s fur back tenderly.

“I barely know you, Soonyoung,” you remind him. “You’ll have to pretend to be my boyfriend a couple more times before I’ll agree to marriage.”

“Bet,” Soonyoung says. “This cat needs a father. There’s nothing sadder than a fatherless cat.”

You privately disagreed, but it makes you laugh again all the same. “When am I ever going to need you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Soonyoung tsks. “I’m sure we could think of something.”

But almost as soon as you’d asked the question, you remembered: the wedding.

Your friend’s wedding -- the one who’d abandoned you tonight. And the one who, against your wishes, had invited your horrible ex-boyfriend. You’d had a plus-one — your roommate, who you’d enlisted to make the entire event endurable. But last-minute, her sister had needed help babysitting her daughter while she went to a divorce hearing on the day of the wedding. The wedding was in two weeks, and you didn’t have a backup date. 

Soonyoung watches in satisfaction as your face falls. “Tell me,” he says. “How can I be of service?”

“Well…you can say no,” you preface, and he chuckles. “But...” 

You launch into the story of the night. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin listen well throughout it, making noises of exasperation and annoyance as you explain why you’d had to interrupt their evening by pretending to be Soonyoung’s girlfriend. “They really left you there?” Soonyoung asks, frowning. He seems to tire of crouching by Tiger, so he sits crosslegged on the ground. You watch carefully as Tiger gingerly climbs into Soonyoung’s lap -- something it took him almost a year to do with you. Tiger is an affectionate and social cat, but he does take some time to warm up, usually. But something about Soonyoung seems to have put him at ease. Soonyoung doesn’t even seem to notice, absently massaging his fingers into Tiger’s neck fur.

“They really did,” you finally reply, oddly touched by the sight of Soonyoung with your cat.

“You need better friends,” Seungkwan says indignantly.

You give him a weak smile. “You’re probably right about that. But I already said I’d go, and they’ve planned for me. So it’d be bad to back out now.” You sigh. “It would be so nice to have someone to go with who’s friendly. And you can totally say no if that’s too much awkwardness to put up with for an evening.”

“Well, I have no problems with going if it means I get to spend more time with your cat in between now and then,” Soonyoung says, tickling Tiger’s stomach and giggling as Tiger swats at his fingers.

“You can always come see my cat whenever you want,” you promise him. “Even if you say no.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding thrilled. “I mean, I’m saying yes, though.”

You let out a deep breath. “Thank you so much. You’re such a lifesaver.”

“I know. Imagine the poor decisions this cat would’ve made if I hadn’t decided to be his dad.”

“I resent the implication that I am a horrible mother who can’t raise a cat to be a good citizen who makes positive contributions to society.”

“Yeah, you psycho, respect this single mother!” Seungkwan says, smacking Soonyoung’s arm.

“Well, you’re partially right,” you admit with a laugh. “Tiger is a war criminal with warrants in 32 countries.”

Soonyoung laughs as well. “See! Fatherless behavior.”

“Plenty of cats grow up to be respectable without fathers,” you say indignantly. “Just not Tiger. He’s possessed of a devil.”

The four of you all have a good laugh about this, while Tiger chirps indignantly at the sudden sound, clambering out of Soonyoung’s lap and darting down the hallway. “Traitor!” Soonyoung calls after him, heading back to the card table to finish playing. 

By the time the trio bows themselves out of your apartment, you feel warm and sleepy. It’s been a long time since you’ve had people over to your house and enjoyed it — you had forgotten how nice it was.

******

“Hey there,” you greet your friend Ginger, who waves at you from her hospital bed. 

“Hi,” she says back. “How was the bachelorette party?”

“A complete disaster, as predicted,” you tell her, pulling up a chair next to her bed. “When are you coming home?”

“Tonight, if things go well,” she informs you. “But you said you had something to tell me. Is it good or bad?”

“It’s good,” you say with a shy smile.

“How good?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Like, weird-good.”

“Explain.”

“I found a date for tomorrow.”

Her eyes go wide. “You caught someone’s eye? During the bachelorette party?”

“No, after. Well, actually, the guy whose eye I caught was a total creep. But then I forced a different dude to be my fake boyfriend to shake off the first dude, and he agreed to be my date to the wedding.”

“Is he gonna pretend to be your boyfriend there too?” she asks, a suggestive edge to her voice.

“I don’t think so. I mean, we just talked about him coming with me so I wouldn’t have to go alone.”

“How did that even come up?” she asks you.

“Well, they kind of walked me home...”

“They?”

“There were three of them initially,” you explain apologetically.

“You let three random strangers walk you home?”

“Well, they openly admitted to being idiots when I asked if they were serial killers, so I thought it was probably safe.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ginger says dryly.

“Anyway, Soonyoung -- the one who’s gonna be my date -- wanted to meet Tiger. Because he loves tigers. And then it kind of devolved into playing Scum, and then Soonyoung claimed that if he just spent more time with Tiger he’d stop committing dastardly crimes every chance he gets. And then he asked if I’d need a fake boyfriend so that he could help me raise my cat right, and it was this whole thing, and now that I’m telling you the story it sounds really dumb but it was kind of sweet.”

Ginger is staring at you with raised eyebrows during this whole account. When you finally clam up, she sighs. “So, I hate to be the person to have to tell you this, but Soonyoung is actually in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp. “Why do you think that?”

“He is using your cat to get closer to you because he’s too scared to really ask you out because he really likes you.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. You should’ve seen his face when he heard the cat was named Tiger.”

Ginger rolls her eyes. “Girl, I know more about men than I care to admit. This is textbook crush behavior.” She grunts as she adjusts her position. “And I think you like him back, too.”

“I barely know him,” you protest, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Is he hot?” she asks shrewdly.

“Yes,” you answer, without hesitation or even a single iota of forethought. You cringe at your own obviousness, and Ginger laughs.

“It’s okay,” she reassures. “But how hot?”

You consider for a while before answering. “It’s hard to describe,” you complain, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer it takes. “He’s...pretty.”

“A pretty boy?” Ginger repeats.

“No, like, he doesn’t look dainty -- but he’s not rugged or anything. But he doesn’t exactly look soft either. But he’s not quite all the way to edgy.” You realize you’re rambling once you catch sight of Ginger’s face.

Ginger shakes her head. “You’re a goner,” she sighs.

Conveniently, your phone starts buzzing before you can respond -- not that you really had a response anyway. It’s an unknown number, but you decide to answer it. “Hello?” you say. 

“Hi,” a familiar voice chirps on the other end. Your eyes go wide, and you mouth “Soonyoung” to Ginger, who is observing curiously.

“Hi!!!” you respond back, and then wince -- you were a little too eager, and Ginger makes a face at you too. You resolve to be much cooler going forward, and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Hi,” he says again, this time sounding amused. “What’s up?”

“Hi. Um, nothing much,” you reply. “What’s up with you?” Wow, what a zinger! you think to yourself. Why did you choose this moment to become an awkward fumbling mess?

“Well, I’m near your apartment, and I was wondering if you were home. I missed Tiger, you see.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well, um, I’m actually...out right now?” Your voice raises a few notes too high at the end of your phrase, and Ginger is pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, trying to fight back a laugh.

“Ah, that’s bad luck. Where are you?” Soonyoung asks.

“I’m just visiting my roommate in the hospital,” you say, confused as Ginger frantically shakes her head and makes an X with her hands. 

“Tell him you were just leaving and you’ll be there soon,” she hisses, pushing you with her foot off of her hospital bed. 

“Oh, how is she doing?” Soonyoung asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s absolutely fine,” you grunt, trying to fend off Ginger’s attacks and failing, slumping off the bed onto the floor. “I was actually on my way home, though. Do you have time to wait?” You stand and snatch your bag from off the small table in the room and stick your tongue out at Ginger, who blows you a kiss and waves enthusiastically as you leave.

“Yes,” Soonyoung responds immediately. “Actually, are you hungry? I brought some chicken.”

“I’m actually starving,” you answer honestly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

True to your word, you sprint all the way out of the hospital and almost all the way home, stopping around the corner to your place to try and catch your breath and look cool when you see Soonyoung. Ginger’s words bounce around your brain in a disconcerting way, and you feel like you’re sweaty and flustered in a way that no amount of time stalling could really fix. So you decide to just bite the bullet and turn the corner. 

You can see Soonyoung waiting at the door to your apartment building. When he catches sight of you, his whole face lights up in a smile. And oh, what a smile it is. You have to physically restrain yourself from squealing at how obscenely adorable he is -- his eyes softening into crescents, his cheeks going all round and his nose scrunching just slightly. You can’t help but smile back as you finally reach him. “Hey,” you say, going for a breezy, cool vibe and missing the mark embarrassingly.

“Hi,” Soonyoung says, and to your comfort, he sounds just as eager as you did on the phone. “Um, how was the walk?”

“It was great! Super chill, super lowkey,” you lie through your teeth, thinking about how you had sprinted in a very not-chill, not-lowkey way to come see him. 

“That’s good!” he exclaims back.

“What were you doing near my house?” you ask, leading him toward the door.

“Oh, well, actually, I had to go visit this restaurant my friend works at,” he says, stuttering a little. “And he actually made extra chicken, so I thought -- well, and I knew you lived close by, so I thought it would be fun if we...I don’t know, got to know each other before the wedding?” He shrugs cutely. 

“You can just say you wanted to see my cat,” you tease, pressing the elevator button.

“I did, on the phone,” he reminds you.

“Oh,” you say.

“Oh,” he replies.

The two of you stare at each other for a minute.

Then, Soonyoung says, “Why are we so awkward?”

He doesn’t sound worried -- he even has a laugh in his voice. And for some reason, the easiness with which he addresses the strange tension in the air seems to dissipate it a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not very good with surprises. I never know how to react. But I’m very glad you’re here.” Finally, the sincerity of the words shines through, and though you normally would’ve been embarrassed at the admission, you aren’t.

He smiles that brilliant smile yet again, and your heart does a little happy-dance in your chest. “Me too,” he replies fervently. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him as the two of you board the elevator. “I never asked, before.”

“Oh, that. I’m actually a kindergarten teacher,” he tells you.

You are gobsmacked at this information. “You don’t look like a teacher,” you tell him.

“Oh yeah? What do I look like?” he asks, striking a ridiculous pose. 

You giggle. “A rockstar, maybe. Or a band manager.”

“Thank you, I think,” Soonyoung says.

“You’re welcome,” you say with emphasis. “It was a compliment.”

The two of you chat aimlessly all the way into your apartment, where Soonyoung immediately starts calling for Tiger. “Your daddy’s home,” he bellows into the empty apartment. “Where are you, son?”

You absolutely know the neighbors must have heard him, but your brief embarrassment is soothed when Tiger comes tearing around the corner, coming to a screeching halt at Soonyoung’s feet. “He never does that,” you say, in awe of this overt affection from your normally skittish-around-strangers cat. 

“He knows who I am,” Soonyoung says, bending down to pick up Tiger and cradle him in his arms like a baby. “My son,” he coos, tickling his belly and laughing when Tiger bats at his fingers with his paws.

You catch yourself before Soonyoung can tear his attention away from Tiger, knowing you were probably staring at them with heart-eyes. Shaking yourself, you open the box of chicken Soonyoung left on the counter. “Do you mind? I actually haven’t eaten today.”

Soonyoung’s gaze snaps to you. “It’s like four in the afternoon!” he exclaims indignantly. “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten today?”

“Well, I woke up kind of late, and then I was running around doing important errands, and then I had to go see my friend,” you explain. “I kind of forgot.”

He tsks in annoyance. “Well, you need to take care of yourself too. How am I supposed to co-parent this cat with you if you pass away from malnutrition?”

“You are so dramatic,” you laugh. “This doesn’t happen very often. I promise I’m a regular eater.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “Okay. You’d better be.”

You dig into the chicken while you watch Soonyoung play with Tiger. “Holy cow!” you exclaim. “This is amazing.”

“I’ll tell my friend you said so. You should go to his restaurant, it’s right across the street from you.”

“I definitely will,” you say, taking a seat at the table and patting the chair next to you. “But I think it’s time for your interview.”

“Interview?” he asks.

You nod. “I’m not about to just let the first cat-loving man I come across be Tiger’s father. I need to see if you’re prepared for the role.”

So Soonyoung, giving you a cautious look, comes to sit beside you with Tiger trotting after him. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him.

“That’s hardly a standard interview question,” he protests, laughing. 

“This is hardly a standard interview,” you shoot back. “Now tell me.”

He thinks for a minute. “Black and white.”

“Hmm, interesting,” you muse, but before you can go any further, he raises a hand.

“How about you?” he asks.

“I’m asking the questions!” you say indignantly, and he chuckles.

“Okay, but shouldn’t I know my son’s mother?” He makes a face. “That sounded weird. You know what I meant.”

You stare at him, considering, for awhile before answering. “Orange,” you finally reply. Then, in a teasing tone, you add, “Like a tiger.” 

“You’re joking,” Soonyoung insists, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide. 

“I’m actually not,” you admit. “And can I confess something else: tigers are easily in my top five favorite animals.”

“Well, anything lower than number one is just bad taste,” Soonyoung claims, grinning.

“Ah, well, I guess we can’t all have entirely correct opinions,” you sigh. “Except you, of course.”

“You’re such a fast learner,” Soonyoung praises.

And on the conversation goes. Usually, when talking to someone as pretty as Soonyoung is, you find yourself tongue-tied and awkward, but talking with Soonyoung is as easy as breathing. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the man seems to have no idea how gorgeous he is -- he doesn’t take himself too seriously, and is incredibly silly in a way most men of his level of attractiveness aren’t willing to be. And he makes you feel smart and interesting, appearing just as fascinated by your answers as you are with his.

Over the course of your conversation, you learn that Soonyoung is close with his mother; he loves all animals; he befriends strangers on public transportation and is a caring and loyal friend to so many people he can hardly keep track of them all. He can’t drink very well, he gets sad late at night, and when you ask him what he’s most proud of, he tells you that he always knows who the killer is in a game of mafia.

Try as you might to discover any red flags that would disqualify Soonyoung as the perfect father for your cat, your interview proves quite the opposite. The less-than-rational wing of your mind-palace is already picking out your wedding colors for the inevitable moment you marry this man. The less feral part of your mind is, surprisingly, cautiously optimistic. For all your reservations about dating, Soonyoung has proven someone you very much enjoy getting to know.

After several hours, the two of you arrive at the first lull in the conversation, when your laughs fade out and you just look at each other, electricity charging the air. Soonyoung breaks the silence. “So, did I get the job?”

You pretend to deliberate for a single second. “Absolutely,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He throws his arms around you instead. “We’re actually married now, and married people hug,” he explains.

You giggle nervously, despite the growing heat in your face. “I don’t remember you proposing today,” you scold him lightly, still hugging.

“The one from last night is still valid,” he says, breaking apart. “Honey,” he adds as an afterthought.

Just then, your phone rings. You answer it quickly, rushing to your bedroom to take the call. After a few minutes, you return to the kitchen apologetically. “It’s work,” you tell Soonyoung. “A situation came up with a client.”

“Do you need to leave now?” Soonyoung asks, jumping up. “Can I give you a ride?”

You shake your head. “It’s actually an hour drive and I’m not supposed to bring people who aren’t privy to the case. But — well, Tiger usually gets fed around 8 pm, and I don’t think I’ll be back by then. Would you be okay to do that? If not it’s totally fine, I can call my sister-in-law to do it.”

Soonyoung beams. “Of course. Can I wait for you to get home?”

You blink. “Soonyoung, it’ll be at least four hours from now. Probably more. We’re talking past midnight.”

“No school tomorrow,” Soonyoung reminds you, shrugging. “Plus, a group of friends invited me out to drink tonight, and I didn’t really want to go. Now I’ve got an excuse.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “You are genuinely the best,” you say, going to him and wrapping him up in your arms. “Thanks.”

He seems taken aback by your sudden hug, but responds all the same. “Be safe on your way to work,” he says softly in your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck, and you steal one final look at him before leaving.

******

By the time you get home, it’s nearly one in the morning. As you slump tiredly against the steering wheel of your car before going in, you check your phone and find several missed calls from Ginger. It is only then you remember she was scheduled to come home today, and more than likely did — to Soonyoung. 

You race up to your apartment and open the door. Sure enough, curled up on the couch with Tiger is Soonyoung. He’s fast asleep, his cheek squished against the firm cushion, Tiger keeping vigil at his stomach. Tiger meows reproachfully as you come in, taking quiet steps to Ginger’s room. She’s resting with her back against the headboard, but she opens her eyes at the sound of her door. 

“So, I came home to a man in my house,” she says expectantly. “That was crazy.”

“Yeah. We had a runaway situation that I had to figure out, and Soonyoung stayed to feed Tiger and make sure I got home okay,” you explain softly, not wanting to wake Soonyoung.

“I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer,” Ginger whispers. “He was very attentive. Kept checking on me and asking if I needed anything.”

“He did?” you ask, your heart in your throat. 

“He seems like a tender little guy,” Ginger says, watching you carefully.

“He does,” is your simple reply. You can’t trust yourself to speak without crying.

******

Soonyoung ended up accidentally sleeping over that night. In the morning, the three of you — Soonyoung, Ginger, and yourself — spent a fractionally awkward but mostly pleasant morning breakfasting together before Soonyoung insisted it was time for him to shower. After that day, he dropped by frequently. 

Sometimes he would stay for just twenty minutes, dropping off a book or visiting Tiger. Occasionally he’d bring by an ingredient for a dinner you were making, and you made it a habit to invite him to join on those occasions. The easy conversation between the two of you became an easy friendship, bursting with silliness and laughter and acceptance of each other’s quirks. You felt more and more like your real self around him. Which was crazy, especially given how thoroughly and extremely smitten with him you are.

It had taken you less than a week to realize your feelings. You’d expected to start feeling uncomfortable around Soonyoung, but for some reason, he just made it so clear that he cared about you that you didn’t even worry about if he liked you or not.

You reflect on this as you drive to your friend’s house to get ready before the wedding. You’re nervous about how this whole day will go, but the promise of seeing Soonyoung later makes it all worth it. In fact, just the thought of him being with you seems to calm your nerves and make it easier to face the day. 

You mostly keep to yourself with the bustle of getting ready. The soft pink dresses the bride picked as your bridesmaids’ dresses are not your normal style or color, but you like how the sleek satin fabric looks on you. It pairs well with your minimal hairstyle and makeup. Before you know it, it’s time for you to go get Soonyoung.

When he opens the door, his face breaks into a huge smile. “You look beautiful!” he exclaims, covering his mouth with both hands. 

“You look so handsome!” you reply, looking him up and down. He looks amazing in his black suit, white shirt, and black tie. 

“You’re not supposed to outshine the bride,” Soonyoung says sternly. “I don’t think they’ll let us in.”

“Stop it,” you say, flustered. 

“I’m serious,” Soonyoung insists. 

“Well, if they don’t let us in, I think I’d prefer that,” you say honestly.

“I’m actually excited,” Soonyoung admits. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Even though my friends are...”

“Kind of awful? Yeah, I’m not worried about it.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m not planning on paying them any attention at all,” Soonyoung says simply, his eyes fixed on you. And as he helps you into the driver’s seat, you can’t help but smile.

The wedding is a lavish affair. After the complicated wedding ceremony, where you stood at the farthest distance from the bride and had a hard time tearing your eyes away from Soonyoung, who stared at you the whole time, he whisks you away to your dinner table. 

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” you ask as Soonyoung pulls out your chair for you to sit down. 

“It was quite a view,” he teases lightly as he sits beside you.

You know what he really meant, and you give him a shy half-smile before replying, “It sure is beautiful out here!” You gesture around at the venue, which is gorgeous — a beautiful private property with loads of land, and a gazebo on the banks of a large pond, where the ceremony took place.

Soonyoung scoffs. “Well, yeah, but you seem determined to miss my point.” Nonchalantly, he slips a hand onto your knee, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “I’m flirting with you.”

“Oh, are you?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.” But in reality, it’s impossible to stop yourself from beaming. 

“Well, we are married,” Soonyoung says, his hand sliding across your knee to find your hand. He tangles his fingers with yours. “I think it comes with the territory.”

“If you say that too loud, you’re going to make people think it’s true,” you joke.

“Let them think that,” he says, his eyes trained on you in a way that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. You squeeze his hand and look away, slightly panicked.

Your eyes land below the table. “I like your shoes,” you blurt.

Soonyoung looks down at his plain black loafers. “These are like, my least interesting pair of shoes,” he points out with a sly grin.

“Well, you’re an interesting man,” you say, trying to recover but feeling flustered all the same. “What are your most interesting pair of shoes?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“The only thing I can count on is that they’re tiger-related,” you reply, grateful for this subject shift.

Soonyoung nods. “Calvin and Hobbes Air Force Ones,” he confirms proudly. “I should’ve worn them.”

“You would have made the bride angry.”

“That makes me want to wear them even more,” Soonyoung grumbles.

“What’s your beef with my friends?” you ask him lightly, absently trailing one of your hands over his arm.

He leans in to almost-whisper the answer. “They left you vulnerable when they should have been taking care of you, and that bothers me.”

You’re taken aback by how serious the usually silly Soonyoung sounds, but before you have a chance to respond, the music starts, heralding the arrival of the new Mr. And Mrs. You take the moment of cheering and applause to breathe deeply and steady your trembling hands. This is Soonyoung, you remind yourself. You don’t need to be nervous around him.

You’ve sufficiently pulled yourself together by the time you have Soonyoung’s attention again. “So, what will you do after the wedding is over?” you ask him, trying to keep the new, flirty side of him locked away.

“That’s an amazing question that I actually was going to ask you. Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Well, my place is empty tonight, so that sounds kind of fun,” you admit, not sure you fully succeeded at not flirting. 

“Perfect,” he says. “So, what are you in the mood for? Action? Horror? Romcom?”

“How about…a wholesome sports movie? Those are my favorite genre of movies.”

“Really?” he asks with interest. “This surprises me about you.”

The conversation settles into its normal easy rhythm — all through dinner, you talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. When the dancing starts, you allow Soonyoung to pull you into his arms on the dance floor, following his lead in a smooth trot-step. “You’re a good dancer,” you observe.

“I teach kid’s dance classes on the side,” he admits. “It’s my night job.”

“Ah, and here I was, thinking you probably did pole-dancing after hours,” you tease.

“I know you’re not serious, but I am actually extremely flattered you’d assume that,” Soonyoung says. “Pole dancers are strong.”

“So are you,” you point out. 

“How do you know?” he asks.

You swallow hard. “Uh, you — your arms,” you stutter. “They're…really nice.”

Soonyoung (unconsciously?) flexes his bicep under your hand, and your knees nearly buckle. It’s almost pathetic how affected you are by him, especially given that he hasn’t even made a move yet, and you cringe inwardly at yourself.

“Are you okay? You look uncomfortable,” Soonyoung asks. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine?” you reassure, but in the least convincing voice ever. 

“Do you need some water?” he asks, concerned.

“Yes, that’d be amazing,” you say, shooing him away and fanning at yourself, your mind full of useless chiding for being so embarrassingly whipped.

A tap on your shoulder startles you from your thoughts. “Hi,” says a familiar voice — and your stomach drops.

It’s your ex boyfriend, the one you’d asked your friend not to invite but to no avail. “Hi,” you say shortly. 

“You look great,” he says, to no reply from you. “The color suits you.”

“Is there something you want?” you ask him, trying to make it clear you don’t want to talk with him about anything.

“Just trying to catch up on what’s happened since, well, you know—“

“Since I caught you cheating?” you finish. “Yeah, life’s been really great since then. Thanks for the trust issues.”

He gives a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, like he’s a call center employee placating an angry customer. “I got promoted at work.”

You could punch him. You would, if you weren’t at a wedding. Luckily all murderous intent is redirected by a very timely Soonyoung, who arrives on the scene with a confident, “hey, baby!” and a hand outstretched with a glass of water.

“Oh, you came with someone?” your ex says. He sizes up Soonyoung, who is easily bigger than him, and shrugs. “Bad luck. Maybe next time.”

“I was this close to ruining this wedding,” you confess as Soonyoung wraps a protective arm around your waist, watching your ex saunter away. “He started talking about his promotion.”

“Didn’t he cheat on you?” Soonyoung asks, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, scowling.

“Well, drink your water, and then we can dance again. You’ll forget all about him.”

This turns out to be true. Dancing with Soonyoung is so much fun -- he seems unusually good at it, and leads you very well, but also doesn’t take things too seriously, letting you spin him or even pretending to do a dip in which he almost falls over. The whole thing is just so ridiculous that you find yourself giggling through it, needing to pause and take a break. Soonyoung suggests that the two of you take a walk down to the lake, and you readily agree. 

He holds your hand during the walk, and you can feel yourself trying to explain away his behavior -- he’s probably just trying to scare off your ex, or any of the other bridesmaids who’ve been making eyes at him all evening (which you’ve been pretending not to notice or care, but which you most definitely have noticed and are not happy about). Or maybe he just wants some affection. Or maybe it’s something else. It certainly can’t be the simplest explanation -- that Soonyoung likes you in the same way you like him. 

The banks of the water are muddy and slick, and you and Soonyoung have to cling to each other for balance, but you’re still giggling like children as you kick off your shoes and let your toes sink into the murky shallows of the pond. “It’s freezing,” you say, hopping out almost immediately and colliding with Soonyoung, who automatically throws his arms out to steady you. Your laughter fades as you look into his eyes, which are wide and uncharacteristically shy and nervous. He swallows. Hard.

“Uh....” he says, stammering. “You’re -- you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say in a tense whisper.

“I think I -- I think I like you,” Soonyoung whispers back.

“You think?” you ask, smiling a little.

“No, that was ridiculous,” he corrects. “Uh, I like you. For suresies. For realsies.”

“For suresies and for realsies?” you say with wide eyes, and he cringes.

“Throw me a bone, please,” he whines. “I’m nervous.”

And he is. You can tell that this normally confident boy is all but in pieces after making his confession. So you untangle yourself from Soonyoung’s grasp and turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking at him. “So am I,” you admit. 

And at this, Soonyoung beams. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that a smile that lights up a room was a bit of metaphorical nonsense that didn’t truly apply to anyone, but seeing this now, you figure that was an understatement in Soonyoung’s case. This kind of smile from him was enough to support intelligent light on several planets. And you? Just like a moon, you know you’ll be rotating around him your whole life, just reflecting that light. It is impossible to fully describe the way it warms you from the inside out.

You’re so distracted by Soonyoung himself that you don’t notice how he’s leaned in close until his lips brush yours. And, in fact, this move surprises you so much that you jump, startled, which sends you sliding into the mud, dirtying up your pale pink dress and causing an angry honk to emanate from the reeds where you land. Before you know it, a goose is hissing in your ear, and you shriek with terror as you scramble to your feet, running with all your might from the furious bird, who emerges from its marshy home to chase you up the hill toward the wedding party.

You never thought you’d need to answer the question, “Could I beat a goose in a fight?” And now, here you are, with a very clear answer indeed: absolutely not. The goose is fast, using a combination of an aggressive waddle, short bursts of low flight, and what is more than likely a higher-than-average dose of unfettered bloodlust to stay right on your heels all the way onto the dance floor, where wedding guests dive out of the way in cartoonish confusion. You don’t have time to think about how ridiculous you must look, covered in mud, running from a murderous goose, before Soonyoung firmly plants himself in front of the rampaging animal. 

And inexplicably, it stops, looking up at Soonyoung with its unsettlingly blue eyes. He stands with his hands on his hips and glares down at the goose. “You interrupted what was supposed to be a very romantic moment for me,” he scolds. “Now shoo!”

And you watch, dumbfounded, as the goose gives a plaintive squawk before toddling back to its pond. “How did you do that?” you gasp. 

It is only then that you realize the entire wedding is staring at you. And for good reason -- the bride and groom are about to cut the cake. The terror of being chased by Satan’s personal fowl pales in comparison to the sight of the bride. Her eyes are even more murderous than the bird’s had been -- and she’s holding a cake knife to boot. 

So, before any other awful things can happen, you grab Soonyoung’s hand and run. Out of the wedding area, off the farm, onto the dirt road where you parked your car, realizing too late you left your shoes by the pond and not daring to face the wedding party or the goose to retrieve them. By the time you arrive at your car, you’re laughing so hard you’re crying. Soonyoung, though bewildered, joins in, and the two of you double over, struggling to breathe with the absurdity of it all.

When you’ve both been reduced to gasps for air, Soonyoung turns to you, leaning back against your passenger side door for support. “Is every day of your life like this?” he asks through deep breaths.

“Why?” you ask, your face falling. “Are you getting tired of rescuing me?”

He chuckles. Unexpectedly, he pulls you toward him by the waist, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Not at all,” he says, pulling a stray clump of weeds from your hair. “I’d rescue you every day if you asked. I just need to know how much prep work I need to be doing. I mean, do I need to start a new workout routine? Do I need to learn karate geared toward beating up ducks?”

“That was a goose,” you correct. Then you register what he said. “You’d rescue me every day?”

He suddenly looks nervous again. “If you want,” he offers, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

But your answering smile is enough to tell him that’s exactly what you want. With a mite more confidence, he grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb and pulls your lips to his.

This kiss is much more substantial than the last. Soonyoung’s arms wrap around you, his hands resting on the small of your back, locking you into his grasp and making it difficult for you to pull away -- as if you would, because his kisses are sweeter than summer strawberries. As the warm winds begin to pick up speed, as your hair whips around you and your muddy dress is blown every which way, your heart seems to crystalize into calmness. Kissing Soonyoung feels like putting the last piece into a puzzle, like coming inside from a cold rain to a warm fire, like watching bees flit from flower to flower in a late spring sunset. It feels perfect. It feels right.

You could go on kissing Soonyoung forever, until the two of you became statues locked in an embrace, but eventually you do pull away. Soonyoung laughs at the deep, shaky breath you take, and so do you, bringing a hand to touch his pink cheek in wonder. “You’re so beautiful,” you tell him.

“Not as much as you,” he replies warmly. 

Then a thought strikes you. “Also, when were you going to tell me you have mind control over geese?”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t mind control. It was the eye of the tiger.” He brings his hand up in an imitation of a paw print, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Okay. If you’re a Disney Princess, you can just say that.”

“Okay. I’m a Disney Princess,” Soonyoung agrees. “Does that make you happy?”

“Only if I get to be the Disney Prince,” you mumble, nestling into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Deal,” he replies. You can hear the smile in his voice as he does.

[jolieblack]

Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 9 - Costume

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the one shot for the Costume prompt. I decided to keep it SFW but I hope you enjoy it. ❤️

CW : Slim Shady Costume - Flirting - Making out

It had only been a few weeks since you had moved to Detroit. Everything still felt new and unfamiliar—the towering buildings, the way the cold seemed to creep into my bones, and the constant buzz of a city that never seemed to sleep. You’d come here seeking an opportunity for your career. It was a fresh start and, even though it was a nice perspective, it was a little intimidating. You hadn’t made many friends yet, but you were lucky enough to meet a few people through work who invited you to a Halloween party. They were the outgoing type—knew everyone, knew all the spots—and somehow, they convinced you to come along. You weren’t too sure about it. I wasn’t really that girl, the one who easily fit into a crowd of strangers at a party. But still, you thought you’d give it a try.. New city, new you and all that.

The party wasn’t anything like you expected. It was in someone’s house, but it was incredibly elaborate for a house party. You didn’t know the host personally. It was some dude named Nate, a friend of your friends. You didn’t know too much about him, except that he had the house to himself - something about his wife and kids being out of town - and decided to throw a cool event for Halloween at the last minute. He had a pretty cool place and, by the looks of it, he knew how to throw a great party. The music pounded through the walls, and people were packed into every room, laughing, dancing, and filling the space with the kind of energy you were still getting used to. Your friends disappeared into the crowd as soon as you got there, but that you told yourself.

You had dressed up, of course. It was Halloween, after all. You wanted to go for something kind of bold, something that felt like Detroit. So I went as Slim Shady—a sexier version, at least. You even went as far as bleaching your hair and decided to go for some vintage jeans overalls, with some sweet lingerie peeking through. You even drew the tattoos on your arms. it was fun, a little tongue-in-cheek. Honestly, you didn’t expect anyone to even notice. You were wrong. As soon as your friends saw you, they opened wide eyes and arbored grins. “You’re really wearing that ?” one asked. “I mean… Yeah. What ? Is it… Too much ? Inappropriate ?” you nervously asked as you saw their reaction. “No ! Don’t worry about it. It’s very fitting to where we’re going, actually” another replied with an enigmatic smile. 

As you stood there, awkwardly holding your drink, trying to ease yourself into the party, you started feeling this strange sensation, like someone was watching you. My heart picked up a little, but you ignored it. Probably just one of the guys at the party being... well, a guy. Or, even more likely, you being a little nervous about being at an event full of strangers. Then, you glanced up, and immediately froze.Standing across the room, leaning against the wall with a casual ease, was Eminem. Eminem. The actual Slim Shady. Your heart nearly dropped into your stomach. He was looking right at you, his eyes locked onto yours. There was no mistaking it. It was him. And he was staring at you. 

For a second, you wanted to disappear into the floor. You’d come to this party thinking you’d just blend in, maybe make some new friends. You hadn’t expected this. All of a sudden, you felt incredibly out of place, like you weren’t in the right room. You’d listened to his music growing up, knew all about Slim Shady, and here you were... dressed as a ridiculous version of him, no less. You were sure you looked like an idiot. And that was the best-case scenario. In the worst one, you looked like some creepy stalker. Of course, now, you understood your friends’ reaction. However, you wished they’d had some common sense and told you to change. 

Before you could even think about slipping away, he started making his way over. Each step he took felt like a heartbeat in your ears. You couldn’t move. What the hell were you supposed to say to Eminem ? “Hey,” his voice cut through the music, low but loud enough to hear. He was standing right in front of you now, and you could barely breathe. You swallowed hard, trying to pull yourself together. “Uh, hi.” His eyes flicked over your outfit, and you felt your cheeks burn. You must have looked ridiculous. He smirked, though, and tilted his head slightly. “So... you’re me tonight?”. You let out a nervous laugh, wishing you could sink into the floor. “Uh, yeah, I guess. It’s, uh, Halloween, so... why not?”. He chuckled, the sound softer than you  expected. “You pulled it off.”. You blinked. “What?”. He gestured to the outfit. “The look. You got it pretty close. Even the tattoos.”. You glanced down at the fake tattoos you had drawn on, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, yeah... I mean, I tried. But it’s probably, uh, not great.”. “No, it’s good,” he said, his voice still calm, almost reassuring. “Not bad at all.”.  You stared at him, completely unsure of what to say. He was right in front of you, just casually talking like this was no big deal, but your mind was spinning. How was this real ? Out of all the parties, in all of Detroit, he was at this one. And he was talking to you. 

He smiled again, and your heart nearly stopped. “So, what’s your name ?”. “Uh...” you stammered, feeling stupid for being so nervous. “It’s, um, Y/N.” “Y/N,” he repeated, nodding. “Alright, Y/N. You from Detroit ?”. You shook your head quickly, desperate to stop sounding like an idiot. “No, I just moved here. A few weeks ago.”. “Yeah?” His expression softened, and for the first time, you noticed how he didn’t seem as intimidating as you thought he’d be. “How’re you liking it so far?”. “It’s... different,” you admitted, feeling a little more at ease now. “Still getting used to it.”. He nodded like he understood. “Takes time. Detroit’s got its own thing, you know?”. You nodded, even though you still didn’t feel like you  knew what Detroit’s “thing” was yet. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”

You stood there for a moment, the conversation hanging between you. You kept expecting him to get bored, to move on, but he didn’t. He stayed, just casually talking to you. It was kind of surreal. He looked you over again, that same smirk on his face. “So, sexy Slim Shady, huh?”. You felt your face go a bright shade of red, and you let out a nervous laugh. “I... yeah. I thought it’d be funny.”. “It is,” he said, his voice warm. “Looks good on you, though. Better than me, probably.”. You blinked at him. Was he complimenting you ? You  didn’t quite know what to do with that. “I, uh, didn’t expect you to be here,” you mumbled, trying to keep your cool. He shrugged. “Didn’t plan on it. Just showed up to say hi to my brother. Guess it was the right party, though.”. You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, I guess so.” He chuckled again, glancing around before his eyes came back to you. “You’re doing alright, though. New city, big party. Not bad.”. “I’m trying,” you said, surprised by how much easier it was to talk now. “It’s kind of overwhelming.”. He nodded, like he understood. “Yeah, I get that.”.

The air between you seemed to change after that. It was subtle, but you could feel something shift. His gaze lingered a little longer, his smile a little more playful. You felt your own nerves start to tangle with a different kind of energy. Was he... flirting with you ? “Want to get out of here for a bit?” he asked suddenly, his voice low. You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh—". “Just for some air,” he added quickly, smirking as if he could read the confusion on your face. “It’s loud as hell in here.”. “Yeah, sure,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your heart was racing. He nodded, then gestured for you to follow him. You moved through the crowded house, weaving past people dancing and laughing, and ended up in a darker, quieter corner at the far end of the house. It was like the rest of the party faded away as soon as you reached it. You leaned against the wall, feeling more nervous than you had all night. “So, uh... quieter out here.”. He chuckled softly, leaning beside you, his arm brushing yours. “Yeah. Better.”. There was a brief moment of silence, just the muffled sounds of the party echoing from down the hall. Your heart pounded in your chest. The tension between you was thick now, hanging in the air like something unspoken.

“So,” he said, his voice a little lower, his eyes glancing at your lips before meeting your gaze again, “What do you think? How do I look as... you tonight?”. You blinked, caught off guard by his teasing tone. “Wait, what?”. He grinned, stepping a little closer, his hand grazing your arm. “I mean, you’re rocking my look pretty hard. Think I could pull off yours?”. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I... I’m not sure you could handle it.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the game. “You don’t think so?”. You shook your head, biting your lip, the space between you growing smaller and smaller. “Nope.”. In a flash, his hand slid lightly to your waist, pulling you closer, and before you had time to think, his lips were on yours. The world around you seemed to disappear. His kiss was slow at first, gentle, but there was heat behind it, a current of energy that made your head spin. You felt his other hand cup your face, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him. Your nerves, your doubts, all of it vanished in that moment. There was just him and somehow, it felt right. When you finally broke apart, you were breathless, your heart racing as you looked up at him. He was grinning, his face inches from yours. “Damn,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I think I’m starting to like Detroit a little more now.” You laughed softly, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah?”. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “Yeah.”. For a moment, you just stood there, caught in the intensity of what had just happened. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in and whispered, “You wanna get out of here?”. 

You swallowed, your pulse still pounding in your ears. “Like... leave?”. He nodded, his eyes gleaming with that same playful edge. “Yeah. I’ve had enough of this party. What about you?”. You hesitated for only a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”. Without another word, he took your hand again, and you slipped out the back of the house, the noise of the party fading behind you as you stepped into the cool night air. The city seemed quieter now, almost peaceful, as you walked side by side down the street to his car. The night air was cool, crisp against your skin as you left the house behind. The sound of the party faded into a distant hum, swallowed by the quiet streets of the neighborhood. Your heart was still racing, every nerve in your body alive from what had just happened inside. Marshall was walking beside you, his hand still loosely holding yours. You reached his car, an understated black SUV parked a little ways down the block. You hesitated for a second, glancing over at him, still trying to process everything that had happened in the last half hour. It felt surreal, like a dream you hadn’t expected to be living. He looked over at you, catching the uncertainty in your eyes. With that same smirk that had been throwing you off all night, he opened the passenger door for you. “You coming?”. There was something playful in his tone, an edge of confidence that made your pulse quicken again. You nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. The second you sat down, the cool leather sent a shiver up your spine, and before you had a chance to settle, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, climbing in next to you.As soon as the door shut, the quiet of the night felt even more intense. The space between you in the car was charged, and your breath hitched when he turned to face you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence building with a heavy anticipation. He leaned in, his eyes flicking to yours, then to your lips. “You good?”. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I’m good.”. He didn’t need any more confirmation. In an instant, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss was hotter this time, more urgent, like the tension between you had been building to this point all night.

You felt  his hand slide around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his shirt as you kissed him back. The inside of the car felt small, intimate, like your own private world. You could feel the weight of him, his presence filling the space between you as the kiss deepened. His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you into him, and you found yourself melting into him again, completely lost in the moment. Then, without breaking the kiss, you felt his hand trail up my side, his fingers brushing the fake tattoos you’d drawn earlier in the night. You tensed for a second, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. He smirked, his lips still dangerously close to yours, his voice low and teasing. “You really went all out, huh?”. You laughed, still breathless. “What do you mean?”. He raised an eyebrow, his hand moving back to trace the ink on your arm. “These. The tattoos. You even got the placement right.”. You felt a flush creep up your neck. “Yeah, I, uh, did some research.”. He laughed, leaning in to kiss you again, but this time his lips trailed down your jaw, brushing your neck as his hand moved to your side, touching your bare skin under the overalls, just under your lacy bra. His breath was warm against your skin when he asked, “So, did you... draw all of them ?”. You blinked, trying to piece together what he meant as your mind raced from the feeling of his lips. Then it hit you. He pulled back slightly, that teasing smirk firmly in place. “You know... the one on my stomach ?” His hand ghosted over your belly, right where the infamous "Rot in Pieces" tattoo would be. Your face went red, and you laughed, shaking your head. “No... I didn’t, uh, go that far.”. He laughed too, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good, ‘cause I was about to say—if you did, I’d need to see the accuracy.”. You let out a giggle before looking into his eyes. “Maybe I should have, then.”, you whispered teasingly. Before you could say anything else, he closed the distance between you again, kissing you harder this time, hands moving to your hips. You felt yourself lean into him, the heat between you building as the kiss deepened. His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, until you were practically in his lap, your movements growing more intense. It was like everything outside the car disappeared—the city, the cold, the uncertainty you’d felt earlier in the night. All that mattered in this moment was him, the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against you. He gently unhooked the buckles of the oversized overalls you were wearing, brushing your skin in a way that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the desire, the playfulness in every touch, and it was intoxicating. When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he grinned, his forehead resting against yours. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “you’re gonna have to teach me how to pull off the ‘sexy Slim Shady’ look.”. You laughed, still trying to catch your breath. “I’m not sure you could handle it.”.  He grinned, his lips brushing yours again, teasingly soft. “Oh, I could handle it. Trust me.”. There was a pause, a moment where you just stayed there, pressed together in the dim light of the car, the air between you still electric. “So,” he said, his voice playful but with a certain edge to it, “What do you say we get out of here? Find somewhere quieter.”.  Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in my throat. “Yeah,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “Where do you want to go ?”.  With one last kiss—slow, lingering—he pulled away just enough to turn the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. “My place.” he suggested with a grin and you felt yourself nodding. As the car pulled away from the curb, you glanced over at him, head still spinning from the intensity of the moment. This wasn’t how you expected the night to go, but you weren’t mad. And you thought to yourself that you were really starting to really like Detroit. 

[daengtokki]

Hey 👋🏻 saw your recent post about wanting to write about seungmin fluff, and I honestly could use some fluff to feel better myself so I wanted to suggest a noona!reader x seungmin fluff where they both like each other (are close friends) but reader thinks they only see her as a sister and not romantically (and vice versa) until the other members convince seungmin to confess and well the rest is up to you really :) personally I feel that he’s the type to sing to their crush or maybe bring them a cute plushie, inviting them on a coffee date, etc

Whether or not you choose to write this, I hope you feel better~ ❤️‍🩹

𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹

©ˢᶜᵃʳˡᵉᵗᵇˡᵒˢˢᵒᵐ

────────────────────✦

Kim Seungmin/noona!reader

wc: ~5k

rating: flufffff -`♡´- (friends to lovers/idiots to lovers ( thank you @wulfgaang ) Felix and IN plotting, music for you to listen to while you read)

comments: I'm sorry this took so long anon! I started writing and just kept on writing and I couldn't stop so I eventually had to force myself to stop. I tried to edit a little but uuuhhh bshxbhscs

──────────────♡───♡─✦

He's so bad at writing a text to you that doesn't sound...off. He hates sounding too casual, which is exactly how he should be sounding, and how you expect him to sound. But he hates it. He huffs and slides down into the couch, eyes flit up every so often to the open space in front of him.

Seungmin catches sight of himself in the mirror across the room, then he sees Felix eyeballing him. And then Felix smiles.

"What?" He pulls himself up and folds his knees to his chest, looks down at the message thread on his screen...rereads your last text.

I like your hair the shade it is right now

It's nothing. It's a benign little observation on your part, but his stomach swirled the moment he read it. Now he can't think of what to say back. His thumbs freeze right above the screen, and his eyes go blurry as he stares.

Seungmin doesn't have time to reply, though, because he sees you typing again. The little dots bounce around for what seems like forever, and then they stop. Felix moves closer and sits down next to him. Then you're typing again. Typing and typing...

"Are you talking to your noona?" he whispers and tries to peek at his phone, but Seungmin pulls away.

"She's not my noona."

"Well, she never texts me. What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing..."

"Exactly! You two always seem to talk about nothing...every day."

Finally, a message comes through. And it's not nearly as long as the length of time it took to type.

are you free for lunch today? Probably not, but I'm cold and want to get some yukgaejang

No, he's not exactly free, but he's going to make himself free. Seungmin hasn't had the chance to see you face to face for almost a month. Yes, almost a month. Three weeks and three days, actually. And you were only in the building for a few hours that day, because you travel too much for work. Seungmin hates that. And he hates wishing you had a position that didn't travel at all. It's always in the opposite direction that he's going.

"I'm breaking our lunch plans." Seungmin says it so flatly and definitively.

"Fine. Only because I know you're making plans with her. Maybe ask her out properly this time, before she leaves again."

"I'm not going to ask her anything... she'll laugh at me."

Felix has no reply for that, but the stinkface he gives Seungmin says everything for him.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You stare at yourself in the mirror for far too long. The way you think you look won't change, and the way you're dressed isn't going to magically make him fall in love with you. Besides, it's cold out, and he'll pick on you if you dress more for looks than warmth.

His text message comes through, finally. You feel bad asking him, because you know he's busy, but he loves to eat and it always seems to be the best way to get him alone.

I just have to change, I'll be ready when you get here

And it's stupid, but you like driving him around; the way he plays with the music, and the way he sits back in the passenger seat and stares right at you. He always let's you know when you pass a dog going on a walk, and he loves to tell you that you drive too fast. Or too slow.

There was hardly any traffic on the way in, so you sit and stare at your phone for several minutes before texting again. You're certain he's ready—it doesn't take long to throw on a pair of sweatpants and run out the door, but getting here too fast and seeming too eager makes you feel silly. You rub at your warm cheeks and sigh, wondering if you're mentally prepared to see him again, need to kiss him, do nothing, say nothing, and then part ways for another few weeks.

A soft knock on the window makes you jump, and when you look to your right, he's there, smiling and waving.

"Sorry, I was just about to text."

Seungmin climbs in and stares at you for a moment. "I saw you pull up, are you okay?"

"I'm okay..."

"You looked worried."

He's too observant. and he's clever as hell (sometimes). You're surprised he hasn't figured you out yet, but...he's probably just avoiding it if he does know. He doesn't want you to feel awkward. Seungmin is too young for you, you think. You have no business feeling this way about someone a decade your junior, and he's not going to be interested when he's surrounded by so many pretty girls his age.

"You still look worried." He buckles his seatbelt and adjusts himself so he can look directly at you.

"Uh...just jetlag probably. And I haven't eaten yet."

"We better hurry then."

You look him over quickly as you shift gears and check the gps on your screen. He's not in his usual overly comfortable sweats, instead he's wearing cargo pants, and just a t-shirt under his North Face jacket. You hope he's warm enough, but when he reaches forward and bumps up the heat, you know he probably isn't.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"It's gonna be too spicy," he smiles and watches you take a bite. A cautious bite, because he's right, but you won't admit it. You like the spice, and he likes watching your face turn red as you slowly make your way through the bowl.

His chopsticks dive into it and grab a much bigger bite than yours.

"Get your own," you shoo him away and sip your tea, trying not to be too obvious that your whole body is on fire. With the spice, and with thoughts of him. His lips are red and swollen from the little bit of heat in his food, from the heel of his hand rubbing at them. This is about the time when your thoughts get overwhelming...so overwhelming, you think you could confess everything all in one breath—his big dewy eyes, flushed cheeks (both from the food, of course), big t-shirt hanging way too precariously from his shoulder.

"Too spicy," he chases it with his rice and scrunches up his face, "How can you eat so much of it?"

"Punishment."

"Punishment??" Seungmin looks at the text on his phone. It's not Felix this time. Felix has already sent several, asking him if he's made it official yet. This time it's Jeongin, no doubt out to lunch with him, acting up as well.

did you dress nice for her?

"Why would you need to be punished?" Seungmin blushes as soon as the words come out of his mouth. It's not just the soup making him so warm. He glances up at you and tries not to smile too awkwardly.

"Where should I begin...being lazy, breaking plans with friends, ghosting bad dates instead of telling them I'm not interested."

"Do you go on a lot of bad dates?" He sits up and clears his throat, "I mean...dates. You never mentioned that before."

His phones buzzes again. This time it's Felix.

simp

A quick glance around the restaurant reveals he and Jeongin are not actually there and listening in on them, but he wouldn't be surprised.

"I wouldn't say a lot. Uh...I'm always very careful, don't worry."

Seungmin nods and struggles to keep his face neutral. He's not concerned, he's jealous. "You're not lazy, you work very hard."

"Just too much. Sometimes I want to change jobs, stay home more. Use my apartment."

"You should," he replies so fast that you stop eating and look at him.

"I should?"

"If that's what you want, uhm...you should always do what feels right." He busies his mouth with his drink, taking slow sips and peeking at you over the rim. "I'm glad we work at the same company, though, otherwise I would have never met you." He wonders if that was too much, so he stares stupidly at the chopsticks in his hand.

"No, we probably wouldn't have met. And you're a—"

He looks up at you before you finish.

"Uh..." you should say it, you should say anything as long as it's a little bit romantic. There are so many things you've thought of already, and you have said them in your head...during your endless daydreams. When you're trying to sleep and can't, or when you open your eyes in the morning and pretend he's there in front of you, sleeping soundly.

"...you're a good friend, Seungmin."

Idiot.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Another outing with Seungmin, and another tick on your failure box. You felt awkward, and you probably made him feel awkward. You can’t relax around him anymore. Maybe he does really know that you like him, and he just doesn't want to ghost you the way you ghost your dates. He's too good and sweet to do that, and he's too good for you.

A little part of you wants to text one of the others; one of his dormmates, his closest friends, just to see if asking him out would be a horrible mistake. But you can't. If the answer yes, it's a mistake, and then they tell him? They would absolutely tell him. You might as well mess this up on your own.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"That's what you wore?" Jeongin looks at him, eyes narrow, lips pursed.

He and Felix make it home first, and they both look at him anxiously when he walks through the door. Well, Jeongin looks at him anxiously, and then tsks at the casualness of his outfit.

"It's less casual than normal."

"It's not going to convince her that you'll go all out for her, though. You gotta give her your best!"

"I don't think my outfit is going to make her suddenly fall in love with me."

"No, but if you tell her how you feel..."

"I'm not ruining what little friendship we have."

"But—"

"No."

"Kim Seungmin!" Felix yells. "If you don't talk to her like a big boy, I'll be forced to tell her myself."

"You wouldn't...please don't say anything, Yongbok. Please..."

"She likes you...maybe even more than you like her."

"How would you even know that, has she told you herself?" Seungmin finally pulls his jacket off, kicks off his shoes, and sulks to the kitchen for a drink.

"No, but I've had to sit through more than one meal with you two... dancing around each other, blushing if you end up sitting shoulder to shoulder, her sneaking little glances when you're not looking."

"She does?" he sips his milk in an attempt to get the lingering spice out of his mouth. "She looks at me?"

"Stares at you. Watches every little move you make. It's annoying, and very cute. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

"Sing her a song!" Jeongin pipes up from behind his monitor. "Invite her to dance practice, keep her around after everyone leaves...sing for her."

"That is..." Felix thinks. Seungmin rolls his eyes and groans loudly in the background. "...very cheesy, but I don't think it's a terrible idea."

"Sunday! I'll even invite her to come watch, you just have to do the rest." Jeongin is very proud of himself for thinking all of this up. "I know her, too...remember? I'll make sure she's in town, and you figure out what song you want to woo her with.”

Seungmin hates the idea. He’s already starting to get nervous eating in front of her. Now he has to practice? And sing? Sing something romantic? The logistics of all of this are escaping him, too. How will they be left alone there? If someone sees them—him singing, her standing awkwardly until he finishes. He already wants to climb into a hole just thinking about it.

“Close to You!” Jeongin cups his cheeks in his hands and smiles. “She blooms beautifully in your dreams, when you close your eyeesss,” he sways back and forth.

“No, no I’m not doing it. And you can’t make me.”

“We can’t, but we can still invite her to come on Sunday. Tell her we have some new stuff to work on, she’ll enjoy it.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You can’t say no to Jeongin, ever. He was so excited to invite you to dance practice, and you’ll actually be home, so…why not. No pressure. It’s getting to see Seungmin from a distance, or maybe not from a distance. And you love watching them act up together. Seungmin invited you once, a while ago, but you couldn’t make it, and for some reason he never asked again.

But seeing him twice in the same week is a nice treat. You just hope he’s glad to see you there.

-

Han sees you and greets you first. Then you see Changbin and Felix by a snack table, bickering about something. Felix sees you out of the corner of his eye, waves, and smirks a little. He mouths something to you, and you think he says you look nice…so you just smile back. You did put in some extra effort this morning, but you still tried to be casual. Seungmin likes casual, and he told you once, a long time ago, that he liked your style.

One of the entranceways seem like the perfect place to observe for now. Nobody is here, and you’re a little nervous about being in anyone’s way. You lean back against the wall, making yourself as small as possible, and look for Jeongin. But he’s nowhere.

Seungmin, though, is within view. His back is to you, and he’s way on the other side of the room, but you know it’s him—you would know his back and shoulders just by touch if it came to that. And you really wish it would come to that. The rest of him is swimming in a pair of dark gray sweatpants.

You hold your breath and wait for him to turn.

“Noona! Hi hi.” You jump out of your skin. It’s Jeongin.

“Innie!” You punch his shoulder, and he laughs. “Quit sneaking.”

“I wasn’t sneaking, you were just too busy staring.” He looks to Seungmin, who is now turned your way. And walking in your direction.

“Staring at what?,” you say as you continue to stare. He gets closer and closer. You can feel the distance closing between you. It’s getting warmer in the room.

“So it is true…Felix is right.”

“Huh? What is Felix right about?”

"Is Innie bothering you?" Seungmin says. He doesn’t look at you, though, just at Jeongin.

“Hmmm…I think I’m being called.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Seungmin looks behind him, behind you, and then back to Jeongin. “Better go, though.”

He looks irritated when you’re finally able to lift your gaze, but not really irritated—just like he’s holding back an eye roll. Seungmin folds his arms and hugs his hoodie to his chest, and then he finally…finally, looks at you. His face softens. You could melt, but you try to keep your composure.

This wasn’t always an issue. Seungmin always makes you feel warm and stupid when he’s around, and he has since the day you met him, but it used to be easier to be relaxed around him. And fun. You figured this would pass and you’d realize you were just crushing on him; lusting after him—daydreaming about kissing him and his braces, undressing him slowly in your mind and wondering exactly what he looked like under all of those clothes. But it never passed. It grew and grew into this monster that sits on your chest and takes your breath away.

“YN?” He crouches down so he can get your attention. “Noona?” He whispers. Seungmin doesn’t usually call you Noona, not like everyone else does. He calls you by your name, because you asked him to. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like that…just needed to snap you out of your daydream.”

“I wasn’t…hmm, I’m sorry. Hi Seungmin.”

“Hi,” his face falls a little. “Are you staying, or just passing through?”

“I’m staying.“

“Good. It’s chilly in here, I thought you might want this.” He hugs his hoodie closer to his chest and smiles. "Gotta keep the heat down so we don’t pass out, I guess.”

“Will you be mad if I take it home and forget to give it back?”

His giggle makes your head swim. “No, not at all. Actually…”

Before he can finish, Chan calls out and the floor starts to clear. He looks back, and then to you again. “Hold that thought,” he unrolls it, shakes it, and throws it around you like a cape before running off.

The scent of him overwhelms you, and your head is swimming again. Everything is swimming. Now you just want to curl up in your bed with it and fall asleep.

-

For the first time in years, Seungmin is nervous standing on the dance floor. He knows he’ll be fine—everything will fall into place once things get started. But if what Felix said is true, your eyes are on him, and only him. All the time. But you must be good at doing it only when Seungmin isn't looking. He has never once caught you staring.

He glances around the room, swings his arms, rolls his shoulders. You’re there in the same spot, his hoodie still draped around you. And yes, you’re watching him.

-

The time goes by fast, even though you’re just a spectator, and you know it’s because you might not see him again for a while once this ends. You’ll go back to your casual texts, hopefully a little each day. You’d lose your mind if you had to go longer than that without hearing from him.

The more you think about it, the more you think getting the confession over with might be the best idea. You can’t exactly go on like this forever. The rejection will crush you, but with time, you’ll have to move on. That’s just what happens. The hurt goes away, eventually.

“Hey you,” Felix pops up next you and gets your attention. “You’re staring really hard. Really really hard.”

“What?” You finally pull yourself away from Seungmin, “I was? Wait…what?”

“Seungmin is going to have a hole burnt into him if you keep that up.”

You feel flushed, even though Seungmin was right about the cold, “please tell me only you saw me.”

“Probably, everyone else seems pretty preoccupied. But be careful. Unless you plan on confessing.”

Is Felix reading your mind? You bury your face in your hand and sigh.

“Don’t look so sad. Keep looking…carefully.”

You’re an idiot. And you daydream too much. Your life is nothing but work, sleep, and a constant string of thoughts about being with him.

“Felix?” You stop him just as he starts to walk away. He smiles at you, There is usually a twinkle in his eye, but it’s even more intense right now.

“Yes, noona?”

Seungmin turns and makes eye contact, but looks away almost immediately.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“Oh hey, don’t leave too early. Innie and I have something we need to give to you after we finish up.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Everyone left. But you’re sitting on the couch, curled up in a ball, warm under Seungmin’s hoodie. Felix said stay, so you’re staying, but you don’t know what he and Jeongin could possibly have for you.

You wonder if Seungmin will come back for his hoodie. Watching him walk out of the room was a little bit heartbreaking, because he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t wave. He didn’t look your way.

-

“What am I supposed to do now? You have her waiting in there, alone, and she doesn’t know wh”

“Felix told her we had something for her, and we do.” Jeongin holds his arms up to Seungmin, palms up, like he’s presenting him. “It’s you.”

Seungmin buries his face in his hands and groans, “you still want me to go in there and sing and embarrass myself?”

“You don’t have to sing!”

“Okay, so just embarrass myself.”

Felix shakes his head, “please please pleeaaase, trust me. I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs if you don’t go sit on that couch with her right now. That’s all. Just sit there. Whatever happens after that is up to the two of you.”

“Fine. Just because I don’t want her sitting in there by herself.

-

The door clicks. You know it’s him as soon as his arm swings the door open.

“Seungmin?”

“Hi. What are you doing in here all alone?”

“Waiting…”

“Waiting for what?” He stands in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. Light gray this time—he’s showered and changed since you’ve been sitting here.

“I’m not sure.”

“Me, maybe. I’m sorry I left before without saying anything.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. He’s here now, so it is okay.

Seungmin sits down next to you. He’s quiet, and he has no idea what to say now. Maybe he should just sing, because he would at least be able to succesfully string some words together. The silence and the echo here makes it even harder to speak, but at least he knows you’re truly alone together. This usually only happens in your car—windows up, music playing. “What’s your favorite song?”

“My favorite…Stray Kids song, or my favorite favorite?”

“Favorite favorite.”

You weren’t prepared for this, but you don’t have to think very hard. “In Your Eyes…” you look at him, wait, wonder why he wants to know, “by Peter Gabriel.” You played it in the car with him before, and it took a lot to keep from telling him everything right then and there as it played. But you didn’t. It played, uninterrupted, and both of you were silent the entire five and a half minutes.

“I remember that song.”

“You do?”

Seungmin nods and laughs, “it’s on half of your playlists. Yeah, I know it.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Silence again. Seungmin is 100% winging this, but he does know where he’s going with it. Because he does want to sing for you.

“So I can practice it.”

You shift and look at him, his hoodie slips off of your shoulders and onto the couch. It takes several seconds of thinking, of gears starting to turn in your brain, and of your eyes jumping back and forth between his before you start to put a few pieces together.

“…and sing it for you,” Seungmin looks down at his fidgeting hands, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. You not replying immediately is stretching out like hours. How can he make this less awkward now? He can sing for you and not make it romantic, right? Just a nice gesture between good friends. Not that song, though. He wasn’t even sure you would choose a romantic song.

No, he’s in it and he’s not getting back out. “Please say something.”

“You wanna…sing for me?”

“I’m not very good at…talking about my feelings otherwise.”

“You can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything."

Seungmin leans forward and rubs at his face, and he buries it there in his hands. It’s a bad time to start losing his nerve, he’s too far in. “I can’t.” He feels the couch shift as you get closer, just close enough that your knee hits his. “It’s a lot.”

“It is a lot. I know.”

“You do?”

You want to grab him and make him look at you, but your body won’t allow it. It takes another long silence to finally get some of his attention. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are big and nervous.

“Yeah, too much to keep carrying around by myself.”

He doesn’t seem to be following you, because he still looks worried, upset. But you’re not helping—you weren’t ready for this, and you have no idea what to say. You’re bad at this kind of talk, too.

“Am I making you uncomfortable? And I messing everything up?”

“No, Minnie…I’m very comfortable sitting here with you right now. I could sit here with you all night.”

Now, finally, he turns and gives you his full attention, red faced and serious. His bottom lip is catching up, because he won’t stop biting down on it. You reach out and poke his chin, “don’t do that.”

He licks his lips and forces himself to stop, but now he’s not talking again. There’s eye contact, at least. And it’s intense…Seungmin doesn’t know how intense his stare can be. Maybe you’re supposed to finish this—he did start, and it was a pretty bold start.

“We should—”

A clatter outside makes both of you jump. Maybe you’re not as alone as you think, and in that case, you’re a little bit uncomfortable. It makes you feel better about what you were about to say.

“…we should go somewhere else to talk.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It took no convincing for him to follow you closely on the walk outside. Silent. And inside the car, cold and dark, still silence. You could talk here—you’ve shared a lot in this car already, but it doesn’t feel right. You just want to take him home, get him warm, make him comfortable.

Seungmin is nervous. You know exactly what he was trying to tell you back there on the couch, but what you don’t know is how intensely he really feels, and if he’s willing to act on it the way that you are. You don’t want to risk scaring him away, but your desire for him has already reached its boiling point. Every minute without acting on it now is killing you.

He’s huddled down deep in his coat. You finally let out a sigh of relief when he leans forward to adjust the radio, and then he turns up the heat.

“Where are we going?” His voice is small and timid, not like him at all. It’s like his little bit of confession, the emotional exertion of finally telling you he maybe wants more, kicked his ass.

“My apartment.”

“I’ve never been to your apartment before.”

“Is that okay?

He sits up, and you can see him look at you out of the corner of your eye. “Yeah, of course.”

-

It’s already warm inside. The few lights you keep on while you’re out gives the small space a comfortable glow. It’s even better with a view of him shaking out of his coat, and carefully taking off his shoes. The apartment almost feels—

“…it’s cozy in here.” He says. You watch him walk further in, just a few steps, and look around. “And quiet, and warm.” The smile on his face is reserved, “just like you.”

“Like me?”

He nods, and his smile grows a little more. “Yes, you’re quiet, usually. And you’re always warm. And I’m sure you’re very cozy, too.”

“That sounds more like you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called warm…but—”

“I guess you’re only like that with me.”

You can tell he’s relaxing. He laughs, smiles fully, pushes his hair away from his eyes. More importantly, he walks further into your apartment, looks around again, and then sits on the couch.

“Do you want some tea? You’re probably starving. I can order something, there are a few places close by that are fast.”

“Yes, and yes…but there’s no hurry…uhm, let’s have some tea.”

-

“It’s probably too hot, be careful.” You finally sit down next to him. Close. Closer than you were earlier, and definitely closer than you’ve ever been out to dinner, or lunch, or anywhere.

Seungmin turns toward you. His face is right there, inches from yours. His eyes and his lips, his breath. His eyes are moving between yours and jumping everywhere, like he’s taking all of you in from this distance. Part of you wants to back up, because you haven’t seen in a mirror in hours. But you can’t. He’s a magnet. You think (hope) he wants you to keep pushing forward, and that’s exactly what you do.

It’s as satisfying as you knew it would be. He’s as soft as you imagined, and as sweet. It’s a shy kiss on his part, but you kind of expected that, as well. You like it like that, because he’s taking his time. But you also need a little more, so you take over.

Your hand slides across his neck. He lets you pull him closer, and he doesn’t shy away when you open up and bite down gently on his lower lip. A soft sound escapes him and floats right down your throat, and it makes your knees shake against his.

A knock on the door interrupts right as you feel his hand graze your leg. Seungmin lets go and pulls back, just enough to open his eyes and look at you. “Thank you for getting me dinner,” he says, and he leans into you again until your lips touch.

“…Seungmin.”

“Hm?”

You don’t even know what you were going to say—if you were going to say anything at all. It just feels good saying his name out loud.

“Mm…nothing.”

“Was that okay? The kiss, I mean. I know my braces probably get in the way.”

“No, they don’t…not at all. It was very okay.”

He kisses you again, this time with more confidence. You can feel his smile grow when you grab his arm and pull it around you. And you can feel his braces brush against your lips. He notices, and jumps back.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve waited a long time for this.” You pull him back, and set your lips on his cheek.

“How long?”

“Oh…lemme think,” you pretend to think for a moment, but you don’t need to. You remember exactly when you first saw him and wanted to kiss him. “It was October, last year.”

“That long? Why didn’t I know? It feels like everyone else knew.”

“Nobody else knew. I never told anyone, I thought it was silly, maybe a little inappropriate. You just turned twenty when we met.” You pull away now, and sigh as you fall back into the couch. It sounds even worse when you hear it out loud.

“I don’t think it’s silly. I’m old enough to know what I want.” Seungmin grabs your hand and pulls you back up to him.

“So why me?”

Seungmin thinks, “because you’re cozy and warm,” he smiles, “and you make me laugh.”

“That’s it?”

He laughs again, and it’s so sweet and relaxed and melodic. “I’m comfortable with you, and you’re always there when I need you.”

“That’s nice to hear, considering you don’t act like you need anyone…ever.”

Seungmin goes quiet. He always puts up a strong front, because he doesn’t really know how to act any other way. He's not as cold and quiet as he appears on the outside, and he tries very hard to never come off that way to you.

“Just assume I always do.”

“Always what?”

“Always need you.”

[gallaggher]

the night sky. || derek morgan x fem!bau!reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, but honestly just fluff, flirting, idiots in love.

- - -

you and your team had just finished a case. as the jet landed, groans of tired agents filled the fuselage. everyone grabbed their bags and files, heading towards the office. as the elevator opened, revealing the desks of your coworkers, penelope stood at the door.

"hi hi hi! you all look so tired and i had to ask but i’m sure that case was so exhausting but would you guys wanna go get drinks tomorrow?" she asked, her lips moving at the speed of light.

her question earned a "hell yeah!" from jj, prentiss, and morgan. you and the rest of the team hummed in agreement, too exhausted to muster more than a smile. after agreeing to go out with the team tomorrow, you head to your desk. your desk so happened to be next to the most handsome man you had ever seen before, derek morgan.

you see, you had such a school crush on derek. every time he came around butterflies sat in your stomach. your face would rise with the slightest red tint, and you couldn’t help but to stutter over your words.

“hey, y/n?” the man beside you called out. your words struggled to leave your throat, those butterflies regaining their spot.

“yeah, morgan?” you answer, desire clouding your mind.

“you’re coming tomorrow, right? just wanna see if you really got moves like you claim” morgan states, a joking tone in his voice and large smile spreading across his face.

“oh trust me, i got moves, you’ll see,” you reply, wondering internally where this wave of confidence came from. morgan laughed as he packed up his things and left.

- - -

the next evening, you stood in front of your mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your dress. it was a deep, midnight blue that complemented your complexion perfectly. the dress hugged your figure in all the right places, with a short skirt that added a touch of grace to your every movement.

taking a deep breath, you grabbed your purse and headed out the door. when you arrived at the bar, you spotted derek immediately. his eyes lit up as he saw you, and he broke into a wide smile.

"wow, y/n, you clean up nice," derek remarked, his smile widening even further.

you giggle before responding, "why, thank you, derek," you say with a playful eye roll. "you don't look too bad yourself."

your eyes analyze the bar and immediately you notice penelope, jj, and emily chatting by the bar, drinks in hand. you rush over to them. “hi guys!!” you say, a wide grin taking over your features.

“omg girl!! you look so good! where’s your dress from?” penelope asks, the girls all admiring your figure.

“i picked it up at a shop downtown! it was so cute i couldn’t leave it, anyway, i need a drink!” you say, turning to the bartender.

“ooouu look who’s looking over here!! i never thought i could see derek morgan with a crush. y/n you have to make your move on him! he wants you so bad girl,” jj says, while making a gesture to where morgan sits at the bar.

“yeah, right!” you comment, grabbing your drink, “he would never want me, and even if he did i’m too nervous to try anything like that with him! i mean, if it goes wrong i’d have to see him literally everyday, that would be so embarrassing,” you say, taking a sip of your drink.

“all i’m saying is he wants you, bad. and i would kno-” jj starts, getting cut off by your voice.

“guys this is my song! we have to dance! now!” you exclaim, grabbing the hands of the girls and dragging them to the floor.

thong song by sisqó filled the speakers as you all reached the floor. suddenly the girls formed a circle around you. not caring who was around or who could see you, you began to dance.

and that’s when it started. you had bent over slightly, your fingertips grazing the skin of your ankles. you began swaying your hips side to side, the fabric of your dress rising with every movement. your arms traveled up your legs as you began to stand up straight again. when you finally made it back upright you continued to sing and dance, moving your hips in a circular fashion. the dancing didn’t stop, and neither did morgan’s torture.

you hadn’t even noticed the girls leaving to get drinks until you felt a hand on your waist. this hand was bigger than any of the girls, and judging by the grip, you knew it was a man. you jump, turning around to see the face of derek.

“holy shit, derek! you scared me!” you yell over the music, relief in your voice.

“sorry mama, just seen you showing off your “moves”, and i figured i need to see them up close,” derek says, smile unwavering.

the song had now changed, yet the rhythm in your hips did not. you continued to dance, regardless of derek’s presence. you had no idea where this confidence could be coming from, yet it didn’t stop you. you placed your hand on derek’s chest before sliding down. your knees bent under you as you trailed your hand down derek’s body, stopping just before his belt. you hopped back up and continued to dance, feeling derek move with you.

with that, derek grabbed your waist. “cmon mama, i wanna take you somewhere. grab your stuff, let’s go.”

your mind went blank, were you really going home with the derek morgan? the same man you had a crush on? still, even in disbelief, you obeyed. you walked over to the bar with derek and said your goodbyes to the team. you grabbed your bag and headed for the door.

“we can take my car pretty,” derek states, “if that’s okay?”

you smiled and looked up at him. “that’s okay with me derek.”

as you approach his vehicle, he opens the passenger door. you nod and mumble a quick “thank you” before climbing in and putting on your seatbelt.

the drive was short and quiet. the silence wasn’t awkward, more so peaceful.

derek stopped the car and turned to you. “i hope you like stargazing.”

you wait patiently as derek grabs a blanket from the trunk and then opens your door. you walk onto the grassy hill, your heels in hand. he places the blanket on the ground, waiting for you to lay down.

as you lay down and place your things beside you, derek follows. he lays on his back and looks up at the stars, and you lay on his arm. your heart was beating at rapid speeds, and he noticed.

“hey mama breathe,” he says with a smile. “i’m not gonna eat you, yet, so don’t worry.”

you roll your eyes playfully and look up at the sky. there wasn’t a cloud around, the sky was so clear it seemed like something you would see in a book, or a movie.

“hey, derek?” you ask softly.

“hm?” he hums out.

“i really really like you. i know how dumb it makes me sound, it’s like im in the fourth grade. but i really do. you make me get butterflies and blush and i make sure i look pretty every day for you. i hope you don’t think im insane.” you say, your heart sinking with every word. your mind races, thoughts of “you just ruined it” and “why did i just do that” circle your mind.

“i like you too y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. you make me feel special and i think it’s adorable how you get around me. the way you stutter and get red,” he pauses, “i just think it’s adorable.”

you look up at derek. admiring his features under the moonlight. “you’re so handsome.” you blurt out.

derek’s hand reaches for your chin. his fingers slowly roll over the soft skin, and his eyes admire your features.

“and you’re beautiful.”

derek places a kiss on your forehead before looking back up to the sky.

“hey hey hey” he says, words gentle and coated with honey. “don’t tell pretty boy how soft i get for you, or he’ll never let me live it down.”

you smile, knowing that he’s only joking. “oh trust me, everyone’s gonna hear about this tomorrow.” you say back, joking as well.

he rolls his eyes and his hand begins to play with your hair. “i wish we could stay like this forever.”

[bell4lan]

Brother's Best Friend

Genre: Smut

DNI: NON-MLM/NBLM, fujoshis, mlm/nblm fetishizers, trans fetishizers

CW: Feminine words used for privates (pussy, cunt, folds), clit is referred to as a dick, thigh fucking, fingering, teansie bit of a handjob, thigh kisses/hickies, mentions of puke (it's not a weird kink or smthn dw), praise, reader gets called good boy, modern au ig but it's not rlly that important lol

Character(s): Top Nakahara Chuuya x Bottom Trans Male Reader. Dazai is readers brother

'This must be a dream. It has to be.' Was all you could think as the cab you were in pulled up to one of the fanciest hotels you've ever seen. You hesitantly got out of the cab and grabbed your luggage before paying the driver, watching as she drove off. You turned around and stared at the huge building in front of you.

'I must be at the wrong place. There's no way he could afford a room here.' You thought to yourself as you continued to stare at the building. After a few minutes, you gathered the courage to walk in and check if you really did have a room at such a marvelous hotel. However, once you stepped into the hotel you were immediately tackled into a hug.

"(Name)!! Oh I missed you so much. How has my little brother been?" The man said in a sing song voice. You let go of your luggage and hugged him back for a few seconds before backing away.

"I've been okay. Dazai how in the world did you get us a room here?" You asked as you admired the decor.

"I paid for it duh. Are you impressed by your big brother?" He asked, putting his hands under his chin and batting his eyelashes. All you did was roll your eyes at him and laugh. You could hardly believe your brother, who you remembered to be a man who rarely took anything seriously, actually had a well paying job. He was incredibly smart yes, but he had zero work ethic. Honestly you were impressed by him.

"Sure I am." You replied sarcastically. He pouted, but quickly went back to his normal goofy self and helped you check in. As he lead you to your room, he informed you that it was connected to his so you could come over whenever you wanted. Though you knew that meant he'd be coming over to see you instead.

"Oh! Do you remember my friend Chuuya? He's staying with us." He said as you both arrived to your room.

"Dazai it's only been 3 years of course I remember Chuuya." You teased as you opened the door. The room was bigger and more beautiful than you expected. Dazai grinned at your look of shock and started helping you put your stuff away.

Once you were finished, Dazai surprisingly left you alone and let you relax until dinner. You weren't expecting to be at such a fancy place, so you didn't pack any formal clothing that would match the restaurants that were probably just as extravagant as the hotel. You tried your best though, and dressed up in your nicest outfit. As you were looking in the bathroom mirror to make sure you didn't look like an idiot, the door that connected the two rooms opened.

"(Name)! Are you done getting ready?" Dazai shouted. You decided that was enough of picking apart your appearance and came out of the bathroom. Thankfully, Dazai was dressed in a similar fashion, meaning your outfit was appropriate for the restaurant. Dazai smiled and walked back into his room, leaving the door open. You could hear Chuuya scolding Dazai for being loud, and Dazai purposefully trying to rile him up. They really haven't changed a bit.

You decided to wait outside the room just so you wouldn't be sitting around and looked on your phone. The door opened making you look up, and out came Chuuya. His hair was longer than it was the last time you saw him, and he seemed to have grown a few inches...? Wait that can't be right. You glanced down at his shoes and saw they had slight heels, making you smile to yourself. You both just awkwardly waved at each other before your brother came out.

Dazai led you guys to the restaurant, teasing Chuuya the entire time. Once you all sat down, you decided to look at the menu to see what food they have. Your eyes widened at the prices and you looked at Dazai like he was insane.

"Dazai these prices are ridiculous!" You whisper shouted.

"So what? I'm paying so order whatever you'd like." He said with a grin. You were seriously surprised. Just how in the world could he afford all of this? You looked at the menu and decided to go with a cheaper option since Dazai had already spent so much money on you.

"So (Name), did you find a boyfriend yet?" Dazai asked, wiggling his brows as he spoke. You could feel yourself get a bit flustered from the question.

"No I haven't." You said shyly. Dazai knew you got shy when it came to your love life, so you knew he was doing this on purpose just to tease you. "Did you?" You fired back. Dazai sighed dramatically and stirred his drink.

"Noooo." He whined with a pout. You just smiled at him and decided to move on to a different topic.

The night was fun. You had a good time catching up with your brother, and even grew a little closer to Chuuya. It had always been awkward between you two despite you only being a year younger than him and your brother. To be honest, you didn't really know why it was awkward. You got along, but it just seemed tense whenever you and him spoke without Dazai around.

Speaking of Dazai, he was currently on his 6th drink of the night and he was absolutely wasted. Dazai had always been a lightweight and he had ordered some strong drinks despite you and Chuuya telling him not to. You both decided it would be best to leave and take Dazai back to the room, which was a struggle. You both had to hold onto him because he was too drunk to walk, and he wouldn't stop singing.

"Oh my god shut up you bastard." Chuuya snapped as Dazai sang the same verse of his own made up song for the 10th time. Dazai just giggled at him and sang louder.

Finally, you guys made it back. You helped Chuuya get Dazai undressed and into his pajamas and thanked him for taking care of him. Once you were finished, you went back to your room to get ready for bed.

"ARE YOU SHITTING ME DAZAI?!" You heard Chuuya yell. You ran over to the door and yanked it open, seeing the side of Chuuyas bed covered in puke, Dazai passed out on the floor, and Chuuya red with anger.

"Oh my- Chuuya i'm so sorry. I'll clean this up for you." You said as you rushed over and helped Dazai up. He luckily didn't get anything on his or Chuuya's clothing or belongings, so you just helped him clean off his face.

"Don't apologize (Name) it's not your fault he's a dumbass." Chuuya said. You could tell he was furious considering now he had no place to sleep, and the room would smell like puke if not cleaned up quickly.

"Could you help Dazai get into bed while I clean up the puke?" You asked as you gently handed him your sleeping brother. He sighed and just nodded. You thanked him before gathering up the bedding that had puke on it, being careful to not touch any of it.

After almost an hour you got most of the puke out so it wouldn't smell, but you'd have to let the cleaners wash it tomorrow. You sighed and saw Chuuya sitting on the edge of Dazai's bed, glaring at him.

"I'm sorry Chuuya. You can use my bed if you'd like. I can just sleep with Dazai or something." You offered. You felt bad that your brother made such a mess and wanted to make it up to Chuuya.

"What? No it's alright. I'll just sleep in my bed." He said as he got up.

"But you don't even have a blanket or sheets. Please take my bed, I feel bad for what Dazai did." You explained. Chuuya thought for a bit before finally speaking up.

"Let's just both sleep in your bed. I'm tired and don't feel like arguing about this." He sighed.

"Okay, that could work. It's a pretty big bed. Just come over when you're ready to sleep." You said before leaving. Once you were back in your room you rushed to put some of your stuff away that you were too lazy to organize when you got back.

Once finished, you got into bed and tried to relax while watching TV. Chuuya came in not long after you turned it on and plopped down onto your bed, clearly exhausted.

"I'm going to kill your brother when he wakes up." He mumbled as he looked at the TV. You laughed and turned it off so you both could get some sleep.

A few hours later, you woke up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. '3 am. Great.' You thought to yourself. You tried to go back to sleep but couldn't. Maybe it was because someone else is in bed with you? You weren't sure, but it was frustrating you.

Chuuya seemed to have trouble sleeping too, because you felt him sit up and heard him sigh. You rolled over to face him and saw him rubbing his eyes.

"Can't sleep either?" You asked. He glanced at you and nodded before laying down again, this time facing you. You both stared at each other for a moment before he asked you why you couldn't sleep. The conversation went on from there. It went surprisingly smooth considering you both were always so awkward around each other. You both asked each other things about your current lives, he even told you some stories about him and Dazai that you had never heard before. It was pleasant. You really enjoyed talking to him.

The conversation died down after a while, and all you guys did was glance around the room. Chuuya's gaze made it's way to your lips, and you noticed. You felt yourself getting a bit flustered and couldn't help but feel shy.

"Can I kiss you?" Chuuya whispered, cheeks dusted pink. You nodded and felt as he pressed his soft lips against yours. You certainly weren't expecting him to be such a good kisser, but holy fuck he was. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss as he did. Your arms went around his neck, the kiss getting more heated as you both got closer to each other.

It wasn't long before his tongue was in your mouth and your hips were grinding against his. You could feel his hard-on rubbing against you, making you shiver. His hands went down to your ass and pushed you against him harder, groaning into your mouth. You pulled away to catch your breath and felt him kiss your neck, sucking softly at the skin.

"Ch-Chuuya you can't leave marks." You breathed out. You heard Chuuya hum and he stopped sucking. He moved away from your neck and looked into your eyes.

"You know...i've always thought you were really handsome." He confessed.

"Really?" You asked. He nodded and pecked your lips.

"Do you want to take this further?" He asked, hand running up and down your side.

"Y-Yeah, but I don't have any condoms." You said shyly. He hummed and thought for a moment.

"We don't have to go all the way, I could fuck your thighs." He suggested. You squeezed your legs together and felt yourself get wet. He didn't even say anything that dirty, but his words made you hot. You said okay and watched as he went to get lotion from the bathroom. He came back and put it on the bed so he could take off his pants. You took off yours too, but hid yourself under the blanket. He took off his briefs after you did and wow, you sure knew where the rest of his height went. Honestly, you were a bit happy you weren't going all the way. He would easily be the biggest you've taken if you did, and you weren't sure if you were prepared for his size.

"Can I see you?" He asked, voice hushed. You nodded and moved the blanket. He moved in front of you and parted your legs, licking his lips once he saw your sex. He dipped his head between your legs and kissed at your thighs.

"Can I leave marks here?" He asked while glancing up at you. It wasn't like that part of you would be exposed at all during this trip, so you said yes. You moaned softly once you felt him sucking at the skin. Your thighs had always been a sensitive part of your body, so this just turned you on even more.

He pulled away and smirked as he saw the markings he made. Sitting up, he grabbed the lotion and opened it, squeezing some onto his hand. He rubbed some on your thighs, running his hand close to your pussy to tease you. He squeezed some more on his hand and rubbed it on his hard cock. You watched as he did it and offered to help. He of course said yes and sighed once he felt your soft hand stroke him up and down.

"F-Fuck you're good at this. If you keep going i'll cum." He warned as he pulled your hand away.

He positioned you to where you were laying on your side facing the wall while he was behind you. He put some more lotion on just in case and asked you to squeeze your thighs together. He slowly pushed himself between them, cock sliding against your folds as he did. He started to thrust his hips, hands gripping yours as he did.

You moaned softly as you felt him fuck your thighs. The whole situation was so erotic, so lewd. You never thought someones cock simply rubbing against you could feel so good. You positioned your hips in a way where his tip hit your dick and you choked back a loud moan.

"You h-have to be quiet (Name). The walls here are th-thin." Chuuya whispered, trying his best to not be too loud, though it was kind of hard when your thighs were giving him so much pleasure. You nodded and did your best to keep your noises down.

You looked below you and saw as his dick thrusting up against your pussy, making you whine. "Good boy." He whispered into your ear as you tightened your thighs. His thrusts were much faster now that your slick made it easier for his dick to slide between your thighs.

One of his hands moved to your ass and squeezed it as he got closer to release. He breathed out curses as he watched his dick disappear between your legs. He couldn't imagine how good you must feel inside, how good your pussy would feel around him. How you'd probably squeeze him as he praised you...fuck he was gonna cum.

He gave you a warning before his release, pressing tip pressed against your dick as he came and coating your cunt in cum. He pulled out and you turned onto your back so you could look at him.

"Chuuya...please fuck me." You begged quietly. You needed him. You needed to feel him inside you so badly, you had never felt so needy for someone before.

"No, we don't have a condom. Here-" He stopped mid sentence and sat up. He told you to sit up too and moved behind you once you did. He pulled you between his legs and told you to spread yours. You felt so exposed to him like this, but did as he said anyway. He moved his hand between your legs and gathered some of his cum on his fingers. He moved his hand up your mouth and positioned his fingers in front of it.

"Lick it off for me." He whispered. You licked off the cum and glanced up at him once you were finished. He kissed your head and whispered praises in your ear as he moved his hand back down and dipped two fingers inside you.

You gasped as you felt his slender fingers inside you, reaching deeper than yours could. He slowly started to thrust them, watching at how you squirmed from it.

"Does that feel good?" He asked as he sped up. You gasped and moaned out a yes. He slowed his thrusts and pushed in a third one, making you gasp. His fingers made you feel satsifyingly full as they hit your sweet spot repeatedly. You had such a hard time keeping your voice down as he fingered you.

"I-I'm close Chuuya!" You whined as he sped up. He pressed his palm against your dick as he fingered you, making you moan out curses.

"Good boy, cum all over my fingers (Name)." He whispered, chuckling softly when he felt you tighten around them. You came hard, pussy twitching around his fingers as your orgasm hit. Your hand covered your mouth to muffle the loud moan that you couldn't hold back.

Chuuya's fingers stopped moving and he pulled them out slowly, rubbing them on your folds as he whispered more praises into your ear. His other hand moved your hand away from your mouth, and he leaned down to kiss you.

Pulling away, he moved so that he wasn't behind you anymore and laid you down. He asked if you needed anything and got you the water you requested. He washed his hands and grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom to clean you both up a bit.

Once finished, he threw it into the bathroom to deal with later. After he dressed himself, he dressed you and got back into bed. He wrapped his arms around you and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before falling asleep with you in his arms.

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I originally started writing this story with a completely different plot but then I realized it wasn't anything like how I originally wanted it to be, so I deleted it and redid the whole thing and omg i'm SO glad I did. I had so much fun writing this story I started and finished it today. I really like this story and I hope you guys do too! ^^ This actually wasn't supposed to have so much plot but I got carried away ^^;

Also i'm sorry if I made Chuuya or Dazai OOC. I tried my best to keep them in character while also fitting them into a world where they aren't completely traumatized 😭. Also sorry if you expected smthn rough. Imo Chuuya would be a gentle lover. At least the first time he would lol.

Side note: I'm trying a new layout(?) so sorry if it's a bit weird ^^;