#he proceeded to shake him like a fucking soda can

[surlybobbies]

(here’s a late holiday offering for all of you)

deancas, 2.5k, AU, friends to lovers, baby jack

-----

They stopped at a park on the way back to Dean’s apartment. Baby’s trunk was full of gifts, evidence of a successful Christmas shopping trip, and so it was with satisfaction that Dean leaned against the hood of the car and pulled out his burger from the takeout bag.

Cas was similarly content, and they enjoyed each other’s company in silence for a few minutes as they began their meal. At a nearby jungle gym, children threw snowballs at each other from the little flakes of ice they’d been able to scrape together. Dean tried not to watch them too closely - you could never be too careful - but Cas observed them with a furrowed brow.

Apropos of nothing, he said, “How do parents handle the Santa situation?”

Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What do you mean?”

“When would one begin telling a child about Santa? And how does one deal with the inevitable fallout when they realize he isn’t real?”

Dean’s stomach turned a little bit. “You thinkin’ about kids all of a sudden?”

“Not sure,” Cas said, examining his burger and plucking out a piece of onion with his fingers.

Another silence descended. Dean frowned at his meal, his appetite lost.

Meanwhile, Cas plucked out another onion slice. “I don’t think I believed in Santa,” he said eventually. “But I knew about him. I wish I could remember who first told me the tale.”

“I learned about him when I was in middle school,” Dean admitted. “The first time I stayed at one school for more than a few months. Pretty sure by then I was too old to believe.”

Cas lifted his eyes to the playground again. “No doubt at least a few of these children believe in Santa.” He sucked some stray ketchup off his thumb, and Dean had to look away.

“Good for them,” he said. “They should enjoy being kids.”

“In a few years, maybe even this year, their parents are going to have to admit to their lies.”

“It’s harmless,” Dean replied, waving away Cas’s curious stare. “It’s good for ‘em. Teaches ‘em to question things, question motives. Gets ‘em ready for the adult world of backstabbing and lies.”

Cas smiled at him. It was wide and affectionate. “I thought you said they should enjoy being kids?”

Dean bit down on a reflexive smile. “It’s one little thing, alright? Santa’s like - 1% of the kid experience. They’ve got the other 99% to think about - cooler, more important shit.”

“Like what?”

“Like the shit they do on the daily, y’know? If they can con their parents into letting them have candy for breakfast. Or sneaking down at midnight to have some ice cream. Or building a pillow fort. Or stickers. Or farts.”

“Farts?”

“Kids like farts.”

“No one likes farts.”

“You don’t know kids then.”

Cas conceded with a tilt of his head. “You’re right. Maybe they do enjoy farts.”

They finished their burgers and sipped at their sodas. It was when Dean was returning from the trash can that he saw the wistful look on Cas’s face as he listened to the yells and laughter of the kids. He smacked Cas on the arm. “You good?”

Up close, Dean could see the downturn of Cas’s lips. “Just thinking about the future,” Cas said eventually. When he turned to Dean, he was smiling woodenly.

Dean’s gut turned sour again, and he knew himself better than to blame it on the burger. “So you are thinkin’ about kids.”

Cas looked down at his shoes. “I think I might be.”

Dean ran a hand over his chin, then cleared his throat. “Good for you, man. I think you’d be a good dad.”

Cas looked at him. “And you too. You’d be an amazing father.”

The expression on Cas’s face - sincere, soft, affectionate - made Dean’s throat tight. He laughed too loudly. “Hey, listen, when you do have kids, you can tag me in any time, alright?”

The wistfulness had vanished from Cas’s face. He was smiling. “Agreed. I’ll let you handle the Santa situation.”

-----

Cas started fostering Jack a year later, and it was apparent very early on to Dean that fatherhood was Cas’s calling. Yes, he was always tired, and yes, he didn’t have nearly as much time for Dean as he did before, but Jack was thriving and Cas was happy - and because of that, Dean was happy, even if it meant losing Cas’s attention to fatherhood.

Dean’s disappointment was lessened by the fact that Jack quickly became just as attached to Dean as he was to his foster dad, so if Dean spent a few days a week at Cas’s place to “help out with the baby,” no one questioned his motives.

“You ever going to tell him?” Sam asked one day as he and Dean watched Cas carry Jack around Sam’s garden. Jack was a grabby kid, and Cas was constantly having to stop him from putting flowers in his mouth.

Dean didn’t bother asking what Sam was talking about. “He doesn’t need that on his plate right now.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, unconvinced. “So when? When he gives Jack up? You and I both know that’s never happening.”

“Then never,” Dean snapped, even though just the thought of holding it all in for one more day made Dean’s chest feel tight.

Sam ran a hand over his mouth like he was trying to stop himself from saying anything else, but Sam was nothing if not nosy. “We both know never’s not an option. It’s gotta be now, Dean. Or if not now, then soon. You’re already playing house with Cas. Plus there’s a kid involved now - a kid who absolutely adores you - so I hate to say it, but if things have to go south, it has to happen before Jack’s any older.”

Dean stared at Sam. “That’s fucked up, Sammy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know this already,” Sam said, though his tone was gentle. “I’m just saying out loud what you don’t want to admit.”

Cas was approaching with Jack, so Dean didn’t respond.

“I apologize,” Cas said to Sam. “Jack might have destroyed a few blooms.” He opened his palm and offered the crushed red blooms up for inspection. It could have been Dean’s bloody heart for how much he was hurting.

It was obvious that Sam was still watching Dean out of the corner of his eye, but he spared a smile and a tummy tickle for Jack. “No harm done, little guy.”

-----

Dean knew Sam was right, knew that for Jack’s sake, his two de facto parents needed to be on the same page about what they were to each other - but there was never a good time to bring it up. Was Dean supposed to just spill his heart out onto the dining room table with Jack’s sliced fruit? He contemplated asking Sam for advice, but 1) Dean did not want nor would he accept any pity from his little brother and 2) Sam was busy getting ready for his wedding.

So Dean, Cas, and Jack went on with their lives - separate but hopelessly intertwined, and all Dean could do was lie awake at night hoping that when the time came, he’d be able to make sense of the mess of tangled knots they’d created.

-----

Jack made the cutest ring bearer. Cas was a groomsman, but he’d asked to escort Jack up the aisle, and Sam and Eileen had loved the idea. Dean had loved the idea too, mostly because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to stomach the sight of Cas walking down the aisle in his smartly-tailored suit, arm-in-arm with Eileen’s cousin Sara. In the moment, however, Dean loved the idea simply because Cas was incandescent, smiling widely down at Jack, holding Jack’s hand as the toddler took his too-big, unsteady steps down the garden path.

At the end of the walk, when Cas had deposited Jack safely with Gabriel in the front row, he took his place by Dean’s side.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at him, helpless with affection. “I’m happy for you, Cas,” he said, just as the guests stood up to welcome the bride.

Cas ducked his head bashfully, but he put a hand on Dean’s back in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

-----

Cas cornered him at the reception, where Dean was lurking at the edges of the dance floor. “Can we talk?” he said, leaning in to be heard over the music.

Dean had two servings of whiskey in him. “Always, Cas.”

Cas looked him oddly, but he said nothing. He led Dean away from the reception tent (where Gabriel and Garth were taking turns to dance with Jack in their arms) and stopped when they were far enough away to hear each other without yelling.

Cas was pink-cheeked from champagne, his hair was a mess, and Dean was so in love with him it hurt. “What do you need?” he asked, because concentrating on what Cas needed kept Dean from focusing on what Dean wanted.

“I thought I should tell you before it gets any farther in the proceedings - I’ve started the formal process of adopting Jack.”

Dean’s heart was full to bursting. He swallowed down a sudden urge to cry. “That’s great news, man,” he said, pulling Cas into a rough hug. “Congratulations!”

Cas’s arms wrapped tight around Dean, his chin hooked over Dean’s shoulder. There was a telltale sniff at his ear, so Dean just held on tighter to his best friend.

When Cas drew away a minute later, his nose was red. He kept his hands at Dean’s elbows. “I’ve asked so much of you already - “

“Stop right there,” Dean said, shaking his head, “because that’s not true. Whatever I did, I did because I wanted to. Because I’d do anything for that kid.”

Cas looked at Dean so tenderly it made Dean’s throat tight. “And I’m so grateful for that, Dean. You’ve been the best support I could have asked for.” Cas looked down, his eyebrows furrowing. The hands at Dean’s elbows tightened. “But I have to ask of you one more thing.”

There was no universe out there where Dean would have refused Cas anything. “Spit it out, Cas.”

“If something were to happen to me,” Cas said, eyes brimming, “would you take him in?”

Dean took hold of Cas’s elbows too, a reassurance that Cas was still there in front of him, still alive, still breathing. “Cas, you’re going to be kicking for a long time. Jack will have grandbabies before you check out.”

Cas smiled softly. He indulged Dean. “Still, if I should go before you - “

Helpless, absolutely wrecked, Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sammy had just gotten married to the best woman on Earth a few hours prior. A few yards away, the people Dean loved were dancing to “The Cha-Cha Slide.” And now Cas was asking Dean to take on the biggest honor of his life in the same sentence that Cas was talking about his inevitable death. Dean’s eyes welled up.

Cas touched Dean’s face for a brief moment. “I’m sorry to do this to you.”

Dean swiped at his eyes stubbornly. “Cas, I meant it when I said I’d do anything for that kid. If he ever loses you, he’s going to have me. Don’t even think about apologizing for that.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. There were tears on his cheeks too. “That makes me feel less scared of the future.”

Dean sniffed. He straightened Cas’s tie. “But hey, no takebacks, alright? Even if you go and get yourself hitched, I’m not giving Jack up.”

Cas’s mouth lifted at the corner, but Dean knew it was just for show. “I don’t think marriage is in the cards for me, Dean,” Cas admitted.

It was the way Cas looked at him that made Dean remember what Sam had said a few months before. If Dean was ever going to say something, it had to be right at this moment.

“Listen, Cas,” Dean said, clearing his throat, “now that we know Jack’s gonna be sticking around, you should know something.”

The hands at Dean’s elbows tightened again. “Tell me,” Cas said, his eyes growing worried. He stepped closer, studying Dean’s face.

Dean was crying again, and he despised it. “I’m in love with you,” he said. He was terrified, anxious, and angry with himself at the same time. “So if that changes things - if you want me to fuck off and never talk to you or Jack again - now’s the time to tell me.”

Cas took a shaky breath. He cradled Dean’s face. “My love,” he murmured, eyes warm though they were still brimming with tears. “Love of my life.”

Dean almost laughed. Incredulous, he asked, “What? Who, me?”

Cas kissed him. It tasted like salt, and Dean was still crying, and honestly he had no idea what was happening, but Cas was patient with him, kissing his cheek when Dean did nothing but stare.

He drew back after the first few seconds, smiling despite Dean’s shock. “Yes, you,” he confirmed. His hands went to Dean’s tie. His voice was thick when he spoke again. “So no, in case it isn’t obvious, I do not want you to ‘fuck off.’”

This had not been what Dean was expecting. Tentatively, he touched Cas’s face, just a brush of fingers against Cas’s cheek, not bothering to hide his amazement when Cas smiled at him.

“Kind of slow on the uptake,” Cas said. His nose was still pink. “Maybe I should be in charge of Jack’s studies.”

It hit Dean all at once. Cas was his. Jack was his. Everything he’d ever wanted in this world was his. He kissed Cas properly this time.

-----

They returned to the reception a few minutes later. Eileen, upon seeing Cas’s glossy eyes and pink nose, instinctively grabbed a butter knife to throw at Dean’s throat, but Sam tugged her arm down and pointed at Dean and Cas’s joined hands.

The pair mingled with the guests hand-in-hand for most of the night, only letting go to pick up Jack and swing him between them.

Later on, in the parking lot, with Jack asleep in his car seat and buckled safely in the back seat of the Impala, Cas turned to Dean, who had his arm around Cas’s waist.

Cas smiled at him. He said two words: “Marry me.”

Dean didn’t know how he had any tears left in him. “Jesus. Give a guy a break,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Earlier I said marriage wasn’t in the cards for me,” Cas explained, smiling widely, apparently pleased that he was making Dean cry so much. “I don’t want you to misunderstand - it’s in the cards if it’s you.”

Dean touched his forehead to Cas’s, so happy he could barely get any words out. “Cas, you know it’s a yes.”

-----

Jack was five years old and came home from kindergarten with a coloring sheet of Santa. Cas looked at Dean, mouth thin. “I’m tagging you in,” he said, then left the room.

“Can we see Santa at the mall, dad?” Jack asked, tongue between his teeth as he scribbled with his crayon.

Dean put a hand on Jack’s back. “Sure, bud,” he said. “You can tell him what you want for Christmas.”

He pulled out his phone. You’re dealing with the tooth fairy, he texted Cas.

Fine. You talk to him about the Easter Bunny then.

-----

Hope you liked it! I only ask that you do me one favor if you did - go and read my most recent fic on ao3 - I posted it at a dumb time and wish more people could see it. 

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It's Just a Movie: Part 8 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: drug use, cursing

Word count: 1940

Each of the boys seemed to have their own idea on how they were going to cope with what they had just seen, which you were sure was traumatizing for all of them.

Marko had taken flight the second Paul had gotten off the couch. He'd left the cave without so much as a goodbye, and, when you asked, the boys told you that he was going to go "deal with it". You could only imagine how his processing was going. 

Paul sat on the floor, and you watched as his fingers worked quickly and carefully to pack and roll the paper in his hands. It was fairly interesting to watch him be so focused, and you were silent as you watched him lick the edges of the paper and, finally, finish the joint. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, having placed the joint between his lips, and he sparked the end before he took the first hit. As Paul had so eloquently put, his way of dealing with it was getting completely wasted. You decided to join him on the floor, as he seemed to be the only one in a talking mood. After a couple of hits, you decided to prod a little bit more about what he told you earlier.

"So...weed numbs thirst?" You asked, and he looked a little surprised by the topic. He glanced over at David, and you could guess that he was wondering if he should be telling you about them. When David didn't say anything to stop him, Paul said,

"Kind of- It, like, just numbs the blood-thirsty part of us. Like, the predator part, but we still get munchies. And cotton mouth." He explained, and you let out a small hum. You couldn't argue, as you had no way of telling yourself. You just made a mental note to tell your friends in the forums when you got back. If you got back. You shook your head, shaking the thought out of your head.

Dwayne, while not leaving the cave completely as Marko had, might as well have completely shut them out. He'd floated up towards the top of the cave, choosing to sit on a jutting out piece of the wall as he processed the events of the movie completely. He was silent for a long time, but, after the joint was nearing it's end, he floated back down to take a hit of his own.

"Alright." Paul drawled as he passed him the joint, and Dwayne rolled his eyes before he took a puff. He didn't say anything for a moment, passing it to you before he mumbled out a small,

"Explosion. Shit. Not the way I thought I was gonna go." And you and Paul paused. You looked at eachother, and you couldn't help the laugh that escaped both of your lips. Paul clapped him on the back, pulling on his shoulder almost a little roughly.

"At least you don't fucking melt, man. Like did you see me?" He asked you and you nodded. You'd seen the scene far too many times. Paul held up his hands, as if he was going to get you. "I was a skeleton, man. Like 'House on Haunted Hill' or something." He said, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips as he continued to try to hold up his arms menacingly. Dwayne took another hit, before he said,

"Yeah, you melt, I explode, and, what? David and Marko get staked? Bullshit, man." Dwayne continued, and you stared at him in near amazement. You were sure that this was the most you had ever heard him speak, and it made butterflies flutter in your stomach. You watched as he shook his head, and then you heard a fluttering besides you. You barely had time to look up before the curly haired blonde dropped into the spot besides you. He even draped an arm over your shoulder. Though his face and chest were clean, his tank top was clearly ripped and blood-stained. You had a pretty good idea of just how he went about processing seeing his death.

"Fuck off, Dwayne. We still die." Marko said, giving the brunette a shove. Marko was quick to have a smile back in his face, earn one from Dwayne, and to look over at you with it. Paul lifted his brows, commenting,

"That was fast." You didn't know whether he was talking about his meal or his change in mood, but Marko seemed to decide on the former.

"There were a couple of assholes already in the woods. I just picked one of them off. They're probably still up there." He said, and reached for the joint the boys had been passing. It was almost nothing but a roach, and the others waved for him to finish it off. Marko pulled his arm off from around your shoulders, instead moving it so he was leaning back on his hands. The other two boys shared a glance. They seemed to decide that, while David was making no moves to join them, it would be better to eat now rather than later.

"We'll be back." Dwayne said as he stood, and proceeded to send you a pair of finger-guns. You grinned, sending some back. You caught the tail end of his smile as he turned away, and Paul sent you a wink and waggled his fingers at you as he said,

"Check you later, y/n." Before the two were flying out of the cave. When they were gone, Marko knocked his shoulder against yours. You turned, half in surprise, as you looked at the angel-faced boy. You weren't sure how you felt about him, or about how he felt about you, so you were surprised when he offered,

"C'mon, let's get you some food too. If we hurry, we can catch the Chinese place before it closes." He said, and climbed to his feet. He didn't seem to wait for a reply, and he held his hand out for you to take. You knew you shouldn't have been surprised when he pulled you up with ease, with their vampire strength and all, but yet it still made you yelp. Marko grinned, before he looked over at David.

David had moved to his wheelchair, deciding not to take part in neither the conversation nor any feeding. He had been chain-smoking, and you watched as the cherry of his cigarette burned as he took a long drag. He was staring straight ahead and at nothing. It seemed that he was far away from the cave, and you almost thought that, perhaps, he didn't even realize that you were looking at him. He just repeated the empty action of bringing his gloved hands to his lips, taking a drag, exhaling, and then letting his hand fall again. You hadn't even realized that Marko had stepped away, taking your momentary distraction to quickly change his tank-top for another one. You'd never seen him be quiet for so long, and part of you wondered if the boy was going to be okay. You opened your mouth to ask, but Marko reached to give your wrist a squeeze before you could.

"Leave him. He'll be okay. He just needs to find a way to fix it, y'know?" He said, and then he was tugging on the very same wrist to guide you out of the cave. You almost didn't want to follow, as tiredness was seeping into your mind, but the ride to the restaurant was a quick fix. Marko drove practically recklessly, purposely showing off at points and making you squeal as you gripped onto him. When you stopped at the restaurant, you breathed heavily into his shoulder and refused to let go of him for a moment. Just in case the bike would start up and speed off all over again. Marko had to pat your hands, which were locked in front of his stomach, and say, "We're here." Before you pulled away from him.

He ended up ordering a small haul, stocking up on an order for each of you and a few bags of chips that they sold as well. That, and a couple of two litre sodas. He paid for the both of you, even if you told him that you could pay for yourself. Apparently, he'd just recently become a little more flush with cash. That confirmed one of your theories.

Instead of heading straight back to the cave, Marko sat on the seat of his bike and pat the seat next to him. He handed you your carton of chinese food and then a pair of chopsticks before doing the same for himself. It was quiet out, with the sky painted navy above you. While Santa Carla was a busy city, it had no skyscrapers. It left the sky completely open, and you looked up to see stars poking little lights into the night. You had only ever seen the hustle and bustle of Santa Carla in the screen, but now? You could swear it was almost peaceful.

"So, you really have no idea how you got here, huh?" He asked, and you looked over at him. He was staring, his hazel eyes shining in the night. He was looking you over, and he seemed, perhaps, much more open to what you were going to tell him then he had before.

"Not a clue. I just- I went back for my wallet and then," You gestured all around you. "Here we are." You said, digging your chopsticks back into the carton. It had only been a few hours in their world, and things hadn't completely gone to shit yet. However, you had no idea how you were going to get back. The both of you were quiet for a moment, before he said,

"I'm sorry about before- for being such a dick. You just- You wouldn't have been the first to be completely strung out." He said, and you gave him a small look of surprise. You hadn't really expected an apology from any of them, with Marko being one of the boys you expected it least. After a moment, you said,

"I'm sorry. For showing you guys the movie. I knew the ending, but- I was just being petty." You said, looking down at your food. It had been a dick move, even if it had saved your life. For the time being. You couldn't imagine what it was like for them, and you worried the inside of your cheek. Marko knocked his shoulder against yours, and you looked up to him giving you a grin.

"Nah, we deserved it. But, y'know, we're obviously gonna use that information to try to stop it." He said, pointing at you with his chopsticks, and you could only nod and agree. It was a reasonable reaction, and you supposed that you had some ideas of your own. He looked you over, tilting his head when you didn't argue. You raised your brows, but he was quick to shake his head. It was only a moment later that you realized he must've been surprised that you hadn't protested. With them being the villians and all. He continued with, "So, in the end, thanks? I mean, you might be the reason I don't end up getting staked in my sleep." He said, but you could tell that the laugh that followed was just a tad forced. As if he was trying to make the situation less scary. You reached over and placed a hand on his, giving it a small squeeze.

"I think I can help with that."

[munchcorner]

Birthday Present (BakuDeku)

Midoriya had always been the first person to greet Bakugou happy birthday. He's also the first one who gives his gift to Bakugou but not today.

Bakugou wasn't expecting much for his birthday. He doesn't usually like being the center of attention when it comes to his birthday, but he does want to be the center of Midoriya's attention on this day.

Bakugou walks out of his room during the usual time he and Midoriya would meet at the hall to eat breakfast together and talk about what he learned from their training with All Might the night before but minutes passed, and Midoriya doesn't come out. Bakugou grows irritated when Cheeseman comes out of his room.

"Oi! Navel, where's Deku?" Bakugou asks, making Aoyama turn to him.

"Oh, I think he's eating with Iida and Uraraka in the kitchen. I heard them talking earlier," Aoyama answers, "do you need him for anything?"

Bakugou grits his teeth but ends up sighing, "no,"

Bakugou lets it go and walks down the hall to the kitchen to eat with Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero.

"Oh, you're not eating with Midoriya today?" Kirishima asks and shoves a fish in his mouth.

"Yeah, you've been eating with him since you started to train with him and All Might to help him control his quirk," Kaminari adds with his mouth full of rice.

"Did you guys get into a fight? I saw Midoriya eat with Iida and Uraraka," Sero comments and eyes the group, making the other three turn to where Sero's looking.

"But don't they always fight? Remember ground Beta?" Kaminari comments, making Bakugou snap towards him.

"Will you stop talking like I'm not here, fucking assholes," Bakugou says and angrily starts to eat his breakfast, making all three exchange questioning gazes before shrugging it off.

"Did something happen?" Kirishima asks in concern. Silence ensues for a few minutes before Bakugou speaks, "I don't know. He just fucking went and eat with them,"

"Maybe you did something horrible to him," Sero says, making Bakugou scoff, "that idiot would forgive me no matter what I do to him," he says, his voice low and almost inaudible, but you can hear the shame in it.

"Come on, don't make a big deal out of it!" Kaminari suddenly says. Kirishima, Sero, and Bakugou raise their head to look at him with wonder, "it's Bakugou's birthday, come on, stop being so moppy. It's not something serious, Bakugou. I'm sure,"

Bakugou glares at Kaminari, but it did make him feel a little bit better. Maybe it is nothing, and he's just overthinking it. So, he switches the topic, and the table became a little livelier as the three converse about something they saw online while Bakugou just listens and throws a few side comments from time to time.

The day proceeded with Bakugou staying with his squad. Midoriya never approached him nor threw him a glance while the others walked up to him, greeted him, and gave him their gifts. It was slowly starting to annoy Bakugou, but he pushes down his emotions and focuses on their tasks.

But it really pressed his bottoms when even during the team-up battle, Midoriya still refused to talk to him. Midoriya was talking to everyone in the team except for him, and it annoyed Bakugou for some unknown reason, so when he pulled Midoriya away from the team to talk to him privately when he got the chance.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bakugou asks, his voice low and growling, but Midoriya just averts his eyes, "why? Is there something wrong, Kacchan?"

Midoriya was definitely hiding something. Bakugou could tell from the nervous timbre of his voice that there's something Midoriya isn't telling him.

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about," Bakugou says through gritted teeth.

"I really don't, Kacchan," Midoriya denies, but the way his eyes continued to stare at the ground told Bakugou that he's lying.

"Deku," Bakugou says in a low, threatening tone, "why have you been avoiding me?"

Midoriya immediately snaps his head towards Bakugou to answer, but a loud explosion a few kilometers away from them catches their attention, "I'll tell you later. There are more important matters to attend to,"

Midoriya sprints off after his sentence, and Bakugou's left with no choice but to put the activity first.

The team battle proceeds and ends with their victory as a team, but the look on Bakugou's and Midoriya's faces didn't seem like one of someone who just won. The atmosphere around them was tense, and no one dares to comment on it.

Everything felt like their first year at UA once again, and no one knew how to act. So, they act normally, hoping both of them could fix their problem together.

The class ends with Bakugou leaving the class first, which was unusual because he used to wait for Midoriya before leaving for training in the school gym.

"Midoriya, is there something wrong between you and Bakugou?" Iida asks Midoriya, who silently sits on his chair with his eyes locked on the door Bakugou had just exited.

Midoriya gives them a small smile before standing to leave, "it's nothing. I'll talk it out with Kacchan later,"

"Are you sure?" Uraraka ask as everyone gathers around him.

"Will you guys be fine during the party?" Mina asks with concern, "maybe we can do something to keep you guys away from each other later?"

Midoriya shakes his head, "it's fine. I'll make the adjustments,"

"We can talk to Bakugou, but we don't really know what to tell him if we don't know why you're avoiding him," Kirishima says and rubs his neck, "I haven't seen Bakugou that upset in a while, though,"

"Yeah, but whatever happens, we won't take sides," Kaminari says and gives Midoriya's shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Thank you," Midoriya says and smiles at them, "I'll have to go. I still have to train with All Might in the gym,"

Everyone nods and lets Midoriya leave, but before he completely walks out of the classroom, he says, "you guys can call me if you need me for something,"

"We will," Iida says and gives Midoriya a reassuring smile.

"Good luck with your training, Midoriya-kun," Yaoyorozu cheers which earns her a smile and a nod from Midoriya.

The rest of class A leaves the room to prepare their surprise party for Bakugou. Mina, Uraraka, Iida, and Aoyama were in charge of putting up the decorations, while Yaoyorozu, Sato, Koda, Tokoyami, and Tsuyu were in charge of cooking. On one side of the common room, Kaminari, Todoroki, Jirou, Mineta, and Hagakure worked on the sound system and set up the karaoke. As the rest were preparing for the party, Shoji and Ojiro were given permission to go out and buy sodas and chips while Sero and Kirishima keep Bakugou in his room by talking to him.

It was difficult not to make Bakugou suspicious, but it seems like he was too preoccupied to notice that Kirishima and Sero were doing their best to keep him from going to the common room. Sero and Kirishima kept track of time, and when seven-thirty came, they forced Bakugou to go to the common room with them.

"What the fuck?! I'm not going to play with you this late at night! You'll make me stay up until ten again!" Bakugou protests while thrashing around.

"Come on! Being this difficult isn't manly!" Kirishima yells as they pull him down.

"Yeah! It's not like you'll die if you don't get to sleep at eight-thirty!" Sero adds.

They continue to yell at each other until they reach the common room and are greeted with party poppers going off accompanied by a loud, "Happy Birthday, Bakugou!"

Music starts to play, and everyone sings for him, making him flush red, while Kirishima places a party hat on his head. Bakugou's eyes scan the room for Midoriya, but he wasn't anywhere, which made his mood turn sour instead of feeling happy.

"I don't need this," Bakugou says and turns around. The class goes silent, but Sero and Kirishima try to salvage the situation by grabbing each of Bakugou's arms and asking him to stay.

"Come on, Bakugou, everyone worked hard for this," Sero pleads but is pushed off with Bakugou saying, "I didn't ask for you to prepare anything for me,"

"But it's your special day!" Kirishima yells but suffers the same fate of being pushed off by Bakugou, "you're right. It's my special day, so shouldn't you respect what I want?!"

Kirishima and Sero let go of Bakugou after hearing what he said because he was right. Bakugou resumes climbing up the stairs but stops when the door creaks open, and he hears the voice he's been wanting to greet him for the entire day, "I'm sorry I'm late! Where's Kacchan?"

"Party's canceled," Kaminari answers and points at Bakugou, who's walking up the stairs, making Bakugou throw a quick glance at Midoriya. Their eyes briefly meet before Bakugou says, "fine, I'll stay and eat whatever the fuck you extras prepared for me,"

The class releases a sigh of relief before they proceed to play the music. Everyone was having the time of their lives as the party goes. Mineta, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and Uraraka were having fun with the karaoke, Iida, Shoji, Tsuyu, Todoroki, and Hagakure were chatting in one corner, Midoriya, Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Aoyama, Koda, and Sato were talking about recipes, while Bakugou, Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina were playing beverage games. Well, they were except for Bakugou.

The birthday boy's eyes were locked on the person he's been wanting to spend the day with. He never really told Midoriya what he feels, but he wished Midoriya would notice through his little actions. But today told Bakugou that actions alone won't be enough for Midoriya to know.

"I'm turning in," Bakugou says when he realized that he won't receive any greeting from Midoriya.

"But it's still early, Bakugou!" Mina yells, catching everyone's attention.

"I think we should let him sleep. We've kept him past his bedtime," Yaoyorozu says.

"That's true. Besides, we still need to clean up," Iida adds.

Kaminari, Mina, Sero, and Kirishima whines but do obey their president and vice president's words by saying, "okay,"

Everyone started to clean up as the party ended. Bakugou was about to go up to his room when someone grabs the hem of his shirt, "for fuck's sake, when will-"

Midoriya lets go, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to talk to you before you go to bed,"

"You've been avoiding me for the entire day and ask me to talk to you now?" Bakugou asks and raises a brow at Midoriya.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I completely understand," Midoriya says, "I just wanted to say happy birthday and-"

"Let's talk outside," Bakugou cuts him off and walks out of their dorm with Mirodiya trailing behind him. He stops a few meters away from their dorm to make sure no one sees or overhears them.

"Spill," Bakugou says with his arms crossed as he waits for Midoriya to speak.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you. I just didn't know how to give you your gift," Midoriya says with his eyes locked on the ground and his arms behind his back.

"Just fucking hand it to me. It's not that hard to do. You've been giving me gifts every year. What makes this one so difficult to give?" Bakugou asks, making Midoriya flush, but Bakugou couldn't see that, not when it's so dark outside, and the only light they have is the moonlight.

"Well, I might be thinking too highly of myself, but I wanted to gift you my feelings," Midoriya says and raises his head to finally meet Bakugou's eyes.

Those green orbs look so sincere as they stare at Bakugou's.

Bakugou takes a sharp inhale to calm himself. He needed some time to take in Midoriya's confession before he pulls him into a hug.

"You idiot," Bakugou whispers, "that's the best gift you could fucking give me,"

"Kacchan," Midoriya says as he hesitantly wraps his arms around Bakugou.

"I like your nerdy ass too, dimwit," Bakugou says and chuckles before pulling away and pressing a kiss on Midoriya's forehead, "I just didn't know how to tell you, so I decided to show it to you through my actions. I should've known that your dense ass won't notice,"

Midoriya blushes even more and covers his face with his hands, "I've been avoiding you because I was so nervous that maybe I'll back out, but you feel the same way?"

"Yeah, dumbass," Bakugou says and flicks Midoriya's forehead to make him remove his hands on his face, "you've been stressing us out for no reason,"

Midoriya laughs, "I'm sorry, Kacchan,"

"It's fine, just don't do it again, okay?" Bakugou asks and walks closer to Midoriya to press another kiss on his forehead, "now let's go back in because I'm fucking sleepy,"

"We just had an entire confession, and you're worried about your sleep. Don't you want to spend more time with me?" Midoriya teases as he lets Bakugou hold his hand on their way back to the dorms.

"Why should I worry about spending some time with you when we're cuddling to sleep in my room tonight?" Bakugou asks with a smug smile on his face.

Midoriya freezes, and his eyes went wide as blood runs up his cheeks, "what?"

"Do you want us to sleep in your room? I'm honestly fine with it," Bakugou says with a shrug and tugs at Midoriya.

"I'm fine in your room," Midoriya says and tries to hide his blushing face as they approach the dorm.

"It's settled then," Bakugou says, and they enter the dorm to cuddle till the next morning but not without going through the entire class teasing them.

[gyllousos]

Warnings: Depression, masochists, language.

Copyright @ gyllousos 2021. All rights reserved.

Dedicated to @the-grimm-writer

_________________________________________

Hannya despised hospitals. She hated the smell of disinfectant, the plain white walls decorated with awareness for the human body, as well as the chairs in the waiting room. Not that the one she was sitting in was uncomfortable, yet her ass felt like a pin cushion since she'd been in the thing for well over an hour and counting. Just ten minutes ago she had gone to the vending machine for a soda, downing the Sprite in one gulp.

She was still staring into the empty soda can as though it would refill with more of the carbonated beverage. Her thumb pressed into the side, crinkling the corner. Above her a TV played an old show, something about two children using their imagination to escape into a new world.

One where they forgot about all the bad stuff, even for a moment, a paradise for two. A haven. Thinking about that made a lump swell in Hannya's throat. She set her can onto a nearby table, curling her hands into her lap. A nail dug into the fabric of her leggings, she winced at the bruise there. It was still throbbing a week later, still sore. Her back arched from the cut diagonal cut, also a week old, but it didn't pulse like the thigh bruise did.

Her old cuts and bruises hurt most days, even though half of them were healed for weeks, despite their ugliness in the beginnings. She used to never recognize herself in the mirror after they fucked. Not screwed, but fucked until she lay beneath him unable to move, a quivering mess of orgasm.

God. She was truly sick.

She inhaled slowly through her nose. Hannya refused to cry in this place. One of the nurses had been looking at her so often, a pitying look in her eyes. Hannya avoided eye contact.

She knew that nurse too well, she'd nearly made a home here. But that was long ago. And the nurse, a petite brunette with gentle doe eyes was always so kind to her.

Vague flashes of Hannya in a room where she was monitored, wearing a gown, and counting the hours on the clock to her meds. No, she wasn't going down memory lane again.

What if she broke again? But not because of him.

Dabi.

ㅤHe twisted the fabric of her shirt, bunching tightly. There were tearing sounds. Fraying sounds. Dragging her to within inches of his leering, predatory smile.

ㅤHer shirt came away in a ribbon, leaving her in unkempt, scant rags. He sneered, pinching a nipple as her pert little breasts jiggled free. Dabi tweaked the nipple, and swatted her breast with an open-palmed slap.

Hannya let out a cry between a gasp and a moan.

Dabi clenched his fist around her throat, thrust his arm so she was pinned to the wall behind her. One hand constricted the air from her lungs, while the other twisted cruelly on the same nipple from before.

"Scared yet?"

"No."

ㅤㅤ"No need to lie."

ㅤHis other hand slipped low, her breast freed from his cruel touch only for his hot breath to caress it. Dabi sank teeth into her its supple flesh, snakelike tongue uncoiled to writhe slick against the nipple. His loose fingers delved between her thighs, groping a handful of her warm, tender sex.

ㅤHe didn’t need her to black out from the choking, but it was designed so that every throb of pleasure he squeezed into her body lightened her head. A cruel, sadistic practice to strangle every last drop of ecstasy, to send her spirit into heaven but her body to hell.

Dabi's fingers were long and defined, two sunken deep into the supple heat of her cunt. His pace, merciless. The villain ground the heel of his wrist firmly against her clit, assaulting every inch. He worked in and out of her with aggressive vigor, stirring up loud, sloppy noises from her.

She felt him adjust, she bit her lip from the harsh penetration when he slammed himself into her, those haunting blue eyes never leaving her face.

"You're mine, Hannya."

"I'm yours."

"If another man looks at you the way I look at you, or even thinks about fucking you, I'll split his goddamn skull."

Hannya snapped back to reality at the alert of her name being called. She remembered now that she had been called into the exam room for tests. The gown felt paper thin on her, exposing her to the nurse who held her clipboard in hand.

She hadn't commented on the palm bruise on her thigh or the cut on her back. Hannya was almost relieved her skin was back to semi-normal. It had been a long time since she last been here. How long ago?

Three years since her last attempt.

"You're doing well Hannya, much better since your last visit with us. You've been keeping up with all of your appointments, last time you were hear you had bad anemia and an infection. You bounced back like a champ. "

Hannya smiled faintly. The plump old woman reminded her of a doting grandma.

"Your appetite back to normal?"

"Yes ma'm. Everything is good."

She tried best to hide the clip in her speech.

"Now that we're following up, I'd like to wait for the rest of your test results to come in."

Hannya hid her impatience, wishing time would go forward, she could grab her things and leave. Back to her home where she could close off the world. Block everyone out. Would Dabi be waiting for her? For once, she didn't want to see him. As much as their sadistic games were fun time both of them, she just didn't have the desire. No other man could get her off the way Dabi did.

Lately, she dreaded seeing him propped in her couch, or getting a text from him. She could damn near feel him without him being near. A moment later, when the same woman poked her head in, Hannya actually beamed.

The door closed behind her.

That's when Hannya left the hospital in a daze, barely clutching her phone and purse, she didn't even know she drove home until she parked in the driveway. Turning off the engine, she sat in stunned silence, her knuckles tight onto the steering wheel.

God, she just wanted to turn back time to the last month, the last year, erase everything. She was numb enough as is and she hoped Dabi wasn't waiting on her. She just couldn't take it right now.

“No,” she said, barely audible. The nurse's words echoing in her ears once more.

A sob escaped her. She dragged herself out of her vehicle, barely registering her feet moving towards her home, inside of her apartment. She locked the door behind her. And didn't have to look around to see a tall man with spiked dark hair and a smile that gave her goosebumps.

"Dabi..."

"Miss me?"

Her legs felt like jelly. Her heart was being so fast she feared it rip itself through her chest. Hannya's knees shook, and her heart hammered in my chest. She felt like she was already walled in, and she didn’t even know it.

“I wish I’d never met you,” she said, almost whispering.

He stopped, his boots creaking the wooden floor under him. “Believe me, girl, the feeling is fucking mutual.”

No arguments, no shouting, no cursing even though she wanted to spew a blue streak at him. Eventually she fell onto her knees, the metallic clink of a belt and a zipper being pulled down; she parted her lips for Dabi's cock already slick with precum. She swallowed him into the back of her throat.

"Good girl," he praised her, stroking the back of her head.

___________________________________________

Hannya hadn't seen Dabi since that day, what felt like over a month had turned into sixteen months. As much as she didn't care, she ached for him, and not in the sexual sense. She truly yearned for his company if she could actually believe it. Just what happened to him after that?

No texts, no calls. No sudden appearing without warning. Poof! He never told her he was leaving. Then again he never told her a lot of anything. Hannya often dreamt of him, as the little boy named Touya. The same boy who came crying to her in the catacombs and she to him. Two kids yearning for a place in the world.

She hadn't given up hope she'd see him again, if ever. Hannya swiped her fingers across her phone screen, tucking her device back into her pocket, her blue eyes swiveled up the moon, an ache swelling in her chest.

"I'm losing it..." She mumbled, proceeding to walk. She was patting her pockets for her car keys when a hand snaked its way around her forearm, dragging her into a brick corner, pinning her against a wall.

She couldn't scream because of the stranger's hand covering her mouth. Her eyes doubled in size, his sinister smirk making her skin flush.

Touya!

"Dabi." It came out as a muffle.

"Like you've seen a ghost," he sneered, letting her go.

"For a minute I thought I did..." She whispered.

His eyes raked over her outfit, eyes narrowing in on her chest. He sure knew how to make her vulnerable, naked without undressing her. So he hadn't left after all. Was he hiding from her?

He was never far to begin with. Something told her this wasn't a social visit, she needed to get home before she did something like kiss him. He'd take her right here in public. Wouldn't be the first time.

"I was looking for you, " she said.

"Is that a fact?" His voice was utterly emotionless. Not the least bit of warmth.

"I suppose I was looking for you, too. You made a big mistake Hannya."

The way he said it made Hannya scoot an inch from him.

"What are you talking about?" Hannya remained composed, furrowing her dark brows. Dabi only advanced.

"Telling lies, keeping secrets. It was all gonna come out eventually, you just should have been more careful."

"Dabi..." He chuckled, one hand stuffed in his jacket pocket.

"I...I meant to find you...I was looking for my family."

Dabi almost laughed, shaking his head slightly.

"You were looking for a family, huh? One could argue it's my family you’re looking for right? How are my baby boy and girl by the way? Got my eyes don't they?"

All the color drained from Hannya's face.

A glimpse into memory had her back in the exam room months ago.

"We ran more tests Hannya. Your bloodwork shows you’re also pregnant, a little over eight weeks along. Congratulations.”

Why couldn't the Earth just swallow her whole now? There's no way he could have known. No she wouldn't have told him right away, if at all. He wouldn't have been a great father. When she was told she was pregnant Hannya wanted to cry, scream, break something or even someone. The last thing she had ever wanted inflicted on her had happened, she was in such hysterics she nearly fainted.

Why couldn't it have been anyone but him? The raw cry she let out. She imagined life with two tiny humans, ones she could give unconditional love to. Innocent souls. Her twins. She knew she was going to keep them, her darling babies. How she tried to keep them from Dabi and now...

"You knew...how long..."

"Does it matter? You honestly didn't think you could hide them from me forever Hannya. You should know better than that." His voice was almost a taunt.

"Try keeping them away from me, if you so much as leave with them I'll burn everything down in my path, everyone, to get what I want."

It was like a slap in the face. He wouldn't? Right? No, he had no rights towards their children. Her children. As far as Hannya knew Dabi was just the sperm donor.

Hannya scowled.

Dabi smirked.

He was right, the twins got his eyes alright.

Still advancing, Dabi pinned Hannya to the rough brick wall, his nose level with hers. He didn't want to admit he missed his little devil. He had to resist the urge to to tear off her clothing and fuck her until she was begging him to stop. God, her scent. She couldn't have been more beautiful, plump lips, inviting breasts, fair skin he wanted to mark again.

"I'll be watching you and our children, doll. Who would have thought..."

He gripped her oncoming wrist from slapping him. Should he break it? No. Some other time. He released her, backing up to give her space, almost yearning for the closeness again. No more talk, he left quietly as he came. He heard the faint falling of Hannya on her knees, cursing him to hell and back.

[internalsealpanic]

All That Glitters

Summary: Pandora’s box is a black box covered in silk and embossed with the initials R.S.

a/n: So uh this work is a follow up to my fic Better Die than Doubt but it can be read as a stand alone. This thing resulted from the combined might of  @knightfall05x,  @lucy-roo​, and my thirst. I said the follow up to that fic would be fluffy. The chronological follow up will come out at some point. I  just have a single braincell and it decided it wanted to write more Black Mask being an absolute bastard. Thanks to those two hoes for enabling and proof reading. See you both in hell

warnings:  This is smut. I was being haunted. This work contains noncon, past noncon, violence, Roman being an asshole, daddy kink, size kink, strength kink (if you squint ), yandere themes, stalking, exhibitionism, a dude who cannot take no for  an answer and choking.  

masterlist

“Hey Jay,” You chirp into the phone, maneuvering it over your shoulder carefully so you wouldn't drop it while you held your soda can at an arm's length away from you hoping it wouldn’t explode on you when you attempt to open it. 

 “Hey, sweet-” You blow out a raspberry halting the correction in its tracks. You can practically picture Jason’s mouth swerve into an odd shape caught between proceeding with his correction or backtracking.  He chose neither. You hear him swear viciously. You snort making him huff. 

 “What’s up, asshat?” He asks, endearingly. You can pretty much hear him rolling his eyes from this side of the world. You frown hearing how winded he sounded. 

 “Jay, if this is a bad time, I can-”

 “You’re fine it’s just a little-”

 “JAYBIRD, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE”

 “Roy sounds like he needs help. I can call back later.”

 “Roy can handle himself.”

 “Thanks for the confidence, Jaybird, but I think I’d prefer if you kept shooting straight.”

 You snort feeling warmth build up in your chest despite the chilly weather. You chirp delighted when you open the can and it doesn’t explode. You hear Jason chuckle. The smart remark he had on the edge of his tongue dies on his lips when your breath hitches audibly at the sound of his gun firing. Jason makes a noise, the kind you use to prompt someone to tell you if they’re ok without having to ask. You swallow and nod and curse remembering he can’t see you. You blow out a breath, making sure it comes out steady. 

 “Y/n...”

 “I’m-” You wanted to say fine but you knew the word fine was wholly inappropriate and untrue for this situation. “I’m gonna survive. I promise.” 

 Jason doesn’t make a sound of agreement or disagreement. He simply acknowledges it. You silently thank him for the neutrality. 

 “JAYBIRD”

 “SHUT UP, HARPER”

 You hear Kory sigh in exasperation somewhere in the distance.  In the background, you hear a shriek which you assume is from Jason. Then the line cuts out. 

You try to redial. 

 Nothing. 

 You try again.

 Nothing. 

 A laugh rips out of your chest. You cry out in pain, the fizzy drink rushing up your nose. You wince and curse and settle on blaming Jason.  You suspect they somehow broke the phone. You wouldn’t be too surprised by that outcome. You sigh but there was no point in complaining about it. You might as well finish your lunch in peace. 

   You chew on your cheek as you walk back to your cubicle, everyone’s eyes are on you. You feel your breathing pick up a fraction of a second faster. 

 One

 Two

 .

.

.

.

 Two

 Fuck

 You dig your nails into your palm. Your footfalls become heavier and a little louder even against the white noise around you. You slowdown and shake your head. You haven’t had an attack at work so far and you aren’t about to start now. You inhale deeply, letting your chest expand as you run through the things Dinah taught you.  

 Take stock of the situation around you. 

 The world around you was buzzing with life-shuffling papers, ringing phones, humming of machines, and blips of voices here and there. The room is bright and clean under the light of sterile fluorescent lights. You take in all the voices around you. You’re not alone. The knot building in your shoulders loosens. You continue. 

 Take stock of your body. 

 Your body is trembling, the beginnings of a panic attack looming over you. Instead of cursing it, you let it. It was only natural to relapse once in a while. The trauma wasn’t fresh. Not in your opinion, at least. Dinah and, apparently, everyone else had a different opinion. You’re good at being ok but you were human. You let out a  long breath, half-tempted to let your eyes slide shut but you’re afraid of finding yourself in that room again, of seeing him, of feeling him on you. Revulsion spasmed in your body in powerful waves. Sure, you’re a showboat, Jay had said as much, but showing off and causing a scene were two entirely different things and you weren’t entirely sure you could endure the looks of pity from your coworkers every time you came through those doors. 

 Stiffly, you walk towards your cubicle. Your neighbor, Chelsea, smiling conspiratorially at you while your manager glares daggers at you. You raise an eyebrow at Chelsea who waggles her eyebrows in return.   

 “This is how you tell me I got fired?” You sigh, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. 

 Chelsea rolls her eyes at you. “Nope, but the boss man did want me to tell you to tell your boyfriend that he really shouldn’t be sending you gifts at work but honestly, I …...” Your brows knit in confusion, cold dread licking at the pit of your stomach. 

 “I don’t have a boyfriend.” You say slowly trying to keep the mounting panic out of your voice. You could hear your blood pulsating in your ears, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Your feet are itching for you to run outside and call Jason or Dinah or anyone but the stupider part of you- the curious part of you was clawing at your mind to proceed. 

“Y/n, are- are you ok?” You blink and look at the clock. Two minutes. You blacked out for two minutes which, if you were being totally honest, was a huge improvement. 

 “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 “If you say so” She shrugs, her eyes still not pulling away from you.  

 Mechanically, you turn to your desk. Your entire being freezes when your eyes land on the black box sitting on the desk and the large bouquet of red roses sitting next to it.  The box was rectangular, black with silver trimmings embossed on it. Large ‘R.S.’ written in fancy lettering at the bottom right corner of the lid. You wanted to vomit. 

 You draw a breath and flex your fingers. You can feel your teeth digging into your cheeks. 

 “Hey, Chel?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Can I borrow some tissues?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper but still miraculously steady. She frowns at your handing you a couple of tissues. Normally, you keep your vigilante habits out of your civilian life but considering the initials embossed on this obnoxiously expensive-looking box sitting on your desk, you think this level of paranoia is justified. 

 You stop to calculate the odds that the box contained explosives which turns up zero. You sigh but a shiver climbs up your spine when you run through the possibilities of what Roman could have thought of as a gift. 

 “Y/n, what the fuck?” If Chelsea wasn’t watching you before, she was now. You glance at her quickly and give her a weak smile. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Cautiously, you lift the lid quietly regretting not calculating the possibility of anything toxic being in it. You’re honestly surprised nothing happened. You roll your eyes upon seeing the expensive-looking black silk covering the inside.

Yes, rub your money in my face while you scare me shitless why don’t you, you fucking asshole, you think grumpily peeling the fabric away. 

 Your heart comes to a full stop when you’re met with a pair of lacy lingerie. Your lacy lingerie. Your USED lacy lingerie. You blink trying not to focus on the white stains. You sincerely did not want to think about that. Moving them aside you find a bloody shirt, the sound of its shifting fabric making gooseflesh spread all over your body. 

 You recognize it. You didn’t want to, but here it was. The bloodstains were dry but they were still visible even against the dark fabric of the shirt. Your skin prickles where the scars on your body sit. The knife wounds sting and throb as if freshly cut.  It takes everything in you not to vomit.

  It was probably the single-minded curiosity that kept you going. You maneuver the shirt carefully making sure it makes as little sound as possible.  Underneath it is a collar, simple but clearly expensive leather with the tag R.S. glittering under the sterile lights. Your throat constricts. You tear your gaze away. Your eyes sting. Next to it was a stack of photos. The top photo showed you with your, shirt torn exposing your breasts. Someone was inside you, gripping your hips. You gag.  You reign your mind in. You flip the stack over and gather your breath. Your heart stops again when you see Roman’s familiar handwriting on the back of a photo.   

 “Miss me?”

The drive back to your apartment was a blur consisting of what was most likely several severe traffic violations but you needed- you need to get out of town as quickly as possible. The odds of Roman himself showing up to your little town was low, very low. Not that you’ve actually calculated it. You don’t need to. The man walks around like his feet bless every surface they touch. The man has a loaded god complex the size of Russia to put it generously. Fetching you was simply beneath him. He had henchmen for a reason after all. 

 You wave to your landlady and her husband amiably as you walk past them keeping the nervous thrum out of your movement. Your landlady returns the gesture, elbowing her sneering husband. You know what he thinks of you and your habits. Take a few guys home with you and suddenly you’re a slut. Your promiscuity was none of his fucking business. Your body was yours to do with, to give, and to take back. It was yours. It’s yours, you assure yourself but the feeling of your body and mind hanging loosely off of each other feels painfully vivid at the moment. 

 You shake your head. This wasn’t the best time to sort out your hang-ups.  

 You press your ear to your apartment door then remembered just how thick it was and remembered that you didn’t exactly have super hearing. You sigh. What you would give to be Supes right about now. You enter the apartment careful not to make your steps audible. That, however, was rendered moot by the two very large and blocky men standing in your living room. You exhale both in frustration and relief. If Roman Fucking Sionis thinks he can scare you with two meatheads, he was clearly insulting you. Well, at least, he didn’t hire anyone actually competent considering all your gear was in a duffle bag tucked neatly away under your bed. Yanno, just for this sort of eventuality. Now that you think about it. You really should have just kept it in your car but small-town crime seems to have softened you. 

 You smile letting the irritation mold you into something sharp and venomous. You throw the box at one of the henchmen goading them to attack you. Its contents scattering all over the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care that some of the photos land right side up. 

 “Tell your chicken shit of a boss to come scare me himself,” You laugh, manic relief flooding through you. You feel like you’re going mad but you don’t care. It’s so much more feasible to deal with these men than it is to have to even think about Roman. “He doesn’t even have the balls to-”

 “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Sweetheart.” comes a gravelly voice from the bedroom. Your stomach drops. Roman strides out of your bedroom adjusting the cuff link of his obnoxiously expensive suit.  He looks down to the photos and gifts scattered on the ground, frowning he bends down to pick up the collar, dusting it off and stuffing it in his pocket. 

 Your fight or flight response freezes. You back into the door, the material feeling too solid for the moment. You inhale sharply, only managing short shallow breaths as Roman slowly closes the distance between you. His footfalls loud, heavy, and deliberately casual making your blood thrum. 

 No. No. No. 

 Your eyes flicker wildly around the room looking for any weapon within reach, your mind running through the numbers, the probabilities melding together into incoherent blotches of red in the back of your skull. Roman slams his large hands on either side of your head. The impact makes the door creak. You can’t stop yourself from flinching visibly, surprise and fear carving themselves on to your face. Roman barks out a derisive laugh as he trails a leather-clad finger down your chin, your throat, then to your cleavage. The contact against your bare skin makes you bristle. 

 “This here?” He emphasizes, his fingers playing with the top button of your shirt popping it carelessly revealing your baby pink, lace bra hidden beneath. “This is a little low cut for the office, isn’t it, princess?”  

 Annoyance overwhelms your sense of self-preservation. “I’m not about to take fashion advice from a guy who looks like he watches Scar Face daily.” You snipe, teeth bared.  Roman hums the undercurrent of rage filling the air. Your ribs ache, remembering an old injury. Your mouth slams shut cutting off any other snide remarks. 

 “You wear these clothes to wind me up, don’t you?” Roman drawls, his leather-clad fingers tracing up the expanse of your thigh exposed by the slit of your skirt, bunching up the skirt and playing with the waistband of your thong as he does so. His thumbs pressing circles against your inner thigh, you can’t help but quiver under his touch. “Oh the fun hasn’t even started yet...just wait”, he bites your ear lobe and tugs it between his teeth. He pulls back and glares at you. “Do you want to know how I found you in this dead-end town, princess?” He asks tilting your chin with his gloved hand. You shake your head not really interested at the moment. You’re too distracted by how flush your body was getting as he presses you further into the door with his bulk. You note with disgust the arousal suffusing through your limbs. 

 “You were all over the news, sweetheart,” You’re trying to remember what he could possibly be talking about. He leans in closer, leather-clad hand brushing against his thumb against your bottom lip, your lips parting automatically for him. He places his gloved thumb between your parted lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that goofy smile of yours?”  You shiver lips wrapping around the intruding digit.  Your tongue flicks and swirls around it in a practiced gesture. “Good girl.” Roman hums, a grin spreading across his face while thick shame blankets you. You frown at how familiar the taste of the glove is against your tongue. You push your thoughts away wishing your mind would fall away. 

 “Baby,” He draws his hand away from your lips, wiping the thin string of saliva on your face. His hands glide down the sides of your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize these hips?” His hands grab at your hips roughly, lifting you and pulling them flush against his own. “Baby. I know what’s mine and this time I won’t let you get away from me.” He whispers against your neck, voice husky and rough. You swallow feeling his lips brush against your pulse. 

 Roughly, he wedges a thigh between your legs, the friction against your core making you keen. The friction woke something in you and loosened a few other things. Your hips roll desperately against the thick muscle of his thighs. Roman grins against your neck,  loosening his grip on your hips and letting you fuck yourself on his thigh. You will yourself to stop but the heat twisting in your gut is too much. You hate yourself. You well and truly hate yourself. Your cheeks warm, breath coming out in pants. 

 Roman places a kiss on your collarbone, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh. Your tongue is caught between your teeth to hold back a moan but the shiver spreading throughout your body says it too loudly. Roman chuckles, vibrations deep within his chest making you weak. Roman licks a stripe up your neck, planting kisses and hickeys along your jaw. “God, you taste sweet, princess.” He murmurs hot against your neck, the smirk dripping from his voice. It feels like acid against your skin. 

 He guides your pliant arms to loop around his shoulders. You obey soundlessly, tipping your head back giving him room to ravish your neck. He does with unbridled enthusiasm. You feel trapped in your own body. You don’t want this. You want to push him away but the fear coursing through you leaves you a passenger in your own body. Your breath hitches with each bite and kiss. 

 “Mine.” He rumbles resolutely, sliding the cloth of your top placing a bite on your shoulder. It stings without even looking, you know it’s deep. 

 “No” You whisper, low and unsure. 

 “No?” He challenges pulling away from your shoulder. 

 “No” You echo voice frustratingly unsteady. He sneers down at you, smile condescending. A biting rebellious part of you demands that you snarl and spit something brisque and witty at him but it’s pushed down by something viscous filling your chest. How are you drowning and why are you not dead yet?

 Just let it pass, your mind whispers to itself. Just let him get his fill and he’ll be on his way. You don’t even have to get hurt. You sincerely want to believe this. You just want this to not happen. The thought of it summons a wave of nausea deep within you. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You blink rapidly chasing them away. He likes it when you cry. 

 “Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want this,” He emphasizes, pressing his thigh against your sopping pussy. The pressure makes you whine.  “Not when you’re being all cute and fucking yourself on my thigh like the dirty slut you are.”

 No. No. No.

 Rat-tat. 

 You will your hips to stop their movement but they’re too lost in their momentum. Your eyes flicker to Roman’s men, large eyes pleading. They stand stiffly doing their best to ignore you. They’re doing a damn fine job of it. 

 “Oh they won’t do anything, they’re here to watch,” Roman whispers hotly against your ear.  Your eyes flicker to them again. Your breath catching when your eyes meet one of theirs, seeing not an ounce of pity. You shove the bile rising in your throat and the quirk on their lips deep somewhere else, somewhere away from you.   

 You try to squirm away but Roman’s arm presses into your windpipe pinning you in place. You thrash and kick and hiss but your head feels light. You hear fabric shift and you still. The sound of the zipper is too loud and too real.  

Roman takes your lips in a forceful kiss making you gasp. His tongue forces its way into your mouth.  He releases your neck. You feel his fingers trail up the slits of your skirt. You try to focus on them rather than what’s pressing stiffly against your inner thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunch up by your hips. You feel your panties getting pushed aside by large fingers. You whimper again, clawing at the expensive fabric of Roman’s suit. “Please don’t do this.” You plead breathily against his ear. 

 He laughs, voice gravelly and harsh. Without further warning or preparation or ceremony, Roman shoves himself inside your warmth, pushing you further into the door. You gasp, the burning stretch making your body tremble all over. He bottomed out with a loud groan. You wanted to cover your ears or have your mind fall out of your reach but here it was painfully present along with your frozen body. He’s loud, groaning and panting as he fucks into you. He thrusts into you with wild abandon, hips clashing against each other with bruising intensity. You can feel his cock dragging in and out of you, hitting every spot violently. He wants this to hurt. You hope it would too. 

 Your cheeks burn with how your walls spasm around his cock. You want to push him away, to take him out of you but it feels so good. You try to smother the lewd sounds you make into his shirt.  Roman’s hands squeeze tightly around your waist in warning. “Yeah, that's it, baby. Let daddy know how much you want this.” You don’t protest. Instead, you let your mouth hang open and let the lewd mewls and keens tumble out. He drills into you more violently seemingly spurred on by your sounds. 

 You come with a whimper. You want to bury yourself in a hole. He comes not long after still fucking into you as he does, making sure your pussy takes all of his cum.  

 He pulls out of you, the slick sound of it absolutely sinful. Your body is slack against the door, too drained to hold itself up.  Roman pulls back, grinning down at you and whistling appreciatively as he admires his work. “Let’s dress you back up, sweetheart.” Roman coos locking something around your neck.  You don’t need to look down to know what he’s put there. The cool metal of the R.S. hanging off the collar presses stark against your hot sensitive skin.

 “You look sooo much better like this,” Blearily you look past him. Your duffle bag is already in the arms of one of his men. He grabs your face roughly making you look him in the eyes. “All mine- just as you should be.” 

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Thanks for reading! I swear I will do more fluff in the near future. I just needed this out of my system. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

[herstarburststories]

Sensitive There

A/N: My beta asked me if I was drunk when writing this. 

My part for @kalesrebellion​’s Bring On The Giggles challenge. 

Prompts: front butt & cum gun

Summary: You and Dean get drunk, which leads to a new sexual experience.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: dirty talk, smut, nipple play, Sam being a cockblock, humping, excessive use of the word nipple, purposely written like that bc crack

A distantly familiar smell invaded your nostrils as soon as you entered the bar, but it was different; nothing like the lingering after current of alcohol that wafted through the air after a long day’s hunt. Dean had his arm on your shoulders as he and Sam talked way too excitedly about something that you didn't bother enough to pay attention to. Dear Chuck, that hunt truly drowned all your energy. Thankfully, the place with shining letters on the front door was only ten minutes away. You already felt your mood lift and a relaxed smile sneak onto your lips just for being here. What was a better way to lift your spirits than grossly excessive amounts of alcohol?

So, that is what not only you, but Sam and Dean did as well. Apparently, you weren't the only one sorely in need of a whiskey vacation. By noon, even Sam was drunk.

Fuck, how long had it been since you and the Winchesters got properly wasted? Not the daily beers or the occasional scotch, but really drunk, just for the sake of it.

‘’I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun.’’

You giggled at Dean, somehow finding his words exciting. Drunk flirting after a hunt was pretty much how you both ended together, mostly because you weren't soberly hearing his pick up lines.

Your chin rested on your hand as you leaned in. ‘’Yeah, babe? Where? On my chest? Or maybe right on my…’’

“Front butt,” Sam interjected, a proud grin on his lips for helping you to complete your sentence.

You and Dean turned to glare at the other person on the table, furrowed brows and slightly opened mouths in surprise. Who the fuck called a vagina that? Especially Sammy. 

“What?”

“No, dude. You can't be serious? Front butt? Really?” Dean threw himself on the chair, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

Sam tried to defend himself. “I forgot the name!”

“Call it filet mignon!” Now it was your and Sam's turn to glance at him a questioning tilt of the eyes, confusion alit on your features.. Dean arched his eyebrows, wasn't it obvious? “Because it's delicious and made of beef.”

You sighed, pouring another glass of vodka with soda. “We really should talk about your weird psychosexual obsession with food.”

“Before you came along, he said that waitresses were his favorite because they smelled like burgers.” Dean slapped his brother's shoulder, exclaiming a dude! as if he had told you a secret. “What? You said!”

Whether it was because you knew Dean or the fact that your blood was slowly turning into alcohol, you weren't actually surprised by Sam's information.

You shrugged. “He got turned on when he saw me wearing his hotdog pajamas.”

“Can we focus on Sam calling your pussy a front butt?” Dean huffed, taking a sip of his whiskey. In an attempt to shift the focus, he smirked at Sammy. “Maybe you should try a guy, they are all butt.”

“And balls. And penis,” you added, sighing dramatically before placing your hand on Dean's thigh. “I like your penis.”

The eldest Winchester looked to his leg, pushing his tongue against his teeth. All the mental images suddenly coming to mind involved you and a bit more of alcohol were very welcoming to him and his big cum gun. He definitely wanted to shoot you. And hey, he was always good with aiming  Dean could bet he could hit right in your hole.

Even a bit tipsy.

“Sam, stay here while we use the Impala.” He raised to his feet, pulling you with him. You giggled, pecking on neck only to gain a quiet moan in turn. His body was always so responsive to you.

Sammy, however, had another idea. He was completely oblivious to what you and Dean were up to. His brows knitted together along with a soft pout.

“What? You guys are just gonna leave me here? I want to go back to the motel too,” he said with a fragile tone, clearly sad about being left alone.

With a cocky smile upon his lips, Dean was quick to reply, “Unless you want see a front butt and a butt, I advise you to stay here until we come back.” 

“But I want to go, too. I'm sleepy,” Sammy whined, and your heart ached a little. He just wanted to spend time with his big brother and you. Wasn't it adorable?

Not in a threesome way. That would be weird. Two brothers fucking the same girl was weird, especially when she dated one of them, but Sam and Dean were hot in so many different ways. One had a physique of a fucking professional athlete and the other had Greek beauty with rough hands. And Sam's hair was so long... Did he let the girls he was with pull his hair? All right, but threesome with brothers was a level of incest. Even if they always fought in sync, so hypothetically, fucking the same girl could be just as good.

You shook your head, trying to push this image away. You'd never consider this after sobering up.

Tipsy brain, stop. Drunk imagination was wild.

Maybe that is why that author told people to write drunk.

“You are drunk.” Dean's voice managed to take you away from that dark place of your mind where you could see nasty images very, very clearly.

Sam huffed, gesturing with slow exasperation. “So what? I can be two things.”

“Yeah, a bitch and a cockblock.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean!” You scoffed, but your boyfriend just shrugged, not feeling guilty. “Let's go to the motel, Sam.”

Fortunately, the motel was only two blocks far, which made it easier for the gang to walk and stumble there. 

As soon as the door was open, Sam collapsed on the couch. Dean lost in the middle of the living room, his eyes searching everywhere to find the beds. They got a motel without beds? Well, at least there was a carpet on the floor. That could work.

He could use your butt as a pillow!

“Awesome!” Dean said to himself, turning around to find you. Sam snoring on the couch, check. A refrigerator that probably had some beers, check. He finally found you after a complete spin, seeing you against the door. Girlfriend pillow, check. “Y/N?”

“Sam and I got burritos while you were talking to the sheriff this morning. Mexican food, Dean.” Your voice was low and threatening, like you were telling a horror story. Dean gulped, knowing exactly what you meant. Glare lost on Sam's figure, you continued, “We've brought hell on us.”

As if he'd heard a calling, a farting sound echoed. And then another.

“It's starting... We have to run, Y/N.”

You didn't wait any further, immediately latching onto his hand and walking fast through the motel. Dean almost tipped on his feet, but he knew the mission was more important for the greater good — for his boner and your nose.

You slammed the door shut, waking up a scared Sam. You could hear him hit the floor with a loud thump, but you knew you had to save your oxygen while you still could.

“That one was lethal.” Dean rubbed his hands on his face, and you agreed, breathing fresh air in relief. He observed the room, surprise flickering across his features. “We have a bed.”

“Of course we do.” You plopped onto the mattress, looking at him with a sexy smile. “And we should use it.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “I couldn't agree more, sweetheart.” 

Dean started to take his clothes off, and you bit your lower lip at the sight. When the black shirt was thrown on the other side of the bedroom, you started giggling. Dean arched his eyebrows. That wasn't the reaction he expected.

“Your nipples are funny,” you said, still grinning. Wait, were yours like this too? You threw your shirt away, happily already not wearing a bra. “My nipples are funny too. Nipple high five!”

You raised from the bed and touched your nipples with Dean's, who was watching with an adorable, confused face. As soon as your nipples brushed against each other, it was Dean's turn to whimper like a baby.

“Sweetheart, you know my nipples are sensitive.” He pulled away with a smile, uncharacteristically shy for him. 

“I know, but what if it's a good thing?” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers as you led Dean to the bed. You felt light after all those drinks, and you could tell that Dean did, too. You both should have fun with that. “My clit is sensitive and I like when you touch me there.”

“What do you — “ You pushed him to lay on his back, soon jumping on top of him. “Woah, woman!” Dean's eyes were twinkling with much desire, or maybe he was just wasted — you couldn’t tell. Anyway, you would make sure to fulfill this necessity. 

“Besides,” you said, running your hands across his chest, enjoying the view and the not so subtle way Dean's body reacted to your touch. His green eyes were glowing anxiously for your next step. “Cosmopolitan says that we should give men more nipple love, too.” You smiled, surrounded by some nasty ideas. You leaned in, allowing your tongue to circle the outline of his nipple before catching it with your lips.

Dean's eyes shut closed as he bit his lip, the sweet agony lighting him up like a comet. He gripped the sheets tightly in an attempt to compose himself. Your skilled tongue proceeded to swirl his nipple a bit, pressing the wet tip against it before sucking lightly. 

This time, the Winchester couldn't help but exhale a needy moan. Fuck, was it supposed to feel so good? He loved to suck your boobs and imagine knocking you up to get cream from them like you did on his dick, but he never considered you playing with his chest.

Your hand found its way to his free nipple and started to rub it with your thumb, teasing the sensitive skin with a light blow before anything else. You already had gone a bit too fast on his other pinkened nipple for the simple fact of horniness. You could feel his nipple hardening against your finger, while you suck on his other one.

“Sweetheart, you are killing me.” His hold on the blanket tightened, his thick cock fighting to be free of his pants. You felt his cum gun getting ready to blow on your leg and adjusted yourself on top of him, sitting in his lap as you still worked on his breast. “Fuck.”

You pinched his nipple with your fingertips, gaining back a moan of pleasure. You moved your hips back and forth while riding him like a cowgirl, rubbing his erect dick with your wet pussy. You were both still clothed. Ultimately, you attempted to bite his nipple, and Dean groaned loudly, almost a scream. His huge hands knotted into your hair as he bucked his hips, pulling you closer to his chest. You kept exploring his arousement from that spot, scratching and sucking harder. You changed nipples, always caressing the lonely one. The faster you two went, the closer you got. Until your bodies went full YEE HAA and both of you reached liberation with a strong orgasm. His cum gun finally shot inside his pants, and you in yours.

You fell beside him on the bed, and Dean wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer. Both were breathless, sweaty, and incredibly sensitive because of the newfound pleasure. You laid your head on his strong shoulder, laughing softly before grabbing the blanket to clean your mess on his chest. You and Dean stayed like that for a few minutes, just catching your breath.

“That was intense.” He smirked at you, throwing his body on top of yours. “But now, I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun. Gonna dirty your pretty mouth with my white juice. You won't be a veggie once you try my meat, sweetheart.”

Dean's Sweetheart: @akshi8278​  (DEAN’S TAGLIST OPEN) 

Hunter @demonhunterbarbie​ (ALL SPN WORKS TAGLIST OPEN)

[slasher-smasher]

16 yrs old

Sinclair Twins x Reader

A huge thank you to the wonderful @thesightstoshowyou for beta reading my mess. I know I just posted the first one, I just have a lot in my head and want to get it down. Thank you for those who are reading, really makes my day. This one is a bit longer. Other parts here: 8 yrs, 19 yrs pt1, 19 pt2\

Warnings: none

Today was a beautiful day. There were no clouds in the bright blue sky, and the trees swished with the caress of an unusually cool breeze that blew through the town of Ambrose.

You were walking toward the station and laughing with friends you made while visiting your Uncle over the summer. Your parents have been fighting more at the most ridiculous things, so you relish the time you get to run away to the busy town.

“There’r drinks at the station we can ‘ave,” you say while wiping the sweat off your forehead.

As your little group enters the blissfully cool garage, you pass your uncle who was currently tucked underneath the body of an off-yellow vehicle.

“Hey Grumps, can we git some soda from the cooler?” You squat down next to him so you can hear him better.

“Sure, don’t care,” the muffled grumble replied, “Er, that Sinclair boy left gifts for ya’ earlier. Sumthin’ ‘bout yer birthday. It’s in my office.” You stand with a puzzled look on your face.

“Sinclair boy? No way it was Vinny. He never leaves the museum.” You ponder while walking to the small office that was tucked into the back. Looking at the desk you find the “gifts,” and let out a short laugh. One was of a poorly whittled wooden rabbit. Or, at least, you think it’s a rabbit.

“Oh Lester,” you sigh with a smile on your face. Next was a wax sculpture of a moth. The figure itself was unnerving in the usual Vincent fashion that just made you love it even more. The moth’s wings have the image of a woman’s face. It was a joke from when you embarrassed yourself when hanging out with Vincent in the House of Wax.

You moved some old papers and let out the highest pitched squeal when a large moth fluttered at your face from being disturbed. You tripped over the chair that was behind you. There was no noise but you could see Vincent’s shoulders shake from his place by the piano, his eye shining with amusement.

“Oh shut it! The damn thing tried to jump on my face!” You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but you were happy that the normally stoic man was laughing. A voice that sent chills down your spine broke you out of reminiscing.

“Ya gunna pay fer that?”

‘Oh no,’ you panicked as you gathered the gifts and raced out of the room.

You come into the sight of your friends protesting and saying Y/N gave them the drinks. The eldest Sinclair himself leans against a yellow car that looks like he was working on judging by the grease on his coveralls and cheek. His arms are crossed over his chest, pale eyes set in a frown.

“Bo Sinclair, quit bein’ an ass! Ya’ know Grumps lets me ‘ave some drinks.” You stomped right up in front of the young mechanic, clutching the figures to your chest. He was a whole foot taller than you, so the intimidating effect from your friends’ point of view was a bit washed out.

As Bo looked down at your face, then the sculptures.

He straightened and grabbed your jaw in a firm grip with his right hand, rough from the engineering he likes to study.

The touch making a dream you had flash like lightning behind your eyes of the way his hands caressed your skin and how you awoke breathless, angry, and slick.

His lips slid into a smirk that made you want to slap it off…or maybe run your tongue across it.

‘Fuck off hormones!’ you scolded.

“How was I supposed to know they were with you Prince/Princess?” he asked in that condescending way of his. The blood in your cheeks boiled. You would never admit nor understand why this bastard of a man gets under your skin so easily.

“I told you not to call me that,” you gritted out through your teeth not taking your eyes off his blues that now shined with glee. Oh, how he loves revving you up.

Bo was just about to make a retort that would make you want to break his handsome face when your Uncle yells, “Boy! Git the fuck over ‘ere and help me with this tin can. What am I payin’ ya’ fer?”

Bo closes his eyes and growls under his breath. When he opens them, they are a darker shade, the same shade as when he is angry.

“Another time, sweet cheeks,” he winks as he caresses your cheek with his thumb before he letting go and turning to lean over the hood while your uncle is under. He acts as if you two weren’t surrounded by tension so thick you can suffocate on it.

“Yer still on the fucking fan belt? Damn it old man let me do it.”

“Prick,” you huff and turn to your two friends who seemed like they were frozen, “Let’s go, ya’ll. I want ter see them new puppies they got.” The offer of cooing over cute things seems to perk them up and the chatter and laughter resumed as you all exited the garage.

As you leave you can feel the red-hot burn of Bo’s eyes crawling up your legs and body. Mainly, your ass.

‘Nope, not looking.’ You force yourself to face forward, not at the stormy eyes that follow you as you walk to the pet store down the street. You did your best to ignore the tingling on your face where he touched you.

Later, you find yourself lounging on some dusty couch under the House of Wax where Vincent usually works on his art and spends most of his time. You were facing the ceiling, lost in thought, arms draped over the back, legs crossed at the ankles. The candle that Vincent had for a light source bathed your skin in a warm glow. All you could hear was the scrape of a pencil over the paper as Vincent sketched in his book.

You were thinking about something one of your friends said while you were gushing over the tiny puppies.

“Hey, are ya and Bo together?” she had asked while cuddling a wiggling puppy to her chest. You let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook your head violently.

“With that jerk? Hell no. Most of the time I wanna bop him in the nose whenever he opens his mouth.” You giggled as you watched the pup you were giving attention nibble on your fingers.

“Yeh, but ya’ basically grew up wit them Sinclairs and even went ter the funeral. You guys must be close righ’?” asked your other friend. The mention of Trudy and Victor’s funeral made you sad, though it didn’t show on your face.

You had mixed feelings about it. They weren’t the best of parents; God knows you know firsthand with your own. But you were saddened about how it all ended; Trudy getting sick, and poor Dr. Sinclair. Despair, like a black viscous goo consuming every good thing in your life, swallows you up too. They all deserved better.

You remember when you saw Vincent, Bo, and Lester all standing in front of the casket, heads bowed in their black suits. Lester, being at the age of seven, only knew that his Momma and Pa are gone, too young to grasp the concepts of sickness and heartbreak.

Vincent was, as usual, stiff, and with his mask on you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. You wanted to comfort and embrace them, but what made your heart feel like it was constricted by fishing wire was Bo. His hands were balled into fists, his face pinched like he was going to scream any second. One would think he would start throwing things, but it was his eyes that gave it away. The watery bright blue eyes that were looking at the face of his mother and jailer.

You have never seen them that clear blue before. A dark, stormy ocean seemed to permanently take residence in his eyes, but not that day. You will never understand the relationship the boys had with their parents, the twisted love they had. Hopefully, the neighbors who volunteered to take them in will fill the gaping hole that has been created.

You doubt it.

The scrape of a chair on the floor made you blink. Lifting your head, you watch Vincent get up from the desk and stand in front of a small block of wax that will soon be transformed into a creature born from the man’s dark imagination. His head cocked to the side as if debating what to do. His midnight hair that is getting longer every year brushed over his right shoulder. Getting up from the couch, you groaned at feeling of the small pops when you stretched.

‘God, how long was I zoned out?’ you thought. Walking behind him, you bit into your bottom lip in hesitation. You knew you had a bit of a crush on the quiet and probably emotionally stunted artist. He was so much better to deal with than that bastard of a twin of his.

‘Ah fuck it,’ you thought, then proceeded to wrap your arms around Vincent who stiffened like he’d been electrocuted.

“I never thanked you for the moth. It’s lovely,” you whispered into his shoulder blades as you laid your head on the middle of his back. He was still like a statue and you started to get worried you overstepped, about to let go when you felt him relax and squeeze your fingers once with his soft warm hands, the total opposite of Bo’s. A soft raspy, “Welcome,” could barely be heard.

You let go and step next to him, tilting your head to see his good eye. You always felt naked when that light blue eye was on you. You did not see any expression in them, just a cold emptiness.

“It was a monster of a moth by the way. I nearly escaped death.” You grinned as you saw him roll his eye in exasperation, “Also, Lester is gunna cut his fingers off wit those knives of his. He’s just thirteen. Where is he gettin’ all those damn things?” Vincent just shrugged and picked up some tools from the tray and proceeded to make his next creation. You huffed and walked back to the couch and ungracefully plopped onto it, content to watch him work in silence.

[lodi-writes]

hey babe~ may i request an angsty fic that ends with fluff for Seven x Reader(mc), in which MC has been trying all day to get Seven's attention, But he ends up getting Mad at her and yelling at her, making MC cry, and after a bit of thought goes to comfort her? thank you

Hey hey! You absolutely may request that!! This was very much a rollercoaster to write, I’ve been very stressed lately and this actually helped a lot with that, so thank you very much for the request!! Parts of it did very much hurt my heart to write because I’m very much a fluff writer, but I loved the challenge and had lots of fun!! I hope you enjoy!!

~~

Empty Soda Cans and Doorsteps

Ship: Seven x MC

Word Count: 1,698

Genre: Angst to Fluff

11:07 am.

It started with a nudge. I just nudged his knee with mine, that was all. I didn’t even think he’d notice. 

Seven was sitting next to me on the couch while I watched TV, but his computer was on his lap and his headphones were up. He’d been working on this assignment for the past five days with no full nights of sleep, only a handful of power naps a day. I didn’t necessarily need his attention, I knew he needed to work on this. But I missed seeing his smile. I missed sneaking into bed with him late at night and just snuggling, basking in each other’s presence before dozing off. I missed his warm, loving hugs, and sharing bowls of cereal at midnight. Even when he had lots of work, he would always make time for me. He used to. But he was getting so distant, I really just wanted to coax him into just a little smile, at least. 

So I started with a nudge. Just a simple tap of our knees. I wanted to gauge how far I needed to go. I thought I’d work my way up from a nudge. But he scowled. He scowled. He never scowled. Something seriously must be up. And I was going to get to the bottom of it.

1:32 pm.

I walked out of our bedroom to go to the kitchen, passing through the living room to check up on him. Still on the couch. This time, I’d do more than a nudge. But something less aggressive. I stood behind the couch silently and pondered for a moment until an idea struck me. I grinned and leaned over, placing a small kiss on the top of his head. I barely noticed when he slightly jumped from surprise, then simply scratched his cheek and continued to work. It was my turn to scowl. Why couldn’t I get through to him? All I wanted was some sort of acknowledgement of my presence. Was that so much to ask for? I sighed and continued to the kitchen to grab two cans of soda from the fridge. I cracked one open and took a sip then proceeded to crack the other one open, quickly walking up to Seven and placing it quietly on the coffee table in front of him. Still no reaction. Not even a flicker in his eyes. 

This was going to be hard.

3:24 pm.

I rang out my now wet hair with a towel. Looking at myself in the foggy mirror, a new idea struck. I wrapped the towel around my body and pushed my hair back. Slowly and quietly, I gripped my hand around the bathroom door knob and pushed it open. I stalked down the hall, leaving behind a trail of water droplets on the ground. I quickly made my way over to the couch, claiming my spot next to him. I crossed my legs and placed my hands gently on my knees. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye, seeing no reaction. I groaned and started to get up when I noticed a small bit of soda on the dipped rim of the can. I reached forward and grabbed it, to find that it was empty. I looked over at him with a soft smile and made my way to the kitchen. I knew he was doing the best he could. This must have been a really hard time for him, but that doesn’t excuse his complete disregard for my presence! I shook my head and pulled another can from the fridge, cracking it open for him. I placed it on the coffee table once more before making my way back towards our room for a small nap.

5:46 pm.

Stretching my arms over my head, I let out a small yawn. I bounced off the bed and stretched my legs a bit. Satisfying naps aside, there had to be something I could do to get Seven’s attention. 

I pondered for a moment, figuring out my options, mentally scrolling through ideas. It had to be something that would make him smile, nothing aggressive, nothing scary… I finally had some semblance of an idea form and decided to just go for it. For the millionth time that day, I made my way over to the couch and plopped down next to him with a smirk. I snuggled up next to him and looked at his eyes. Still no recognition. Time for phase two. I snake my hand up his arm and to headphones, kissing his cheek as a distraction. I pulled up the closest side of his headphones and meowed in his ear softly. And I finally got a reaction.

A mumble.

“What?”

He mumbled again, a little louder but still not loud enough.

“...w-what?”

“I said, what are you doing?!” He erupted. Absolutely erupted, like a volcano the whole town thought was dormant but finally erupts, shocking and killing everyone.

“W-what do you mean…? I just thought-”

“Whatever you thought, just stop. You know I’m trying to work and you’ve been bothering me all. fucking. day. Just leave me alone, please. I don’t have time for you!” His angered expression faltered, as if he was shocked by his own words. I felt my face get hot and my vision became foggy with the welling tears. I pushed myself back and slowly stood up.

“Okay.” I smiled at him softly and with tears in my eyes walked away. Not toward our bedroom like I’m sure he thought I would. No, I walked right out the front door. I didn’t go far. In fact, I never even left the door step. I calmly shut the door behind me and simply sat on the doorstep and waited. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. I didn’t expect him to follow me outside, he obviously had better things to do right now. So I just…sat.

6:21 pm. 

I sat in silence, lazily watching a little trail of ants walk by a few feet away as a few stray tears rolled down my cheeks. Until I heard a creak. And a gasp.

“Oh my-”

I turned my head to identify where the voice had come from and tipped it up to see Seven, his hand over his mouth.

“O-oh my god, you’re still here…” His hands shook. He quickly stepped in front of me and knelt down, grabbing my shoulders and my cheeks and my hands in his. They felt wet. He looked me dead in the eyes, and only then did I see how red and swollen they were. I felt a pang in my heart looking in his eyes, those eyes that were filled with so much pain and fear. I couldn’t take it, so I looked down. I looked at his feet, I looked at his hands that were wet with tears and holding mine, I looked anywhere but his face. Anywhere but his eyes. 

And then I felt him press his lips to my forehead. I felt his arms wrap around me and I felt him squeeze me so tight, like I was going to disappear. Like I was going to get up and leave him. Like I was going to never come back. He kissed my forehead again. And my left cheek. Then my right. He hugged me tighter and whispered in my ear so softly I almost didn’t hear him.

“I didn’t mean what I said, I…I don’t k-know what I’m doing or w-what I’m saying, you know I always have time for you, all of my time is for you…you deserve a-all the time and attention i-in the world and you deserve so much m-more than me…but…b-but just…” 

“Please…don’t leave me, yet…”

His voice was shaking horribly. I hugged him back, gripping the back of his shirt, balling my hands up into tight fists as I began to cry again.

“I won’t, I won’t ever, I won’t ever leave you…” I repeated over and over again. He pulled back to look at me in the eyes again. This time, his swollen eyes were filled with shock, and joy. That little glimmer of joy that I missed so much. 

“You…you won’t…?” He asked softly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if they wanted to form a smile but didn’t want to too soon. 

“I won’t, I promise” I gave him a soft smile through my tears. He smiled back. He smiled. He smiled and I was so happy. I couldn’t begin to describe how happy I was to see his smile. I started to laugh. I started to laugh through the tears and kiss all over his face. I kissed his forehead, his temples, his cheeks, his nose. I hugged him back just as tight. He chuckled a bit, just a bit at first. And then his laughter matched mine and he grabbed my hands in his once again. He stood up, bringing me with him. He brushed a stray tear from my cheek with one hand and then led me back inside with the other.

7:17 pm.

Laying in bed, I snuggled up close next to Seven. It was early, but we were both so drained that we decided to turn in early. God, I missed this. He rolled to face me and smiled warmly as I brushed the hair away from his eyes. They were no longer puffy from tears, they were no longer filled with pain that I never wanted to see again. I smiled contently and stroked his cheek. I kissed his right eyebrow, making him close his eyes, and then kissed his eyelid. 

“What are you doing?” He chuckled softly with a wide smile, but proceeded to do the same to me. I giggled and placed my hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. I tipped my head and placed it in the crook of his neck while I snaked my arm around his waist, pulling him close. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth and his love, there was nowhere else in the world I would rather be than right here.

[atmilliways]

As long as anybody didn’t find out, Pickles figured the worst scenarios he had conjured in his head would never happen.

[send me a sentence and i’ll write the next five or more lines]

You got it! This... turned out longer than five more lines, lol. 

Snakes N Barrels era Charles/Pickles. Warning for one night stands, drug and alcohol mentions, questionable disguises, and Charles hitting the club with a briefcase that contains a book and condoms (just in case). 

Bottles & Bodies

As long as nobody found out, Pickles figured the worst scenarios he had conjured in his head would never happen. The gossip, the cold shoulders, the colder looks . . . all the shit he’d left behind in Wisconsin, but would be so much worse to encounter again now, here, in the fucking tabloids and the faces of his bandmates, because he actually liked this life. 

It wasn’t like he was ever going to fool around with any of the guys, even if Tony was pretty cute. As far as Pickles could tell none of the guys ate from both sides of the buffet anyway, and as a general rule the groupies were always girls, so it was easy enough to compartmentalize. When he was being Pickles, the rockstar, in his red gloves and makeup and tight, low-riding jeans, he hit on chicks; when he snuck out to gay bars as Pickles, just some dude, with his blue wristbands and no eyeliner or eyeshadow and slightly less teased hair and even tighter, sluttier jeans, he hit on dudes. 

And usually, just to be on the safe side, he picked guys too loaded to pick him out of a lineup later. 

So why. Why the fuck. Had he picked the most straight-laced looking guy in this bar to sidle up to and ask if he could buy him a drink?

Probably had something to do with the fact that he was a little cross faded on weed and booze. . . . But mostly it was that the guy—young, probably not much older than he was—was hot, and he’d wanted to so he’d gone in the bathroom to snort a little coke until it seemed like a better idea. 

Hot in a preppy sort of way, admittedly, with the glasses and the blazer and the nearly combed hair, nursing a scotch and soda while reading something and taking notes in a steno pad at a small table in the corner. But once you got past that part, there was a serious set of his jaw, an intensity to his gaze as he focused on what he was reading despite the noise of the crowd, and a firm decisiveness in his hands that Pickles had found himself obsessing over in stolen glances for the past half an hour. Good shoulders, too, and Pickles suspected he was pretty fine under that blazer and button-down. 

Pickles grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat in it without bothering to turn it around, folding his arms across the top of it and grinning at the handsome stranger. “Hey, whatcha reading?”

“Naming, Necessity, and Natural Kinds, by Stephen P. Schwartz,” the guy reeled off automatically. When this wasn’t immediately followed by Pickles losing interest and wandering off, he glanced up and did a double take. “Wait. You’re, ah, Pickles. From Snakes N Barrels.”

For a fraction of a second, Pickles did his best impression of a deer in the headlights. Because yeah, lack of stage makeup wasn’t much of a disguise, but no one had ever actually called him on it before. 

Then he recovered, and all his experience in bullshitting and performing under pressure kicked in. Pickles turned the wattage on his smile up a notch. “Heh, y’think? I could just be a handsome, sexy lookalike.”

The guy shook his head while still staring. “I’ve been to your shows,” he said with unshakable conviction. “I know it’s you.”

Without meaning to, Pickles laughed. “You have? Really?” He let his eyes rake pointedly up and down the other man, since he wanted to anyway. What he saw did not, in any way, scream Snakes N Barrels fan. For one thing, there was an honest to god briefcase wedged under his chair between his nice leather shoes. Not enough piercings or tats, for another—not that he could see at least, to which his lizard brain slyly added Yet. 

After waiting patiently for his eyes to wander back up, the guy said seriously, “Really. You, ah.” Suddenly his confidence seemed to waver, even if his conviction didn’t, and he looked down at his book. “You stand out.”

Pickles considered. He wasn’t thinking too good at this point, which might possibly present a flaw in his whole ‘compartmentalization’ plan. . . . But he had a pretty good radar for when people were interested, and this guy was definitely pinging on it. And somehow, he didn’t really think that someone who’d brought heavy reading to a hookup den was the type to try blackmailing a celebrity in the bisexual closet. People like that had better things to do, right?

It didn’t mean everyone would find out. 

He drummed his fingers on the top of his chair, barely heard it over the ambient noise of the bar around them, shrugged. What the hell. “Okay, you got me,” he said with a smirk, one he knew for a fact was particularly winning. Under the table, he stretched his leg out and rubbed the toe of one sneaker against the other man’s calf. “This your first brush with fame or are you jest happy to see me?”

There was a twitch of surprise at the sudden contact, but otherwise the guy held his ground. “Well, I, ah.” His face was reddening, though. “I like your, ah . . . music.”

“Thanks, dood.” With a wink, Pickles added, “What’s yer name, since you already know mine?”

“Charles.”

“Nice name,” he said, still feeling up the back of Charles’ leg with his foot. “So hey, Charlie. Wanna go appreciate my ‘music’ somewhere private?”

It was a stupid line and probably shouldn’t have worked, but the guy nodded and shut his book, using the steno pad as a bookmark. Pickles took the liberty of finishing the last of the stranger’s scotch and soda before getting up to leave the bar; Charles stowed his book in his briefcase and followed. 

Stupid, impulsive, thinking with his dick instead of his brain as usual. . . . But hey, a guy’s gotta eat. Otherwise what was the point of it all, right?

They got a motel room a few blocks away, but not until after Pickles had pushed Charles against a few darkened brick walls along the way to give him a test drive. Charles kissed back hard, eagerly, like this was some sort of fantasy he’d never dreamed he’d get to live out. His hands ran down Pickles’ back to grab his ass and fuck he was unexpectedly strong. Pickles felt his feet practically leave the ground, literally, and moaned into it. 

By the time they got into a room (which Charles had gamely gone into the motel office by himself to pay for), Pickles had him one zip away from pants-off. That was quickly taken care of, and shirt buttons undone, and sure enough, what he found underneath the crisp white shirt lived up to expectations and then some. Pickles dropped to his knees, shivering in approval when Charles’ hands went straight into his hair. He was less appreciative when he was held back from leaning forward. 

“I, ah,” Charles panted, staring down at him with bruised lips and desire in his eyes. “I have condoms in, in my briefcase.” 

Pickles quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Well, it’s. . . . I mean, because, the bar. You, ah, never know, right?”

Probably smart. 

Pickles rolled his eyes but got the condom, rolled it on with his mouth, and proceeded to suck his new friend’s brain out into the protective latex. Then he tossed Charles a washcloth and a fresh Trojan and put on a show of peeling out of the tight jeans and tight t-shirt, making strategic use of the motel lotion until they could get the new condom on and Pickles climbed atop him. He eased down with his head thrown back, scrambling without looking to find Charles’ hands and press them to his hips while his head floated and spun, the perfect high. At one point he realized that Charles had flipped them over, so smoothly he hadn’t even noticed, bending Pickles bare feet effortlessly back his ears as he thrust into him with the steadiness of a drumbeat, and it all felt so fucking good. 

The other stuff was good too—the rush of being onstage, free booze and drugs, groupies whenever he wanted—but there was something in this that he needed just as much. Couldn’t give up one any more than the other, got the shakes if he went too long without it. He’d picked a good one tonight, too. Unlike his usual fare, Charles didn’t seem to be any more than slightly buzzed. Usually Pickles would be offering to share a little bit of his coke right now just to keep his pick of the night awake and functioning; instead, he was being steadily, blissfully fucked into the mattress with a controlled pressure that carried no hint of sloppiness, no possibility of passing out halfway through. Which was . . . kind of a first, and kind of felt like the best sex he’d ever had (without being on the really hard shit, at least, where it was more about the trip than the actual fucking anyway). 

He almost wanted to offer a few lines anyway, just so this could go on all night. . . . But it hadn’t been all that long ago that he couldn’t afford to share, and old habits died hard, so he didn’t. 

At one point Charles was sprawled across the bed, head resting on Pickles’ thigh as the musician leaned back against the pillows and well-rattled headboard, idly twisting short brown hair into tiny braids that wouldn’t stay. Charles’ eyes were mostly closed when he asked, matter of factly, “I’m not going to see you again, am I?”

Pickles chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before conceding, “Yeah, prahbly naht.” He yawned, then grimaced—damn accent always thickened up on him when he was tired or coming down, and right now he was both. “Sahhry. I mean, you can still come to shows and stuff, but. . . .”

“No, it’s fine. I understand.” Charles rolled over onto his elbows, looking up at Pickles. “Knowing it’s a one time thing takes, ah, takes some of the pressure off. I’m not, ah, very good at . . . this sort of thing, usually.” He paused, looking faintly embarrassed. “I, ah, say things like that, for example.”

“Dood, me neither,” Pickles said with a laugh. It was true, and he was a little relieved to hear the sentiment echoed by the other man. He wondered, briefly, if Charles would get all weird if he admitted that he slept with women too. A lot of guys did. But that  was a mistake you only made . . . five, maybe eight times, outside of doing it on purpose to make sure these trysts ended when he needed them to. Not necessary in this case, where they both already seemed to be on the same page. He yawned again. 

Men or women, all of his relationships came with an expiration date that could usually be measured in hours, and that mostly didn’t bother him because there were always others waiting when he turned around. Maybe he was kind of bummed to know that he’d never see this guy again, but he’d wake up in the morning and move on. There would always be another body to tumble into the next time he turned around to scratch this particular itch.

~

Several years later, past the band breaking up, past numerous auditions and brief stints as frontman for other groups that never really seemed to stick, after getting over the crushing reality of defeat and admitting to himself that he’d never be able to get his voice to go as heavy as he wanted, Pickles tapped the creased business card Nathan had given him on the edge of the desk and said, “So. . . . Hey.”

“Hi,” Charles replied blandly. His hairline was showing signs of beginning a slow retreat, there were lines around his mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he looked very professional and joyless in his gray suit and power tie, but it was definitely him. “So. You, ah, have a new band now.”

“Yep.” Pickles tapped the card on the desk again. It had been a very long time since he’d wondered any time he’d seen the name Charles or any of the variations if it would turn out to be that Charles. . . . Honestly, he’d probably only done it for a few weeks before the booze and drugs had washed away any certainty that he’d even remembered the name right. He definitely hadn’t walked into this appointment with a potential manager for the newly formed Dethklok expecting this blast from the past. 

“And you’re . . . not the frontman.” 

That wasn’t phrased as a question, so Pickles just shrugged. “Yeah, that’s Nathan. He’s the one who called. He’d’ve come, but he had work today, so, y’know. Here I am.” He shrugged again. “I’m the drummer.”

“I, ah, see.” Charles wrote something on his steno pad. It was, upon craning very unsubtly to see, the words Pickles the Drummer. “Nathan didn’t, ah, mention that over the phone.”

“Yeah, he’s not real chatty. Good guy though.” Pickles saw the faintest hint of questioning look and felt a sudden, uncharacteristic surge of embarrassed defensiveness over, essentially, nothing. “Not that he’s, I mean, we aren’t, no way, uh, no.” 

Fuck, he regretted ever learning how to talk as a kid. But he’d never been stuck in a conversation with someone who had this particular dirt on him before—even though, technically, he had the same dirt on Charles. The 90’s were almost less forgiving of that shit than the 80’s had been, in their own way. Anxious and fidgety, Pickles  started patting his pockets, looking for cigarettes or something. 

Charles put his pen down with a sigh and took off his glasses, studiously wiping them with a handkerchief. They hadn’t seemed dirty a second ago. 

“Pickles. . . . If you’re worried about, ah, my discretion, I can assure you that I am a professional. We don’t have to discuss our, ah, shared. . . . The fact that we’ve met before. With your band mates, or even with each other, unless you chose to do so. Either way, you can consider that information, ah, confidential.” The handkerchief disappeared into a pocket, and Charles put his glasses back on. “And I, ah, hope that you would do me the same courtesy. Particularly if I do become Dethklok’s manager.”

There the damn smokes were. Pickles tugged the squashed, mostly empty pack out of his back pocket, but paused in the middle of shaking one out as the words sank in. “. . . Wait, you really wanna manage us?”

“Of course. The demo tape you sent me showed a huge amount of promise, especially considering it wasn’t recorded professionally.”

“Damn right it wasn’t,” Pickles scoffed, jamming the cigarette in his mouth and distractedly resuming his self-frisking, this time for a lighter. “Had to record it on a fuckin’ two year old Talkboy that Magnus stole from his niece. Thing’s a piece of shit. Where’d I fuckin’ put—”

A flick of a lighter snagged his attention, and he glanced up to see Charles holding one, already lit. It was one of the windproof ones, matte black and heavy looking. Metal, Pickles thought, and leaned forward to touch the tip of his cigarette to the lick of flame, wondering idly if it was monogrammed. He tried to remember if they’d smoked anything that night, but came up blank and felt . . . weirdly disappointed in himself for not knowing.

“You want one?” he asked, and hoped he sounded casual instead of probing. 

Charles shook his head. “No, I don’t smoke, I just, ah, just work with a lot of people who do.”

Pickles sat back, taking a deep drag and sighing out smoke. It was strange how this encounter was making him a little nostalgic—or maybe just making him stupid. Sure, that one night stand still stood out in his memory as the best sex he’d ever had, but it had only been one night. They didn’t actually know each other, probably didn’t have anything in common. In the space of this one meeting they’d probably exchanged more words than they had back then. But. . . . 

There was something about Charles, even older. Even in that boring suit. A flicker of something—subdued interest, maybe?—dancing behind the flame as he’d conscientiously offered to light Pickles’ cigarette. 

He hadn’t felt the itch for a while, but something about Charles suddenly had him itching like crazy. 

“. . . Okay then, chief. We need a manager, you want to manage us, sounds like a good deal to me.” Pickles took a long drag on his cigarette and then smirked, one he knew for a fact was particularly winning. Just because the wristbands he had on now were black, his hair was tamped down into dreadlocks and his goatee long shaved off, and his jeans were loose enough to give his balls some room to breathe, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still live a little. 

After all, he didn’t have any stage make-up on. That made him, for the moment, just some dude. And Charles, well . . . he could clearly keep a secret. It didn’t mean anyone would find out. 

Pickles leaned forward, resting both elbows on the edge of Charles’ desk as he said, “Why don’t you tell me what you like about my music?”

[afinedilemma]

A Bucky fic I have no name for...

You are a super soldier that runs into the one and only, only to realize he's the one who kidnapped you for hydra. There will be discussion of war, programming/brainwashing, violence, cussing, general trauma, etc. Not too sure, yet, where I'm going to take it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was days like this that made you miss Siberia. As fucked up as it was, after all the years you spent there, you had gotten used to the snow and ice and cold. The humid heat of the American Midwest was never something you were fond of, but now it was something akin to hell. Luckily your truck had AC, so, save for the small amounts of time you had to be outside, it wasn't too bad.

Some could say you were adjusting pretty well. The government gave you a job transporting 'classified material' after giving you a pardon. You hadn't gotten to really meet any of the avengers, but, honestly, you were glad to avoid it all. You just wanted some peace and quiet, a slice of normalcy... Even if that meant hauling 'classified material' for uncle Sam. It was probably as close to normal as you were going to get as a hundred year old super soldier... Well, a hundred and three. For the most part, all you had to worry about was the open road, getting the cargo to it's destination, and what station to listen to on the radio.

Occasionally, they would stick a soldier or two with you to ensure the safety of the load when it was higher risk. It disrupted your peace, but most of them were tolerable enough. Some of them were even nice company. Some... Were not. One duo you remember well, were two friends: John and Lamar. They seemed nice, but John was one of those guys that was really superficial. The guy had something just under the surface that... Just wasn't quite right. Lamar? He seemed decent, but they were friends, which either made him complicit in whatever John had going on or was blissfully unaware. They seemed joined at the hip so you assumed the former.

What you didn't know, was that today your streak with avoiding the avengers would end. You hadn't really kept up well, hoping the world hadn't managed to keep up with you, so you had avoided even learning very much about the avengers. SO. To say it was a shock to see the man that had kidnapped you for hydra, would be an understatement.

He and the guy you were pretty sure was called 'The Falcon' were there for the delivery. You saw them at a distance so you had time to work through some of the shock and play it cool. If he was with them then he had likely been deprogrammed, so there was nothing for you to worry about. You knew he had to have been programmed when he kidnapped you, so there wasn't much point in holding a grudge. Considering you were forced to do things you wouldn't have done voluntarily through programming, you understood. Still, it was a bit unnerving being around him after all that time. Especially with that scowl on his face.

He did try to be more amicable around you. You assumed he didn't remember you, or he didn't let on that he did, and you let him. There was no point dredging up the painful past, especially since, if he was decent at all and remembered any of his past, likely had enough guilt to deal with.

"Oh my God. No way!" You closed your eyes as you stopped your unloading. Damnit. You forced yourself to relax and be friendly or, at least, appear that way. He seemed well meaning and it's not like any of it was his fault. So you turned and smiled at the falcon. "It's you! You're the Night Witch!"

"Night Witch?" The super soldier looked confused.

You tried not to cringe at the nickname and force a smile. "You can just call me Vic." You extended your hand.

The falcon shook your hand. "Sam." He grinned.

"You mean like the bombers back in the war?" More confusion.

Sam elaborated, "This is Bucky." He gestured towards his partner.

"James." Bucky smiled while slicking his hair back with his hand. He was wearing gloves, which made sense. You remembered him having a metal arm. He probably didn't like the stares.

"No, like she's a legend." You tried to keep your face from dropping as Sam spoke. "She basically took down a small army on her own!" He looked confused at your reaction. "You're a hero. You saved so many of our men. If we hadn't had that victory, who knows..."

"Well a lot of men also died that night and it was also the reason hydra decided to take me and turn me into a programmed super soldier." You shrugged it off with a forced smile, feeling Bucky's eyes. "But at least someone that knows about me is able to see it in a positive light." You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness. It wasn't really something you discussed, much to your therapist's dismay, and you weren't looking to start right this moment. "I should probably go ahead and get this unloaded though."

While you were returning to unloading you heard Sam behind you. "Damn. These are heavy."

You turned to see him struggling and grinned. "You'll probably need a forklift for that, hun." Then you proceeded to lift the equipment yourself and unloaded while he watched in awe.

James' face furrowed with approval, began to help unload by hand as Sam scoffed.

"Alright, alright. I'll leave you two to it." Sam wandered off with a smirk.

You two finished unloading, but you couldn't help but notice that he had kept looking at you. Perhaps he was used to being the only super soldier; maybe he was starting to recognize you. You weren't sure.

"Thanks for helping out." You held out your hand.

He gave you a questioning look as he reached out to shake your hand. "You're proper."

"People don't have manners these days?"

"EH... How old did you say you were?" He asked as he studied you.

You smiled. "I didn't." He trailed behind you as you walked out of the trailer to close it back up. "And I'm positive that someone in your life taught you better than to ask a woman her age?"

He grinned and looked away. "You do all this by yourself? ... Drive and..." He gestured as he trailed off.

"Yeah. It wasn't really suggested when I was trying to adjust back into..." You gestured broadly. "But I honestly like the peace and quiet."

"Sounds nice." He frowned, brows furrowed. "Your therapist let you get away with this?" He gestured at your truck.

"Not really, but I was seen as a valuable asset in this setting so she didn't really get a vote." You shoved your hands in your pockets. You were glad to be talking to someone who didn't automatically write you off as soon as they found out you had a therapist. You surmised it had something to do with James having a therapist himself from the way he asked, but you decided to let it rest.

He muttered under his breath in disbelief, looking around and spotting Sam. Sam was sitting across the building drinking a soda and waving in acknowledgement.

"Well I'd better get going. Thanks again." You smiled.

"Yeah, of course. No problem." He looked at you confused again.

This whole time you were anxious about him recognizing you and you really hoped it wasn't going to happen now. You wanted to end the night with as little drama as possible and thankfully as you walked away, it seemed you would get your wish.

You sighed, content, as you hopped back in your truck to head back onto the road. It was late and the road would be empty. You could let your thoughts wander while you drove and not think about the avengers anymore... Or so you thought.

[gloochie]

here’s a fuckin rant about how in love i am with sunny’s portrayal of realistic anorexia // ed tw obviously

doesn’t take up the character’s entire personality

yeah there’s tons of shows with characters that have eating disorders, but usually that is the only purpose of the character, so their entire personality is just the eating disorder. yes that is how it can feel for the individual in real life, that they are nothing without their eating disorder, but that isn’t how other people see them. their friends see a regular person and often don’t even see the eating disorder at all.

dennis is orthorexic and anorexic, that’s obvious, but that isn’t all that either the other characters or the audience see. as he’s primarily known as a ‘psychopathic narcissistic serial killer / golden god’, especially by ‘dudebros’. the other characters obviously think this as well, as the word ‘eating disorder’ and ‘dennis’ have yet to coexist in a sentence, and only on one or maybe two occasions have the other characters seemed to show any sort of concern for his habits.

the other characters don’t care or lack knowledge [ highlighting male eating disorder / mental illness awareness ]

from memory there are three occasions where the other characters seem to recognise his unhealthy behaviour. [ although there are many references to his ed in various other episodes ]

the first example is in ‘the gang exploits a miracle’ which is also the first and most major portrayal of his eating disorder in the show. dee had told him that his face looked fat, so he proceeded to not eat for three days. when frank discovered he was fasting, he said ‘why the hell are you fasting’ and sounded annoyed. and when he noticed him spacing out, he told him that he should eat but said nothing else. then when dennis faints at the end , he merely says ‘that’s what you get for not eating’. so the entire time, frank found his behaviour irritating rather than worrying. when dee discovers that she caused dennis to fast for three days, she expresses faux concern before informing him that he’s a terrible person. despite finally revealing to him that his face doesn’t look fat, she doesn’t hesitate to continue to put him down. [ mac and charlie seem to have absolutely no significant interaction with him in this episode, so their opinions at this point don’t exist ]

the next episode is ‘franks pretty woman’ dennis takes mac to the doctor to get a physical / blood test to try and show him that he’s unhealthy. dennis is then shocked to discover that both of them are unhealthy - albeit on different sides of the scale -, as it is revealed that dennis has anemia, dehydration, low blood pressure, and multiple vitamin deficiencies. these are all side affects from a restrictive diet. he also explains to mac in detail the other steps he takes, including skipping meals, and excessively exercising. mac does not seem too phased besides from exclaiming ‘that’s sounds miserable’. when dennis almost faints and informs mac he hadn’t eaten yet that day, mac reacts by saying he’s going to get him something to eat, which he does. the two end up eating chimichangas. mac says [ paraphrasing ] ‘see? i told you they’re good.’

the final time dennis’ eating habits are really noticed by the gang is in ‘the gang chokes’ in which he claims to have an ‘allergy’ to gluten, sugar, and dairy. this is obviously false as in previous episodes he’s eaten cheese, pizza, and other such things. despite mac forgetting, he tries to help dennis stick to his ‘dietary requirements’. later on in the episode, dennis claims to have ‘depleted his electrolytes’ and had fallen ill due to the pollen in the air, although he was acting similar to ‘exploits a miracle’ which may point to him fasting. mac is quick to help, he picks him up and carries him bridal style all the way home [ despite dropping him twice ]. finally, dennis grows sick from drinking the pizza and soda shakes that mac has been giving him, and mac claims it ‘wrecks havoc on his system’ which is why he’s sick, although the real reason is rarther ambiguous [ actually intolerance, mild refeeding syndrome, generally unwell? ]

dennis does not look anorexic.

this is possibly my favourite part of their portrayal. in movies and tv that are made to raise awareness about anorexia, the character in question is almost always deathly pale, extremely underweight. however, dennis isn’t like that at all. in seasons 9 and 10 he looks to be a very healthy weight, and in previous seasons he was still relatively healthy.

this is amazing to see because not all cases of anorexia are anorexia nervosa, not all patients meet the weight requirement for the nervosa diagnoses. so portraying someone with disordered eating but a non disordered body is great representation and often more realistic.

[ despite this, there’s obvious proof that glenn howerton has begun slimming down for his role as of at least season 14, dennis is starting to physically show signs of anorexia. ]

fatphobia projection

dennis is extremely fatphobic. in ‘aluminium monster vs fatty magoo’ he calls the slim models ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’, to the point where he takes their place [ while wearing a corset ]. he is also shown to find mac disgusting when he gains weight, he finds it so distressing that he obtains illegal medication and drugs mac so he will lose weight.

this is all a very common thing with anorexia and other restrictive eating disorders, the ‘ed voice’ that tells you that you’re fat says that others are fat as well, and your illness makes you internally fatphobic.

he isn’t just insecure about his weight.

there are many different reasons that one gets an eating disorder, whether due to trauma, preexisting mental illness, from stress, parental abuse etc. however one main reason is to gain a feeling of ‘control’ over ones body, to be able to shape it to your will and make it as ‘perfect’ as you can.

in dennis’ case, he claims to see himself as a ‘golden god’, sculpted by the gods, and just all round flawless. this is extremely obviously false, as the second a flaw is pointed out to him he takes extreme measures to rectify such a thing:

‘the gang exploits a miracle’ - he starves himself for three days after dee says his face is fat

‘how mac got fat’ - he dyes his hair and gets a chemical peel after feeling pressured to keep up his ‘reputation’ as the attractive one in the group

‘the high school reunion’ - he wishes to make a good impression at the reunion, and it’s pointed out that he was wearing a girdle to ‘seem thin for the occasion’, he was also wearing makeup but it’s not clear exactly when dennis started wearing makeup on a daily basis so i’m unsure if that was normal or not.

‘dee day’ - he’s extremely insecure and withdrawn without his makeup, he’s unable to hit on the council woman. when he later returns to the bar with his makeup back on, he denies wearing any and claims he was merely tired. this insinuates he wants the gang to believe his looks are natural and not fabricated

there’s also the fact that they’re representing male eating disorders! i don’t think i’ve ever seen a piece of mainstream media that portrays a male with an eating disorder. it’s fucking amazing of them to do it, not to mention do it as well as they have done.

in conclusion, RCG is portraying the most realistic and accurate disordered person i’ve ever seen in media.

[ericsonclan]

Here’s The Story…

Summary: Lee and Carley set up a dinner for their kids to meet.

Word Count: 3390

Read on AO3:

Lee felt his nerves rise with each passing second. His feet paced back and forth as he waited for the roast to finish in the oven. Turning on the oven light he leaned forward to watch the meat sizzling away in the oven. It sure is taking its sweet time. Lee turned off the oven light again. He would just have to be patient. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted it to be perfect. It needed to be perfect.

Today was the day that his sons would meet Carley along with her three daughters. He knew that they were less than excited about it. After all, it had always just been the four of them so even the idea of change made them nervous. Not to mention that it wasn’t just one new person but four. Lee looked up at the clock and felt his heart tighten; he didn’t realize that it was that late already. He really needed to start getting ready.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Mitch grumbled while he threw on one of his nicer shirts. It was only to appease his dad and stop Aasim from bothering him about how they should wear nice clothes for a good first impression.

“Come on, Mitch, I’m sure they’re going to be nice,” Marlon fidgeted with one of the buttons on his shirt, clearly nervous about meeting them.

“I just can’t believe we had to clean the whole house for one dinner,” Mitch slammed his dresser shut and fell back onto his bed. “The house wasn’t even that messy.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m sure they would love to step over your dirty socks and Marlon’s crushed soda cans,” Aasim looked towards his eldest brother who let out an annoyed groan and rolled over on his bed.

“Shut up, they could just deal with it. It’s not like we’ll see them again.” Mitch’s voice sounded muffled against his bed.

“I don’t know, dad seems pretty serious about her,” Marlon walked over, picking up a basketball. “I think that this could be more than just a one time meeting.”

“Doubt it,” Mitch looked up at his younger brother and the basketball in his hands. A small smile appeared on his face. “Wanna shoot some hoops before dinner?”

Marlon’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “Yeah!” He turned towards the youngest of the three who was busy putting a belt on. “How about it, Aasim? You game?”

Aasim looked up from his task before shaking his head. “No, I’m going to check with dad to see if he needs any help. He looked like he was really panicking in the kitchen earlier.”

Mitch scoffed, putting on his sneakers before opening the bedroom door. “Whatever, suit yourself. Let’s go, Marlon.”

“Right.”

Aasim watched as his two older brothers ran outside before he finished buckling his belt. Just when he had finished he heard his father’s voice call out from the kitchen.

“Hey, could one of you boys watch the roast for a minute?” Lee’s voice sounded really tense. Aasim took a deep breath. This was going to be a long dinner.

----

“So? Are you excited?” Renata kicked her legs playfully while she lay on her bed, a huge grin on her face.

“I don’t know,” Clementine whispered from the top of the bunk bed. “Mom seems really nervous about making sure that this dinner goes well. I’m not sure about it… she said that he had three sons, right? Do you think they’re going to be nice?”

“Of course! I mean I hope so,” Renata turned her body so she could look up at her younger sister. “Worse case we just have an awkward dinner but great food and a few laughs.”

“You’re not planning to pull any pranks, right?” Prisha looked down at her sister with her hands on her hips. “We promised Mom we would be on our best behavior.”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Renata looked at her older sister with a playful wink.

“Don’t,” Prisha warned before she started playing with her braid. Her hands had been fidgeting with it constantly throughout the day.

“It’s going to be okay, Prisha,” Clementine’s arms dangled from the bunk bed as she looked at her sister with a reassuring smile. Prisha looked at her sister and gave a shaky breath.

“I know, it’s just…” Prisha paused. She didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Renata and Clementine looked at each other; they knew what their older sister was going to say. It had always just been the four of them through thick and thin. So what had changed that made their mom not feel like it was enough anymore? They could tell that it had been weighing heavily on Prisha’s mind over the last few days ever since their mom had brought up the dinner.

Suddenly the oven’s timer went off, causing Renata to jump off of her bed and scurry down the hallway. “The pie!” Renata’s cheery voice echoed through the house. She quickly grabbed two oven mitts and proceeded to open the oven door, causing her face to get overwhelmed by the heat from it. Carefully she obtained the pie. The boysenberries’ juices seeped from inside, covering the crust with the dark purple.

“That looks great!”

Renata looked back to see her mom standing in the entrance way with a proud smile.

“Thanks! I think it’s some of the best work yet!” Renata smiled back at Carley who walked forward and placed a kiss on the top of Renata’s head.

“I’m sure everyone will love it,” Carley focused back on the task that she had been working on, slowly putting on a pair of earrings.

“How are your sisters doing? Are they almost ready?”

“Yep! We’re all good to go!” Renata’s bright smile seemed to comfort her mom as her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“That’s good. I’m going to double check that I have everything. Can you let your sisters know that we’re leaving?”

Renata nodded before wrapping the pie in some tinfoil so it stayed warm and placing it in a heat-proof bag. “Prisha! Clem! It’s time to go!” she called out to them, cupping her hands around her mouth.

The bedroom door opened with the sound of frantic footsteps. Prisha and Clementine appeared in the kitchen to help get the dessert in the car and make sure they were ready. Carley got in the driver’s seat and looked back at her three daughters who sat in the back of the car.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll love them.” Carley looked back at her three daughters with a warm smile. They all still looked really nervous, except for Renata who seemed even more bubbly than usual. With that Carley started the car and the four of them were off to dinner.

----

Lee paced back and forth again. He couldn’t help it. This was a big deal. His eyes looked back at the dining room table that was placed with eight plates. He’d had to go out and buy some more silverware and such just for this occasion. It looks good, right? Lee looked back at his three sons who were sitting on the couch. Mitch and Marlon both had huge pit stains from playing basketball outside. He knew they were nervous about meeting the new people, but now they were super sweaty and there was no time to change.

“They’re here,” Marlon motioned towards the front where they could see the four of them making their way up to the front door. Lee ran over with an excited albeit nervous smile as he opened the door, not giving Carley time to ring the doorbell.

“Hi there, find the place okay?” Lee leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Carley’s lips.

“Hi, Lee! Yeah, thanks for sending the directions,” Carley replied, walking through with her daughters when Lee moved back from the door. The three girls shuffled inside. Mitch looked up from the couch to see what they looked like.

On the left was the tallest of the three girls, an Indian girl with a long black braid which she seemed to be focusing all her attention on. She looked to be maybe a year older at most from Mitch. In the middle was a Hispanic girl with her hair pulled together in a messy bun on the side of her head. She was easily the happiest of all the kids to be here. Her dark brown eyes seemed to dance with excitement while a bright smile pulled on her lips. Lastly the girl on the right had golden brown eyes that seemed to be searching the room, her brown curly hair swaying when she shifted the weight on her legs.

“Oh! Let me introduce you to my sons!” Lee’s voice caused Mitch to turn his attention towards his dad who seemed super happy about this whole dinner. “This is my oldest son who’s twelve. His name is Mitch,” Mitch gave a half-committed nod before looking away. “Then there in the middle is Marlon,” Marlon gave a small wave then looked away; he was getting overwhelmed by everything. “Then lastly this is Aasim, my youngest,” Aasim looked up and gave a small smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Carley gave a soft smile over in their direction. “I’ve heard so much about you from your father,” The three boys’ eyes widened at that statement. Each of them looked at each other. This really was a serious relationship then. Their dad had dated before, but it never seemed to get this far.

“These are my three daughters,” Carley walked over to stand by them. “Prisha is my oldest, she’s thirteen,” She gave Prisha a quick side hug. Prisha mustered up a smile, looking up at her mom before looking over at the three boys. “Then there is my middle daughter, Renata,” Renata flashed a huge grin and waved over at the others. “Then Clementine.” Clementine gave a small nod.

“Hello,” Clementine whispered then moved closer towards Renata.

“I’m glad I’m finally able to meet you. I’ve heard so many good things about you three.”

Prisha’s eyes moved up to look at Lee. It almost seemed like she was searching his face to see if he was being sincere, while Renata and Clementine seemed happier at his statement.

“Carley, if you could help me in the kitchen. Dinner is going to be ready soon,” Lee shared a look with Carley who seemed to immediately get the idea.

“Of course, I can take the pie, Prisha,” Carley’s voice was soft and comforting, but Prisha still seemed nervous about giving her mom the pie and letting her leave.

“OK,” Prisha whispered, letting go of the pie and watching as her mom disappeared into the kitchen with Lee.

The room was instantly filled with an awkward tension. Both sides seemed unwilling to make the first move for small talk. Renata was the first to speak.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

The three boys looked surprised by her question before Marlon got up.

“It’s just past the dining room. I can show you if you like?” Marlon moved forward, stopping in front of the three girls.

“Thanks!” Renata skipped forward, turning back to give her sisters a thumbs up and a mischievous smile on her face. She then looked back at Marlon. Prisha and Clementine shared a worried look, both because now it was just the two of them and Renata was clearly up to something.

“So, your name’s Marlon?” Renata asked, striding forward while Marlon awkwardly walked beside her.

“That’s right, and your name’s Renata?”

“Yep! I like your hair, you look like a cool rat!” Renata’s statement was meant to be a compliment, but it seemed to hurt Marlon’s feelings.

“Oh, umm, thanks,” He stopped in his tracks, gesturing towards the door. “Here it is,”

“Thanks,” Renata slipped into the bathroom.

----

Prisha looked over at the two boys that were left. This was so awkward.

“So,” Aasim’s voice drew her attention. “Got any favorite subjects in school?” He was trying his best to start up some sort of small talk because his brother seemed unwilling to.

“I like history,” Clementine’s quiet voice seemed unusually loud thanks to the awkward silence. Aasim’s eyes seemed to light up at her statement. “I do too!” Aasim jumped up to his feet, excited to find another history lover. “I think it’s super cool!”

Mitch laughed at his excitement. “It’s not as cool as science. You don’t get to blow shit up in history class.”

“You shouldn’t be able to in science class either,” Prisha stated simply, which made Mitch’s frown deepen.

“Whatever,” he huffed in annoyance.

“What about you?” Aasim looked at Prisha.

Prisha thought about the question for a minute. “I don’t know. I don’t think I really have one.”

“Prisha’s super smart,” Clementine added proudly. “She gets straight A’s all the time.” Clementine’s expression changed when she saw Aasim look upset by the statement.

“I get straight A’s too,” Aasim crossed his arms, staring at Prisha with judgement which she quickly returned. It almost felt like neither of them could accept that the other Indian kid was also smart. Prisha always had been really proud of her intelligence, but it seemed like she was holding it up even higher than usual. Clementine looked at the pair with concern when Marlon returned.

“I’m back,” he awkwardly announced, proceeding to sit back down on the couch. He looked over at Mitch who seemed pissed then at Aasim who was staring daggers at Prisha. Just what the hell had happened in the five minutes he was gone? Clearing his throat, he tried to divert the negative emotions with another ice breaker. “So…. do you like sports?”

“No,” Prisha stated before looking back at Aasim.

“I do,” Clementine’s smile grew. “I really like soccer!”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Marlon shifted in his spot. “I really like basketball! We even have a basketball hoop!”

Clementine seemed excited by the news which made Marlon happy. Suddenly Renata appeared back by her sisters’ side.

“Dinner’s ready!” Lee called out from the kitchen. The kids looked at each other before walking over to the dinner table.

“Renata, you didn’t do anything, did you?” Prisha looked over at her sister who gave a playful smile. “Because if you did, mom will get upset. You promised to be on your best behavior.”

Renata’s eyes suddenly widened before she ran forward. Mitch and Aasim had already taken their spots on the right side of the table and Lee and Carley had placed down the food and were sitting at the heads of the table. Marlon was about to sit down when Renata barreled past him and took his seat.

“Renata, what-” Carley’s sentence was cut off when Renata had sat down and a loud fart emitted from her seat.

“Oops, guess I’m just nervous,” Renata gave a sheepish smile to her mom while Prisha shook her head in disapproval. Prisha took her seat across from Aasim while Clem sat across from Mitch, leaving Marlon who awkwardly made his way over and sat in between the two of them. The dinner table was quiet for the first few minutes as everyone was served some roast and potatoes.

“I hope it’s alright,” Lee placed another cut of meat on a plate before handing it off to be passed down.

“It looks amazing,” Carley looked over at Lee with a loving smile. The kids remained quiet at that. “So, Mitch, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Mitch looked up with his mouth full of food at Carley’s voice. He chewed for a bit before swallowing. For some reason he felt on edge about her question. It felt like it was some sort of test. Mitch looked over at the girls who were watching him. Renata’s gaze seemed to be burning a hole into him. I’ll show them.

“I’m super strong. Check it!” He grabbed a nearby spoon with a smirk. Holding onto the two sides, he proceeded to try and bend it. Mitch grunted while he struggled against the spoon. What the fuck is up with this spoon?!?  Mitch tried for a few seconds before snatching one of the candles instead which he easily broke.  “Boom! Triceps!” He tossed forward the candle and leaned back in his chair.

“Good one, Mitch,” Lee said with a chuckle before clearing his throat. “Clem, what about you? Any interests?”

Clementine glanced up from her plate. Shifting around in her seat, she placed down her fork.

“I umm… like collecting animal skulls.”

Mitch’s eyes widened at that, a  smile appearing on his face. “That’s so badass!”

Clementine looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks,”

“I baked the pie!” Renata butted in. “I’m a baker!” Her voice cracked near the end of her declaration.

“Oh, wow!” Lee flashed a warm smile. “I’m sure it’s going to be delicious. I’ve never been much of a baker myself. You gotta give me some tips.”

Renata’s eyes practically sparkled with happiness.

Carley shared a smile with Lee before she noticed that Prisha was barely eating; instead her focus seemed to be shifting between studying Aasim and Lee. “Prisha?” Carley’s voice snapped Prisha out her thoughts. “Why don’t you share a bit about yourself.”

Prisha looked towards her mom. Why was she so insistent? Why were both her and Lee like this? She looked over at Lee. What made him so special? Her eyes traveled back to Aasim.

“I’m the top of my class,” Prisha said with a level of pride in her voice, glaring back at Aasim.

“That’s ama-”

“Funny, I’m the top of my class too. Isn’t that right, Dad?” Aasim looked over at Lee who looked utterly confused by this fight that seemed to have broken out between his son and Prisha while he was in the kitchen.

“Umm…” Lee scratched the back of his head. “That is true.’

Aasim’s bright smile seemed to tick Prisha off more.

“I don’t know if this is as cool as baking or collecting skulls or being smart, but I play the guitar,” Marlon looked over at Carley who seemed genuinely surprised and impressed by that. Marlon looked away with a small smile.

“That’s really cool, Marlon. Maybe after dinner you can play something for us,” Carley leaned forward with a kind smile. Marlon looked shocked by the suggestion. He had thought that she wouldn’t care.

“Okay,” Marlon responded before chugging the rest of his drink.

The dinner continued on much the same. Carley and Lee continued to try and learn more about the other’s kids. Each time that they shared it seemed like their fondness for the children grew even when they were being a bit much. The kids all seemed to still be on edge about the whole thing, but slowly they calmed down a bit, each of them getting invested in some of the similar hobbies or traits of the other kids. The conversations continued into dessert that was interrupted here and there with compliments on the pie which Renata ate up, her ego growing with each comment.

Soon dessert had been demolished and the table became quiet again. Lee looked over at Carley, a silent conversation playing out between them. Even with all the bumps along tonight’s meal, they still felt like it was the right time to bring it up. Lee cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“So, first of all I just want to thank you three for coming over and spending some time here. I loved hearing from all of you,” he smiled at the girls before continuing. “Me and your mom wanted to have this dinner so that everyone got to meet each other, but it was also for another reason.”

All the kids’ faces scrunched up in confusion at his statement.

“You see, umm…” Lee tried to figure out the right words.

“Lee and I are engaged,” Carley finished her fiance’s sentence. Lee gave an appreciative smile over towards her which she returned. The smiles quickly disappeared when a glass hit the floor. Prisha’s hand hovered in the air, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Lee and Carley looked around at the other kids who all seemed to hold the same expression. All of them remained silent, unable to believe the news.

[dontshootmespence]

Far From Over

Summary: After surviving torture at the hands of Tobias Hankle, Spencer calls his best friend and fellow BAU member Olivia Galway for help, leading to secrets, both positive and negative, coming to light.

Words: 1,621

Warnings: Angst, talk about the events of season 2, mentions of drug addiction, smut.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo​ 2020! This fulfills my season 2 square and takes place after the events of The Big Game and Revelations. 

A shrill ring sounded through the air – a special ringtone she’d programmed just for Spencer. The silence that followed was that of snow falling on a cold winter’s night. She’d have thought it was a prank if it weren’t for the ringtone and the faintest hint of breath on the other end. “Livie?”

“Spence? What’s-“

“I need you.”

She shot out of her apartment like a bat outta hell. Since the day they’d found him alive, he’d refused to talk with anyone – not even her. Living through something like that was one in a million. Traumatic didn’t even begin to cover it.

Running up the stairs, Olivia knocked frantically on the door. “Spence, it’s me. Open up.” She could tell the apartment was dark save for a small lamp he loved.

When he opened the door, she gasped. He looked like hell, eyes sunken, skin paler than it already was. “What’s happening, Spence? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing in the immediate,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just…wanted to talk.”

Olivia breathed a small sigh of relief as she stepped foot in the apartment, tossing her bag to one side. “Sit, Spence. I’ll grab us a drink.”

“Just water for me.” He lumbered toward the couch. Though she’d seen him every day since he’d returned, and knew for a fact his foot was healing, he still looked as broken as he did that night when she’d charged through the woods searching for her best friend.

After grabbing herself a soda, she filled up a glass of water and placed it next to him on the side table before sitting at his side. “Talk to me,” Olivia whispered.

“I see him every time I close my eyes,” he breathed. Spencer’s head fell into his hands, a soft sob escaping from between his lips.

Olivia reached over and pulled him into her shoulder. “It’s only been a month. This too shall pass.”

“A Persian adage used to describe the temporary nature of the human condition.”

“Yea,” she whispered, leaning against the back of the couch and pulling him against her chest. “I can’t imagine how hard this for you, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, instead allowing the silence to fill him for a moment. Ever since he left the ambulance, Tobias’ and Charles’ and Raphael’s voices kept fighting for dominance in his head. They were fighting against his, his mother’s, anyone and everyone. For the first time since then, his mind was quiet, but before he knew it, he was sobbing against her shoulder.

“What is it, Spence?”

“I just keep thinking what would’ve happened if you hadn’t understood my message.” He’d lost count of how many times he’d nearly died that weekend. All that he’d felt. First he’d been afraid, then resigned, then determined, knowing he’d rather die than hand Raphael a name of one of his team members. But just before Olivia and the rest of the team had arrived, all he could feel was guilt – guilt that was only compounded when he shot Tobias.

“But I did. And you knew I would because I know you better than anyone. Ask everyone, I was screaming for you to speak to me, to give me a message so that we could find you. God, I was so afraid I was gonna lose you.” Since she’d walked into the apartment, she’d been trying to stay strong for him, but she couldn’t any longer. The entire time Hankle had him her heart had been in her throat. She held him closer and kissed the top of his head. “I promise you’re not alone okay?”

“I keep waiting to gain control of my life again, you know?” He asked as he lifted his head.

A lone tear fell down his cheek and she wiped it away with the pad of her thumb, her free hand grasping his. “You will. Until then, I’m here.”

As their fingers intertwined, he lifted his head and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m sorry,” he said, guilt rushing over him in waves. “I didn’t mean-“

“Spence, it’s okay.” She stopped him in his tracks as he paced the floors, cradling his face and pressing a kiss to his lips. “What do you need?”

Despite was his body and mind were telling him, he knew what this was – a friend trying to comfort a friend in a time of need – and he wouldn’t jeopardize the best friendship he had because of this. That night had already taken too much from him. “I can’t lose you, Olive.”

She smiled sadly at the nickname. One he’d given her after realizing her obsession with black olives. “You won’t. Ever, okay? Nothing that has happened or will happen will change the fact that I love you.”

“Like a friend, and I can’t cross that line knowing I can’t have you every day.” His mind hurt too much to put up pretenses.

Olivia parted his lips with her tongue and tangled her hands in his hair. “Spence, I’ve had a crush on you since I bumped into you in hallway while I was in the Academy.”

“What?”

“Yea,” she breathed. “I read your papers while I was in the Academy and was always fascinated by you. Then I bumped into you like an idiot and you stumbled over your words. You were wearing that red sweater vest you love so much. The one with a whole in the bottom that I said you should get rid of because it might unraveling while you’re wearing it.”

“You remember all that?”

“I do.”

Spencer took a deep breath and pulled her close, his hand gliding up the small of her back and into her crimson locks. “I need you,” he whispered, letting the floodgates of all the words unspoken between them over the past two and a half years.

With all the grace of a baby animal taking its first steps, Spencer and Olivia tumbled into the bedroom, pulling their clothes off, unable to get close enough quickly enough. Then she noticed the track marks on his right arm and grabbed it, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “Spence! I-“ She knew it. Deep down, she knew that there was something more on his mind than his beating at the hand of Hankle.

Spencer looked away ashamed, lip trembling. “He drugged me that entire weekend. I don’t know why I took it from his pocket, but I can’t stop. I don’t know how…”

Grasping his face in her hands, Olivia pleaded with him. “Yes, you can. Because you don’t have to do it alone. Spence, I’ll come with you to NA meetings, I’ll sleep here every night if I have to but please, please, I can’t watch you die. Don’t make me watch you die.” She sobbed against his chest. She couldn’t even imagine what her life would be if she lost him.

“I’ll get help,” he whispered into the air. “I will. I promise.”

She pressed kisses up his collarbone and neck, hoping it was enough to convey to him what he meant to her.

“What do you need, Spencer?” The depths of her forest green eyes told him she was there in whatever way he needed.

He lifted her onto the bed and kneeled in front of her, palms holding her legs open for his gaze. What he needed was her. As his right hand slipped over her skin and the downy tuft of redden hair above her sex, he kissed her inner thigh, watching for her reactions and proceeding accordingly.

Olivia’s eyes fluttered closed as she surrendered herself to Spencer’s ministrations. He hovered over her sex for a moment before licking a stripe up her slit. She gasped, trying to close her legs, but he wouldn’t allow it, keeping them open with just the slightest bit of pressure. His lips pursed around her clit, making her moan and tangle her hands in his hair. “Spence,” she whimpered. “More, please.” He needed control and she wanted to lose it.

Spencer finally allowed himself to get lost in her, switching between long licks and soft kisses, lips and tongue, anything and everything he could possibly think of to make her shake within his grasp. When he added two fingers inside her and curled them upward, she shook into his mouth and cried out for him.

As he crawled up the length of the bed, he brought her with him, placing her head on the pillow. “I need you…all of you.”

“You have me.”

He lifted her leg up and around his waist as he slipped inside her heat, getting lost in the feeling. Pumping inside her felt as close to heaven as he would be probably ever be. “I love you.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, she painted his skin in the kisses he needed and deserved, mewling as he pounded into her. Every time she contracted around him, he groaned into her neck and sped up his pace, moving ever closer to that delicate balance between control and loss of it that he’d been craving for weeks.

“Fuck me, Spence. That’s it.”

“Come for me, Livie,” he whispered, biting down gently on her earlobe.

As he legs began to shake, she threw her head back and cried out into the air, digging her hands into his ass as he thrusted one final time and spilled inside her. Their heavy breaths filled the room when he fell to her side. “I do love you, Olive.”

She turned to him and kissed his shoulder blade, at least a hint of the hurt he’d felt before having disappeared. But she knew his fight was far from over.

[dpimagines]

History; Nathan Summers

warnings/info: smut (masturbation, then oral, both receiving), accidental (and then purposeful) invasion of privacy, purity kink, age gap, and that’s about all I’ve got. Can be read as virginity loss or just inexperienced!reader. let me know if there’s anything else I need to add. Semi-inspired by this fic.

Nathan’s friendship with you started out… Innocent.

It first began when he was still struggling with night terrors about what happened to his wife and daughter, sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of Irish coffee. You entered the kitchen, glanced at him, and proceeded to make a bag of popcorn, taking a can of soda from the fridge.

“Isn’t it a little late for sugar?” he instinctively asked, cringing afterwards. He didn’t even know your name, or how old you were. You could be an adult, for fuck’s sake.

“Isn’t it a little early for stealing Wolverine’s alcohol?” You’d retorted with a somehow knowing smile, sitting at the opposite side of the island, opening your laptop.

“What’re you working on?” he asked, curious for something to distract him from the torturous regretful thoughts that filled his mind.

“College apps. Trying to get into someplace close, so I can keep living here,” you explained with a small smile. He didn’t bother you after that, knowing how important what you were working on was.

The next night, you showed up without your computer, and got two bowls down for your popcorn.

Nathan enjoys your company still, even if you’re a little more busy with college now.

“I like your top,” you tell a girl as you enter the mansion’s courtyard to meet him for lunch. He wonders why you bother to waste so much of your allotted lunch time getting to him and back, instead of having a longer break with other friends, but he doesn’t dare speak his question out loud for fear of making you realize your time is better spent elsewhere.

“Thanks, I got it at Old Navy,” the girl replies. “I think it might still be on sale.”

Olde Navy… Nathan notes mentally. Your birthday’s coming up, and he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you come bounding up after a long day of school in that.

“Nate! Hey!” you greet him like you’re surprised, every time, because you’re just that happy to see him. “How much do I owe you?” you ask him of the pizza, but he just rolls his eyes.

You put your backpack down on the bench, sitting down with him, the pizza box between the two of you.

“How’s your day been?” You ask him, taking a slice of pizza.

“Alright. Pretty uneventful, though. I miss summer break, you being around gave me something to do.”

You choke on your pizza, coughing violently, and he looks at you quizzically.

“God, I really should’ve listened when they told us in Kindergarten to chew, how many times was it? I don’t even remember,” you laugh it off, still a little red.

Nathan takes a bite of his own pizza, shaking his head at your antics.

“Anyways, Wade’s been pestering me to tell him how this planet fucks itself over so he can build a doomsday bunker.”

“To be fair, it’s-”

“The corporations. I know. Always the corporations with you and your generation,” Nate teases, despite being from a much-later generation. “You’re right, but if I tell him that, he’ll gun down all the CEOs and it’ll majorly affect the timeline. Oh.” There’s a little smear of tomato sauce, and he swipes it off of your cheek with his thumb and without thinking.

Nathan realizes that he either offers it to you, like a weirdo, or licks it off his thumb, like a weirdo. He goes for the latter, and notices your face is a bit flushed.

“Do you think you could be allergic to something in the sauce?” Nate wonders. “You’ve been kinda red since we started eating, and your throat being a little tight would explain how you got choked up.”

“Oh, uh, maybe,” you reply with a meek smile. “But if it’s not life-threatening, I’ll continue to devour this pizza forever. Or, at least, for the next fifty years.”

“Ha. Ha,” Nate replies. Once you finish your slice, you get your school stuff together.

“Hey, you wouldn’t mind taking some books to my room for me, would you? I mean, I can carry them, but since you’re here and you’re the best…?”

“No need to butter me up, Y/N, you know I-“ ...would do anything for you. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much!” You put the books where you were sitting before. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Nathan responds, and you give him a half-hug before heading off. He watches you leave, lost in thought as he munches on a second slice of pizza.

“Cable is a pervert, Cable is a pervert!” Wade sing-songs, and Nate bops him over the head with a book. “Ow! You know I’m right, Y/N is way younger than you.”

“It’s not like that! I just-” Well, now that Nathan really thinks about it, he is a pervert. He likes you for your kind, wholesome nature and has a genuine crush on you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve never made your way into the darker parts of his mind. He smirks a little bit thinking about it, before shame takes over. You’re so pure and sweet, even if you’re an adult, it’s… Well, it’s perverted!

“Oh my god. Do you think her love will turn you into a real boy, One-Eyed Very-Horny Flying Purple People-Eater?!” Wade’s wacky exclamations draw the attention of bystanders, and Nathan whacks him again with the book. “Damn! You’re lethal with just about anything, huh? I should warn Y/N about your sword next time I see her.”

“Shut up,” Nathan grumbles, done with entertaining the talkative merc who brought him here in the first place.

“Well, don’t be too embarrassed. She clearly likes you, too.”

“Clearly?” Nathan skeptically questions, knowing he’s probably taking some form of bait.

“Yup! See you around, lover-boy!” Wade replies, skipping off without an explanation. Nathan finishes his second pizza slice, wiping his hands on his pants before putting your books in his messenger bag, carrying the leftover pizza inside and putting it in the fridge before heading up to your room to drop off the books.

When Nate puts the books down on your desk, he spots your computer and realizes that this is the perfect time to look up that shirt you liked earlier. He turns on the computer, opening Chrome.

Olde, he types, but as soon as he presses the e and before he presses the spacebar, he notices an Autofill option:

Older Man Younger Woman Porn Videos | Pornhub.com

Nathan feels the blood rush to his face, not to mention elsewhere. This is your personal computer, no one else has regular enough access to be comfortable looking up porn.

Despite knowing how wrong it is, Nathan delves into your full internet history, looking at the specific videos you’ve watched that you haven’t cleared from your history and, for lack of a better word, studying them.

Once Nate’s finished watching the videos, he first realizes he’s hard as a fucking rock. He caresses his sizable length through his jeans before unzipping his pants and pulling it from his boxers.He spits on his hand before stroking his cock, slow and loose, before eventually tightening his grip and speeding up, imagining what it’d be like to lose himself in your soaking wet-

Nathan covers his mouth to muffle the long, loud groan that erupts from his lips as he continues to rub himself through the orgasm, cum spurting out. He steals a couple tissues from the box on your nightstand to clean himself up, hoping the small spot on his shirt isn’t noticeable.

The next thing he realizes is that you’ve probably jerked off while sitting in the chair he’s in right now, curling your fingers inside yourself, maybe propping a foot against your desk for a better angle, panting like you do in training.

And the last realization that Nate has is that he won’t be able to stop thinking about this until he addresses it with you.

Fortunately for him, it’s only a couple hours until you’re back. He goes to his own room, looking over his weapons and brainstorming modifications to distract him from the short but painful wait.

Luckily for him, you stop by his room when you get back, knocking on the door frame. He turns to look at you, but then he sees that it’s just Wade and rolls his eyes, turning around to work on the gun he’d selected.

“Aw, come on, we’re friends, too!” Wade protests. “Besides, your little girlfriend’s busy trying to figure out who was on her computer while she was at school, apparently they left behind their earbuds. You wouldn’t know anything about that, though, would you?”

“Fuck,” Nathan mutters, temporarily abandoning his work to go talk to you.

When you see him in the doorway, your expression immediately brightens. You’re sitting in the chair he sat when he jerked off earlier, of course, because it’s your chair.

“Oh, right! Nate!” You realize. “Whew, that makes me feel a lot better, I thought for sure someone was snooping in my room. Here’s your earbuds.”

“Right,” Nathan responds, feeling immensely guilty because he was, in fact, snooping, even if it was just on your computer. He enters the room as opposed to standing outside, shutting the door behind him.

“Nate?” you wonder.

“Oh, um…” Nathan feels like an idiot, unsure of how to explain what happened. “I was thinking about how your birthday is soon, and since I was already in here, I decided to just look up that shirt you liked earlier on the Olde Navy website, but when I typed Olde…”

You furrow your brows, confused, before it hits you.

“Uh- Um- I- Hm- Well- I-I’m sorry,” you go for the apology. For what? For him being your theoretical type? For having a crush on him? For him having a crush on you? For him seeing that you watch porn? For finding out that he saw the porn you like? Any of those? None of them? You’re unsure, so is he.

“Nothing to be sorry for, darlin’,” he reassures you. “I’m the one who should be sorry. But I’m not.”

“You’re not?” You ask, looking to him with an adorable sort of bewilderment in your eyes.

“No,” Nathan repeats, fixing you with a stare you’ve never seen him give anyone, one that makes your insides burn.

“Why?” you wonder, hoping you understand, hoping that he’ll do to you what you want him to, despite, well, everything. He locks the door, and you suck in a shallow breath, standing from your chair and pushing it in. You eye him nervously, not sure how this is going to go. He steps closer to you, cradling your face once he can reach it and forcing you to look at him.

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“Y-yeah, for a while now,” you admit, blushing a little.

Nathan gives a crooked smile before capturing your lips with his own, lowering you onto your bed as the two of you continue to kiss. The two of you part, and he sucks on your neck rather roughly, teeth scraping and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You writhe underneath him, forcing your lips shut to keep from whimpering at the sensations.

He stops, though, propping himself up on his arms and looking at you, concerned.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, stroking your face.

“Mhm,” you hum, not sure why he stopped. “Why?”

“You’re fidgeting a lot, not saying anything. Just worried about you.” Nathan’s kind eyes always seem to peer into you, and you find yourself blushing.

“Oh, sorry, I was, uh, trying to be quiet,” you softly explain, feeling guilty for concerning him.

“That’s cute, kid. Don’t be shy, though, I wanna hear those pretty little sounds, or those pretty loud ones, whatever comes out. I wanna know how to make it happen and hear it again, and again, and again.” His hand slowly drags up your body before resting on your neck as he speaks, and your breath stills.

You feel even more embarrassed when you recognize that Nate fulfills basically all of your fantasies and you don’t even know what any of his are.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you find yourself asking, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing just fine being yourself, baby, trust me,” he honestly replies, going back to kissing your neck, this time massaging one of your breasts with his metal hand. Your hips buck up a little, legs parting as you let out a few soft moans. “Good girl,” he purrs.

“Th-thank you,” you reply, heart pounding in your ears.

Nathan smiles, straddling you as opposed to just being on top, to help you take off your over-sized flannel, as well as to take off his own shirt. You’d both seen each other shirtless due to training, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a sight either of you enjoyed.

“So this is what you wear when you’re not in that cute little sports bra,” Nathan notes, moistening his lips before placing a kiss on your breast, continuing to knead the other with his metal hand.

“Ah, yeah- Yeah,” you pant, legs spreading wider and knees pulling back, so that his bulge moves against your heat with every forward motion. “Oh f- Oh, Nathan.”

“Say it again,” he tells you, sinking his teeth into your breast. “Fuck, say my name, baby.”

“Nathan! Oh god, I-“ you gasp, rocking against his length through the layers of clothes that you’re both still wearing, sadly. “I need- I want-“

“What do you want, little girl? Anything, anything you want,” Nate responds, enjoying the friction just as much as you are. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you shudder.

“C-can I please, um… Suckyourdickplease?” You request, and he pulls away from your neck, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, and he grins before rolling off of you, allowing you to be on top of him before he pulls you in for a kiss.

Once the kiss is done, you look to him nervously for guidance as you unbutton and unzip his pants.

“Here, back up, I’ll pull it out for you,” he offers. You obey, sitting on your knees between his legs.

He’s big, not ridiculously long but nothing to laugh at, either, and girthy. You’re a little worried about how he’s going to fit in your mouth at all.

“It’s okay if you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You shake your head before laying on your stomach so that you’re more level with him, propping your arms around his hips and on the bed as you continue to observe his cock with slightly-widened eyes. You finally just go for it and put your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around and around. 

“Fuck, that’s good. Just a little more, baby.”

You attempt to force more of him into your mouth, but gag, so you pull back, realizing you can fit more if you ease into it, and you slowly train yourself until you can get almost all of it in, bobbing your head up and down and using your tongue to provide extra stimulation.

“That’s a lot, sweethea- Hea-” he loses his breath, stroking your face with his metal hand and tangling the digits on his flesh one in your hair, but not applying any pressure, more than content to let you have this your way.

“Sh-shit, babygirl,” Nathan stammers. “Slow down, or I’ll- Fuck…” He lets out a low moan, and you continue to suck him off as he orgasms, doing your best to ignore the taste and instead letting his seed serve as extra lubrication.

“Sorry I didn’t swallow,” you apologize after you remove your lips from his manhood with the most obscene pop sound.

“You’re lucky that this is our first time together, or I’d have you over my knee for making me cum like that,” he tells you, but there’s no anger in his tone, of course. He’s just enjoying taunting you.

You pout at his words and he chuckles, tugging you upwards and kissing you again.

“Jesus, fuck, kid, how did you stand that? I’m so sorry, it’s just been a while, I didn’t think about how it’d taste.”

“Uh, well, I didn’t really have anything to compare it to, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it to taste like candy...” you admit. He snickers, grabbing your hips and putting you upright.

“I thought- I thought it took a little bit, for… You know.”

“Oh, it’ll probably take a while at this point. That doesn’t mean I can’t return the favor. Sit on my face, doll.”

“I- I might not be good at that, I’ve never…”

“Well, in that case...” Nate flips you over so that you’re back under him, and you inhale sharply.

You know he’s strong, but it shocks you every time he uses that strength on you. He yanks down your leggings, or attempts to, but he just rips a huge strip off with his metal hand, exposing you. Your face heats up, looking at him looking at your underwear.

“Well,” Nathan chuckles, an almost predatory grin on his face that makes your heart race. You never thought you would get to see this side of him before, but you’re so, so glad you have the privilege. “Aren’t you prepared?”

“I just like matching, that’s all. Makes me feel like I’ve got my life together,” you bashfully explain, and he pulls your leggings off more gently this time. He pauses after, though, looking at you underneath him, seeming even more vulnerable than how he usually sees you, and that’s saying something. 

“I hope you know that I really do like you, Y/N,” he tells you, stroking the soft inner part of each of your thighs. You’re not sure which hand feels better. “I wanted you like this way long before I saw your internet history.”

“Really?” You’re stunned but not terribly shocked, considering you had feelings for him as well, and the kinds of feelings you had don’t come from nowhere. Sexually tense moments during training, late night talks about your pasts, lots of shared meals he’d always refuse to let you pay for… It was only briefly a simple friendship.

“Really,” he responds. “Damn, why’d you have to milk me for all I’m worth? I- Jesus Christ, I wanna fuck you so fucking bad.” You can see it in his eyes that it’s the truth, his teeth gritted together in frustration.

“If it’s that bad, invest in some Viagra, you perverted old man,” you tease, having gained a small bit of confidence that your relationship was still the same after his confession that his feelings for you were consistent.

“Maybe I will, you dirty little brat,” he retorts. “Can I…?” He hooks a finger into your underwear, and you gasp softly at the feeling of his cold, metal finger against your hip. You nod, and he drags your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. “Wow.”

“Is- Is it-?”

“Good wow,” Nathan clarifies, rubbing your vulva before sliding a finger inside of you and curling, steadily increasing the pace.

“N-Nathan, oh- Oh my god, don’t stop,“ you pant, and he slides another finger in easily, gathering moisture before stroking your clit in the most perfect pattern. “Mm, please, gonna- Gonna-“

He moves his hand away, and you loudly whine, questioning why. Your legs tremble, especially when he laughs at you.

“That’s why. You just make it so fun, with those begging eyes of yours. I told you I was going to return the favor, you should’ve known,” he teases you.

“Please make me cum?” You request, feeling so small in the best way, and he smiles at you. You think he’s never smiled this much before, and you hope he doesn’t stop being happy with you once this is over.

“Anything for you,” Nathan reminds you, pulling your legs up over his shoulders and going down on you, making you squirm. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he groans, lapping up everything you have to offer.

You try to clutch the sheets, but he keeps switching between absolutely devastating your clit to fucking you with his tongue and all you want is for him to focus on that bundle of nerve endings, to allow you release.

Before you know it, your fingers are tangled in that always perfectly-styled gray hair of his, and you’re leading him straight to Heaven, moaning and rocking your hips against him before you jump over the edge, sobbing in relief while your eyes roll back. You let him go, and he continues to lick at your most sensitive place before eventually stopping.

“You-“ he starts, taking a trembling breath.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something. Are you okay?” You ask.

“...Are perfect,” he finishes his statement, taking in your nearly naked body with still-hungry eyes. “Please say we can make this official.”

You nod, and he kisses you deeply before rolling off of you, laying on his side in just his pants.

“What took us so long?” He wonders.

“All the reasons I had of seem pretty stupid now,” you admit, sliding under the covers instead of laying on top of them.

“All the reasons?” Nathan asks.

“Well, I figured you would think I was too immature or otherwise deny me on principle, and then I also didn’t want you to feel pressured to move on, and I just kind of wrote off all the signs of chemistry as accidents, coincidences, or really good friendship,” you explain. “I’m sure you had reasons, too.”

“Mostly the age thing, but I’ll admit it eventually became a turn-on… Mostly it’s just that you’re so wholesome and pure, I didn’t feel like I deserved you.”

“Pure? I just gave you a blowy!” you protest, and he chuckles, pulling you closer.

“You didn’t swear once during that whole encounter, and when I was giving you head you actually apologized for helping me. It’s not a diss, babygirl. I like your whimpers and your begging and how you blush, like right now.”

You bury your face in his chest with a quiet whine.

“Okay, point proven,” you concede, and he strokes your back carefully, as if you’ll break if he’s too rough.

“I know you can handle yourself, in the logical part of my brain,” he tells you quietly. “But- But you’re so delicate to the rest of me, I can barely even think sometimes. I’m glad you’re mine now, that you think I deserve you even if I’m not sure.”

You respond wordlessly, smiling and lifting the covers so that he can cozy up with you under them.

[hobisbeech]

Imagine Yoongi:

*ignore the fact that he has black hair lol*

➸ He’s the mysterious guy you always see at the park.

➸ You notice he has blonde hair and very pale skin.. just like milk?!!!??

➸ He ends up noticing you too. 👀

➸ Only you have no idea he does 

➸ He enjoys observing you. But not in a creepy way… ew.

➸ Yoongi likes how you scrunch up your nose when you’re smelling the park flower beds.

➸ Definitely how you can literally stumble on air.

➸ You’re a very thicc girl (:

➸ He smiles and gets flustered 😫 when he sees you wearing short shorts and crop tops.

➸ Yoongi finds himself thinking about when you get hot from the sun and you’re cheeks and nose turn a crimson red. He thinks you’re the cutest that way.

➸ But

➸ One day while you were taking a stroll 🚶‍♀️ at the park. You see him again, but this time he’s with a group of guys. Possibly friends?

➸ You happen to hear someone call him, “Yoongi hyung.”

➸ And the mysterious blonde turns and catches your gaze. 👀

➸ You shriek and your eyes 👀 bulge out. Your hands begin to get clammy and you think that’s your cue to skedaddle.

➸ “Oh my god! I really hope he didn’t catch me looking at him,” you scowl at yourself.

➸ Yoongi doesn’t try to follow you.

➸ “Hyung, that was her right? The girl you’ve been obsessing over. She is such a ba-“

➸ Yoongi quickly wraps his hand around his younger friend, Jungkook’s throat, stopping him from saying anything else.

➸ “Don’t even try to finish that. I will end you.” He scowls, tightening his grip and pushing him back.

➸ Jungkook fell back onto the grass, with a pout on his lips he begins massaging his neck.

➸” I wasn’t even saying anything bad Yoongi hyung,” he grumbled furrowing his eyebrows.

➸ “You better stay quiet before you make him angry,” another male named Taehyung, piped up running a hand through his shaggy hair.

➸ Yoongi growled, exhaling air between his teeth as he eyed both his friends.

➸ Yoongi held you to his highest standards. You ARE his world 🌎 after all.

➸ Meanwhile, you were gushing over finally knowing his name. (: hsydgwhjs

➸ Yoongi yoongi YoOongiii<3

➸ His much wiser friend Namjoon, places his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders.

➸ “I think you should try talking to her soon. Instead, of just hiding in the shadows. At least, now that she knows your name.”

➸ “What do you mean she knows my name?” Yoongi tilts his head towards Namjoon, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

➸ “What I mean is she turned our way when she heard Jungkook call for you,” Namjoon squeezed him, “and you saw how flustered she got when you both caught eyes.” He smirked.

➸ Yoongi smiled at the memory, “I don’t think I should. I wouldn’t even know what to say.” His hard demeanor fell.

➸ “I think the next time you see her at the park. You should go up to her and introduce yourself and just say that you’ve seen her around the park, you know? Cute shit.” Namjoon added, smiling showing off his dimples.

➸ Yoongi ran the words through his mind, “cute shit,” he murmured to himself.

➸ Yoongi’s exterior was far from cute but he would try for you.

➸ You on the other hand stopped showing up at the park.

➸ You were very embarrassed at the way you had reacted. Plus college and work were getting out of control.

➸ You had to pick up some extra shifts at the convenience store that was located at the corner of the street you live on.

➸ It had been 2 weeks. 2 LooOoOooong weeks.

➸ “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Where could she be?! Maybe something happened to her!” Yoongi was panicking.

➸ He hadn’t seen you since The incident at the park. He kept trying to convince himself that maybe you had gotten busy.

➸ He didn’t even know where you lived, he cursed at himself. He should have followed you that evening to see where you stayed by.

➸ It has been a couple of hours since he had last eaten. And if he was going to find you he needed to make sure his energy was up.

➸ He walked to the convenience store that was on the street that he lived on.

➸ He opened the door and stepped inside greeting the cashier as he walked to the aisle where the ramen and chips would be.

➸ He failed to notice you on your knees tagging the prices on the items on the shelf.

➸ You tilted your head up when you noticed a shadow behind you, and caught a glimpse of his skin.

➸ It couldn’t be, you thought.

➸ You got anxious and you stumbled with your grip on the price gun. It falls at his feet.

➸ You apologize, “I’m so terribly sorry, sir. I’m very clumsy.”

➸ Before you could reach to pick up the gun, he stops you.

➸ “It’s okay miss.” He picks it up and hands it to you.

➸ As you reach for it you stumble to get up from your position and you both look at each other.

➸ His eyes 👀 blow up, “Oh my god ! It’s you.”

➸ You smirked and shy away, “do you know me?” You ask him.

➸ Of course he knew who you were.

➸ “I believe we go to the same park,” he immediately answers you.

➸ He feels himself turning red. He scowls himself, aish she makes me nervous and all were doing is talking.

➸ “Oh yeah! It’s a beautiful park. I love going there to relax and enjoy Mother Nature,” you respond to him.

➸ “Same here. I’m Min Yoongi,” he says as he places his hand towards you to shake.

➸ “I kinda already know your name. I hope that’s not weird. I’m L/n Y/n,” you return the hand shake.

➸ He laughs at your honesty and nods. “It’s great to finally meet you y/n. Maybe we can go to the park together one of these days.” He mentions playing with his hands subconsciously.

➸ “I would really like that,” you smile back at him.

➸” Would it be okay to get your number?” He asks, this time not keeping eye contact with you.

➸ 👉🏻 👈🏻

➸ You scream on the inside. Oh my god he’s asking for my number, yes!

➸ Your smile twinkled with the sun shining through. “Of course you can.”

➸ Yoongi looked at you and smiled showing off his blushed cheeks. He reached for his phone from his back pocket and handed it to you.

➸ You saved your number and took a selca to save for your contact picture.

➸ “I’m gonna call myself so I can have your number too.”

➸ Once your phone rang he grabbed it and opened up your camera to take a cute picture of himself. He reminded himself, cute shit Yoongi.

➸ With that he grabbed his ramen and choice of chips and headed to the cashier, “I’ll text you later,” he said as he stepped out of the front door 🚪, sending a wink 😉 your way.

➸ Your heart ❤️ fluttered.

➸ Your co worker up front kept sending you finger hearts 💕 for the rest of the shift as he had witnessed the conversation you had with the stranger.

➸ Later that evening~

➸ Yoongi had gone to Namjoon’s apartment where he was greeted by the rest of the gang.

➸ He had a smile plastered on his face and his cheeks and ears were still slightly pink.

➸ “Someone looks like they’re in a good mood,” Jungkook informed the group.

➸ Yoongi unfazed, plopped himself on the couch. “What’s gotten into you hyung?” Taehyung asked him as he dropped himself next to him.

➸ Yoongi smiled with heart eyes and said, “y/n.”

➸ Taehyung looked 👀 at him puzzled, “who’s y/n?”

➸ Namjoon chuckled and cheered, “You did it ! You talked to her? Where? At the park?”

➸ Yoongi giggled, “I actually saw her at the corner store by my house. It looks like she works there.”

➸ Jungkook was JungSHOOK.

➸ “You sly dog!” Jungkook yelled with excitement.

➸ “And I even got her number.” -Yoongi

➸ “Holy shit! We got a new and improved Yoongi on our hands,” Namjoon added placing both hands on his shoulder from behind the couch and shaking him playfully.

➸ “I took your advice Nam Noodle. I even remembered cute shit.” He chuckles and looks down shaking his head in embarrassment.

➸ Namjoon smirked to himself, “So when are you guys officially hanging out?”

➸ Yoongi’s eyes blew up he wasn’t even sure, he had told her he would text her. He began to think should I text her now? Tomorrow?

➸ “I’m not sure actually.” -yoong

➸” Why don’t you send her a text asking how her day is going?” Namjoon suggested.

➸ Yoongi looked down at his phone opening up your contact info and looked at your silly picture. He opened up his text messages and began to type a message to you. It took him about five minutes to get the courage to press send.

➸ You were laying down cuddled up with your blankets watching a movie on your TV when you heard your phone ding.

➸ You grabbed it from behind your pillow and clicked on the notification you read the text message.

➸ Min Yoongi: Hey y/n how’s your day going?

➸ Your jaw dropped and your phone fell on your face making you groan.

➸ Wow he messaged me 😻

➸ You replied: I'm doing pretty good just laying down watching a movie, how about yours?

➸ His notifications dinged, he tried keeping his hands steady but the phone slipped out of his hands

➸ “Hyung relax,” Jungkook consoled him, grabbing the phone from him.

➸ “Hey! What are you doing? Aish!” Yoongi yelled launching himself at him.

➸ “I’m just going to type a response and you can read it and press send,” Jungkook huffed pushing him back on the couch.

➸ Yoongi sat back on the couch and watched him type.

➸ Once Jungkook finished he smiled and handed his phone back, “here Yoongi hyung.”

➸ Yoongi grabbed his phone and proceeded to read the message, “oh nice! What movies are you watching? And thank you for asking I’m doing okay.”

➸ Yoongi side eyed Jungkook and pressed sent. “We’re just trying to help,” Namjoon added showing off his dimple smile.

➸ Your phone dinged and you freaked out, “oh fuck! He replied. Why do I keep talking to myself?” You laughed and disregarded your thoughts.

➸ You asked him if he was going to be busy this weekend. On the other end Yoongi stared at his phone “Hyung what did she say?” Jungkook asked as Namjoon got closer.

➸ “Oh shit! She beat you to the punch.” Jungkook chuckled, “tell her you’re free and asked what she has in mind.” “Boy you’re good.” Namjoon started squeezing the younger guys shoulder.

➸ Yoongi replied letting you know that he was free, Saturday and Sunday and if you were open to hanging out with him.

➸ He smiled at the message and asked him if he would like to join you for a picnic date Saturday afternoon.

➸ The picnic date~ uwuuu

➸ You had decided on making sandwiches and cutting them into triangles from turkey, ham and roast beef you added different types of chips, sodas and water.

➸ For your outfit you decided on wearing a flowy long skirt with a plain white tee and a soft scarf to match your skirt with your converse of course :-)

➸ Your hair lay long and wavy on your back with your bangs falling on your forehead covering your eyebrows.

➸ Yoongi was looking through his closet figuring out what to wear on this sunny Saturday it was around 10 AM and he was going to meet you at 11:30 he decided on black jeans and a plain white V-neck with black converse. He stared at himself and shrugged grabbing a bottle of wine 🍷 that he had bought for the picnic.

➸ You grabbed your picnic basket and placed it on the basket of your bicycle you pulled your phone out and dialed him.

➸ It seemed as if he had been waiting for your call, the way he had answered his phone on the first ring.

➸ “H-Hi Yoongi, it’s y/n.”

➸ Yoongi had his phone in his hand he had began to type a message out to you to let you know he was on his way to the park but his phone started to ring and your silly face popped up on his screen, he answered hearing you speak first.

➸ “Hi y/n, I guess you beat me to it. I was about to send u a text saying I was on my way to the park.”

➸ You plugged in your earphones, “oh nice! Then you won’t mind staying on the phone with me.”

➸ Yoongi smiled and proceeded to mount his bike,” of course I will.”

➸ You ride your bike to the park turning a corner you spotted him first he looked so ethereal with the sunlight shining off his pale skin he had a small gummy smile on his face.

➸ He looked up when he didn’t hear you talking anymore you look so beautiful your smile was so enchanting, “you look so beautiful Y/n.”

➸ You laughed and waved him to follow you, you disconnected the call and pulled your earphones off tucking them inside your shirt.

➸ You stopped in a shady area with a big tree on the side you leaned your bike against the tree trunk and grabbed the blanket you had under the basket you pulled it open it and he reached for the other end extending it.

➸ You both smiled and lay the blanket on the grass you place the basket on the edge of it and got closer to him.

➸ “Hey Yoongi,” you opened your arms and he met you halfway closing the hug and making sure his hands stayed out and didn’t wander.

➸ “Yoongi you can let me go now.” You chuckled into his shoulder and he nervously coughed and released you. “I’m sorry y/n.”

➸ The picnic was wonderful, both of you ate, had a couple of cups of wine, and munched on the chips as you both enjoyed the conversation you are having.

➸ The guy that you had been crushing over had officially noticed you. Yoongi felt the same way towards you. Expressing how nervous you make him and he just didn’t want to ruin the moment.

➸ Suddenly, you began to feel weird, off putting even. “Yoongi, I think I had too much to drink.” You stated, rubbing your head slightly and blinking multiple times to stop the environment from spinning.

➸ “I’m not feeling too good,” Yoongi got closer to you, he wrapped his arms around you and whispered in your ear, “it’s gonna be okay I promise.” And with that your eyes fluttered shut.

➸ Yoongi was a mad man and didn’t want anything to happen to you. He had decided it was best you didn’t leave his sight. All he wanted to do was take care of you, so he may have slipped something into your wine that would take effect. He had drugged you making you slightly unconscious.

➸ He had called up his friends and asked them to help pick the stuff up from the park.

➸ You woke up hours later tied up to a bed in a pitch black room. You pulled at your arms, harness tightening around your wrist ricochet back to the head board. You screamed for help, not knowing where exactly you were.

➸ Someone opened the door and stepped inside. They flickered the lights on and you closed your eyes momentarily and then opened them to adjust to the light.

➸ You couldn’t believe who it was, “Yoongi?” You pleaded for him to let you go. “Please Yoongi. I’ll do anything?”

➸ He spoke up, “anything?”

12/08/19 Posted

[bubblyani]

Temptation

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson One Shot

Request by: @97freaknik

Rating: Mature (NSFW)

Warnings: May-December Relationship, Swearing, Sexual Content.

Author’s Note: This was one unexpected sort of fic. And so the same applies to the ending. Hope y’all enjoy!!

The chilled cola managed to moisten your tongue and cool your throat with each sip you took. Summer had finally announced it’s arrival in London, and all seemed to have noticed it. “So...what did he say?” asked Kim Jackson, your best friend as she folded her legs on the settee. 

Upon your first meeting, you made a great friend out of Kim in the very first year at University. The two of you grew so close, winning you the privilege of becoming a usual visitor at her home during the first summer break.

Shrugging your shoulders casually, you replied, “Well he said he liked me...” you continued, a confident aura surrounding you as you sat on the armchair across from her, “...he wanted to get a drink with me or...whatever”

The excitement in Kim’s eyes did reflect in yours. And she was surprised. “And...?” She asked. You curled your lip with squinted eyes. “Well.. what do you think?” You scoffed in an unimpressed tone. Kim laughed, shaking her head, “Y/N...you’re mental!” She exclaimed, “Harry is such a great bloke..”

You clicked your tongue, taking another sip, “...maybe ...but meh! Not my type...” “Oh yeah?” Your friend began, moving forward, “Then what is your type?” “I don’t know...” you laughed in a carefree manner, only to have that laughter die down slow. Especially the moment you saw him enter the kitchen.

Liar liar! you knew your type, you thought. 

Suddenly, you cleared your throat, “What about you? What’s your type?” You asked her in kind.

Kim may have started talking at that moment. She may be going on about her type in detail. But it seemed quite difficult to keep your eyes on her when he was around.

The tattoos inked in his chiseled body managed to get it’s spotlight with the help of his wife beater and jeans. Plus, the chained necklace that adorned his neck and the bracelet that accompanied his wrist completed his ensemble. As the bottle cap flew out of the chilled beer, Freddie Jackson closed the refrigerator door. And there you were, staring at him from across the room, unable to control the heat that emitted strongly from your cheeks. For a second you realized his eyes caught yours. Your eyes widened.

Were you dreaming?

“Y/N?” You felt the coke can slip from your grasp the moment Kim’s loud voice brought you back. Gasps exited out of both of you as the remaining soda from the can spilt all over your top.

“Ah! Uhhh....” Struggling. You were struggling with words, bending down to pick up the now-emptied can.

Where did that confident aura run off to?

“What happened? You okay?” Kim asked, catching Freddie’s attention. As you saw him walk towards the settee from the corner of your eye, you really did not know how to answer that.

You merely laughed, nervously, for you left to do nothing but. The cheeks grew warmer the moment Freddie stood by the settee.

“Kim, What’s wrong ?” He asked.

“Y/N spilled her coke...”

“Aww...that’s too fucking bad, love..let me get ya another” he said gently, looking at you before moving towards the fridge.

Kim smiled at him,“Thanks dad”

Forcing a tight smile, You exhaled silently yet deeply. For reality struck you again with a bitter reminder.

You were desiring for your best friend’s father.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You knew it. From the very first encounter a few weeks ago, it was sealed in your body, mind and soul.

If it weren’t for his heroic rescue that one night at dinner, you surely would have been responsible for the damage of several plates dropped out of your hands. But in your defense, the slightest touch against his body turned you in to the clumsy self you longed to hide away.

“Easy there love, wouldn’t want to get hurt now, yeah?” Completely and unexpectedly mute, you swore you have made a fool out of yourself. But given the expression, it seemed he was quite amused to meet his eldest daughter’s best friend.

Ever since then, forming a fascination for him was out of your control. It was unbelievable how he fathered three children, including one your own age.

Fascination did not last. For it turned  into undeniable attraction as time passed. He was handsome, You couldn’t help it. In fact,  he was the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. At least it seemed that way for you. 

With eyes like those, he had perfected his gaze to be something unforgettable. With lips so beautiful, they managed to haunt you even in your dreams. So much so you’d long to feel them on yours. Yes, you were fantasizing about them. 

Kissing him would be an instant response the moment you’d see him in the midst of your sleep. And when you do, you would even find yourself waking up feeling satisfied, yet hungrier at the same time.

There would be some nights so daring, your hand would go so far as to explore yourself with nothing but him in mind. It was that sinful, and you knew it. Sometimes that hand would retract, but sometimes it will not. Because honestly, nobody needed to know.

The number of times you found yourself involuntarily longing to see him , could be countless. Silly excuses to meet your best friend, things suddenly forgotten or left behind. Butterflies suddenly would exist in your stomach every time you set foot at her place.

But somehow, those butterflies suddenly evolve into small earth shattering quakes in the heart when you realized he was not there at times. But whenever he was, whenever he conversed with you in short, whenever he smiled, and shared jokes, or even took your side when Kim teases you, you felt attraction progress into complete infatuation.

In your defense, you felt he treated you differently. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if he knew your little secret. For those gazes would turn intense in a flash as if. That was when you knew, how far your feelings have gone.

All this was unrequited of course, you knew it was never a possibility. After all, he was Kim’s father. And this was a secret you could never share with her. And being her father meant something else as well. Kim’s mother, Jackie Jackson, always had been less welcoming towards you and you could never figure out why. But you could tell there was not much love between her and him. Even if there was, it was forced.

I could do better, you’d find yourself thinking.

I could love him better. And still you knew, this was never possible. 

But even with the bitter truth staring right at you in the face, your desire for him grew stronger by the day. Which included the longing to win him over somehow. It was silent, secretive, and deadly.

Even when you dug deeper, and heard stories about him, you were not frightened easy. Even with the guns, the drugs, the women, the money, you did not flinch.He was indeed  Freddie Jackson, the notorious gangster.

And you were still infatuated by him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Kim! Kim!!!!”

With no answer from the bell, you knocked on the door frantically. Another day, and another silly excuse.

Finally, you heard footsteps approaching the door. The pacing made your heart skip a beat. You knew those steps, you had it carved in your mind with such detail.

“Well Hello Y/N...” Freddie Jackson greeted you softly, flashing his naughty smile as he opened the door. Wearing a printed short sleeved shirt, he appeared to look more handsome than ever before. You felt your mouth turn dry.

“Uh Hi...” you began, “...Mr. Jackson ...” involuntarily smiling back, you suddenly were short of breath “is um..Kim at home?”

“Ah! yeah sure, come in. I’ll go fetch her”

The living room was filled with his scent, mixed with a hint of tobacco. It made you feel at home. The record player called out for you, begging you to admire it, and the music it played. The music soothed you. It aroused you. Pressing your thighs together, you gingerly proceeded to roll up the waistband of your pleated short skirt, making it shorter than it was before.

“Ah...sorry love but...” you jumped by the sound of Freddie’s voice from afar, “...it looks like the family is out” his voice echoed ,“...sorry about that”   “Oh no...” you blurt out,”it’s alright” chuckling, you added, “I can wait...” As if by chance, there you were, alone with him. Finally.

“Brilliant...” he replied with a cheery tone. The desperation in you thrived, tempting you to roll up your skirt higher until the hem almost covered your buttocks. You knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment you heard him approach the living room, you turned back to the record player. “Wow...” you began, confidence taking center stage as you bent forward to examine the record player “..this sounds so familiar” The humid air caressed your inner thighs. You knew he stood there, quite noticeably as you heard him exhale deeply with a chuckle of satisfaction by the sight of your curiosity and ‘unintended’ exposure. With a gleeful gasp, your eyes widened.

 “Pink Floyd?” You asked, turning to him the moment ‘Hey You’ began to play. “Yeah yeah...not bad, love” he chuckled, settling himself on the settee, “Pink Floyd man I am, you know” 

“That’s great...I love them too” you said excitedly, clearly stemming from the discovery of a mutual interest. For a moment, he was not Freddie Jackson, your best friend’s father. For a moment he was Freddie Jackson, the man you longed to impress. The man you wished you could seduce.

But suddenly, you didn’t know what to say anymore. There never was a moment with just the two of you alone before. Freddie did not utter a word. Truthfully, he seemed more occupied watching you with complete fascination instead. The way he stared, thoughts may have racing wild. Still you felt powerless, you didn’t want to come off as boring.

“Tattoos!”You accidentally blurted out, making him raise his eyebrows, “Uh your tattoos...they are pretty wicked” you said, clearing your throat.

“Oh yeah?” He said, sitting upright, “You’ve seen them?”

“Well, only a bit..” you replied nonchalantly, hands tied behind your back, “not...all” with a hint of shyness, walking over to him.

Forming his mischievous grin, Freddie began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt buttons, while forming a whisper, “Fancy a closer look?-”

“Yeah!” You paused, surprised at your over  enthusiasm. “Well...go on then...” he purred, gesturing you to come sit, patting his thigh as an invitation.

Normally, if any other older man would suggest this, you’d furrow you’re brows with disgust. But this was no ordinary man.

Carefully, as he sat back, you settled across his lap. With buttocks and upper thighs brushing against his lap , you were secretly gleeful. You held your breath, as he took your hand in his, guiding your fingers over his exposed chest. Pulling his vest down, he watched you observe the intricate ink imprinted on his skin.

This was a dream, you thought.

“Wow...it’s beautiful” you breathed, for it was true. “Yeah it is...” he said, his eyes washing all over you. “Rock n Roll...” he continued, resting his other hand on your bare thigh, “...tattoos...” he added, voice booming to send tremors through your body, “...bad boys certainly tickle your fancy, innit?”

“I suppose...that’s my type” you said, grasping courage to look at him. And his face was merely a few centimeters away. “Oh yeah?” He asked, leaning in. His nose brushing against yours. “Yeah...” you replied, feeling that familiar heat emit from your cheeks in contrast to the chill his rings provided to your bare thighs.

So so close, it was your deepest, darkest fantasy come to life. And you asked yourself, what would you do?

Before you could answer, you felt him move forward, permitting you to freely do the same as both of your lips found each other.

It was not a dream anymore, You really were kissing Freddie Jackson. With the intense weight of his lips, you could tell he hungered for this. He knew. He certainly knew. It excited you. It motivated you. Taking his hand from your thigh, you felt brave. With no hesitation, you placed it over your right breast.

Except he took it away in an instant.

Slightly alarmed, you continued kissing him, yet with concern in mind. Was he playing with you? But when you felt that hand hurriedly pull your sweatshirt out of your skirt, you knew all was well. When that hand dug inside to unhook your bra, it got much better. Especially when that clever hand slithered under the loose undergarment to palm your bare breast with ease, sending new waves of pleasure through you.

The way he savored it showed in his hums on your lips. And it drove you insane. You longed to hear more. Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you pulled him closer, moaning into the kiss.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him. So many things you wanted to hear from him. But at the same time, the last thing you wanted to do, was to part your lips from his luscious ones.

It came as a surprise as his hand left your breast, taking a firm hold of your knee, spreading your legs wide open. He did not take this lightly, and it was confirmed the moment his fingers began to stroke you. All the way from your pubic area right downwards, over the thin material of your panties. His fingers tickled you, they aroused you. Lifting yourself up with impatience, your lips parted his just so he could pull your panties down until it bunched around your knees.

“Fuck...” he inhaled pleasingly, peeping down at the sight of your exposed womanhood, “Look how wet you are...” he said, looking back at you. You blushed, unable to contain yourself  by his glance. But when you felt him insert two digits into your dampened slit, the blushing indeed seemed like child’s play.

  Hungry for your lips once more, Freddie resumed kissing you. All the while his fingers continued to enter and exit out of you in steady rhythm. You may be moaning, you may have been wincing in response. But you did not fail to cling on to him as it was your dear life.

Few minutes have passed, and still his lips felt fresh on yours. The feeling of a climax felt close, you were almost there. However, you groaned in desperation when his fingers suddenly left your opening. Pulling away, you wanted to beg. But his words stopped you.

“Come on...” Freddie breathed, his face looking serious as he frantically unbuckled his pants. A loud gasp left you the moment his manhood sprung out free from all constrains of clothing. You always thought  a man like him should be well endowed. And he was, indeed. Strong, firm and thick. With your eyes fully indulging it, you were reminded of your inner walls drenched with need. Clearly, you were impatient to feel him inside you. 

Whimpers, soft whimpers overflowed your lips as you sunk into his erect shaft. But like a perfect piece of a puzzle, it fitted in so well. And like one perfect unit, you held on to him as you began to move. The pleasure was simply indescribable. It was unbelievable. It was better than you imagined. In your dreams. In your fantasies.

Overwhelmed with arousal, you were at a trance; Grabbing his hands, you guided them back inside your shirt, placing them over your bare breasts once again. For you wanted to give nothing but your all. No holding back.

Freddie growled, pinching and pulling your nipples in response before he kissed you again. This time with much fervor. Pain infused with pleasure in equal measure, you moved faster. Connected by lips and bodies, You moved and you moved. Until your body gave in, until he pulled himself out and release was finally met.

All so quietly, and discreetly. Just as this sudden but eventual union was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few days later)

You may have been walking, taking strides across  the pavement, but your head was off somewhere else.

As if a record was on repeat, you couldn’t help but relive that wonderful moment with him. Nothing else occupied your thoughts. Nothing except for this. So much that you wondered whether you had to attend confession. You longed for your body to remember every minute. Every minute Freddie Jackson claimed you his on that settee.

“You alright lass?”

You blinked. Your father’s voice brought you back to reality. For a moment you really did forget he was there, accompanying you over to the convenient store on his way to work.

“Yeah...I’m fine” you said, stopping by the shop. Of course you were. But it was a state of mind you dared not share. How could you?

“Alright...” your father began, “I’ll see you in the evening then...”

Your eyes automatically caught the sight of a familiar face a few feet away. It almost managed to distract you.

Clearing your throat, you smiled. “Yes dad”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entering the store, you suddenly forgot what you needed to buy. For your breathing grew fast, for that face that was oh-so-familiar felt quite nearby.

Fixing your hair casually, you greeted the store clerk before strutting out. You heard footsteps behind you as you heading into the abandoned alleyway. And for the first time you were not afraid. Quite the opposite to be frank.

The sudden tug of your hand made you turn with a happy gasp as Freddie Jackson pushed you against the brick wall, kissing you with immense passion.

When he pinned your hands above your head, when his desperate hands roamed about to fondle your breasts generously; when they lastly moved lower to pull you up from your  buttocks, you felt as if you were being rewarded. Rewarded for keeping this secret.

“Fucking hell Y/N...” Freddie breathed, “I missed you...”

You could not believe your ears. It was only a few days.  You were in bliss. He was your infatuation, and here he was in full reciprocation. It was heavenly.

You smiled into his lips, “Me too Mr. Jackson...ah!“ you cried softly, as he gently nibbled your earlobe. 

“Uh huh...wrong answer” he chuckled.

“Sorry...Freddie” you corrected yourself, giving a shy smile. Calling him by his first name seemed arousing enough. Giggles followed soon after as he kissed you once again. Escaping into pleasure in secret was the challenge, but you certainly enjoyed it.

“Wait...” You said, pulling him away. You swore you felt someone watch you.

“What is it?”

“Mmm...nothing I just...never mind” shaking your head, you casually pulled him back to you, never tired of his lips on yours. Moaning into the kiss, Freddie kept his gaze affixed on you.

“Tonight ...” he reminded.

“Can’t wait....” you consented.

Hands finally parting, you excitedly made your way out of the alleyway as Freddie headed to the opposite direction. Your head was up on the clouds, anything felt possible.

Till you felt a tug on your hand once again. You chuckled, throwing your head back as you turned back.

“Ah..again? Fred-”

Except you felt a lump in your throat,  the moment you realized it was not Freddie.

But it was your father instead. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(The next morning) 

“Right...later Jimmy!”

“Right Fred...” With a small wave to his cousin, Freddie started the engine and began driving.

Morning had dawned, and Freddie was out and about driving. Although he could not help but involuntarily furrow his brows. And he knew why. He just did not want to let it get to him.

Except the reason just passed him by in a flash.

Hitting the brakes with a screech, Freddie looked out from his window.

“Y/N!...” He called out to you, “What the f-“

Pausing in an instant. Standing in the bus stop, you suddenly looked up to find his car parked in front. Your eyes were red, not to mention your nose. You did not respond nor were you least surprised. Instead of bombarding you with questions, Freddie decided to take a different approach.

“Get in, I’ll drop you home...” he said, “Come on...” insisting with a soft tone, he waited until you finally did.

Even though you lived close by, the drive felt like eternity. Freddie could not comprehend your behavior, unable to read as you kept staring at the car window.

“Y/N...babe...” he uttered softly. Yet you did not respond. He felt helpless.

Distance did not lie, as the car finally arrived at the destination. He heard you take in a deep breath, with hands tightly clenching on your dress.

“Y/N...don’t fuck with me babe...what’s wrong?” The concern arose in Freddie’s voice. When finally he saw your turn your head towards him. Eyes almost watering, you smiled warmly: “I love you Freddie” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I love you Freddie”

You never thought those words would leave your lips before you kissed him so passionately. It was so spontaneous but it felt right. You weren’t embarrassed to the slightest to climb up and straddle him in the car. As a matter of fact, You wished there was nothing called public decency. You wished he’d take you then and there. You wished you could stay with him wrapped around him naked.

All because you loved him.

Pulling away, you finally moved back to your seat.

“Feeling better?” You heard him ask. Looking at him, you saw genuine concern filled in his eyes. Something you never saw before.

“Yeah...I am” you replied, aware of how swollen your lips have become. Giving his hand a tight squeeze, you smiled to your fullest.

“Bye Freddie...”

As you got out of his car, you just wished he knew what you really went through. With every kiss you kissed in there, you wished he knew of your demise that occurred yesterday. With every touch, you wished he sensed your pain. The pain you had to endure when forced to be dealt with by your father; the harsh reality, reminding you of the gravity of your situation. With your sudden confession of love, you wished he knew the choice you were given. You badly wished he could give you the answers. And save you like a white knight.

But you had no regrets. Not even one.  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few days later)

The chilly wind that exited out of the refrigerator cooled Freddie as he reached in to grab a beer. With the first gulp, his eyes caught the sight of his daughter. Sitting alone on the settee, she sipped on her coke. Closing the refrigerator door, he realized what was wrong here.

She sat there alone.

“Kim! Babe...what’s wrong?”  He asked from across the room.

“Nothing Dad” Kim  replied, head unturned, body unmoved as she stared down into the can. Freddie knew denial when he saw it. Especially with his daughter.

“Come on babe...” he said, setting the beer down on the pantry before walking up to her...”...don’t lie”

Sighing, Kim turned to him.

“I miss Y/N...”

“Yeah?” He asked, slumping down on the settee next to her, ”Well why isn’t she here then? Shall we give her a ring?”

To be quite honest, Freddie wanted to , for he did not see you for a few days.

Kim looked at him.  “She’s gone, Dad”

His eyes widened slightly. “What? What do you mean?”

“She had to move ...”Kim replied, her tone growing  sadder “...but why so suddenly? I don’t understand...It’s not fair” putting her head down, her tone grew softer. Freddie clicked his tongue.Suddenly those red eyes of yours, the silence you bore made complete sense.  

“Awww c’mere...” he said, slowly pulling his daughter in to an embrace. “I miss her dad” he heard her mumble into his shirt. “I know you do, babe” he said.  holding her tighter, hoping he could cover the little wound that involuntarily formed in his heart.

For it was evident that lustful Temptation had progressed into something more. But to the misfortune of two specific people, hope had slipped out of their hands.

With all that what happened, all Freddie wanted to say in return was one thing:

I miss her too. ———————————————————————

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