#i think we should all be weirder about his tattoos

[zigrethsnotebook]

Bite marks 2

Ford x Reader

words: 1,046

tags: nsfw, making that man whimper, more biting

a/n: part 1; this was supposed to go a very different way but this is what they wanted to do, i'm just here to write things down

You had arrived in his bedroom. Ford had insisted on not putting you down, he wanted to carry you and you didn’t object. When you thought he carried big pieces of metal with ease before, you now knew that he wasn't pretending just to look hot. He carried you like you weighed nothing (which was certainly not the case) and without breaking a sweat.

With your arms tightly around his neck and his hands on your ass and back he had sneaked around the shack, avoiding Stanley. The kids were out for the day, so you didn’t need to worry about them.

Ford made sure to lock the door behind him before he gently laid you on the bed, climbing on top of you. You laced one of your hands in his hair again, the other rested on his bicep.

He immediately went for your neck again. At the same time he moved the leg he had placed between yours upwards, kneading your core through the fabric. You exhaled audibly, not quite finding your voice. Ford smiled into your neck. "Use your words, darling." He sucked at your neck, his knee never halting in its movement. There were no words to use, all that left your mouth was a satisfied moan.

Ford hummed into your neck before pulling away, removing his knee in the process. You took the opportunity and pulled him downward by his arm while lifting yourself off the mattress, switching positions. You smirked down at his surprised face.

You moved to straddle him properly, sitting down on his crotch, causing Ford to hiss and his hands to shoot for your hip. You could feel his erection through your pants, making you bite your lip in anticipation. Moving your hips in slow circles you let your hands explore his torso. Ford groaned and leaned his head back.

"Good boy," you encouraged, "let yourself enjoy this." The strained expression on his face let you know that he was really trying to keep it together. With a smile on your face you let your hands roam over his stomach, his chest. You traced the scars and lines of his tattoos all while never stopping the movement of your hips.

Finally, you leaned down, placing a soft kiss to his chest. To Ford it felt like a water droplet on a hot stove, evaporating instantly. He needed more. "Please." His voice was small, begging you.

You placed another kiss on his chest. And another. Your lips didn’t even leave his skin, just trailed lazily from one spot to the next. Ford moaned your name. "More... please." You moved your face in front of his and smiled sweetly at him. "Are you sure, Mr. Slow and Tender?"

Ford swallowed thickly and gripped your hip a little tighter, halting your movement and keeping you in place as he bucked up, hitting you in just the right spot. Your eyes rolled back for a moment. "Ahh... Ford, you- ngh." He interrupted you, bucking up again. "Stop."

He stilled, looking into your eyes, pleading to continue. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. "Good boy." A quiet whimper left his throat at the praise and lack of release. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a breathless kiss. Slowly, you began moving your hips again, immediately earning a needy moan from the man.

You moved your lips to his neck. He lightly rocked his hips upwards again and you sighed against his skin. You found his All Star tattoo and started making out with the little cartoon star.

"Bite me... please." You hummed into his neck. "Are you sure?" Ford nodded and added another breathy "please." How could you deny him when he asked so nicely?

You let your mouth trail to his shoulder again, the other one this time, and pressed a few hot kisses to it. When you opened your mouth you made sure to let him feel your teeth on his skin. He moaned but his voice was whiny. It sounded like music to your ears.

You took some of his skin into your mouth, not quite biting yet, just nibbling on it. Ford's upward thrusts became a little more desperate making it difficult for you to focus. God, this had no right to feel this good.

You opened your mouth again, taking a bigger bite. Ford whimpered as you let your tongue trace his skin, tasting the sweat you were causing him.

You clenched your jaw a little more. He stammered your name, his voice breaking at every vowel. His hip thrusts were erratic now. You groaned into his shoulder letting yourself lose focus for a moment.

One of his movements was too strong, jolting you forward, causing you to accidentally bite down harder, drawing blood. Ford came instantly. He was a loud whimpering mess underneath you, riding out his orgasm while stammering your name and incomprehensible praises.

Your eyes widened as you tasted his blood. That hadn't been your plan! You quickly let go of his shoulder, eyeing the wound as Ford calmed down again. There was a light tear in his skin, nothing major. A scratch really. You sighed in relief and tried to look Ford in the eyes again. His glasses were fully fogged up.

He was still a little breathless but he smiled at you. "Amazing..." You chuckled. Who knew the great Stanford Pines would become undone before his pants even had a chance to.

You lifted yourself off of Ford and laid down next to him, stroking his chest as he caught his breath. "Sorry about your shoulder." He furrowed his brows for a moment. "What about my shoulder?" You propped yourself up on your elbow to look into his face. His glasses were starting to clear again and you locked eyes.

"I bit too hard. You... you're bleeding a little." Ford was surprised. He hadn't even noticed it. "Oh."

You laid back down for now and he relaxed in your arms until he started feeling... sticky. He excused himself to the bathroom to clean up.

You turned on your back and sighed, content. Even though you hadn't gotten your full share this time, you still had plenty new sounds and pictures of your lovely boyfriend to add to your mental library.

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

come one, come all, it's happening again

Part 2/2 of "i'm coming right back to where i belong"

Summary: As Penelope tries to come to terms with Luke's feelings for her, she's thrown another curveball, but it ends up being exactly what she needed.

Word count: 1413

Can also be read here on Ao3

Karma was a bee-yotch, and she had it out for one Penelope Grace Garcia. She hadn’t been working that closely with Luke up until that point, so she figured it wouldn’t be that hard to have some space from him (and those damned expressive, concerned, beautiful brown eyes) while she figured out her next steps. 

But, as Lady Un-luck would have it, Rossi called to let her know that Emily was currently down for the count, and JJ was checking on her, while he and Tara were needed elsewhere. Meaning she and Luke would have to work together on their newest lead, some woman named Teresa. Oh, and the sewage-flavored icing on the moldy, rancid cake? She was Tyler’s ex-girlfriend.

She would have laughed at the craziness of the situation if she didn’t feel so damn awful. She’s sure she and Luke would have caught eyes and smiled about if the irony weren’t so… unfortunate. And if he wasn’t so busy looking like he wanted to murder Tyler at any given moment. 

Luke was, of course, being a complete professional with Penelope, meanwhile, she had a storm raging internally. His behavior never changed, because why would it? If he had truly felt these things for her the whole time, as he apparently had, why should he change? Penelope cursed herself for not figuring it out sooner. It really was obvious. 

Once Penelope had tracked down Teresa, they had to call her in for her own protection. And then was when things went from awkward to who-the-hell-is-writing-this-soap-opera. Teresa was younger, taller and had some tattoos, but by god she looked like Penelope. Her hair was the same. Her fashion style was the same. Penelope was even certain she had had that same pair of glasses once upon a time. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Luke muttered under his breath when he saw her.

Penelope was at first a little jealous of Teresa, in some disturbed way. Then she saw how Teresa and Tyler were together, and her heart melted.

“Oh my god,” she whispered to Luke. “They’re still in love with each other.”

Luke huffed out a laugh. “This could not get any weirder.”

He never should have underestimated her.

***

After the case, Penelope and Tyler were alone in the Round Table Room, gathering their things.

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice. “For helping me.”

Penelope smiled at him. “You still love her.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. It never would have worked between us, because when you look at me, you see someone else, and when I look at you…”

“You do the same?”

She laughed lightly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Tyler glanced out the round table window to the bullpen where Luke could be seen discreetly trying (and failing) to not glare at them (Tyler) through the windows. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you.”

“It’s really that obvious?” 

He shrugged. “Eh. Less so for you. But he hates me ten times more than anyone else on your team does, so…”

“I have no idea how I missed it for so long.”

“You should go for him. You two would be a lot better together than we ever could have been.”

“And you should go for her,” Penelope told him. “Something tells me if you explained yourself… she’d give you a second chance.”

Tyler’s face lit up. “You think so?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Go.” 

He knew Teresa was on her way out, so he bolted from the room, hoping to catch her before she left. Penelope followed behind, smiling, and stopped beside Luke’s desk.

“What’s up with him?” Luke asked. 

Penelope nodded with her chin toward Tyler and Teresa, who could be seen through the glass doors, right in front of the elevators. 

He was holding her hands and clearly speaking very passionately. She looked shocked for a moment, but then smiled, stood up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. 

Penelope was positively beaming as she watched them head out together, hopeful they’d find a way to make it work. 

Luke looked over at her. “Did… did you do that?”

She nodded, still grinning widely.

“Wow,” he said, voice soft, and kind of impressed. “That’s really big of you, I’m proud of you. I know how much you cared—”

She cut him off. “Stop. Don’t be proud. It was a no-brainer. Plus, you and I need to talk.” She extended a hand to him. “Come with me?”

Confused, he took her hand and followed her to her lair. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine. Great, even. Or, it has the potential to be. But I have a lot to say to you and I didn’t want it to be overheard.”

“Okay… that makes me a little uneasy.”

“No!” Penelope exclaimed. “That was not my goal. I have a lot to apologize for. And amends to make. And thought processes to explain. So could you just let me talk for five minutes to make sure I get everything out?”

He nodded.

“Amazing wonderful thank you. So. Until, like, two days ago, I had no idea you ever had feelings for me. And I realize now how obvious you were the whole time, but there are reasons why I didn’t see it. You remember I was shot, right? Well, the person who shot me had asked me out, and so it kind of messed me up in the head a bit, giving me the idea that if it seems to good to be true, it probably is. Especially since he was the last conventionally attractive person to ask me out until, well, you. And yes, I can see you doing the mental math, there were, like, 13 years between those two events. So, you know. I thought you were too good to be true. Not that you’d ever hurt me! But I thought there was no way I could be so lucky that you’d… actually want something real with me.

“And on top of that, you have no way of knowing this because it was before you, but Derek Morgan. He and I were very flirty. For eleven years. But nothing ever came of that because it was a joke the whole time, and we both knew that! And then he left and you came along and when you started doing the same things he did… I was just so used to it being a joke it never occurred to me you might actually mean what you were saying. And I realize now just how obvious it was from your point of view how obvious it was, but you have to understand from my point of view it wasn't. So when you asked me out I was thrilled but I was also shocked. It didn't make any sense to me. And then things were awkward, so I figured I was right! It was too good to be true! I thought you were trying to find a way to let me down gently so I beat you to it but because my heart was breaking because I had been so excited I said some awful, untrue things I didn't even mean, and I just… I'm so sorry, Luke. That's what I'm trying to say. I am so sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I pretended to hate you all those years, I'm sorry I did and said all those awful things, and I'm sorry that when you admitted the other day that you'd had feelings for me this whole time—even if you didn't say it in as many words—I didn't say it back.”

Luke finally broke his silence, his voice thick with emotion. “You have feelings for me?”

She nodded, crying a bit. “And I know I've been so horrid lately, but if there's any part of you that's willing to give me a second chance…” 

“You mean it? You'd want to be with me?” 

“If you'll have me.” 

He took a step towards her and crushed her in a hug. “Just promise me you won't run from me again. I love you, Penelope, if we're doing this, we're doing this for real.”

She kissed him. She kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until she couldn’t breathe. Then she caught her breath and kissed him some more. “I love you too,” she whispered against his lips. “I won't run. I promise. I'm in this. Forever.”

[vincess-princess]

as we were falling

ch. 11

a/n: i sure am spoiling yall with three updates in a month, even considering these chapters are small. whatever, enjoy :) word count: 1440 warnings: none

They sure were an extraordinary couple, those two. Even among robotic arms and legs they stood out. The man, his age hard to pinpoint, was tall, long-haired, narrow-hipped, and had a half-cybernetic face, the seam between flesh and metal rough and uneven; in the age of nearly limitless cosmetic surgery this sure was a deliberate decision. His cybernetic eye flashed red behind toned protective screen in his eye socket. The seam went farther down the neck and underneath a red mesh shirt, its outline visible underneath the fabric until it disappeared behind the belt. A metal joint of his knee peeked out ofthe hole in his pants.

The woman, around 35, had half of her hair shaven and the other weaved into a complex braid. Tattoos spun on the bald half of her head and down onto the cheek. She was wearing a leather jacket and pants, tall cowboy boots and hoop earrings. And Tommy couldn’t see a single artificial detail in her, hard as he tried. Here all natural was unnatural. Maybe under her clothes…

“I don’t like the way they look at us,” Nikki whispered.

“Me neither. They look weird. Well,” Tommy quickly corrected himself, “weirder than others.”

“That guy’s eye is freaking me out.”

“Me too.” To be fair, the guy’s other eye was almost as creepy. Not in the appearance, no; but in the way it looked at you… as if it wanted to eat you.

Just then the guy said something to the woman, and they very purposefully headed right to their stand.

“Shit, they’re coming!”

A heavy feeling arose in Tommy’s chest. These people did him no bad thing, but he already disliked them. He surely hoped it was just prejudice against the outward differentness of these two – differentness from everything he’d already seen.

Yet as they were nearing them, he became less and less sure of that.

At close distance the cybernetic eye looked less creepy; but the seam between flesh and metal looked even more gruesome. And the woman did have one robotic piece on her, as it turned out: a small, almost unnoticeable cochlear implant. At least, that was probably the purpose of a tiny earbud with a wire going underneath her ear. It could hardly be jewelry – jewelry was supposed to be seen.

The guy looked at Nikki, then Tommy, and they knew looking in the eyes of clients was considered bad behavior, yet they both did it – because it was an assessment, no, a challenge even, and looking down was admitting defeat, and they didn’t have those stripes on their wrists for nothing, did they?

The guy tilted his head slightly and then smiled. The seam went straight across his lips, so it was more scary than encouraging.

“These two,” he told the woman and pointed at Nikki and Tommy, “I like these two.”

The woman looked them over appraisingly.

“You always pick the skinny and the long-haired, don’t you?”

“I have my preferences,” the man shrugged. “What’s your opinion?”

“Not bad,” the woman said curtly after a short pause. “I’ve gotta take a closer look but I like what I’m seeing.”

Nikki and Tommy exchanged exasperated glances. Being talked about as if they weren’t there was rather irritating.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at us!” the man suddenly said harshly. “You should be thankful we deemed you worthy our attention, you defiant scum. You surely know you’ve got almost zero chances to get a good master with these stripes, don’t you?”

“We’re counting on our natural charm,” Nikki grinned unpleasantly. “Sir.”

Tommy couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

The woman leaned to the man and said something into his ear. Tommy was pretty convinced it was something along the lines of “You still sure about this?”.

“Yes,” the guy told her out loud. “These two need some taming, but I think their cases are salvageable.”

“No way in hell they are salvaging me,” Nikki hissed quietly. Tommy couldn’t decide if he should take his side and annoy the prospective clients into leaving or try to talk Nikki into being a bit more polite with these two – they could be their last chance at a decent life.

He didn’t get to do either.

“Hey! You!” the guy pointed at Nikki. “What’s your name?”

“Can’t you read?” Nikki bristled, nodding at his number on the display.

“I don’t need the number they gave you at the facility. I want your name.”

“Oh.” Even Nikki seemed to be taken aback. Slave owners preferred to give their slaves new names – to help the transition to the household, they said. Tommy was pretty sure they did it to erase the very remains of the slave’s identity – to clean the slate for a fresh start. Nobody needed the baggage a slave could bring to a new home.

This guy didn’t seem to mind, though.

“Well?” he raised an eyebrow. The seam curved in a very grotesque manner. This guy’s presence at the auction indicated he was wealthy enough for a plastic surgery. He really should have had it.

“I don’t-“ Nikki began, but the guard, observing the interaction with great interest, began rising from his chair, his taser threateningly raised. Nikki seemed to have had enough of that today, because he sighed and said: “Fine, fine. I’m Nikki. You?”

“Ecto. And this is Onyx,” the guy pointed at the woman. She nodded at them. “And you?” They looked at Tommy.

Nikki looked at the couple with the same distrustful confusion that Tommy was feeling, so he decided to say what they both had in mind. “Um. Tommy. Why?”

“I don’t like labeling slaves with numbers. Hard on the memory. Besides, names give me an idea of a person before I get to know them. And I’m usually right.”

“Oh yeah?” Nikki crossed his arms on his chest. “And what is my name telling ya?”

“That you’re a huge pain in the ass.” Ecto grinned in response. “And lack manners.”

Nikki sighed and rolled his eyes. “I think we won’t get anything constructive outta them.”

“That’s damn right, you prick. Now back off, I wanna see your display.” Ecto waved his hand, and Nikki unwillingly stepped out of the way.

“That’s an interesting set of skills,” Onyx said. “Shooting, foraging… bass guitar? Tattooing? Where’d you live to learn all that?”

“In a hellhole,” Nikki grumbled.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter much. You a virgin?”

“What? No!”

“Thought so. Now,” Onyx stepped forward and hooked her finger on Nikki’s overalls strap, “undress. Gotta see your little friend.”

“What the fu- No! Fuck off!” Nikki jumped back from the woman, his face a grimace of disgust. Onyx and Ecto only exchanged tired glances. Then Onyx turned to the guard.

“Could you please bring him to reason?”

“Gladly.” The guard grinned, baring his taser.

“Grill me all you want, I won’t undress for these perverts.”

“Oh, that’s alright. They’ll get to see whatever they need when you are unconscious.” The guard stepped forward, the taser crackling in his hand. Nikki pressed his lips together – they wouldn’t get a cry of pain out of him no matter how hard they tried, Tommy realized.

Then Ecto’s gaze shifted to Tommy.

“Wait.” He motioned at the guard. “We won’t get anywhere this way. I’ve got a better idea.”

Then he pointed at Tommy and said, “Tase him instead.”

The guard faltered, but only for a moment. Then he pushed Nikki out of the way and stepped towards Tommy.

“No!” Tommy heard as the taser drew so close to his arm he could feel the charge with the hairs on his skin. Damn it, Nikki. Tommy sure hoped he would last longer. “Fine, you bastards. Come get a look.”

Tommy didn’t see anything new there, but Ecto and Onyx examined the sight most attentively. Then Ecto nodded approvingly and smacked Nikki’s ass.

“Not bad, not bad. We can work with that. Now you,” he turned to Tommy. The guard, anticipating another series of refusals and curses, clicked his taser next to Nikki’s hip, so Tommy decided not to tempt fate. It sure was unfortunate that these two found out their weak spots.

“Wow,” Ecto and Onyx said simultaneously when he pulled down the overalls. Even the guard reddened and drew his eyes away with an envious expression. Tommy could hardly hold back a laugh. Nikki openly grinned.

“We’re taking him,” Ecto said quickly as Tommy pulled his pants up. “His friend…” he exchanged glances with Onyx, making Tommy’s stomach drop. Were they going to separate him and Nikki?

But Onyx nodded – the barest of nods, but it was enough.

“…his friend too,” Ecto finished.

[maikaartwork]

15 people, 15 questions

@thornescratch tagged me in this, and since I have the first day off in like, three weeks today, I feel inclined to share - thanks for wanting to know stuff about me thorne!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Not to my knowledge. I was supposed to be given a different name, but the priest didn't agree to it (I live in a weird country and the 80s were even weirder), so I got the second choice on my parents' list.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Pretty recently, actually, the stress of the last few weeks made me a bit meltdown-y, despite the calming effects of the cool medication that makes me generally chill.

3. Do you have kids?

I have a cat daughter. For a long time I wanted children, but it never worked out. Now I feel a bit too old and a bit too single for the childbearing endeavor and decided to focus on doing cool shit that I enjoy and on being the weird auncle to my friends' kids. If I ever have the means, I would like to adopt.

4. What sports do you play/have played?

Currently - nothing except transportational rollerblading. I used to do offroad biking, basketball and swimming. If it counts, I was also a competition level sharpshooter.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

I should insert a sarcastic remark here but the truth is: I try, but I'm bad at it. My brand of neurospiciness makes it very hard for me to detect sarcasm sometimes in others and honestly, it makes me wonder if I'm ever doing it right. Also makes me nervous that people will not get that I'm being sarcastic and get offended.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Nails, posture, hairstyle, tattoos, demeanor, accessories, type of creasing on their face, amount of makeup, amount of dandruff and animal hair on their clothes, shirt print. All at the same time. Neurospicy.

7. What’s your eye color?

Brown changing into hazelnut, depending on lighting and, apparently, moood.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings.

9. Any talents?

I got good at reading people's hidden needs. I'm really good at searching out information and fixing computer issues. I'm well-trained in customer service. I guess I draw good, too? I'm a fast learner and good with organizing shit.

10. Where were you born?

Poland, a medium sized-city down in the Silesia region

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, drawing, playing ttrpg, learning obscure facts, observing people

12. Do you have any pets? My cat daughter, Piu (pronounced Pew) and a cornsnake named Noodle that has a pattern on his head that some say looks like a heart and others say looks like a dick.

13. How tall are you? 168 cm

14. Favorite subject in school?

Art, English, Biology (this one mostly because in middle school I had a REALLY cool teacher that sparked my love for the subject that holds to this day)

15. Dream job? What I do now, actually - tattooing and drawing dumb shit on the side. After finishing my management bachelor's I never thought I'd go that way but here we are and honestly, I couldn't be happier. When I ever get too old or too bored with it, I'll become a Marie Kondo-style helper for those in need of organizing their spaces, I think.

No pressure tags: I saw some of my friends being tagged in this already, but I would love to learn more about @legitcookie @sidekick-hero @luna-fortunaa @maxinemaxmayfield @pink-luna-moth @xirayn @becomingfoxes @atmilliways @eriquin @stacetanicpanic and anyone that wants to tag themselves in lieu of the last five tags (sorry, I am sick, brain foggy, remembering nicknames hard)

[bambinotattoo]

Hello all my babies, bedwetters, pants wetters, adult babies, and etc etc. hi! Just me again. Your lonely diapered stinker Eric. I have been so down lately, really wanting to be babysat and can’t seem to find any one wiling to. Pretty common.

So this is the EXACT picture I posted to my Tattoo Business page Instagram. Lmfao. Talk about humiliation, but hey…weirder things have worked. I guess my thought process is “maybe one of my really good clients will be all like (awww. I want to help him). Of course, that’s a pipe dream. So the main conclusion I was afforded was the embarrassment of yet another “I wear diapers and am sissy diaper boy” screams from the rooftop.

The other day will working I did have a funny and embarrassing moment I thought all of you all would Appreciate.

In the middle of a session I got up to take a break and was stretching a little as my back was tightening up. While doing that one of the wings of my daytime diaper had become unhinged and was totally beginning to peak out! My daytime selection right now are AbUniverse Cushies. I like the low noise, thin design, and 2 tapes…and if I need too, I can always stuff with a booster. (Which I almost always do). My client that day was a mid twenties school teacher,we have worked together on several projects and have grown quite fond of each other. We had the open kind of dialogue between us that meant just about nothing was off limits. Now, most of my clients now of my diapers either from post like this, or from some hater trying to belittle me be spreading the word that I wear diapers. She was aware, but never talked about it. Until…

“Eric, I think…um…yea, I think your “dia—per is um, well…” and pointed at my waistline

Too my horror, before looking down I instinctively ran my hand down and swiftly tucked the crinkly tab back in and looked up blushing.

“I’m sorry, that happens sometimes. Lol”. I said

“No worries man, it’s all good. I just wasn’t sure how to say anything. Lol”. Jennifer replied

After a few awkward smiles and chuckles we sat back down and began to chip away at what we were working on. When out of nowhere she makes the bold decision to start asking questions…

“So, you really wear those everyday…huh. I mean like, if you don’t wear them, you would like…um, wet your pants?? I don’t mean to be offensive, I’m just curious” Jennifer asked inquisitively

“Lmfao, your fine. And your not being offensive in the least! But yes, that is the gist…I have been diaper dependent for quite a while. It sucks sometimes, but I have paved a way to make the best out of it…and try to not make it define me…unless I want it too!” I answered

“Unless you want it too? What do you mean by that?” Jennifer muffled with interest

“Over the years I have chosen to indulge in the ABDL side of things to help make the diapers more realistic and like enjoyable…if that makes sense” I answered to the best of my being

I was never very good at answering some of those question’s, I mean…yeA, I like being diapered now. I like being changed, baby powder, my wipe warmer, pacifiers, onsies etc etc. you all know how it is. But as soon as I start saying stuff like that to a normal person they immediately claim up and start thinking I’m weird or have some pedo issue. And, as you all know…that’s so far from the truth. At this point I had already started getting excited and antsy and should try and change the subject as soon as possible before I say something I will regret or that will make her turn cold on me. The next exchange blew even me away

“So, what’s this ABDL thing.?” She asked point blank while starring right through me

“It stands for ABDL, that’s Adult Baby Diaper Lover. It can encapsulate everything from someone like me who has to wear diaper, to someone who wants to…either for fun or sexual fetish reason. There is a wide spectrum to be honest. I fall on the weird side of it because I am really excited about being babysat, one day having a mommy, being dressed in toddler clothes, public humiliations, etc…but it is not a sexual thing for me.” I said almost forgetting to have some self check and blurted everything out like pee pee while I’m sleeping.

Jennifer sat there, quietly getting tattooed as I sit there starting to sweat knowing I had just said FAR TOO MUCH.

This is when I decided to try and run things back and salvage what’s left of my dignity lol

“Aww, I’m just playing with ya. Who would do that stuff?!?! Am I right!? Weirdos, that who”. Letting a forced stomach churning chuckle

“Yea, then why do you wear diapers that look like baby diapers? Why not something more conspicuous especially when your working? Jennifer said with no humor in your voice

There it was, to existential blow that would break the camels back. Called out, and in the worst possible way. No hiding it now…what had I done. We sat there in silence for a few seconds when the unthinkable happened.

“Eric, you know I’m just busting your balls, right? I think it’s great you have found a way to cope with your situation. Do you mind if I ask a few questions? Jennifer’s words like song birds in April

“Oh, chuckling, I knew that. Lol. And of course, you are free to ask anything you want!” Eagerly awaiting the curiosities

“So like, do you just wet them or do you like…” as I immediately blurted out

“Yes, oh yes…just pee pee. I have urinary incontinence or urge incontinence. Life long bedwetter, even now, and been having daytime accidents since my early teens. So yea, no number 2.” I immediately cleared that rumor

“Okay, cool cool. So what’s like your favorite baby thing or things to help you feel more normal”. “Not normal, I’m sorry, Eric your normal…lol”. Jennifer asked blushingly

This is where I needed to be straight forward and precise. No beating around the bush…and definitely no going to far. I have a horrid habit of over sharing when it comes to me diaper life

“I really love thick diapers. Thick diapers with booster pads, and LOTS of baby powder…I freaking love baby powder. I like onsies, they keep my diaper in place cause Eric doesn’t have an ass, lol”. I have grown fond of pacifiers and footed jammeies and would give my left arm to have a full time\live in Mommy to always change me, baby me, and hire me sitters when ever she went out”. As soon as I stopped talking, I knew I had over shared again.

To my surprise, Jennifer looked up sheepishly and started blushing… “okay, I think I get it. So are you wet right now”. Jennifer asked with the confidence of a seasoned caregiver eager to hike down my pants and perform a diaper check

“Um, oh gosh…well…lol…you seee what ha happened was…I kinda am always dribbling a little. That’s how it works. I don’t just pee all at once and it’s done. It weird to explain. I answered to the best of my ability

“Okay then, we can have you sitting in that stinky diaper Mr….do you have a change with you? Maybe a diaper bag”. Jennifer said smiling ear to ear

“Um, why?” I asked intently

“Because we don’t want you getting a rash on your bum bum, do we? Where’s your diaper stuff” Jennifer wipe eyes and bushy tailed

“Oh Jennifer, you don’t have to do that…really, it’s okay.” I clumsily whispered

“Did I ask for your permission, No…I asked for your diaper bag”. Jennifer now with extreme seriousness

I do as a matter or fact, keep a diaper bag with me most days. And that day was no different. However, I never kept daytime diapers in it, only my super banish thick diapers and a couple boosters. As well, I usually have a onsie in there too. Things were escalating very fast

“Okay, my diaper bag is by my backpack, in the corner.” I replied while my voice quickly changing frequencies

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere” Jennifer said as she grabbed my sissy bag and began rummaging through it

“Oh, wow…there are really pretty baby boy, all pink and thick. And what are these princesses? How cute, and what’s this? No way, is this a onsie?!?! That’s so fucking adorable!!! It matches the diaper perfectly! And what are these?” As she began to remove the three Rearz over night boosters from the bottom of my bag

“Those, are um…diaper stuffers, or boosters. To like make them thicker and more absorbent…and also to make the feel more like I’m wearing a thick baby diaper”. I began to almost feel sick to my stomach while answering. All the bad feelings, horrible comments, years or shame, and etc just poured out of me. I began to sob, uncontrollably apologizing for nothing just trying to catch my breathe. All the while, as always when I’m getting embarrassed my bladder started leaking pee pee and filling the remaining balance of the thin Cushie.

Jennifer immediately felt bad, coming to consult me and trying to calm me down.

“Oh Eric, I. So sorry…I was trying to be in to it, I wasn’t trying to make you feel some type of way…I’m so sorry” Jennifer said while rubbing my back.

After a few minutes I began to calm down, and we needed to get back to work. So I stood up to collect myself when Jennifer and I both got a surprise we weren’t expecting…

“Oh…baby, honey…you think, I know you may need to…yea” and pointed down towards my now soaked and LEAKING diaper.

Upset, embarrassed, and now I’m standing there 4 feet away, big wet spot from my crotch to my lower thigh. Maybe the worst leak I’ve EVER had…and now of all times. I again became upset, and frozen with fear. What happened next, will down as the most excited/most humiliated I’ve ever been at once

“Eric, baby boy…lay down” Jennifer said as if she uttered those very words before.

I just stood there speechless staring through her not sure how to move, when Jennifer put her hand back into my diaper bag and pullled put my pacifier. And before I had a chance to refuse, I was pacified, and directed to the floor where Jennifer began to un button my pants.

All I could do was lay there and suck my paci, I was in shock. Before too long I was laying there wearing nothing but a soaked diaper while my tattoo client for the day removed all the items for a diaper change.

“Okay buddy…please just lay there and stay calm. We’re going to get you out of that stinky diapee and into a fresh clean one with your cute booster pads and lots of powder, okay? And if your behave, I will let you wear your onsie too, does that sound good little boy?” Jennifer said with the confidence of an experienced adult baby nanny.

Jennifer had never changed an adult diaper…she was obviously out of her depths, but that didn’t stop her. She found the tabs on either side of my hip and pulled them free letting the cool air breeze over my very wet baby dick and socking wet diaper. I was starring at her figuring things out, and would normally jump in offering to help…since it was her first time doing this. But as I began to remove my pacifier and wipe some tears away she immediately snapped…put my paci back it and told me to settle down, and enjoy myself.

I did as I was told and again was starring at her as she got some wipes out and began to clean and cleanse my diaper area. She began wiping and moving things around while smiling devilishly, I knew she was enjoying my tiny baby dick. I have always had sitters, hell even my own mother tell me how adorable it is that my pee pee marched my need for diapers. I’m small. She continued to wipe and wipe me jumping every time to cold wipes touched me as I was used to the warm wipes from my warmer. She had me left my legs and butt and began to throughly clean EVERYTHING, even making a little comment about how it’s could I have a clean booty hole.

I was doing pretty good at starting the process of calming back down about the time she removed the soiled diaper and had me lift up to put the new Pink Princess diaper under me. Followed by not one, not two, but All three Boosters I had with me. I was going to waddle so bad. Before grabbing the powder, which she remembered I like a lot of…she grabbed one of my gloves and opened my tube of diaper rash ointment. I again looked at her, and she paid no attention. Only problem was, no I’m calm…and my brain is catching up to what is happening…about that time Jennifer is having a blast smattering me with oint. The ointment I have is some that kinda tingles in all the wrong ways when applied, and she was applying it EVERYWHERE. Just then, nightmares were realized when that little baby dick we mentioned, got to much attention from the wipes, and oint application and started growing.

“Oh. Well we’ll well. Look at that little bugger! Does baby Eric like when I rub his pee pee with diaper rash oint? Jennifer said while continuing to tease and arose me

Again, frozen…I through my pacifier said to just walk away and it will go down”

“What’s the fun in that.” Jennifer smiled and continued exploring my exposed private area

I haven’t been sexually active in several years. Just wasn’t my thing always diapered. So despite my penis becoming active it was all the way active. And after a few seconds Jennifer unprovoked from me told me too..

“Lift up those legs baby boy”

To which I complied totally helpless. Knowing exactly what was happening next. She slowly began to massage the edges of my anus gradually sticking more of her gloved fingers inside me. She looked up to make sure I was okay, and saw just my red teary face yearn for more and more. To which she complied. After a few moments she was 2 fingers deep and locating my prostate. It has been a while since being milked. To be honest, I did really enjoy the process ( one day I am gonna have a cS sitter, and I will have a dream come true, but till then…this was just fine.

She began to forcibly stick and poke my milk spot each pump and movement making me lift my ass up higher and higher…which brought Jennifer much excitement. After seeing how close I was getting, and how long it was taking she sheepishly said “it was cute I don’t have stamina…A diapered sissy shouldn’t”. At the same time to again grabbed my semi flaccid baby dick and began pumping it to the rhythm to which see was punching my prostate. The next thing I know, I see stars and almost black out. I open my eyes just in time to see her dodging the weak and plentiful squirts of baby boy sauce. It had been maybe 2 years since any orgasm at all. ANY. So to say I drained milk for a a few minutes would be an understatement.

Before I knew was happened it was over, my little butt hole red and on fire and my little pee pee still draining hot liquid all over me.

“What a good baby boy, now let’s get you cleaned back up and powdered so we can close this diaper before you have another accident”

Thanks for reading and enjoying this with me. As always, Eric needs a caregiver mommy. I am too cute not to be owned, damnit.

[bearpillowmonster]

SUPERMAN: EARTH ONE

I saw the covers of these three volumes and knew I had to check them out so I loaded up a digital copy.

"If you experienced the same thing, if you've ever worn that symbol on a T-shirt, doodled it on the back of a notebook, or had it tattooed on your arm…if you understand what that symbol means -- that all things are possible -- then this book is dedicated to you. It is also dedicated to DC's Dan DiDio, who allowed this kid from New Jersey to finally realize the dream of a lifetime."

Hearing something like that lets me know that the writers care about what they're putting out and had something in mind that they wanted to tell with a beginning middle and end. Then the opening panels have Clark getting on a train and his mother asking why when he can just fly. "I want this to take time. I need time to think."

Barely even into the first few pages and I said "Alright, I have to buy this physically." because it was just too good. (plus it was only three volumes so it was compact enough to collect).

We get some really great concept art in the back. Even a copy of the newspaper. The dialogue is great, this version of Clark is great. No complaints with the first volume.

Now the next volume keeps up this pace and gives Clark a little bit of an adolescent moment where he's not really with Lois yet, in fact, there's someone else who's interested (this Lisa) but he has to learn to pace himself. He learns what consequences there are for his actions with his neighbor, Lisa. The second villain is Parasite which I've never really been fond of anyway because his story is more or less the same every time, so whatever.

The last volume is where things shine again because it reminds me that Lisa's into Clark (Clark is only making friends) because they think they're weirder than him and need a shoulder to cry on. That's great that you're trusted like that but it pushes your own self into a corner because you aren't actually the neutral they want to believe and feel you can't open up because of it.

I have an album of various pictures I've come to like from specific comics and I found myself pausing a lot to take some for this one, it has some good art. Lex is introduced, Z is introduced. Z...looks like a hooded Robin, I'm not gonna lie. Lex is...ahead of the game. He's married, he has hair. I mean, he's smart, he has the right idea but I always feel like people overthink his character and try to change him up but they need to remember that this is just the guy that wanted to sink California, putting a bomb in the San Andreas fault. This version fits this story because he's more involved with the government though.

But I like the theme of participation because you have the news media watching Superman and they just watch and show. You have the army, they get told by Zod not to fight him so they stay out of the fight. Superman is without ally, nobody will help him, they just watch because a man with that much power should be stopped, right? But there's a bat-signal type S emblem in the sky. Lois, the one he leaves mid-fight for just to see what's wrong and keep her safe. But who's standing there than none other than Lex. He's the only one to do something- take away Superman's power with red radiation.

But while characters like Lois and Lex are tentative, it's only a three volume arc so we don't get to see that fully blossom, just begin. So Clark still likes Lisa, he talks to Lois and they are friends now but it's not the role that Lois is known for. Lex comes to a decision about what his life is about and then leaves it in his wife's hands at the end, so she's the one taking his role. Part of me wants to say 'why even introduce them then?' but I can't really complain because I liked what I saw of them and it was only a 3 parter. All in all, it succeeded in being a good comic book, maybe not as edgy as you see on the covers but it made me just as happy.

[esamastation]

They do get out of the Grand Temple - thankfully it doesn't turn out to be that hard. Desmond sort waves his hand at the firmly sealed door and it opens, just like that.

"What was it that you said?" he asks, uneasily, looking down at his mismatched hands, one tattooed and one ashen black. It's not so different from the vault under the Coliseum, back then he could wave his hand at a thing too and it just sorta worked, but, still… "Piece of Eden infection?"

"Yep," Clay agrees, craning his long necked head to look up at Desmond. His eyes are grey and gleam like silver in the sunlight. "More important thing here is whether you can open the door from the outside now. Because I figure we might want to get back here, at some point."

"I - probably?" Desmond says and squeezes his hands into fists before lowering them, looking back at the door. Even slightly ajar it looks pretty damn solid. Definitely not something they'd be able to force open without a key. And it will definitely close the moment they leave. "Maybe we should prop the door open somehow, just in case."

Clay considers the door and then hums, also a little dubious. "Good idea."

They roll a hefty rock between the ancient door and its stony frame, and then step back to watch as the door begins to close, stalling as it comes to rest upon the rock. The rock snacks and buckles alarmingly under pressure and the doorway groans. A moment later, the rock snaps clean in half and the door smoothly closes like it wasn't even there.

There's near perfect silence afterwards. And it turns out that, no, Desmond can't open the door again.

"Well. Guess that's that," Clay finally says with a scoff and looks up at him, his narrow tail whipping back and forward. "Oh well. How about some food now? Think you can find me something to eat? Something nice and… lively?"

"Guessing you're a carnivore now," Desmond muses, sizing him from snout to tail. Shouldn't take that much - a rabbit or two ought to fill Clay up. Looking away, Desmond squints down the hill and at the forest. Man, it looks old - the trees got to be over a hundred years old. There's definitely not going to be any shortage of game around here. "What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Wait," Clay says and spreads his wings out awkwardly. "I don't really know what to do with these things yet. Figure I'd just get in your way."

Desmond hums. He probably would, yeah. "Well, if you want to be any use at all, you can scrounge up some wood."

"Wood?"

"Or do you want to eat your meat raw?" Desmond arches his brows. "I mean I guess you're… a dragon now so, I suppose it makes sense - "

"No, no, I'll… find firewood," Clay says, making draconic faces at him and then ruffling his wings, tucking them back in. "Always loved a good barbeque. Do you have a lighter? Something to actually make fire with?"

Desmond sighs. He doesn't. "I'm sure we'll figure something out," he says with a shrug and nudges Clay's side with his foot. "Hey, maybe you can breathe fire."

"Maybe I can - " Clay starts mockingly and then looks down at his talons, flexing his - hands? - thoughtfully. "Maybe I can breathe fire. Huh."

"Just - don't cause a forest fire," Desmond says quickly, not quite liking the interested gleam in his eyes. "That would be bad."

"No shit," Clay says and sits back on his haunches, taking a strange sorta breath and then huffing out an experimental exhale. Nothing happens, not even a bit of smoke. "I'll figure it out," he says decisively and nods at Desmond and then at the forest. "Go get me some food."

"Yes, sir," Desmond says, shaking his head, and takes out a dagger. He doesn't have Connor's tools and hunting without so much as a proper throwing knife - never mind a bow - doesn't seem very efficient but, hell. He's worked with worse odds. And weirder ones.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, at Clay who's still trying to huff and puff and produce a flame, Desmond lets out a breath. Definitely weirder ones.

Thankfully his assessment on the forest is pretty much spot on - it's teeming with game. It doesn't take a master tracker to find some cottontails and though Desmond can't take them down cleanly at distance and doesn't have much to make traps with, it turns out fine. Nothing beats a good air assassination when it comes to hunting.

… bit of an overkill on a couple of poor bunnies, though.

Desmond cleans and dresses his kills in the forests, automatically cleaning his traces as much as he can before heading back - to find that Clay has got them no firewood. He's still busy wheezing, apparently.

"What? I was practising! Being able to breathe fire would be such a tactical advantage and I think I almost got it now," Clay says, guilty and defensive and then perks up. "Is that for me?" he asks, eying the skinned rabbits hungrily.

"Yep, and I guess you're eating it raw after all," Desmond says flatly and throws the rabbits at him. "Have at it."

A whining dragon is a pretty funny sight, and almost makes the whole thing worth the effort. Almost. Sadly it turns out Desmond is a complete sucker, and in the end it's up to him to make the fire and cook the meat too. Clay is not much help - and not only does he demolish what took well over an hour to prepare in about four bites, but the food knocks him right out immediately after, leaving Desmond with a dead weight of a dragon and all of the clean up.

It would end up being something of a theme, in the following weeks.

lil bit of AC x Temeraire

"Translation error," is Clay's verdict.

"Translation error," Desmond repeats dubiously, staring down at him.

"Yes."

"Uh-huh. And that means what, exactly?"

So many things that he doesn't understand, it turns out. Stuff like how Animus code works and how badly it was originally designed, Abstergo trying to derive from the First Civilisation's work and how it was bungled up. Add into the mix human DNA - Clay's - being translated into Animus simulation which was then translated into whatever the Grand Temple had going on for itself which was then translated yet again into the background processing of the universe, plus the delightfully unstable addition of stray thoughts and the fact that Desmond has slight Piece of Eden infection and apparently the placebo effect is actual fucking magic -

"What?" Desmond asks helplessly.

"Stalk it up as a glitch in the Matrix, times a thousand," Clay concludes. "And don't worry about it."

"Um. No, I don't think I can," Desmond says, emphatically, and motions at him. "Clay, you're a dragon."

Clay looks down at himself, at his sinuous body of pale gold and burnished bronze. He's not a very big dragon, about the size of a big dog maybe, but he's still very clearly a dragon. Wings and tail and talons and all.

Clay looks up at him, and his voice is sardonic. "Wow, your Eagle Vision must be levelling up, Desmond, your observational abilities are off the charts!"

Desmond folds his arms. "I'm also observing that there's something wrong with the Grand Temple," he says flatly.

Clay swings his long necked head around this way and that, taking in the ancient volcanic cave around them. "Looks the same to me."

"All our stuff is gone, Clay. And I seem to recall that part having collapsed. It looks pretty uncollapsed to me. Also, the barrier is up again," Desmond points at the glowing Isu-tech barrier between them and the device Desmond is pretty sure he just activated. "Are you seeing the barrier, Clay, the barrier I spent the last week's of my life opening?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Seventeen, you're not dead yet."

"Clay," Desmond says, even flatter.

The dragon blows out an acrid smelling breath. "Okay, fine, I did maybe attempt a little bit of time travel," he says defensively. "You would've too if you realised what the Grand Temple could really do!"

"Which is… time travel?"

"Pretty much anything that your little mind can come up with, actually."

Desmond gives him another one over and folds his arms. "Like turning you into a dragon."

"Manipulating probabilities is one hell of a thing," Clay agrees and nudges his side with his nose. Snout? "But the dragon bit is definitely a translation error. I was trying to recode myself into an Isu," he adds, very quickly under his breath. "Not a winged reptile with an upset stomach."

"You - what?"

Clay avoids looking him in the eye and huffs out an embarrassed breath. "Also you're not dead. You're welcome for not being dead," he says pointedly.

Desmond stares at him for a long moment before letting out a sigh and letting it go. "Thanks. You have an upset stomach?" he then asks.

"It kinda hurts, yeah," Clay murmurs, shifting his weight a little, and just then there's an audible gurgle from somewhere within him, his draconic belly rumbling.

Desmond lets his hands drop to his sides. "You're hungry?" he asks incredulously.

"I haven't eaten anything in almost a year, Desmond, have some sympathy."

"Yeah, well, you were dead," Desmond says, making a face, and then hesitates. "I should be dead."

"That's what Juno wanted to happen anyway," Clay agrees and unfurls his wings tentatively. "Again you're welcome."

"Right. You… saved me. And brought us back in time," Desmond says slowly and frowns  "When exactly are we?"

Clay spreads out his wings and shakes himself. "If I didn't mess up the calculations, maybe two hundred years back in time."

"Uh. Why two hundred years?"

"It's enough time to fast forward industrial revolution without breaking history too badly," Clay says almost flippantly and gives him a look. "And all your major ancestors have procreated and died and so if we mess up time, there's still a good chance you will be born."

Desmond blinks. "That's," he starts to say and then isn't entirely sure how to continue. It's not exactly comforting, not exactly worrisome. It's something in between with a little bit of existential horror thrown in. "Okay," he settles on saying, feebly. "And what are we going to do? Just cause an early industrial revolution?"

"That and some other things. I have some plans," Clay says, not quite modestly.

Desmond isn't exactly reassured by his tone. "And how does becoming a dragon feature in those plans?"

Clay hesitates and looks down at himself, shifting his weight on his taloned claws. "Well," he says and his stomach grumbles again. "I think it might change the first step. Get food, instead of find riches. Do you think we could get some food? I'm really hungry, Desmond. You know how to hunt, right?"

Desmond eyes him for a moment and then hums. "I know how to hunt, yeah," he says slowly and looks away, towards the entrance to the Temple. Or rather the exit from their point of view. "But, uh."

"What?"

"You know, we needed Minerva's Apple to get in here. The door was pretty well shut - and had been for tens of thousands of years." Desmond points out and nods at the sloping cave, leading away from them. "How do you suppose we're going to get out?" 

Clay stills and then tucks his wings back in. "Oh," he says.

"Yeah. Oh."

-

What if Travel Winds but with Clay and more crack?

[ronearoundblindly]

Do You Two...Fondue? (11)

Summary: Reader has a suspicion confirmed and a fantasy lived out. (Warning: smut. MINORS DNI.)

Man With A Plan, Part One (see previous or series)

You may be injured, but that’s not the only reason you stay holed up in Steve’s rooms for a few more days. Based on the messages you exchange with Gracie (once you finally rummage for your phone in the hurriedly repacked bag from the river), the bear-knuckle fight is still all the buzz of the rest of the compound.

A portion of the Team get sent out on a minor mission, and in Steve’s absence, there’s a knock on his door.

“Glad I caught you awake,” Tony Stark chirps, letting himself in once the door is open enough to slide through. “There’s, uh, something to discuss.”

“Would you like anything to drink?” It’s only polite to ask since you’re pretty sure what’s coming.

Tony thinks about that before refusing. Yeah, this is definitely about what you think it’s about. 

“No, thanks, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened…and, this is probably not gonna make sense but—“

“You gave the footage to them, didn’t you?”

Stark blinks, words cut short by you skipping too far ahead in his script.

“Or should I say, your drones saw the whole thing, and I’m pretty sure Steve gave you permission to leak it?”

On the sat-phone in the hospital, Ro said “Steve had my blessing in all of this.” Your sibling would never presume to offer a blessing for you to simply date someone. They could only have meant Steve made a difficult decision he wasn’t entirely comfortable with and wanted Ro’s take.

“Spangler,” Tony starts weakly, “we thought it was an opportunity to turn the tide of…media. If it shut down stories and questions about whether or not you belong here—“ he opens his hands in the air, innocent and remorseful “—worth it. It was my idea, but Rogers agreed.”

Unfortunately, you’d also figured that much as well, panicked about the implications while locked in the bathroom shortly after leaving the hospital, but your anger wasn’t really directed at Steve. They hadn’t been wrong, and as awful as it was to see yourself on those glossy pages that way, you know Steve was attempting to make life easier for you to stay with him. He actually intends to keep you around. He wants to, and he’s willing to brave some wrath to do it.

“And the pony?”

Tony’s head snaps up. “Oh yeah, well, spur of the moment thing for Morgan.”

“Nope,” you call out his lie and purse your lips. “Which means…?”

“I designed it as a joke for the superlative party,” he admits, shoulders slumping. “It was gonna be your trophy till Pep talked me out of it.”

“Right, well, thank god for Pepper.”

“But wouldn’t it have been so great if you turned out to have stars tattooed on your ass?”

One look shuts him down. Tony holds up his hand as if you’ve preached gospel and shifts his gaze around the living room, clucking his tongue. “Not exactly big enough for two people, is it?”

“Get out.” You point to the door with an over-exaggerated look.

He does walk over and he does put his hand on the doorknob, but Tony stops short of opening it. “Seriously,” he mutters, “we are glad you’re here. You are doing okay, yeah? ‘Cause it’s not the same when us mere mortals get knocked down.” His brown eyes shine with sincerity. It’s the same knowing look that Steve wears so often.

“I have no fucking idea, Tony.” You flair out your arms to emphasize one is broken and you’re standing in a hundred-plus-year-old dude’s apartment in a compound for galactic superheroes. “Makes it weirder if I am ok, doesn’t it?”

He snorts. “Don’t tell Romanov, but you’re my favorite.” Tony opens the door before something else occurs to him. “Oh and if they aren’t back, you want to come for dinner up top with the fam?”

Your smile is genuine but fatigued. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah, I can cut up all your food and help feed it to you—“

“Goodbye, Tony,” you boom, pushing to help close the door a little faster. You can’t hear his giggle but know it happened. Suddenly, you are left alone in the same room as before, but it feels different with confirmation.

Steve sees more than you thought. He must have recognized how much the press affected you. You don’t eat differently, but the fact that you hesitate about eating normally every time is probably noticeable. For you, it’s mentally punishing. Everyday, three to five times a day: should I eat this? Will they get a picture? Make it a story? Make a joke? No. That shit isn’t a good enough reason to care, but…you have to convince yourself of that every single time. You haven’t given in to the pressure; that doesn’t mean they haven’t reframed your whole thought process.

Of course, you’re angry and feel a little betrayed, maybe scared, too, but it’s not as if the story is made up. The photo isn’t doctored. Everyone really was ok, and you really did bitch-slap a bear with Cap’s shield. In no way are you denying pride in that feat, but did it have to be announced with your ass in a bikini?

The answer is yeah, it did have to be your ass in a bikini, because no one in their right mind would stage looking like that for fake news. Good god, at very least you would have untucked the one side from riding up your asscheek. No one can think you’d show that on purpose.

It takes you a long time to see what Steve meant; it’s not the worst picture. Your hair, wet from the river, is whipping around with the force of slamming the shield at the bear’s head. Your stance is firm and grounded, so it looks almost like you know what the hell you’re doing. The bikini is at least covering everything important, and if Steve likes how your hips look in this shot, then you’ll take that. The sideboob isn’t terrible either. All-in-all, it could have been much worse. You can practically feel Tony say “told ya so.”

It’s with that mindset that you continue your ‘recovery’ (boredom) and wait for Steve to return. You do go up to dine with the Starks, playing ponies with Morgan for a while before heading back to rest. Steve comes back to find you asleep on the couch, and he kisses your forehead as you make to sit up.

“Stay relaxed. I need to shower anyway.”

“No,” you pout, groggy but stubborn. You plant yourself upright and spread your legs wide, patting the seat between. “Come ‘ere.”

Steve looks exhausted, the distant, I’m-barely-here kind. He sighs, landing on the bouncy cushion as close to the edge as possible, his back to you. Your tsks and arms circling his waist—well, one circles and one pokes at an angle—pull him closer on the deep couch.

“Honey, I’m gonna crush you,” he mumbles.

“No, you won’t,” you shush in his ear. It’s only sudden, large movements that tweak at your ribs still, nothing that will hinder what you’re planning. “You weigh much less than a bear, and anyway, you owe me, Rogers.”

Steve seems to be settling, adjusting into the comfort of your hold, leaning his head into your neck. He must be really, really tired to fight so little. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

You snake your feet and shins over his thighs, pinning his legs open, but he doesn’t seem to care. “No worries, but that’s not what I mean. How long did you think it would take me to find out that you okayed the leak?”

Steve stiffens but makes no quick moves to get away. “I—“

“It’s fine. I’m not mad. Truly. Little taken aback. Little embarrassed, but I’m not…blind as to why you did it. Tony is nothing if not opportunistic.”

“He said,” Steve breaks the silence after, “he had to turn off the movement alert while the boys played so it didn’t regis—“

“Seriously,” you coo with a kiss to his cheek and one to his lips when he turns, “it’s done now, but you owe me.”

His bright blue eyes glitter in the low lamplight as he leans more of his weight into you. Dramatically sighing, Steve says, “what’s my punishment?”

You almost want to know what he thinks his punishment should be. What all would he do to make it up to you? It’s a tantalizing idea, but if you’re going to lull him into submission for even a moment, he needs to remain unsuspecting. Ease him into it, you see.

“You have to tell me what you would do if I weren’t here.”

He’s confused, laughs lightly, and pats your knee. “Sure. Ok. Well, like I said, I would shower.”

You scratch gently at his stomach where your hand rests. “Uh-huh.”

He shifts his head to look at the clock. “It’s a little late to call you, so I’d text to see if you’re awake. Ask how you’re day was.”

“And if I’m not awake?” You swish a larger circle over the abs of the tact suit. When Steve looks back over, you add, “you seem so tired. Can you fall asleep right after a shower on a long day? How do you wind down from a mission?”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “I talk to you,” he says cheekily, rubbing his thumb over your casted arm. You can tilt your eyes to see him pressing his lips into a teasing smile. He knows what you’re asking, but he can’t say the words. “Or I think of you.”

Bingo. Now you’re getting somewhere. “And what do you do when thinking?”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear his deliberate breaths and feel his little twitches to adjust on the couch. Your hand slides lower. Since the whole tact suit is a thin skin of armor around him, Steve likely cannot feel your fingers reach for the seam of his pants, but he knows. He has to by the way his eyes roll back and flutter closed. The low burr of the zipper drawing down cuts through a breathy silence.

“How long has it been, Cap? When was the last time you—” you peel back the sides of stiff, leathery material to reveal the pouch of his boxers, timing your words with your actions “—touched yourself?” 

Steve grips at your knee a little harder, his legs briefly struggling against yours. He’s hardening in your hand as you pull him free of the cotton. The more weight he leans into you, the more heat pools between your own legs, but he still hasn’t said anything.

Very softly, you whisper in his ear. “Is this ok?”

Steve breathes deep and licks his lips, eyes flickering open. “Yes. It’s…” The groan he lets rip from the back of his throat is soft as a whisper, too, but oh so dangerous. “Before…before the river.”

He stretches himself longer overtop you, his breath hitching. “Want…to touch you.”

You smile, but before you can speak, you release him and lift your hand. You’ve been letting saliva pool in your mouth while he stutters beneath you. He parts his lips when you slip your wet fingers down his length. Damn those lips. You can’t reach them without disturbing his—well, the good news is it looks like bliss—and settle for a few kisses along his jaw. His stubble from the last few days scratches.

“Let’s focus on you, Sketch.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut harder and bends his neck back over the curve of your shoulder. His suit groans slightly in unison with his movements. You’ve slicked his cock completely and pump him with steady pressure before slowing.

“When before the river?” You nip his earlobe.

“Uh,” he moans, brows furrowing in thought, “morning. Before I picked you up. Knew you’d be—“ you’ve increased the rhythm to encourage his answers “—in, uh gah, a swimsuit.”

Your own breath comes heavier, and you bite your lip. Steve might not be able to talk dirty, but his honesty is pretty sexy on its own. He just needs the right motivation.

“And that’s what you thought about? Me in a bikini?”

His eyes slowly open but are so glazed over you doubt he sees anything. His long lashes shade what little light hits his face, a tiny sliver of blue visible around wide, black pupils. Steve’s hand drags up your thigh, jutting his elbow out to give you better range of motion.

One breathless word. “Stockings.”

It makes your heart flutter, his fantasy, his bruising grip on your hip, his little thrusts up into your hand. His highly-controlled breathing takes on an intense edge, and Steve reaches his arm that was draped over your cast up to grab your hair. It’s not a painful hold, but the way his fingers dig deeper and deeper into your locks warns you he’s close.

“That sounds fun,” you kiss each word into the tender skin of his neck, rewarded with a grunt that’s nothing short of unhinged excitement. Heat radiates up his skin. Low as you can pitch your voice, you tease, “do you need to come, Captain?”

Steve sucks air through his teeth so fast he nearly whistles. With a swift maneuver he’s locking his lips to yours while his one hand leaves your hip to cover yours as it strokes him. He grips you and himself harder than you would think comfortable. All noise has stopped from him, not even breathing. His mouth sits open against yours while he fiercely chases release. By the last few pulls, he’s too gone to guide you or his own hips.

He finally breathes when cum spills over both of your hands. Steve’s composure is shattered, but he stays silent. 

It occurs to you that time in the military and long stretches away on missions have trained Steve to handle his business as privately (and quietly) at possible. On top of all of his inhibitions, he needs to unlearn loneliness and seclusion as a default.

He lays warm and malleable in your arms, unlatching his fingers from your hair. The hand falls to pet as much of your leg as he can reach. His mouth swallows your effort to ask if he feels better.

You pull away to rest your foreheads together. “I love you.” They are the ghost of words, keeping you two enveloped in quiet that much longer.

Steve’s eyelashes tickle your nose as he takes in the sight of himself. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

You think he’s apologizing for the mess across your hand, but you’re elated that he let you touch him. It’s a huge step forward and has given you an infinitely better idea of what turns Steve on. He does think about you, and your body, and he gets excited by it. You’re not sure why it’s taking him so long to reveal these things, but at least you’re learning. Steve isn’t so much a puzzle as he is a Rubik’s cube: you can align certain parts but then mess up the row trying to match more. He’s gonna take a while to solve, but you’ve seen such glorious hints of how it can be between you.

“I suppose,” you whisper into his ear, “you may go shower now.”

(Next part)

Tags: @im-a-slut-for-fluff

[sashi-ya]

Living with the Pirates of Heart ~Day 9: The Proposal

Hi babies! So, here we are with day 9 of this series. I know this took a long time, but you know all of the shadow banning and the current event made everything get a little delayed. But, even though, here we are with a new story, this time Law is asking Reader an important question... what would it be? 🙊

A/N: Reader is Law’s girlfriend. The fluff (and some angst that hell made me cry) is everywhere. Please enjoy your crying. Btw, the angsty part will have more details in future days. Oh and at the end there is a picture of that specific element! ♥ ~

WC: 2.1K

Day 1; Day 2; Day 3; Day 4; Day 5; Day 6 ; Day 7; Day 8; Day 9; Day 10

Tag list: @rivvd-art

Day 9: The Proposal

Long legs, long lean legs that tremble. His lips also tremble. Perhaps his voice too. Everything does.

“Am I ready?”. “What if she says no?”. “Is this romantic enough?”. “Ugh, I hate wearing a tie”.

The tie around his neck seems to be tangling, almost choking the young man. Tattooed fingers that fidget with a velvety box inside his pocket. A drop of sweat that garnishes his temple.

“Am I really doing this?”

The sun is going down, orange light that tints the whole autumn landscape. Sunflowers fields, wheat fields. Grey irises reflect her image. A yellow flowery dress flows with the wind as she walks where the soon to be fiancé stands.

“Law...?”

---

Two weeks before…

“You should wear a suit”. “And a rose on the front pocket”. Law’s best friends surround him, it’s late at night. The captain hasn’t been able to sleep -even less than always-. Something has been haunting his nights constantly. He remembers her words, “Ikkaku, of course I wanna get married! I want to wear a big princess white dress!”. Words he accidentally heard; words that now won’t let him rest. He often finds himself daydreaming of her coming to him, a church, her in white… but this is so scary. What if he is not enough? Marriage should be forever, what if he… what if, what if.

“Captain, you suck ass when it comes to romantic stuff. Leave it all to us” Shachi suggests. “I don’t trust you, Shachi” he says. “What is her favorite type of island, Law? Is already October, an autumn one would be perfect” Penguin tells. “Well, she likes fall… Bepo, can we set course to an autumn island soon?” Law asks. “Aya Aya, Captain! In about two weeks we will be arriving at Hazel Island. Do I set the course?” the mink navigator informs. “Yes, please”.

But this conversation hasn’t always been like this… And Law took way too much to even communicate with the guys about his wedding plans. Not to mention, she, her lover, you, began to feel like shit. Law was acting weird -weirder than ever-. He wasn’t speaking, not even kissing her and it was concerning.

You have stopped sleeping in his room and came back to your old one. At first, it hurt. You kept thinking about him becoming tired of you, so you decided to give him space… If you only knew.

Law wasn’t eating properly, too. He takes way too much to process changes, and his brothers knew exactly that something was wrong with him. And so, one night they planned an emergency intervention…

“He is gonna slice my head up, let Bepo go first”. “WHY ME?”. “Stop, you two”. Penguin broke through the door of Law’s room. The doctor was sitting over the bed, eyes closed, yet glossy cheeks from past tears. “THE FUCKING FUCK IS GOING ON WITH YOU?”.

Law opened his eyes right away, he got so scared he even fell back on the bed. He was so sunk into his own misery he had shut down his own observation Haki. Law was completely vulnerable. And this had happened before…

Pen, Shachi and Bepo sit around him. “We are not going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on” Shachi said, putting his forearm in front of his head just in case his Captain decided to attack him. Law didn’t speak for a long time, and instead he just laid there squeezing his fluffy hat. The guys understood that in order for him to speak, he had to feel safe and decided to hug him tightly.

“Law… this is just like those times with our old man” Shachi said. “Man, I miss Mr. Wolff!” Pen whispered. The mink wasn’t speaking either, until… “I’m sorry” Bepo excused himself just because. “WHAT FOR?” Penguin shouted. “I don’t know. Sorry” the polar bear apologized once again. “Bepo!!!” Shachi screamed. A subtle, low, yet pure laugh could be heard in between the guys bickering. Law’s soft laugh. “There you go, little booboo!” Penguin mocked the doctor. “Stop, you guys!”.

The night went by just like those old times at Mr. Wolff cabin. They felt little one more time, they laughed, they fought with the pillows, they tried to make Law to eat umeboshi… but failed. Yet, the reason for Law's misery wasn’t exposed until late in the night…

The band decided to sleep in Law’s room for the night. It was really late, almost dawn when Law looking at the ceiling confessed.

“I want to propose to her”.

Silence. Total and complete silence. The guys weren’t sure if they had heard those words. Law getting married? You know how weird that sounds?. “Oooook…” the elder, Penguin, said. None of them were even blinking.

Some minutes later, Bepo started crying. He jumped over Law, hugging him, in full garchu mode. “Captain!!! ohhhh captain!! You married!! I’m so proud of you!” the Mink cried out loud, snot all over Law’s cheeks. “Bepo, for the love of God. Stop!!” And even if Law was still feeling insecure, the pain of having so much inside his chest was finally released…

----

“Guys, get ready! We are emerging soon! shouts Law, who has been informed about the Polar Tang finally arriving at the destination that will be in his memory, forever.

“Law is there anything on this island?” you ask, still a little bit hurt because Law kept acting cold with you for a few weeks now. “Uhm… not really. We need supplies” he lies. And you know he lies, but you prefer to believe in his words. After all, there was nothing else to do.

He quickly leaves the submarine without you. Bepo, Shachi and Pen go with him. “Why are you leaving me, Law?...” you mumble as you watch his silhouettes disappear in the busy streets of that beautiful fall island. Ikkaku pulls you out of your misery, “I heard this island has the most beautiful wedding dresses ever, let’s go explore!”. “Ok…” you accept, because even if you don’t really feel like watching such dresses, you want your friend to be happy.

The cobbled streets full of red, orangey, and brown dry leaves that crunch under your feet, are full of stores and lively people. The scenery at the back of the street shows beautiful mountains that start to show a white crown around their peeks. Everything smells like cinnamon and cardamom; some pumpkins garnish the entrance of the many wooden buildings.

A hot chocolate on your hands warms your fingers, as the weather gets a little colder. For some reason, your friend insisted on you two wearing pretty dresses and not that boring white boiler suit. The tips of your noses show a little blush when you two look at the photos Ikakku’s little portable den den mushi took of you.

“Babe, look! Look! aren’t they pretty?” the brunette points at a princess-like white dress at some shop window. You are driven like a bug to the light. The white wedding dress is perfect. Your reflection shows on the window, and you can even imagine yourself in it. “Why don’t we try it?” Ikkaku suggests, pulling you into the store.

“The girls have entered the wedding dress store. Phase 1, ready. Over and out” Shachi informs his partners in crime via his portable den den mushi. “You are such a nerd, Shachi… over and out? Come on!” Law grunts on the other side of the line. “Fuck you, Captain” Shachi hangs the transponder while hiding behind a wall.

On the other side of the street Penguin tells Law, pushing himself to enter into a little -yet expensive looking- jewelry shop, “Ok, so now Ikkaku got her into a good mood. Next, the ring”

“Welcome, refined men. That’s a good-looking suit, sir!” the old guy from the store greets them. “G...good af… afternoon” Law stutters as he gets closer to the counter. Pen has to suppress a giggle, it’s so damn funny looking at the cool laid-back man acting all clumsy and nervous.

“Looking for a wedding ring, perhaps?” the old man guesses. “Yes… a rose gold one, please” Law asks, sure that’s your favorite color for jewelry. The man shows him the multiple options, yet none seems to please the surgeon. Until something catches his eyes.

“Excuse me Sir, what about that one?” Law points at a specific ring the man didn’t show him yet. The man, surprised that a young pal had picked a vintage one, takes the ring out of the counter and puts it into Law’s palm. “This one… Pen. It’s perfect. It reminds me of...” Law chimes showing the gold band with a Rubi heart to his friend. “It’s really pretty, Law” Penguin tells him, melting because of Law’s happiness.

“That’s actually a vintage one. A random man once sold it to me. He said he found it in a destroyed city… Flevance… You know, the place where… well. It has a name engraved on the inside. We could buff it out if you prefer” the jeweler informs them. And Law, who is barely hearing what the old man is saying, gets his eyes full of tears when he reads the name of his mother on the inside of the ring. “Law” Penguin whispers, putting a hand over his shoulder.

“I… sir… this is my mother’s” Law mumbles. “Is it? I bought it from a man who used to loot abandoned places” the jeweler says, heartbroken because of his client’s reaction.

“Boy, take it. That’s yours”

Bepo and Shachi have already prepared the hill where the proposal is gonna take part. They call a few times before, until Penguin answers. “Oi, having a little meltdown here” he informs. “What the fuck, why?” the red-haired asks. “Tell you later, we are already walking up to there. Did you tell Ikkaku?”. “I did, Sir!”.

Puru puru puru… puru puru puru…

“(Name), can you wait for me a sec? Gotta answer” your friend says and runs out of the store. You two have been trying some white dresses, and now are actually trying for some shoes. Ikkaku going out to answer a call is quite weird, but you try not to think much.

Suddenly, she enters and snatches you from your arm. “It’s time! Let’s go!” she screams. You, stumbling on your own feet, running to keep up with his pace, ask her what’s going on. “Ahh… you will see when we get there!”.

Sun is setting over the horizon, everything looks so pretty under an orange and lilac sky. A soft breeze plays with your hair while you run with your friend through a path surrounded by poplars and sweetgums. You climb a hill, a path formed by some burning candles guides you to a pretty arch made out of branches, leaves and fairy lights. From the hill you could see endless sunflower and wheat fields. And under the arch, the love of your life waits for you dressed in a black suit.

“Law…?”

You get reflected on his grey eyes; he gets on yours. The sienna light that bathes both of you, makes his caramel skin look so pretty. No other man, there is no other man. You walk up to him; he moves back and forth in his place with his hands on his pockets.

“Babe… uhm” he mumbles, lips trembling. His eyes are wide open, a drop of sweat on his temple. “Law? What is this? This is so pretty!” you tell him, trying to understand what’s going on. “Babe… I… (Name)-ya…”. “What, Law?”.

Suddenly the doctor puts one of his knees on the ground. “L-aw? Y... You…” you stutter, it couldn’t be… no way…

Your lover blinks a few times, his perfect profile bathed by the sunset light. He takes some air and pops the question; “(Name)-ya...Marry me, please”. He shows a little velvet box open, a rose gold ring with a ruby heart strung into it. “Please, marry me. I… I love you” he utters.

Your eyes get filled with tears, yet your heart is full of joy and relief. You crunch in front of him, grazing your hand over his cheek.

“Of course'. Of course babe! I love you Law, I love you so much!

Your now fiancé, takes the ring out of the box and softly slides it into your finger. Both of you stand up. Law, who started crying like never before, holds you from your waist and makes you spin in the air.

“I’m the happiest man alive!!!” he shouts, loud, loud enough for the whole island to hear. “I LOVE YOU, (Name)-ya!!”.

A smile, the smile your memory will cherish until your last breath… ♥ ~

[To be continued…]

Btw, I got inspired by this ring ♥

[sadoeuphemist]

r/relationshipadvice · Posted by u/iiherneck 3 hours ago

My (24f) boyfriend (27m) just told me that he thought my tattoo made me look "desperate."

Okay so this is a weird one. Throwaway account, because my boyfriend knows my reddit username.

My boyfriend and I have been dating for almost a month now, and I just found out that he thought my tattoo was functional this whole time. For the record, the tattoo is a pair of eyes that I got on the back of my neck. They're smoky eyed, long lashes, and wink offset on a three second cycle. Normally they're hidden by my hair, so I can brush my hair to one side to reveal them. I thought they looked sexy and flirtatious. I've gotten compliments about them before.

Apparently, my boyfriend has thought all this time that I could see out the back of my neck. What's even weirder is that he apparently leaped to the assumption that I got the tattoo because I was paranoid about people stalking me, or something like that? I've tried to find out more, but I kind of laughed at him when he admitted this to me and now he says he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. He verbatim said he thought I looked "desperate", because he thought they were blinking one at a time, so one eye would always be open to keep watch???

I feel like I'm going crazy. Nothing like this has ever come up in our relationship before. He's always been very supportive of me, every time I tell him I'm going somewhere he asks if I want him to come along. Maybe almost to the point of being clingy, but frankly I appreciate that sort of attention. And now I find out that all this time he thought he was protecting me?? somehow??? from some vague unknown threat????

At this point I'm wondering if our whole relationship was based on false pretenses due to some ridiculous misunderstanding. I don't know, am I taking this too seriously? Should I just laugh it off? Help me, reddit. I have no idea how I should react to this.

692 comments

__________________________________

montressorsrevenge · 3 hr. ago

Wow. That was not what I was expecting when I clicked the title.

Did your bf know about your tattoo when you started dating, and did he say anything about it then? You have to give us more details here. Is he following you around everywhere? Keeping tabs on your location? This sounds insane.

♡ 1.6 k

iiherneck OP · 3 hr. ago No see that's the crazy thing, my tattoo is part of how we first met! I saw him checking me out at a party, and I thought he was hot, so when I walked by him I made sure to move my hair to the side to show off the eyes. He is not a stalker or a weirdo or anything so don't worry about that. If anything he was trying really hard not to seem pushy when we first met. We didn't even start dating until a few weeks afterwards. ♡ 232 28 more replies

49 more replies

MeowthGrindset · 3 hr. ago

Let me guess: your boyfriend also believes they're putting microchips in the vaccines to track people, shares facebook memes about how human traffickers are hiding beneath your car to slash your achilles tendon, and thinks January 6 was a false flag.

This guy has some serious hang-ups and he's displacing his paranoia onto you because he thinks everyone sees the world the same way he does. Sever.

♡ 1.9 k

Activia1143 · 3 hr. ago So much this. That is a MASSIVE red flag. Guys like that can only conceive of women as property that needs to be protected. You can't get a tattoo just because you think it looks good. Everything a woman does has to be in relation to men, either to appeal to them or to mark herself off as unavailable. OP, you're dating an incel who thinks of himself as your white knight savior. ♡ 1.2 k 81 more replies iiherneck OP · 2 hr. ago He is nothing like that. I don't know why you think it's okay to say things like this about a person you've never met. ♡ - 12 22 more replies

55 more replies

holly-jolly-jolliday · 3 hr. ago

I know that there are people who use body mods as a form of transhumanism, extra eyes and anti-surveillance sigils and everything, but even then it's such a leap to assume you were doing this out of fear and not because it's cool to have 360 degree vision.

It sounds like maybe he read a bunch of William Gibson and got into the whole mindset. Does he have tattoos of his own? Maybe that's why he made the assumption?

♡ 794

iiherneck OP · 3 hr. ago No, he has zero tattoos of his own. I don't think he knows anything about them. Like why would he think I need them to blink out of sync in order to have one eye open at all times?? They don't have tear ducts. They don't dry up. You could just tattoo on an unblinking eye. I actually know a few people irl with functional eye tattoos. They all say it's really disorienting at first but eventually your brain rewires itself to accommodate it? I do not want to rewire my brain. ♡ 153 14 more replies

half_a_cock · 3 hr. ago

I have no idea what's wrong with your boyfriend, but I just want to say that sounds like a really cool idea for a tattoo.

♡ 171

iiherneck OP · 2 hr. ago Haha, thanks! I got the idea from the Great Gatsby. ♡ 82 4 more replies

9inewives · 3 hr. ago

I don't know why you felt the need to humiliate your boyfriend like this. People who mod themselves with extra eyes statistically tend to be disproportionately concerned with countersurveillance/ sousveillance. It's hardly an outlandish idea to suggest that someone willing to tattoo eyes on themselves might be slightly paranoid about keeping watch.

♡ 35

iiherneck OP · 2 hr. ago Humiliate??? How am I humiliating him?? And I already said that the eyes are purely decorative not functional! ♡ 22 188 more replies

doge65124 · 2 hr. ago

You are totally in denial about what a freak your boyfriend is. Your tattoo might not be functional, but you should definitely start watching your back.

♡ 43

idiots_on_parade · 1 hr. ago OP is absolutely going to end up locked away in her boyfriend's "safehouse" somewhere. ♡ 15

batemanbegins1988 · 43 min. ago

This is not fucking real. On the off-chance that it is, is he some feminist cuck who gets uncomfortable when women flirt with him and needs to buy into the narrative that women are all victims of male attention? Oh no, a woman winked at me, she must have been signalling for help!

♡ - 46

iiherneck OP · 12 min. ago Okay so according to reddit my boyfriend is a feminist cuck, a misogynist incel, a Trump supporter, an abuser, an anti-surveillance expert, and I'm abusing and emasculating him by posting this thread. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to go to this website for help. Anyway, if you really want to know, I finally got him to open up and he said he knew someone with functional eye tattoos before, and he assumed they were all like that. That's it. I hope the experts at reddit are happy now. ♡ 2

bidenbathbomb · just now

If he didn't get you were flirting with him, maybe he's gay?

♡ 0

Text: The eyes tattooed on the back of her neck only ever blink one at a time. I wonder what kind of person is that desperate, to always have something watching their back.

[goodlucktai]

enough here to survive

@natsumeweek 2021 day 3; seasons/change

read on ao3

(previous part)

x

It will take almost a full year to convince his father. 

Shuuichi has to throw around words like “recruitment” and “investment” and “contingency” that taste like ash in his mouth, feeling like some kind of sleazy salesman. 

But that’s what it takes to get the man’s flat refusal to move into reluctant consideration instead. 

Explaining Takashi’s situation at home—describing his bruises and the way he flinches when someone raises their voice—isn’t enough to make his dad think it over, but his own family’s health and safety certainly is.

Shuuichi paints him a picture of a potentially powerful protector, should those vengeful spirits they’re all so afraid of come knocking someday; and, if that fails, a fall guy. A patsy. Someone to take the blame.

This is as much as Shuuichi can do for now. 

In the meantime, he picks Takashi up from school, as promised. 

Sometimes they end up in the park where Shuuichi will help him with his homework, and sometimes they end up at a combini where Shuuichi will cajole him into spoiling his dinner with expensive ice cream. Sometimes Takashi will have marks on his arms from human hands, but at least there are none left there from random yokai anymore. 

He comes out of his shell more and more every day, like a brave little hermit crab. It’s amazing the difference it makes just having someone around who sees the same world he sees. It makes a difference to Shuuichi, too. It peels him out of his bitter, angry armor, piece by piece.

Now and then, they encounter some of Shuuichi’s classmates around town. He doesn’t talk to much of anyone at school—and no one goes out of their way to talk to him, either—but apparently he’s much more approachable when there’s a little kid clinging to his hand. 

“Is this your brother, Natori?” Hinata, a girl from his homeroom, asks one day. They ran into her outside the convenience store and her eyes lit up when she saw them. Crouching in front of Takashi with bright eyes, she coos, “Oh, he looks just like you! You both have such fair hair.”

Takashi glances up as if to gauge Shuuichi’s reaction to this assessment, but at that moment, apparently, the lizard chooses to slink across the bridge of Shuuichi’s nose. Takashi dissolves into giggles, and Hinata clearly thinks he’s the cutest thing since Cinnamoroll. She refuses to let them leave until she’s bought Takashi some candy. 

After that she seeks Shuuichi out in class to ask about his brother—and then somehow that evolves into heated discussions about a TV drama they both follow religiously—and within a month Shuuichi ends up with her cellphone number and a standing invitation to watch new episodes with her and her boyfriend every Sunday. 

“My life has gotten a lot weirder with you in it, kid,” Shuuichi tells Takashi one day, only half-joking. 

He’s sitting in the grass with his arms spread out in front of him while Takashi conducts an experiment with the lizard tattoo, asking yes or no questions for it to respond to—right arm being ‘yes’ and left arm being ‘no.’ So far nothing much has come of it, the lizard curled up in the hollow of Shuuichi’s throat instead, but it seems to like the attention. It keeps wagging its head or tail when Takashi talks to it. At one point it appears to roll over. This is a magical development as far as the kid is concerned. 

“Good-weird?” Takashi asks hopefully. 

Rolling his eyes, Shuuichi says, “Obviously. You don’t have a bad bone in your body, Takashi.”

Takashi beams, as delighted by that as he is by the stupid tattoo. 

“You should give the lizard a name,” Takashi adds a beat later. 

“Absolutely not.”

Then one day in late September, Shuuichi stops by Takashi’s school only to find out he never showed up that morning. Takashi’s homeroom teacher recognizes him and seems to have made the same assumption everyone else has made. 

“Your parents called him in sick today,” she says, looking faintly worried. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

Shuuichi doesn’t even remember to say goodbye. He just spins around and starts running. Sasago appears beside him, and he says, “Find him!”

For a shiki that doesn’t truly belong to him, she obeys swiftly. Takashi just has that effect on people.

Sasago has never had any trouble finding Shuuichi no matter where he goes. It’s not something he’s ever thought to test, it’s just something he counts on. He doesn’t know how he knows that she’ll be able to locate one little human in a city of about one million humans, but he knows she will. 

And she does. 

She returns to Shuuichi not even five minutes later and guides him to a nearby hospital.

He’s almost fifteen years old and entirely frantic, and if everyone is going to take one look at them and decide they’re family, then Shuuichi is going to make that work for him. 

“My little brother is here,” he says, his words coming out in unsteady lurches as he gulps for air. He doesn’t even have to fake the plea in his tone. He really doesn’t have to act at all. “Natsume Takashi, where is he?” 

Later on, he’ll scoff about the thin veneer of patient confidentiality, but he’s hardly going to complain about it now, as he’s almost immediately ushered down the hall. He outpaces the nurse when he sees Takashi’s name on a temporary door placard, and lets himself into the room without waiting for permission or approval. 

Some adults are lingering in the corner, talking in low voices, and they barely glance at Shuuichi when he barges in. Whatever, Shuuichi doesn’t care about them either. His eyes fly straight to his shiki, where she hovers protectively over a tiny figure huddled in the chair next to the window. 

Takashi has two black eyes and his arm is in a short cast. He doesn’t even lift his head when Shuuichi stumbles over to him.

“Oh my god, kid,” Shuuichi whispers. “Hey, look at me. Takashi?”

It takes a minute, but Takashi finally glances up at him through his fringe. Shuuichi sinks to his knees in front of the chair. It almost feels like the moment they first met, except it’s a different manner of monster that hurt him this time. And it’s not just cuts and bruises.

There are shadows in his face that have never been there before, ones that look as though they’ll cling to him permanently if no one does something about them. He seems so vacant and forgotten. None of the adults are even looking at him. It’s like no one sees him. He might as well be another ghost. 

“There’s nowhere else to send him,” one of the strangers by the door is saying grimly. “We might have to look into an institution.”

“Actually,” Shuuichi blurts loudly, “he’s coming with me.”

It turns out they have a lot of opinions about that but he doesn’t care. He scoops Takashi up and sits down in the chair Takashi was sitting in and holds him in both arms. Just refuses to get up or let go. His heart is rattling in his chest the whole time, but this is important. 

And Sasago is right beside them, where she always is. She’s ready to attack in whatever direction Shuuichi points her in. He won’t let it come to that, but it’s reassuring to have the option. 

Eventually, when it’s clear he won’t be reasoned with, someone calls his father. 

His father takes one look at Shuuichi and sighs. Shuuichi lifts his chin. His father calls the family attorney. 

Afternoon passes into evening. All the adults are having a heated, complicated-sounding conversation behind a closed door. When it becomes clear no one will be home in time for dinner, a receptionist stops by with sandwiches and sports drinks for Shuuichi and Takashi. Her eyes look ancient with sadness when she takes in Takashi’s battered little face. 

Takashi’s guardians finally show up when the supervising doctor and the Natori attorney start making noises about getting the police involved. By now, Takashi is asleep, but Shuuichi is still wide-awake. He glares at them with all the hate he keeps saved up in his heart for monsters. They don’t even glance at the boys on their way past.

“He’s a clumsy kid,” Shuuichi overhears the woman saying frantically, through the door she and her husband left cracked open behind them. “He fell down the stairs.”

Bullshit, Shuuichi thinks, and is surprised to hear his father say it at the same time. 

“Apparently the child has made quite the impression on the staff here,” their attorney says amiably. You’d never guess how blood-thirsty he actually was from his tone. There’s a reason the Natori family keeps him on retainer. “We’ve got quite a few people willing to come forward if this situation goes to court. Maybe there’s a way we could settle this peacefully.”

By midnight, all the papers are in order. Bureaucracy moves quickly when you have enough money to throw at the right people. Takashi’s guardians sign him away like he’s a used car they don’t want anymore and arrange a time to drop off all of his possessions, and that’s it. 

Shuuichi is no longer an only child. 

It might not stand up if a long-lost relative comes along and presses for custody, but relatives like that seem to be in short supply in Takashi’s family. 

“He’ll be your responsibility,” his father says on the ride home, as if he’s not talking to a teenager who shouldn’t even be responsible for himself, let alone a five-year-old. 

Shuuichi nods anyway. Takashi is asleep against his side again, a heavy reminder. Shuuichi will do whatever he has to. He’ll be whatever he needs to be. 

He promised Takashi he would keep the monsters away, and that’s what he’s going to do.

[kyotakumrau]

2021.03.10 USEN STUDIO COAST 1st session with Toshiya and Kyo

They changed the tables for some reason, going from two bigger rectangle ones to four one person round high tables.

Fujieda and Takabayashi came on stage, F greeted fans as usual and asked for the applause for the band members.

After a moment of waiting with bated breath, Toshiya appeared and Kyo after him.

Kyo wore a big light grey coat, white shirt, black (most likely Madara)short shorts, white socks with red print and big sneakers.

Toshiya had white shirt, pearls?, and black slacks.

They sat in order Ta, T, K, F from right to left.

T: [As it's an official event] so, I'm Toshiya, the bassist from DIR EN GREY.

K: I'm Kyo.

F: It's 1st time for T to attend a talk event this year, how do you feel?

T: normal.

F: you've played here even as the venue has a new name. But it's been while. How do you feel K?

K: just usual.

F: you don't feel like it's been a while?

K: not really.

T: playing at Rock-May-Kan definitely made me feel it's been a while. The place is so small. We played with no audience, it was a first time in RMK which felt so strange.

F: rehearsal felt normal.

T: yeah.

F: anything from then?

T: it was nice to see all the staff.

F: how about you, K? We watched the live footage in February, anything feels different?

K: ... I don't remember it anymore.

F: the recording was done a long time ago.

K: Can't remember. At all.

F: I want to ask... (K just started staring at him and that was the end of it😂).

Next, F talked about the leaflet (he also mentioned how awesome it is that camera can move and zoom in this time, was it for K?😆), the photo being quite shocking/impactful. Was shooting hard? Finished really quickly, right?

T: Yeah.

K: it was refreshing. I said it was refreshing/cool, I didn't lie. It's like coolness in summer. It's auspicious/celebratory. Celebrating being born. When you're being born it's never pretty. So I didn't lie before, not even once, I said it's like a cool wind, I just didn't say anything about the celebration part to avoid spoiling it.

F: so far K said Oboro is refreshing, like Taiyou no Ao, Kaoru said it's refreshing, but more like Myaku remix. Shinya said it's like '肉付きに龍(flesh and dragon)' How about you, T?

T: you will know when you listen to it. It's not something that can be explained with words.

F: what about TDFF?

K: it's also refreshing. I listened to the file yesterday, it's like a cream soda, refreshing with a bit of a mellow hint.

F: Vanilla flavor?

K: maybe not just vanilla, mixing other stuff in until it almost spills.

F: what do you think T?

T: ...so, refreshing then.

F: ok, it's refreshing.

K: and auspicious.

And auspicious.

F read the info about the May show in Tokyo Garden Theater and fans clapped.

T: it's been over a year since our last show in Japan, I'm really looking forward to it. In this condition holding concerts is not entirely called for, but we as DIR EN GREY have decided to do it. If you're able to please come.

K: it's been a long time since the last concert. But. Isn't it a weekday? Utterly a weekday. It's almost like bullying [the fans]. Shouldn't we try to book a better date for such an important concert? This is really so much like us.

F: it's just after Golden Week (a week long holiday in Japan).

K: people will be so busy getting back to work. (after F encouragement to say something inviting) So, I'm looking forward to the show when people will have to work because it's weekday (sarcasm by Kyo 👌)

Next was merchandise corner. F again asked us and band members to look at the flyer.

F: T, are there any items you really like?

T: all of them.

F: Shinya uses the tote bag in private now.

K: Did you actually saw him use it?

F: he had it yesterday.

K: huh.

Ta: can we really say yesterday was using it in private though?

Next F showed us the hoodie and the towel, holding the towel up.

K: you should present it more properly.

F held it properly so we could see the whole towel, but K continued to give him dissatisfied look😆

Next F talked about the travel pouch saying it's useful when you travel on the tour you can hang it as it has a small hook.

K started to point out the problems with F explanation, where to hang it, isn't it better to just put on the table, the hook is then useless. A hook for a bag you will put on the table, what. You're terrible at explaining the merch.

😂

T: isn't that for shower room?

F: to put shampoo in and so on?

K just stares at F, that face oh my🤣

F: we talked about it being for shower stuff but we worried about it being waterproof.

K: You actually don't know, do you?🤦‍♂️ are you a scam? Why don't you know??? You should know more about the items!

F: I will properly check!

K: with who?

F: with the merchandiser!

K just looked at him😂

F: but you can probably use it safely in the shower💦

Kyo stared...🤣

F: T, do you have any favorites?

T (after giving him a look): I said all.

F: you, K?

K: the hoodie. The picture in the back was done by my tattoo artist, on my request. I really like it.

F passed them their keychains, K just kept staring at them.

T: why are there 2 types?

F: I wonder. It's for Ochita, so one normal outfit and one bloody. Details are really nice.

And then it was time for the questions from fans.

F: there are many questions about movies, anime etc you've watched recently. K?

K: Evangelion. Not gonna spoil it, but please watch it on a big screen.

T: I want to watch Eva!

F: Ta, are you also an Eva fan?

Ta: I watched the old series, haven't seen the new ones.

Ta: there are many Q to and about F. "Most band members are from Kansai, F do you feel alienated by that?"

F: I'm from Tokyo, but not even a bit.

Ta: where exactly? Do you go back a lot?

F: my old neighborhood doesn't change, it's actually around here. Definitely no alienation.

F: "what's your favourite icecream?" There are many Q asking about sweets. How about you, K?

K: Icecream, I like Cola flavoured Sacre. And the melonpan with icecream inside, when I see that in the shop I always buy like 3. Recently not many shops have it.

F: so when you see it you always get them.

K: Yes.

F: get like 3.

K: Yes.

F: how about you, T? Recently it's a bit cold.

T: hah! I don't recently eat icecream. But I like fruity ones. I like rum raisin.

F: any questions you like, T?

While T was deciding which Q to read K just popped his papers on F's desk😂

T: "what was your first impression of other members when you first met? And how have they changed?"

F: so T will tell us about K.

T: the impression when we first met?

K: was it at Farm? In Nagoya?

T: Farm? I went to see some taiban event at GIO and we met there.

F: where is GIO?

T: in Ichikawa. And we talked there. Has he changed? Of course he has, but I thought he is someone who can laugh very carefree.

F: it was a taiban event of different bands.

T: yeah.

F: How about T, K?

K: it's bit muddled, but I remember best T playing guitar. And the strongest memory I have is T going crazy playing guitar.

F: how about other members? Kaoru?

T: I remember we didn't talk much, just said hi.

F: you met them at GIO. what about Die?

T: he was very talkative, very easy to talk to.

F: Shinya?

T: just passed by.

F: you didn't talk?

T: Just hello.

F told them how D described meeting S. Then he asked Kyo about Kaoru.

K: we met at taiban event, he was playing guitar in a band called Charm. I was impressed with his photo on the flyer. I thought he was very cool, and calm.

F: what ablut Die?

K: I found him through a flyer looking for new band members I thought he was cool. and then there was a taiban.

F: what about S?

K chuckled first😂: I remember he had a bob hair and a very long earring, just one, like a chain. And that earring was moving when he was talking. I remember that.

Ta: has he changed?

K: His looks changed, but he didn't change inside.

Ta: oh.

K: Just gradually ...got weirder. I think he hates humans. But he has many friends he does riddles with. He knows so many people, too many, he uses social media so much, I have no idea who he's hanging out with, but he even has photos with Dewi Sukarno. He probably doesn't hate humans, just hates his band members. Hates people who know about the past.

😂

Ta: "S said he's using tour merch like tshirts, how about you?"

T: 使うやつが使うね・I use stuff that's ok to use. From this event I'd use the travel pouch and usb.

K: I use our items a lot, like towels or hoodies.

F: "what's your favourite meat cut?"

K: skirt steak.

T: skirt steak or offal.

F: I love skirt steak too! - he the continued to talk about meat how good are some parts until he noticed both T and K looks🤣

F: " do you prefer bath or shower? What time do you take bath?"

K: in the evening. But when I have a fresh tattoo I can't take a bath for about 2 weeks, then I take a shower.

F: do tattoos hurt in a bath?

K: They hurt or sting. It's like an injury so like a cut it stings in a bath. Did you think tattos are like a stamp?!

F: it seems it's tough.

Ta: you know tattoos are allowed in our company...

I loved Ta's jab, but what came after this from Kyo was just pure ❤️🤣

K: I will even buy a tattoo machine and do it so you F can get a tattoo.

F: what kind of desing?

K: a giraffe. On your back. Wouldn't it be more scary than oni or a dragon? I'm serious (he was trying so hard not to laugh😂), it's the scariest option, a giraffe.

F: you would design it?

K: Of course. A yellow one. Guys who have scribble/doodle like tattoos are the really scary ones! A yellow giraffe.

F: Let me think about it.

K: please do!

🤣🤣🤣

F: how about you T, a bath or shower?

T: sometimes a lomg bath, sometimes a ahort one, sometimes a shower.

T: "do you eat sweets?" I don't really. if anything, then chocolate.

F: what type?

T: My favorite was Kirinokibune (霧の浮舟, a bit like Aero. Has been discountinued).

F: I'll check it, you K?

K: isn't half of me sweets?😆

F: what do you like recently?

K: cookies, chocolate cookies.

F: from Morinaga? (big chocolate company in Japan, you can find it in every supermarket etc)

K: Morinaga? I don't like soft cookies, they have to be hard, chocolate cookie with chocolate. Recently,  near Harajuku station there's a shop with a red fluffy character that looks like MUCC, I love their cookies.

Then F suggested sth only older people would know it and if looks could kill F would be anihilated by K on the spot🤣

F: last Q, let's choose something easy to answer.

F: "what do you like to eat with rice? I like umeboshi (pickled plum)"

T: in Nagano we eat nametake.

F was a bit clueless how to eat it etc and made T explain more.

F: you K?

K: I don't care. Don't you just eat it with side dishes? No one eats only rice with pickled plum? It's not postwar period!

F: so what side dishes do you like?

K: Sushi.

🤣

F: ...sushi?? Isn't that a bit different??

K: you eat fish with rice, no?

F: so what sushi do you like?

K: fatty cut of flounder fin(あぶりのえんがわ)

And finally last comments:

Toshiya: thank you for today, DIR has decided to hold a concert with audience in May, please come if you can. But you have to decide that for yourself. We made our decision.

Kyo: I don't have anything, as usual. ...your t-shirts will increase, it's hard for people living far from Tokyo, nothing much to say.

F: you mean you will like to see everyone in May and so on?

K: I said I have nothing to say, didn't I?!💢

[aceofspadegrass]

Now It's an Entire Swap

Characters: Niragi Suguru, Chishiya Shuntaro, Kuina Hikari, Mira Kano (Briefly), Hatter, Morizono Aguni

Genre: Crack. Somehow even worse (better?) than the last one. They're really going for it now.

1.4k words

AKA Part 2 of Hair Day. It's just gotten way more weirder than ever, and it was just on my mind the entire time. Just.... ' How far would these two get?'

Well apparently it meant stealing each other's clothes and being them for a day. There were probably a whole lot more interactions I could have done for the day, but alas.

Niragi watches as Chishiya approaches him, carrying a bag in his left hand. Since two days ago, Niragi’s been keeping an eye on the man as Chishiya went around with his old hairstyle, his own still delightfully bleached blond and kept in the same style as Chishiya’s usual hair. People still did double takes upon seeing him, and maybe it held true for Chishiya as well, but Niragi didn’t care what anyone thought of the sudden change. All he cared about was making sure Chishiya didn’t go ahead and re-dye his hair so soon, keeping a careful eye on him.

Sure, it was a little stalkerish, but it was for a good reason.

Chishiya dumps the bag at Niragi’s feet, Niragi looking down to look at the small opening the bag allowed. “ What’s this?”

“ Well if you’re going to steal my hair, I might as well steal your life for a day.” Chishiya briefly explains, and he walks away without any further explanation, Niragi raising an eyebrow. He kneels down and opens the opaque bag some more, his lips curling at the white mass chilling inside.

“ Is this a joke…?” Niragi reaches in and pulls out the outfit, recognizing it as Chishiya’s favourite jacket, or at the very least copy of it, as well as swimming shorts that matched Chishiya’s. Niragi looks back towards where Chishiya had disappeared towards, and scoffs. “ So be it then.”

He puts the clothes back inside the bag and stands up, taking it and heading back up to his room. He starts stripping once he gets inside, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside. Next came his shoes and pants, and he pulls out the two articles of clothing back out of the bag. There were sandals included inside, Niragi leaving those for last as he slips on the shorts. They were somehow a perfect fit on him, not at all as small as Niragi was expecting them to be. “ So the mayo man got me accurately fitting clothing, hm?” Niragi pulls on the jacket and quickly retracts his earlier statement, staring at his exposed wrist. Curse him for not bothering to get a proper jacket for him.

Still, Niragi wasn’t about to back down from the supposed life swap challenge, slipping on the other sleeve and zipping it up. It definitely was just some spare jacket, the bottom barely meeting with the shorts with his arms extending outwards. Niragi drops his arms and tugs the jacket down as far as he could before moving to the sandals and sliding them on. They were also about the correct size, if not just slightly smaller but still manageable. Humming, Niragi walks around to make sure, catching sight of his rifle.

“ Well…. as much as I’d like to….” Niragi sighs, and tucks the thing into his bed. “ If Chishiya wants whatever this weird role-play shit, then he’s gonna get it.”

Niragi spots Chishiya by the militants a few minutes later, a few loudly questioning and gesturing to Chishiya. Or, from the back, a much smaller him. Niragi couldn’t help but snort at the obvious sheer size of his shirt on Chishiya’s much smaller frame, or the fact that Chishiya was toting around a massive super soaker instead of the real deal, as if he was still semi-aware that he could be killed despite taking on Niragi’s aesthetics.

Niragi didn’t think this was much of a punishment for his hair thievery in the slightest, sauntering away. Just his face still kept people from coming too close, and the talk about him was near pleasurable for him. His reputation continues to precede him at least.

“ Hey! You, slow down, geez-“ A female voice catches Niragi’s attention, and he turns his head to see that lady Chishiya was occasionally by every so often, although Niragi didn’t bother with her too much, down to her name. She catches up to him, her eyes quickly scanning him before she lets out a sigh. “ I really can’t believe you agreed.”

“ Yeah? What’s it to you, huh?”

The lady folds her arms, letting out a sigh and chews on the stick hanging out of her mouth for a bit. Niragi was about to turn and leave her there when her hand reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder, Niragi whipping around and slapping the hand off. She recoils, but otherwise was unperturbed, looking at him with a hint of displeasure. “ Okay listen. Chishiya told me that since you stole his hair he was going to….. apparently take over a day of just being you, saying that…” She pauses. “ Well, that’s not important right now. What is important is to ’sell’ this, is that I have to follow you.”

Niragi blinks, raising his eyebrow and unconsciously flicking his tongue across his lips, leaning onto one leg. “ Why, does the toilet bowl not trust me?”

“ I wouldn’t trust you with a barrel of green tea left in your care, so you can figure out what Chishiya’s opinion is. Look, we can do this peacefully, no violence required, okay?” She extends a hand as if it were a peace offering, Niragi staring down at the hand.

“ Yeah, uh….. no. I do what I want, cinnamon stick.” He turns and walks away, said cinnamon stick’s footsteps coming up behind him.

“ Rude, but I really can’t expect anything else from you, wig snatcher.”

Niragi ignores her, although he didn’t bother to push her away today either. She was at least mindful of their positions, and kept her distance as she should.

It wasn’t long until she invited him to at least watch a movie with her, Niragi agreeing since he was technically absolved from doing his patrols for the day.

( Niragi wasn’t allowed to in any way touch her, and the one time he tried he got his toes crushed by her foot, so he had to behave the rest of the movie. Not worth it, in his opinion.)

Even at the meeting nobody really mentioned the sudden switch, although Niragi swore he thought he saw Mira’s smile become a little wider, and her eyes glitter in interest at the two. Hatter had to do a double take at the two, before sidetracking into what they were up to this time. Chishiya, surprisingly enough, just sticks his tongue out at Hatter like Niragi would’ve done, and Niragi had to suppress a laugh when he caught a glimpse of a stain on Chishiya’s tongue.

“ Oh my fucking goodness, did you seriously eat a fruit roll-up with those tongue tattoos before this?!” Niragi howls, bursting into uncontrolled laughter. Chishiya slips his tongue back in and just smirks. Aguni shakes his head slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, Hatter just watching and waiting with amusement.

It takes a while before Niragi finally reins in his laugh, and that was only because one of Hatter’s pretty boy kimono men handed him water to calm the fuck down. Hatter grins, clapping his hands together.

“ Well, either way, this is an absolute rollercoaster that we’re all seeing today, aren’t we. One day I’m greeted with a hair swap, and the next you two are becoming each other! Aren’t you just… two peas in a pod?”

“ Tch, no. I’d rather burn.”

Chishiya glances at Niragi for a second, his lips curling ever so slightly in disgust. “ Not to be rude, but I decline that as well. I’d rather be shot instead. This is merely payback.”

“… How though.” Aguni questions. Chishiya turns his attention to the man, and leans back casually.

“ Because it leaves him practically defenceless in order to be me. Me, on the other hand….” Chishiya gestures to the super soaker lain on the table. “ Have temporary access. Even if this is merely a substitute.”

“ I will strangle you in your sleep anyways, you naked chicken nugget.”

Chishiya doesn’t react to the threat, Niragi glaring at him. Hatter looks between the two of them, then smacks his hand against the table a few times to get the meeting back to focus on him.

“ Like I said last time, grab a martini or something you two. Now, as much as I love a good drama and an enemies to lovers trope, we have to get back to real matters-“

Niragi huffs, leaning back slightly as Hatter starts his usual spiel. His glances couldn’t help but look towards Chishiya every so often, just glaring him down. Occasionally he’d lock eyes with him, Niragi smirking and miming random ways that Niragi could murder him with his bare hands.

If anyone else was watching their little act, they certainly didn’t bring it up. At the very least it kept Niragi occupied long enough.

The moment it was done, Hatter simply watches the two leave the meeting with a little more haste than he’s ever seen, and he leans towards Aguni. “ Think they’re gonna fuck it out with a nice martini?”

“…. Beats me.”

[1994sunflower]

Are you still doing requests for Michael? I would really like to see a “when michael first meets your parents” thing ❤️

you literally don't understand how much I loved making this. thank you for the request. I hope you like it!  

the first meeting was definitely explosive buut I think as the relationship progresses, the parents start to get more used to it (even if they still don’t like it) so it isnt ever as tense and volatile as the first. we also get to see protective!yn here which I really liked exploring. 

in which michael meets your parents

You were constantly going back and forth from cleaning and straightening your living room to staring at yourself in the mirror, fixing your makeup and trying not to convince yourself to change outfits completely.

It wasn’t that your parents were judgmental. Just extremely traditional and if you didn’t have everything looking pristine and perfect, a comment was sure to leave one of their mouths. And with this reunion with your parents being so different from past ones, you couldn’t afford for anything else to take attention away.

But mostly you were a nervous sort of excited and maybe thats why you were jumping around, constantly in motion. You hadn’t seen your parents for the better half of year and to say you missed them was an understatement. You grew up pampered with love and their constant belief in you and whatever you dreamed of achieving. Even if at times they felt too strict and expecting perfection. But still, it was hard to even leave home for college because of how close you were with them. That didn’t mean you didn’t constantly call to check in or go over for holidays. But even that wasn’t enough. Each year you organized a day when they would come over to your apartment and you would eat out or eat in and have a family day. It was one of your favorite days because it was one of the only times you weren’t stressed because of school and you felt so absolutely surrounded by love and the people closest to you. Except for nearly 2 years now, your moment with the people closest to you was missing someone. 

They definitely knew about Michael. Ever since you started dating, you told them all about him and how much he meant to you. But you hadn’t wanted to introduce him right away, afraid that it was too soon or afraid that you weren’t completely in a serious relationship just yet. And lucky for you Michael didn’t seem all that interested either. But Michael had become such an integral part in your life, someone you could see yourself being with forever. Someone you didn’t want to part with. So you knew it was time. And you think your heart might erupt at having all your loved ones together at last. You couldn’t hold back the little excited squeal that escaped you when you called to let your parents know about the addition to your family day.

You were staring at your spotless white living room then, going over everything in your mind to make sure you hadn’t let something slip your mind. Yes, you were excited but you were also so nervous. You usually were when it came time for your parents to visit but this time was so much worse as it felt that this unique visit actually had something riding on it. You felt tense despite yourself. Your fingers played with the fabric of your knitted sweater with the white collar peaking up under it. Maybe you had time to change into something your conventional parents might like even better.

But you felt arms wrap around your waist before you could dwell on that thought for too long. A surprised gasp left you but you could recognize Michael’s strong presence anywhere. You were so in your head, you hadn’t even heard him unlock your apartment door with his key. You relaxed in his arms, leaning back against his chest. 

“Thank you for being on time.” You breathed out. You asked him to be there before your ever punctual parents were scheduled to arrive. And you hoped your serious tone was enough to let him know just how important it was to you.

He hummed in response and finally you turned to get a look at him. 

It might’ve been the first time you’d seen him with long sleeves. The shirt covered up his arms and fit respectfully around his chest. But it was impossible to even try to hide the tattoos covering the expanse of his neck and his hands and fingers. And he still had the familiar set of chains draped on his jeans. You weren’t ashamed of him and you would never force him to hide and transform into something he was not to appease your parents. So you never mentioned what he should or shouldn’t wear, how he should or shouldn’t act. You wanted him to be himself, the person you loved so much. Even if it wasn’t what your parents would want, expect or even accept. But still, you couldn’t help but swoon at this subtle way of him showing you that he cared enough to try - at least a little, even if it was only because you cared about your parents.

Because sure you told them about him but maybe the way you saw and described him wasn’t exactly how he was to everyone else. To you, he was sweet, caring, gentle, protective, loving with a hard exterior. But even if they didn’t like him, which you knew they likely wouldn’t at first (ever critical and frankly, just shy of snobby) with how much Michael’s image clashed with the one they were trying to maintain and the same one they wanted for you, you were determined to get them to warm up to him eventually. Because you didn’t know how you could handle it if they didn’t like him at all.

Michael, for his part, was much more relaxed on that front than you were. Because, he didn’t have to wonder or stress about being liked by your parents. Ever since you brought up him meeting them, he already knew they wouldn’t like him. And he wasn’t particularly worried about trying to change their minds. The only opinion that mattered in his mind was yours and you liked him just fine. He could see their reactions already, the horror plastered on their faces when they saw him beside their daughter. They might have seemed willing and excited when you first told them he was invited but that was because they had a false image of him in their heads by how you described him. He almost wanted to skip it because he already knew the outcome, one that would only serve to make you upset and by default then, make him angry. But he knew how important family was to you, how close you were with yours and he couldn’t deny you. When he saw how you smiled and giggled with excitement, he didn’t have the heart to ruin that. But even Ashton had seem privy to what would happen, his smile then telling him not so subtly You’re so screwed.

And maybe that was also the reason he consciously decided to wear something that would hide his tattoos more than before. He knew they still wouldn’t like him but it would be better for them to not absolutely detest him - at least not straight off the bat. He didn’t care if they liked him as your boyfriend but he did care if their hatred was so bad that they tried to pull you away from him because if how obvious it would be that he didn’t deserve you. Not that he would ever accept that even if they tried. Maybe that’s why he felt a little more antsy than he ever expected to feel. He wasn’t nervous to meet them, he was unsure of what meeting them could end up meaning for his relationship.

He had to be at least a little better than he was usually with others. It also didn’t help that he never had to be in the position of meeting a girl’s parents before - especially one that was so incredibly different from him already that her parents, her strict, professional parents would probably blow up to see the type of man their daughter took with her chosen partner, the kind that didn’t seem like would amount to much - which was ill-suited for you who everyone knew would achieve her wildest dreams. For the first time in a long time he couldn’t help but think just how different your paths in life were before they converged and how much he wished, at least for tonight, that he was just a little less inconspicuous, in all fronts (height and body art) so that just the sight of him wouldn’t be an omen for your parents of how badly he was suited for you, how much he would destroy you and their dreams of your future.

It had to be a testament of his love that he hadn’t tried to back out of this already.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and went on your tip toes to try to look him more at eye level - still miserably too short but trying all the same. “I know I already told you but I made food for all of us instead of going out so it’d be more of a personal thing. And please don’t mention anything about me living with you, okay? They-”

“They still think you’re a virgin like a good little girl.” His smile was anything but sweet and you slapped his arm playfully at his words. Oh, another thing they would hate him for. Another way he ruined their precious daughter.

“Michael. This is serious.” It wasn’t what you were going to say. But you didn’t deny his words were true, either.

You didn’t technically move in together. But you spent most of your time with Michael and slept at his house more often than you did in your own apartment. For Michael, it was weird not being there right then with you, even weirder if you were here instead of his house. In your parents minds however, you lived and slept in your apartment 24/7 and this would be the first time Michael was ever in there for an extended period of time. And if they ever found out the truth, they would probably drag you back to live with them and away from Michael tooth and nail. Same goes for if they ever had a clue that he even had a key to your apartment, allowing him access whenever he wanted and for whatever purposes. As far as they were aware, you were still the shy girl who had barely even had her first kiss yet let alone have experienced all you had with Michael. If they even had a clue, they would think Michael was an even a worse influence than his appearance would already lead them to believe; they may even believe he was a devil. 

You took his face in your hands, “One last thing. They may seem a little…snobby but whatever they may think or say at first doesn’t matter. I know they’ll end up loving you just as much as I do.”

Michael didn’t have to respond. You made a small jump to kiss his lips and he caught you in the air easily, holding you up to him so you could kiss more easily. He hadn’t commented on your very conservative outfit, your usual choices of skirts and light dresses (his favorites, the ones that always had such easy access) were done away with and instead a sweater that hid your body and jeans that stood between him and being able to feel your core against him whenever you wrapped your legs around him were in its place. Even without the day starting yet, he already decided the change in wardrobe your parents inspired in you was one of his least favorite part of the day.

Maybe he would end up disliking them just as much as they did him.

You yelped when you heard the knocking at your door and Michael groaned at having to separate from your addicting lips and even more when you wiggled in his arms to be set down again. You scrambled quickly to the mirror, fixing whatever lipstick he had smudged and he had the decency to at least wipe at his own lips to get rid of any color.

Off to a rough start. The last thing you needed was for your parents’ first impression of Michael to be with your lipstick still smeared on his lips. 

You took his big hand in yours, loving the way his fingers immediately entwined in yours, as you made your way to the door, dragging him along. His chains rattled as he followed you. You opened the door with a big happy smile on your face and he was almost sad to know that eventually that smile would be gone. His gaze was on you, almost wishing that he would be wrong about their reactions towards him because he wanted nothing else but to keep you the happiest person in the world, even if he knew the way to do that (to have your parents like him like you wanted them to) was unlikely. 

“Mom, dad!” You jumped excitedly. You hadn’t seen them in nearly a year and at the sight of them, standing side by side at your doorway, dressed as impeccably as they always did and wearing their parental, loving smiles, it suddenly hit you how much you missed them. You could almost cry.

But you didn’t let go of Michael’s hand. And finally, Michael’s gaze shifted from you to the two people he could thank for your marvelous existence. They were everything he imagined they would look like. Just as prim and proper as their daughter, or at least as you were before he came along.

Your hands squeezed Michael’s and he noticed you were shaking a little. He resisted the urged to collect you in his arms to calm you down. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement. 

“This is Michael, my boyfriend. Michael, these are my parents.” You looked between them expectantly, your parents only having moved from outside to through the doorframe, and Michael realized you were expecting a warm welcome from them at his introduction. 

But both of you watched as your mother’s eyes slipped to your entwined hands, no doubt eyeing the tattoos running up and down Michael’s hand and fingers that basically completely enveloped your small one. To her credit, her grin was still intact. Faking it until she made it.

Your father, was much less of an actor. He stared up at Michael. Your father wasn’t a short man, at least compared to his own wife and his daughter. But very little could measure up to Michael in height. Maybe that had something to do with the way your father’s eyes constantly flickered between the top of your head and to Michael’s eyes, almost bristling at the difference. It was one thing to have a taller boyfriend but it was quite another to have someone as big as Michael, shoulders wide and tall, that seemed to rise dauntingly at your side. It almost felt, to your father, as if you were being taken advantaged of, ravaged by what could be the embodiment of everything he had tried to protect you from.

You watched, your smile slowly fading but still holding on, as their eyes slipped to Michael’s neck. To where his tattoos still were on full display, with an expression of distress. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if Michael had chosen to wear a short sleeve. You just hoped they would never have occasion to see him shirtless. You made a note to self to never have a family pool day.

The silence was dreadful. It only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like a lifetime. Especially when you hoped they would have greeted Michael with warmth and even if it had to be fake, excitement. Okay, maybe it would take a little more convincing for them to like him than you thought. You thought this could be a possibility, that they wouldn’t like him at the start, but you convinced yourself it wouldn’t happen. Convinced that they would see how much you liked him, enough to introduce him to them, enough to trust him so completely. 

Michael didn’t stray his eyes from your parents. He wasn’t trying to be challenging or mocking, even if that was usually exactly what he tended to be. But their reactions were exactly what he expected them to be. The looks of uncertainty, as if this was just a big joke they were waiting to be clued in on. They looked at him as if he was the bad guy on the wrong path that had somehow ensnared their precious daughter. He felt every bit as scrutinized as they obviously were scrutinizing him, they didn’t try to hide it. They saw the way they eyed his tattoos, his chains, his size with disapproval and judgement. If he actually cared about their opinions he might be hurt. But it was almost funny. They didn’t even see half of all they could judge him for. Part of him wondered just what you told them about him to make them not expect what he actually turned out to be.

They stood so still, he wasn’t sure if their minds literally malfunctioned or not. But as he felt you pull yourself closer to his side, almost as if trying to protect him, uselessly attempt to shield him from their eyes, he finally glanced down at you while squeezing your hand for comfort. He didn’t mind the silent criticism and immediate rejection. But he saw your eyes swirl with uncertainty and worry. You hadn’t expected this, that much was clear and it was hurting you. You wanted them to meet but you hadn’t wanted to put Michael in a situation where he would feel unwelcome or judged. Michael loved your hopefulness, even if it was fruitless from the start. The only thing making you feel better was that he didn’t seem really bothered.

“Nice to meet you.” His voice was curt but not cold, as polite as he could manage to force himself to be. For your sake, he’d make the first move.

And it was as if your parents sprung back to life. As if they weren’t aware that they had let their façade slip. Your mother’s smile was back in full force, granted it was forced, and it suddenly struck Michael just how much you two resembled one another, your smile was the same. Your father didn’t look happy but he was back to his usual strict faced expression.

“Oh! We’ve heard so much about you Michael.” Your mother clasped her hands together and while everyone could tell her excitement wasn’t genuine, it seemed enough for your hope to come back.

Because your grin came back, matching your mother’s, before you finally let go of Michael’s hand and bounded over to them. “I missed you so much, mom.” You hugged your mother tightly as your father smiled at the two women of his life. Such a different look to the one he had when you were next to Michael. 

“And you too, daddy.” You mumbled as you moved on to hug your father with a relieved sigh.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Michael clenched his lips together into a thin straight line. It was wrong to see you then, bubbly and jumping around excitedly, looking so adorable and wholesome in front of your parents. While you spoke the title you had so often times moaned out as he had you trembling under him, so tiny and submissive that he could completely take over your entire figure, the one that gave him all the power and dominance over you. 

But to hear it in this context just reinforced what Michael already knew. You were a good girl. One that got good grades and obeyed her parents. But he was slowly tainting that goodness, leaving a new part of yourself just for him. And the rest of the world had no idea. It was almost comical to see you put on this mask of a demure, chaste daughter when he knew the truth of what you were for him.

He had to look away from you, the sight of you looking so pure while saying a word that should have no other connotation was a reminder of how innocent you were and just how much he enjoyed ruining that, how much he already had but evidently not enough because there it was still in front of him. 

He had an urge to take it away right then too, to destroy that facade you currently had up, remind you that he had taken away that pure innocence a long time ago. An urge to hear those words you had just uttered but this time directed to him, like he was used to hearing. A fuck you to the parents that thought they knew you so well, that thought you were, were currently seeing you as, an angelic shy daughter who’d never so much as been touched while in reality her big possessive boyfriend had changed that the moment he decided to have you, it was what made you his, preventing anyone else from ever being able to have you again. But the thought of you being that in front of him right then despite all that, being shy, modest and acting virginal was enough for his body to be heating up with need.

It wasn’t the time for those thoughts but he couldn’t help it after hearing your words, spoken with such modesty when he could imagine drawing it from your lips for him with a very different tone. Oh what horror it would come to your parents, to know that he had that same little girl that currently looked as if she held all the pureness in the world was already marked by him, and all the sinful things he had compelled you to do, the path he was taking you along because of it. And there was nothing they could do about it.

He felt a hand clap his shoulder and he snapped out of his thoughts, glancing down to see your father. His grip was tight and his eyes were unfriendly but his words were playful, likely for your sake. “Great to finally meet you, Mike.” Michael cringed at his words, he hated nicknames. Hated what they seemed to mean, that whoever spoke it thought they were close enough, knew him well enough to give him a personal title. Unless it was from you. “You’re a lot different from what Y/N told us, though.”

“Dad!” Your words had a tone of warning to them as you opened your eyes wide in alarm. His words weren’t straight out critical but the meaning was well received. And any hint of a problem was enough for you to jump in.

Your mother squeezed your shoulders. “Oh come now, little bird.” She laid her cheek on the top of your head, it was hard to be mad at them when she was holding you so maternally you almost felt like a child again. Her gaze was on Michael, however. “You’re a lot taller than I imagined. It isn’t hard to be taller than our Y/N though.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment at the reminder of just how small you were, this time in front of your boyfriend, but Michael couldn’t stop the albeit tense smile that escaped him at your shyness.

But maybe it wasn’t supposed to be an airy comment. He was taller, but maybe too much. It made it seem as if he was somehow exploiting their poor defenseless daughter, using her to fulfill whatever sick desires he had brewing inside of him. If only they knew.

Your mother hummed, “But if you’re anything like what she tells us about you, I’m sure it will be lovely to get to know you. Even if you do seem so different from all the other boys she’s had interest in.”

The silence that comment was met with was palpable.

Michael’s eyes narrowed at her words. The implication of you with other men (men he had no doubt were a world’s difference from him, men that your mother obviously approved and preferred), thinking of them and crushing on them, was worse enough. But what it meant that your mother purposely remembered and brought them in front of him, your boyfriend, just added a further element.

You had the good sense in moving forward, pulling at his arm before he could retort. Your parents or not, he wasn’t ever good at controlling himself when he got volatile. You cleared your throat. “I made lunch for us. Let’s just sit and get started.”

You were pulling him away and guiding him to your already set dining table. You were uncomfortably aware of the rattling his chains did when he began moving and saw how your parents glanced at them in quick glances. Their lips were set tightly as they walked behind you and Michael and you could feel the way they wanted to talk to each other, no doubt expressing opinions you wouldn’t want to hear.

Michael sat next to you, never letting go of your hand while your father took his place next to him and your mother across from you. If you took away the tension, it almost felt like Michael was the new addition to your small family. The thought made your heart swell. Maybe everything would settle down and get better from then on. You wanted your parents and him to love each other so much, needed this to work on. You weren’t sure if you could handle it if the most important people in your life didn’t get along. You knew Maia already didn’t like him, you didn’t need to add more to the mix.

Your father glanced sideways to Michael. “So, do you study anything in science too? Our daughter spoke all about how kind you were.” His eyes did a not so subtle glance to Michael’s appearance that showcased just how uncertain he was of his daughter’s truthfulness on that account. “But she didn’t mention much about what you do.”

Maybe that was on purpose. Because while you didn’t look the least bit embarrassed when he spoke, your parents didn’t share that sentiment. “No, nothing in science.” He was trying his best, really he was, hiding his contempt and warningly low voice he wanted to take on. You noticed it, the way his tone was still calm, even bordering polite. Or at least his version of polite.

“But Michael helps me out a lot when studying so he knows a thing or two by now. He’s really supportive.” You said. It was true in that you often went to him to study but most of his help came from you practicing bandaging people up after his fights. Not that you were going to make the clarification to your parents.

Your mother nodded, eating your words up. “Well that’s great! It might be even better that you two don’t study the same thing, no competition or anything like that.”  

You loved your mother so much in that moment. At least she was making an effort. And how could you doubt her, really. She was the woman who raised you, the warmest person you knew.

Your father, however, was more blunt. Kind of like Michael. You wondered if having that in common would help them get along better or just dislike each other more.

“So how did you two meet?” Your mother continued, “Do you live on campus as well?”

Michael talked much more than you expected him to. And you were grateful when he responded to each question instead of just a nod or shake of the head. “I live a few blocks away from here. But we met on campus.”

It seemed he knew when to leave out some details as well. Telling them you met him bleeding and hurt after a fight would not have fared well.  

Your mother smiled tightly, “Oh. I suppose it’s easy to visit each other then.” Her gaze split to you and you saw the warning in them. She wasn’t a fan of the prospect of her daughter being alone in a boy’s house, especially one like Michael where he would be free to allure her into unconscionable things a woman like you should not do, particularly one that was raised to do things ‘correctly’ and in the confines of marriage. You hoped she would never have a hint otherwise even if what she was afraid of already happened, and much worse than she ever imagined. Even worse that you had enjoyed it so much, welcomed his allure even.

But before either you or Michael could answer, she continued. “Our little bird cried her eyes out when she moved out.”

“Mom.” You said, hiding your eyes shyly. You didn’t want to think of Michael’s thoughts at that moment, hearing you sound so childish. Maybe thats why your mom said it, knowing that didn’t fit in at all with Michael’s very mature look and aura.

But Michael was staring directly at you, smirking without meaning to. Even then, you were so pure, the worse in your life was leaving your parents. It was as if he was at last being clued into just how much he managed to taint your unsullied person, just how much he managed to change you. From a precious daughter who cried at the thought of parting with her parents, to a slut who cried for his cock and cum. And yet your parents was still blissfully unaware of how he corrupted you. He had to clench his jaw to stop himself from getting hard. 

“She adjusted really well.” His words were filled with a humor only you could understand. The double meaning that went lost to your parents ears, mostly because he knew they wouldn’t want to understand it so they didn’t. 

Your hand was on top of Michael’s on the table, your fingers tracing circles on his hands. Mostly to comfort yourself, but knowing it was helping Michael relax as well. Your father was staring at you with a clenched jaw, visibly frustrated with Michael’s answers, or lack thereof. Maybe he had been hoping that this was just a set up but to see your intimate and gentle interactions with Michael, it was evident that wasn’t the case. It looked wrong to him to even see Michael allow such touches from you when he clearly didn’t deserve it. Especially when he looked so cold. Both of your parents noticed it when they arrived, the coolness with which he regarded them and even you. The warmth you seemed to radiate was so strange next to his mean expression. 

But then the conversation was on you and your studies, your excited chatter filled the air, and Michael was glad for the reprieve. Though he felt as though eyes were still on him constantly. The things he would endure for you.

You had warned him that they were judgmental. But how could they have raised such an open minded girl, one that could’ve been capable of falling in love with him? Or perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps he really had ruined you in more ways than he thought. The thought filled him with a twisted, possessive pride.

“I’ll be right back, I have to bring the dessert from the kitchen.” Michael was getting ready to rise to join you when your mother jumped in. 

“Oh, I’ll help”

Your eyes widened in alarm at the thought of leaving your visibly frustrated father with Michael. “O-Oh. Actually, Michael was going to…”

“Nonsense. He’s a guest.”

You didn’t respond, just nodding tensely. Besides, what could you say? That Michael had spent more than enough days and nights here to no longer hold that guest status? Your parents might combust.

And it seemed as if your dad was waiting for an opportunity to finally speak because as soon as you were out of sight, his gaze was on Michael’s tall figure beside him.

“You know a man like you doesnt strike me as the type to be interested in my daughter.” He said, “You know with your certain look to you. Might scare them away.”

Didn’t scare your daughter away. Michael wanted to quip but your father continued before he had the chance to dwell on whether or not to speak his mind.

“I don’t figure that my little Y/N is your type of woman, normally. What changed?”

How had he gotten you. Was what he was trying to say. How did a man like Michael, get a girl like you. He was sure the rest of the world asked themselves the same question your parents were currently asking themselves. Why had you even given him the time of day? Sometimes he asked himself that too. But usually it filled him with satisfaction knowing how great of a girl he had gotten, to be able to arouse those questions.

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t the type of girl he usually would’ve gone for before meeting you. He’d never been with an inexperienced girl and your differences, perhaps if anyone else, would have dissuaded him from ever pursuing you. But he couldn’t pinpoint what changed, just that when he met you, none of that mattered.

Michael didn’t lift his own gaze from your father’s. This time not caring if he looked challenging or not and not bothering to try to speak more than just a clipped response. “I don’t know. But seems like I’m your daughter’s type, so it worked out for me.”

“Really, she’s not to...peppy for you? You seem much more .... stoic” 

In fact it’s the happiness you bring in his life that he loves so much. He wasn’t stoic with you but his smiles, laughs and chuckles were reserved only for you. And he loved seeing you look so shy and cute next to him. 

“No.”

Just as blunt as your father. And while it may not seem so to anyone beside you, he really was still trying to be as proper as possible. That included some slightly unmannerly responses and behaviors, but he wasn’t cursing or intimidating. So he counted that as a win.

If your father expected a boyfriend desperate for approval, he wasn’t in luck. Michael didn’t care for his acceptance or support. He didn’t care that your father’s face was turning red with anger; at the suggestion that his daughter, the one he raised so carefully, the gentle and smart one that they were so proud of, the one destined for a nice marriage with a nice rich man, could possibly be attracted to someone like him who, with the small portion of ink he could see, screamed bad news. Michael had an urge to let him in on a little secret; you were much more than just attracted to him, you were weak for him. He wondered how much angrier your father would be if he knew his daughter called him daddy too. 

“Listen here, Michael” He tried his best to be well mannered. “I don’t know what a guy like you wants with my daughter, your intentions. But it’s not what’s best for her, you’re not what’s best for her. She might be blinded from that right now but when she wakes up, and she will, you won’t be around for too long afterward. So take whatever sick fantasy you have away from her because guess what? She won’t be participating. She’s too smart to fall for it. I won’t let my little girl be defiled by someone like you.”

A little too late for that. He had lost count of how many times he made sure to cum all over your face to prove it. 

Michael was silent, staring at him with dangerous eyes. But even still, a taunting smirk was threatening to form on his lips. If only he knew that Michael had ‘his little girl’ on her knees yesterday with his cock down her throat.

Your father was right. He likely wasn’t what was best for you, you could do better. But Michael was a selfish man and you had already allowed yourself to be claimed by him, wanted him just as much as he did you. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from him. The thought that your father was still worried about your cherished chastity with someone like him, just increased the lust fueling in him at the knowledge that he had already tarnished the sweet girl no one expected, or dreamed, to have been ensnared by someone like  him.

“She’s a big girl, now.” He said with a secretive smirk. “And I plan on staying for a very long time” He let his sentence stop there for your sake but the rest of his sentence hung between them in silence. so get used to it. Maybe whatever rich loser you wanted her to be with would be afraid of you or cared, but like you said: I’m not what’s best for her. So I don’t. 

Your father’s voice rose so much Michael was surprised you hadn’t heard and come running to defuse the situation. “Look at you! You can’t expect me to think you have good intentions with a girl that you tower over, one that still looks at the world with wonder and has nothing visibly in common with you. She’s never done drugs, never drank, doesn’t have tattoos, she dresses in pastels for God’s sake. One you can easily manipulate especially as it’s pretty obvious to anyone that has eyes that you are more….lived than she has been. She’s lived a sheltered life and that makes her susceptible to bad influences, one that try to take advantage of her for their own twisted desires or kinks.”

Michael didn’t even know if he could deny the accusation towards his intentions. He loved you, couldn’t imagine spending his life without you. He had nothing but good intentions in being with you. But yet, the intentions that swirled around in his mind constantly, the ones that saw you on your knees, bent over, crying for him, body moving alongside him, eliciting you to do every sinful desire, every bad influence, in his heart were anything but good. Only fueled by your tiny size, how everything about him was too big for you, your innocence and wide eyed look to the world, and how that is visible in the way you dress like a naive slut without even realizing it. You were the completely opposite of him and him being able to taint you, leave his mark on you in that way by using that pureness in all the dirty ways he saw fit was a kink he would never get sick of.

As much as Michael wanted to fight back against his words as angrily as he felt. He didn’t. Because he knew you would come back and fix everything and he didn’t want his lapse of judgement to stick in your father’s memories. Despite what he thought, Michael loved you and knew you enough to know that.

But his words held the same amount of punch nonetheless. “Trust me anything I do to her, I don’t have to manipulate her to do it.” He told you that he’d try with your parents. But he never promised that he would try that hard.

And just like he predicted, you were sprinting over to them in an instant. He could only hope that you hadn’t heard his words, only enough to see your father’s veins practically pop out. You stood between and it might’ve been to spite your father that Michael stood at that moment, resting his hand on your hips and pulling you into him protectively. The top of your head just skimming his chest. Showcasing to your parents in visual terms that he was your boyfriend. Maybe it was their worst decision ever to allow you to move out and into university. But it was too late to regret it now. In fact, watching that realization dawn on them, seeing firsthand just what he had taken from the world, a proper innocent girl. You were his now, introduced to sex and pleasure by his hand, ruining you, when that was never meant to happen, just seemed to stoke the fire burning in him.

“Dad!” You stared at your father with a hurt gaze, allowing your figure to be held tightly by Michael.

+

You sighed dramatically as you entered the kitchen. Knowing that if your mother insisted on coming with you it was because you were about to have a talk, one you definitely did not want to hear.

“Y/N.” She started and you slumped against the counter, crossing your arms defensively. Just when you were starting to think she liked him, that things were going more smoothly than they started to be. 

“If you’re here to judge my boyfriend, I’d rather not hear it, mom.”

Your mother nodded as if she was on your side. “Oh, darling. I know all girls go through this phase of liking the boys like this and you’re in college now so everything seems so new and interesting. But if this is just you rebelling or trying to prove something to your father and I. Like, I don’t know maybe you resent us from keeping you from experiencing your teen years then…”

“A phase?!” You stared at her with horror. “You think this is a phase? That I’m with Michael because I’m trying to prove a point or something, I’ve been with him for 2 years mother!”

“And you are just now introducing us, what does that tell you?”

“That I knew you’d act like this and I didn’t want him to be put in a position where he has to defend his very existence! I’m not ashamed of him.”

Your mother touched her forehead in exasperation. “Listen to yourself defending him. Boys like him…they’re only interested in one thing and I don’t want you getting swept up in it, because it isn’t you. Don’t think Maia hasn’t told me all about him, too” You might kill your best friend before this dinner is over. “I raised a kind, gentle, wholesome girl and I don’t want to see what someone like him can do to that when he is very obviously anything but. He’s a bad influence! Honey, really he looks so cold and tense, like he’s half a beat away from killing someone. Can he really give you the love and care you’re used to? That you deserve? He’s walking a different path than you are. And one day you’ll wake up from this and realize that your father and I are right and that we’re just looking out for what’s best for you. You should be with boys more like you. Like Daniel! You remember him from church when you were little? His mother tells me he studies here too and I hear he has grown up very well, I-”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Was your mother seriously attempting to set you up while your boyfriend was in the other room? 

She was partly right. Michael had been walking a different path than you and he had changed you. He had introduced you to things you never could have imagined and you have been side by side with things you’ve been warned all your life to never partake in but he never forced you, he respected boundaries and he wanted to keep you safe and pure as much as anyone.He taught you everything you knew about the world and what it had to offer, he opened your eyes and other parts of yourself and you never felt more exhilarated and safe than with him.

But how were you supposed to tell her that your love for Michael wasn’t a desperate attempt of rebelling or a phase to do so. That you were already swept up in what ‘boys like him’ wanted and you were all too happy to fulfill that. You loved everything she was warning you about. You loved his possessiveness and how wanted you felt with him, how he treated you like a princess, gently yet so roughly. How he was so much bigger he could throw you around however he wanted and you were oh so happy to be his submissive toy. You felt cared for, despite him looking colder than he really was; in fact even more knowing you were an exception in his life, that he was only that way with you. Everything he taught you about sex and pleasure and how good he made you feel. 

 You weren’t going to wake up one day and see what they claimed was the truth. Because the real truth was, you couldn’t be happier with Michael. A man who respected you and made you feel like the center of the world, you’d never felt more loved and cared for than you did with him. And the thought of dating someone like Daniel when you’d already had a taste of Michael, his danger, his protection, his adoration, was dreadfully boring and distasteful.

You were going over your head how you were going to explain all this when the rough clanging of silverware sounded from the dining room. You’d been with Michael enough to know the sound of problem when you heard it. So you dashed away from the kitchen, leaving your mother to trail behind you without a word.

+ 

You didn’t give anyone a chance to speak. You saw your father’s angry face, replacing his usual collected strict one, but you didn’t even want to hear what Michael could have said to trigger it.

“I was so excited.” Your voice broke despite yourself, your eyes turning glassy. “I was so happy that the three most important people in my life were finally going to meet because I wanted you to love each other just as much as I love each of you.”

You squared your shoulders, happy that your parents were at least giving you the decency of listening. “The last thing I wanted was to subject my boyfriend to feeling inferior or like he isn't welcome or accepted. He doesn’t deserve that and I love him too much to put him in this position.” 

You felt Michael’s hands tighten around your figure but you kept talking. It broke his heart to see just how happy you had started the day and how you had finished it. “He might not be what you expected but I want to make it clear that the way I described him to you when I mentioned him, that is how I see him and it’s not my fault you’re too stuck on appearances or stereotypes to see that. He’s not taking advantage of me and he’s not a bad influence or using me or whatever I represent to satisfy some…perversion or whatever you think.” 

You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke that way to your parents. But at that moment, you couldn’t really care. You were too hurt, the excitement and hope you felt at the beginning was squashed and instead there was just a fierce protectiveness for the love of your life. “Michael tried but you couldn’t even give him that? I love him and he loves me and I've never felt more secure in being loved, adored or protected. He always looks out for me and never lets me do something that is bad for me. He has never pressured me to do anything and in fact, he's stopped me from being pressured to do things I’ve never done or wanted to do before. I can see a future with him and yet my own parents won’t even take the time to get to know him without already having made up their minds.”

It was your tears that had your parents glancing at each other guiltily before back to you. They weren’t being fair and while their minds were certainly not changed about Michael, they understood their need to at least tolerate him, especially when he meant so much to the only person that mattered in their eyes: you.

Your father spoke first, his eyes jumping around to avoid staring directly at Michael but he nodded as he forced his words out. “You’re right, darling. We’re sorry, to you and Michael. I think we just got caught off guard, plus we were already not going to like him - being your first boyfriend and all. Can’t blame us for being worried.”

And Michael should’ve expected it from his too kind girlfriend when you smiled through your shed tears. You nodded at his words as an acceptance of the apology, just happy they gave Michael one in the first place. You sniffled tearfully. “Of course, daddy. Thank you.” 

Okay, Michael would seriously have to force you to stop saying that to your father or else your dad would really hate him. And he’s afraid he wouldn’t give less of a fuck.

But then your parents were sitting down again, a time for a restart and so Michael guided you down, rubbing his hand up and down soothingly on your back. He knew your parents wouldn’t really ever change their minds about him - especially when, if he was honest, a lot of what they said about him deserving you or how he was changing you, were correct. But they didn’t understand your dynamic, that that very corruption of you was his favorite part. And he was teaching you to love it just as much.

“Yes, again, I’m very sorry Michael.” Your mother nodded at him, “And thank you, if all that she just said is true about looking out for her. Actually, we wanted to thank you. Since you started dating, our little bird has really stepped out of her shell.” You whined embarrassed and Michael fought back a smirk, he was helping you with that all right. But maybe your mother wouldn’t be thankful for that if she knew the truth. But your father just nodded along. 

Michael didn’t respond. He wasn't protecting you for your parents, he would protect you even without them. 

“We wondered who this man was that was helping her so much but now I see it’s because you’re so….free spirited” The reference to Michael’s tattoos couldn’t be more obvious. He couldn’t be nice to Michael even if he tried. But maybe a backhanded compliment was better than a boxing match. 

Michael hadn’t even wanted to wear an uncomfortable long sleeved shirt, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hide all his ink anyway and he didn’t really care too much about the difference in your parents reactions if they’ll react negative to their daughters boyfriend having neck and hand tattoos anyway. But right then he thought maybe he had made the best choice. 

Michael watched them carefully. Tolerate. That’s all their new behavior was towards him and he could appreciate that. Because equally, he was forcing himself to be as proper as his mind would let him towards them. Of course, that didn’t mean he was anxious about their acceptance or good feelings towards him.

He had a feeling any future meetings would be like that, the knowing that neither of them really approved of him, the sneaky attempts of guiding you away but the general fake pleasantries thrown his way. And he would try not to ruin that by letting his anger cause him to speak his mind, he could be proper. 

And either you were blissfully unaware of the tense peace compromise between them or you didn’t care, but you just laid your head to rest on his shoulder as you listened to your parents prod more into Michael’s life, asking questions about their daughters boyfriend as if they were accepting him into their lives. You couldn’t be more grateful. And happy. It felt like it was true, your most loved ones were living side by side in harmony. It was everything you wanted and more. A bubbly smile filled your face that your parents, despite themselves, noted how starkly it stood out next to Michael’s tough face. 

They hadn’t tried to take you away from him, you were still in his arms. Along with the pride he felt at you standing up for him when you didn’t have to, when he was very aware of your feelings for him and secure in them. He felt more appreciative than he would ever let you know. All of that that was enough for Michael to play along, play nice and just wait for this entire meeting to be over with. Wait until he could finally be alone with you and content, like he wanted. Like he only ever was when it was just you two.

Besides, despite his best attempts, all these reminders of your differences had left him hornier than he would like to admit. His desires were flaring up to have your parents ‘pure little daughter who he didn’t deserve’ moaning under him. They couldn’t leave fast enough. 

[bffsoobin]

Just One Day

↳ being the extraordinary Choi Yeonjun’s ordinary ex girlfriend had begun to feel like nothing more than a fun fact the longer you two had been apart. He had gone to Korea to chase his dream, and you had all but forgotten about the way he made you feel. When Yeonjun calls and explains he’ll be back for a day, do you go for it?

➤ fluff, angst, smut, idol!yeonjun x ex girlfriend!reader

Word count: 5,313

Requested?: yes

Warnings: This includes (badly written) mature content! Please do not read between the illustrated borders if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable! Smut warnings include: unprotected sex (don’t do it!), some dirty talk, slight male masturbation. General warnings include:swearing, awkwardness, slight pining, self doubt, mentions of crying/heartbreak, Yeonjun is a sly little shit, Feelings, me not editing or proof reading, me not keeping a very good time line for the story (how long ago did they date? How long were they together? What era are txt in when this story takes place? I didn’t bother to specify so feel free to let your mind run wild)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

It felt weird seeing the Snapchat memory pop up. A younger you smiled back through the screen, hair messy from the wind. Even weirder is the sight of a younger Choi Yeonjun, cheek pressed right against yours and a wide smile taking over his face. You hadn’t forgotten him, there was no way you could, but you had certainly forgotten this day. This date. The two of you had spent the day at an amusement park, skin turning red under the sun as you rode every attraction the park had to offer. As you clicked through the memory, you found a video you took of him dancing next to the picnic table the two of you ate overpriced fries and pizza on. The sound of your own laugh made you smile. You had really been so happy. So many happy memories with Yeonjun cropped up in your mind. All of the movie nights, walks along the lake, lunches and mini golf dates flooded you.

With the happy memories also came the hurt. The countdown to the day he had to leave for Korea, knowing nothing would ever be the same again. You had blocked out so many bad things, but one you could never forget was the night before he left. Since he was leaving so early in the morning, you had come to sleep over so you could be sure not to miss saying goodbye. As the night fell, you clutched onto his shirt and begged him not to forget you. It was pathetic how much you sniffled and sobbed into the thin fabric and pleaded with any entity listening to keep Yeonjun in your life. He had cried too, although you never noticed. The sound of your sobbing consumed his senses as the two of you laid down in his bed and he knew he could do nothing but hold you until you fell asleep. When the heaving and shaking stopped, he looked down on your swollen, tear streaked face and began shaking with his own silent sobs. He loved you. You loved him. But that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together in the way you wished. Yeonjun didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he watched you sleep and pretended everything was okay. Pretended he wasn’t leaving you behind minutes after sunrise. 

That night is one of your very worst memories. You threw your phone to the side, rubbing your hands over your face to reduce some of the weight laying on your shoulders. A hot shower was definitely in order to relieve some tension in your muscles.

Your worries washed down the drain with the scalding water. With a clearer mind you were able to push the sad memories of years past back to the dark corner of your mind where you left them originally. The rest of your day was normal, save for the fact that you felt as if the selfie of you and Yeonjun you had seen earlier was permanently tattooed behind your eyelids. At every spare moment you had you were thinking of him. The Yeonjun you had fallen in love with way before he had millions of other people following his every move. You had neglected to keep up with his actions many months ago when you decided that there was no point in mulling over a guy who would never come back to you.

And given the general lack of interest of kpop harbored by your family and friends; it wasn’t hard for you to reduce Yeonjun to nothing more than a boyfriend who had to move far away. Most of the people in your life now didn’t even know about the years old relationship, anyway. You had decided it was much better that way.

Your day was boring, to be totally honest. You had dedicated the day to cleaning, but your small apartment needed less attention than you originally thought. By 6:30pm, you had already made and eaten dinner and started yourself on a marathon of Hunger Games movies. Right in the middle of Katniss’ adventures in the 74th games; your phone began to vibrate against your thigh with a phone call. The number came up as unknown, and you didn’t recognize the area code as a local one so you let the call drop. Katniss was mourning the death of Rue when your phone vibrated again. This time you saw a voicemail from the mystery number. You were confused. A little bit annoyed at the intrusion, but mostly really confused. Usually scam callers didn’t leave messages, and everyone else that was important to your life was in your phone as a contact.

What the hell, you thought. Just listen to the voicemail and see who it's from, you can always delete the message and block the number later. Disregarding Katniss’ heavy breathing, you clicked on the notification and pressed your phone to your ear. There were a few seconds of silence and some shuffling that made you think it was an accidental butt dial to a very wrong number until a clear voice broke through.

“Hey, Y/N. I know this is super weird but-“ you dropped your phone out of your hand as if it had bitten you. You knew that voice. Yeonjun. What the fuck? With your phone left forgotten on the couch you nervously walked around your apartment. What did he want? How did he get your number? Why was he calling you?

After some self convincing and a cold glass of water, you decided you would get all your answers if you’d just finish listening to the damn voicemail. This time, you listened closer and in the silence of the beginning you could hear some faint Korean that made your blood run cold. This was for real. Yeonjun’s voice crackled through the phone again.

“I’m, uh, in the US right now. LA, actually. We just landed like an hour ago and I though of you- is that weird?” He cleared his throat, “I have a day off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up? If you don’t, it’s okay.” A heavy sigh and some more shouting of Korean in the back. “But if you do, we can meet at 10am at that breakfast place you like? I looked it up, the one between the library and the corner market we used to go to? Okay. That’s it. Um, bye.” Even after the end of the message you kept your phone pressed to your ear, in total disbelief of what you’d just heard.

Numbly, you unpaused the movie although none of the horrors of the Games stirred you like normal. The only thing you could focus on was whether or not you should go meet Yeonjun in the morning. What did you have to lose? Other than a little pride if he stood you up or something of the sort, you couldn’t think of much. You could easily catch an Uber there in the morning. But would it be weird? You knew the other members would be with him, but how much did they know? Your nerves made you queasy. The option of not going at all seemed more and more appealing with every passing moment.

You played the movie again, watching but not processing any of the presented images. You wanted to talk this out with someone, but no one really knew about your time with Yeonjun and the situation was way too far fetched to be boiled down to hypotheticals for a friend. Twenty minutes must have passed with you mulling every little detail over in your head. The movie had ended without your knowledge but it didn’t matter anyway. You were already in your bedroom, computer open to YouTube. Skimming your fingers over the keys, you gave the universe time to stop you. To make someone knock on your door, or your mom to call you, or for the power to go out; but nothing of the sort happened. You typed in “tomorrow x together” and shut your eyes as if it would change anything.

Pages of videos- both official and fan made beckoned you down a dangerous rabbit hole. One where you began to miss Yeonjun all over again. He had grown a lot since the last time you had seen him. He was taller, broader. HIs jaw was much more defined and he had taken to wearing jewelry all the time. Side effects of becoming an idol, you supposed. None of those details hurt more than the fact that his personality seemed unchanged. Amplified, yes; but he was still the same goofy, clingy and heartfelt boy you had fallen in love with years ago. You watched the way he interacted with the other members and you felt your heart swell with joy. Some small part of you was worried that pressure and fame would change him but you were amazed to see that was not the case.

Autoplay took it upon itself to load up the next video for you. You felt oddly warm at the idea of seeing even more content; this time through the lense of an adoring fan. A title flashed across the screen in a handwritten font: “Best of Choi Yeonjun”. Edited video clips of him singing, dancing and playing around with the other group members flashed before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lull yourself into a state of comfort upon seeing and hearing him so much. In the back of your mind, you knew you had already silently decided on meeting him tomorrow. You closed your laptop with a renewed excitement before you began to get ready for bed.

When you woke up there was still an hour before your alarm was even set to go off. Despite the early hour you were wide awake as if your nerves had been connected to a live wire pumping electricity through you. There was no grogginess in your eyes, and if it wasn’t for the jumble of nerves in your gut you could have believed you were going to have a perfect day. Your mind stalled at the reality of facing Yeonjun in just mere hours. You think you dreamed about him last night; in some weird, hazy fashion where you can’t remember much other than his presence. Vague details swarmed through your mind throughout the entire duration of your morning routine. Even though you had just showered the night before, you took another one to pass the extra time and take the opportunity to shave as well as you could in the dim light of your bathroom. You were oddly aware of just how quickly your heart was beating through the whole process. The drumming sound in your ears became second nature by the time you stood in front of your closet.

Suddenly, the extra hour your body had subconsciously given you became a blessing as you decided that you had absolutely nothing to wear. The outfit you had planned during your shower looked much worse in real life than you ever would have thought. It was almost as if the open drawers were mocking you, laughing about the fact that you were so nervous about meeting Yeonjun again that you couldn’t even pick out an outfit. You shuffled through all of your hangers multiple times, slipped different dresses and pairs of jeans on until you settled on something that you decided would be good enough- especially with the time of 9:10 am glaring back at you. With the consideration of morning traffic, you needed to be out of your apartment as soon as you possibly could. It was sort of embarrassing how sweaty your palms were as you locked up your apartment door and requested an Uber. Luckily your driver came so fast that you didn’t really have time to dwell on just what you were about to do. Even the ride there gave you no time to overthink, as your friendly driver made polite conversation that you felt bad for slacking on.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk after stalling for as long as you possibly could. The breakfast spot was surprisingly unpopulated compared to the rest of the stores, but just as quaint and adorable as you always remembered. Yeonjun used to live over this way so the two of you frequented the family owned restaurant so much that all of the servers knew your order. Your heart felt as if it was permanently stuck in your throat with the knowledge that Yeonjun was just steps away from you. A few bystanders eyed you suspiciously as you tried to work up the courage to enter the building. Fuck it, you thought. There was no way to avoid this any longer.

The hostess working the front stand seemed to notice your nervous disposition. “Can I help you? Just one?” Suddenly the back of your neck felt warm under her questioning.

“Uhm actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” The hostess nodded politely.

“Oh, can I ask your name? A man here said he was waiting for a girl to come meet him,” she shuffled a menu around on her podium.

“I’m Y/N,’ you supplied meekly. The hostess’ face lit up as she waved to you to follow her further into the restaurant. The layout was familiar even though the decor had evolved over the last few years. At a corner booth sat Yeonjun with his fluffy hair, intently examining the menu as you approached. The hostess announced your arrival and left in the blink of an eye.

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, totally caught off guard by the sight of him actually in front of you. He rushed out of the booth seat and immediately squished you into a tight hug.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, pulling back to examine you once again before you both sat down on the vinyl seats. “I don’t know what to say, I-” he rubbed his hands over his face, “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” You just stared at him for a second, waiting for the cogs in your brain to start up again.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come either. But I’m glad I did. I just saw old pictures of us from when we were dating.” It felt so foreign to hear that phrase coming out of your mouth that you almost flinched. Yeonjun’s face softened and he opened his mouth to speak just as your waiter sidled up to the table. He took your orders, and you couldn’t help but realize that you had both ordered your regulars from years ago. Yeonjun picked at his nailbeds for a second. There was so much to talk about that your mind could not settle on a single thing.

“I just wanted to say,” Yeonjun’s voice startled you, “that I’ve missed you a lot. I feel awful about the way we left it, and as soon as I heard we were coming back to the US I had to try and make time to meet you. Unfortunately I only have this one day off so I was hoping you would want to see me too,” he couldn’t contain the smile that grew on his face; the one that hadn’t changed since the last time you ever saw him.

“Of course I wanted to see you, Junnie,” the nickname was automatic and made him crinkle his eyes up happily, “I’ve missed you too.”

It was almost unbelievable how easy it was to fall back into conversation with him. The food was just as good as you always remembered, but it paled totally in comparison to the colorful stories the two of you traded. His were-of course- much more riveting and star studded than yours could ever hope to be. He told you tales of everything from his friends to his late nights practicing, to all of the places he had traveled since going into the company. All you had to offer were some stories of your adventures with family and friends but Yeonjun still listened with rapt attention. The flow of conversation was just as easy as you always remembered it to be. Even through mouthfuls of your breakfast you were having a better time with Yeonjun than you had with anyone else in months.

The waiter came to clear your plates during a natural lull in your conversation and suddenly the magical spell casted on the two of you seemed to lift. Yeonjun’s face was flushed red and you became extremely interested in your cuticles.

“I’ll pay for our food,” he reached for the check that had been placed face down on the table as you scoffed.

“No, I can pay for myself, it’s fine,” you held your hand out expectantly but he never handed over the receipt. Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed.

“No, absolutely not. I’m the one who asked you to meet me here out of the blue after not seeing you for years. And it’s just one day that I’m here. The very least I can do is pay for your meal, Y/N. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have a guy treating you?” He waved down the waiter and handed over the check along with a credit card.

“Well to be fair, I haven’t really had a guy ‘treat me’ in a while,” you grumbled at him, “but that’s an unfair way to guilt me into letting you buy my food.” You were pouting now, you knew. Yeonjun cooed at your change in behavior.

“Too bad. I want to be your complimentary boyfriend for the day. So I’m paying. And you get to pick the next place we go.” There was no way you could argue with him although the thought of him being your “boyfriend” again made your brain set off alarms.

“Okay, Junnie. Just remember you dug your own grave.”

Following breakfast, you drug him into your favorite boutique where the two of you had your own coming of age movie style try on in the dressing rooms. You hated to admit just how well Yeonjun had pulled off every single outfit he put on. Even the bright green button up and cheetah print bucket hat you had picked as a joke looked amazing on him. It was hard to miss the way he had bulked up, arms bulging against the fabric of the shirt as he twisted around in front of the mirror to admire himself. Mentally you slapped yourself. No drooling allowed, Y/N. This was no longer the Yeonjun who was your first love. This Yeonjun was famous and in the eyes of the public, living halfway across the world. There was no way he still thought about you the same way you thought of him.

He had noticed your lapse in behavior and chalked it up to him actually enjoying your prank outfits.

“Awe, it’s okay Y/N. We can go to Goodwill and you can find me something really awful to try on. I promise I’ll look hideous,” he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and guided you towards the cashier with a grin so he could buy the last two items you ever thought he would enjoy. You pushed through your slowly souring mood to dutifully follow Yeonjun to another small shop nearby. Your thoughts were beginning to wander farther and farther until you completely tuned his voice out of your head. A hand ruffling up your hair ended your daydreaming. You grabbed Yeonjun’s hand and yanked it away.

“Leave me alone,” your tone was flatter than you wanted him to hear. His face instantly crumpled in confusion before turning serious. You could tell he wanted to say something to you but the atmosphere of the store was just not right. Pop music was piped through the speakers and you could hear the faint hum of the workers talking to one another. Without another word, Yeonjun guided you out of the store and back out to the front of the store.

“I think we should talk in private. Would you feel comfortable if we went back to your apartment?” Your heart swelled at his consideration of your comfort.

Just one slightly awkward Uber ride later, you were letting Yeonjun into your apartment. Suddenly you were worried about the fact that your bed wasn’t made and that you hadn’t dusted in way too long. Of course he didn’t notice, but as he sat down on your couch you couldn’t help but remember the pizza sauce stain on one of the cushions that you had hidden with a well placed throw pillow.

“C’mon, sit down. This is your home and you’re acting more awkward than I am,” he patted the cushion beside him but you chose to leave an intentional space between you, intimidated by the way he spread his legs out in front of him. “What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle, just the way you remember it from all your late nights and early mornings together.

You sighed. “It’s just weird. You being here, I mean. Before, I just saw you as a boy like the same way I was just a girl. Now I’m still just a girl but you’re,” you struggled for the words, “now you’re an it boy. But you still had my number in your phone. You still chose to use your day off to walk around with me! I guess I just don’t know why.” He was silent, watching you with slightly pouted lips and wide eyes.

“Oh,” your eyes crinkled in shock. Oh? That’s all he had to say? Before you had time to fume, he continued; “I thought it was pretty obvious. I still like you. A ton. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You’ve never been just a girl to me, Y/N. I chose to come see you on my day off because I couldn’t bare the thought of being in your city with free time and not at least trying to make you understand.” You could feel yourself shrinking under his intense gaze.

“Understand what?” you whispered. He leaned closer, eliminating the gap you had created between the two of you. Just inches from your face, you could clearly see the way his sparkling eyes shifted between your own eyes and your lips several times. You knew he was giving you an out. Time to back away and tell him no. But you didn’t want an out. His lips were chapped but just as full as you had always remembered them to be. The first kiss was short and sweet, just a little testing peck as the initial spark lit a larger, raging fire inside of you.

He wasted no time going in for a second kiss, this one much longer and slower and very reminiscent of what you used to share with him. It felt as if he was pulling all of the air from your lungs and replacing it with his own. You felt your dormant feelings leak from the inside out in such a rush that you had to push him away from you. Chest heaving, you laid your head against the solid muscle of his chest. Your eyes burned with unshed tears and all of the thoughts you desperately wanted to spill. Yeonjun stroked your hair and said nothing as you quietly collected yourself.

“It’s been so long. How do you still make me want you so bad?” Yeonjun laughed in a tone that bordered on remorseful.

“Guess I’m magic,” his lips descended on yours again, this time much needier as his hands began to roam all over your body. He kept a strong grip on your hips before sliding a hand up the front of your shirt. You gasped at the feeling.

“Are you okay? I can stop if-“ you shook your head rapidly and wrapped your hand around his wrist to guide him farther up your shirt, resting over your bra.

“I’m fine, please touch me.” He pushed you down against your couch and pressed his weight between your spread legs. Every part of you was on edge, hyper aware of every single movement that Yeonjun made. Mouthing at your neck, using both hands to squeeze at your breasts, the subtle rock of his hips against your center. Jolts of pleasure wracked through you.

“You’re so beautiful. So much more perfect than I even remembered,” Yeonjun stripped your shirt over your head and traced his fingers down your sides. You shivered as he worked his hands behind your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You couldn’t help but snort at the scrunched up face of concentration that melted away his dominant facade.

“Need some help?” Trying to bite back your laughter only worked for so long before you turned into a giggly mess under him. He tipped his head back and let out a whine that made your stomach stir in arousal given your situation.

“Don’t laugh, it’s been a long time,” his voice was thicker, deeper than it had been for the rest of the day and only served as a reminder of the tell tale bulge pressed against your inner thigh. Unclasping your own bra was a breeze, but you allowed Yeonjun the pleasure of actually pulling it away from your body. Before you had time to cover yourself up, the boy above you was diving down to press kisses on each breast, paying special attention to your nipples until you were squirming uncontrollably under his weight. He got the message and made short work of your jeans and panties.

“Hold on,” he groaned at the sight of you while he struggled to get off of the couch and strip himself down as quick as possible. He had no shame, and the way you were laying gave you a perfect view of all of the exposed skin. His well built arms and torso flexed underneath his virtually flawless skin. He shucked off his jeans and boxers in one go before eagerly climbing back on top of you. You were at a loss for words at the sight of his body but luckily Yeonjun didn’t mind your silence. He used it to his advantage as he rubbed circles into the meat of your thighs teasingly.

“Jun,” your hips canted upwards and caught on the head of his cock, “please.” You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout and that seemed to break his resolve instantly.

“Okay, fuck. I can’t resist you anymore princess,” he grunted his understanding and weaved his fingers through yours on either side of your head. Slowly, he pushed into you. He bit back moans the whole time, occasionally rocking his hips against you to stimulate your clit as well as he could. Your back arched off of the couch; neck bent at an awkward angle although it was the least of your worries as Yeonjun’s cock was fully sheathed inside of you. Your body was in overdrive; impossibly warm and sensitive even at the smallest roll of his hips.

Instantly you were a needy mess and could only focus on the feeling of Yeonjun’s skin against yours. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he pinned you down and began to thrust with the kind of intensity you weren’t expecting. Hard thrusts shifted your body underneath his and forced sounds you never heard yourself make from your throat. Yeonjun was just as loud, grunting and moaning at every snap of his hips.

With a slight shift of his weight, he was laying on top of you, totally encasing your body in his presence and burying his nose in the sensitive skin of your shoulder. The new angle forced him even deeper into you and a new wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your inner walls contracted around Yeonjun’s cock as a result and his hips stuttered at the feeling.

“Oh, do that again,” he commanded before biting into the soft skin behind your ear. You followed his orders easily and felt his cock twitch as a reward.

“Fuck, I’m close already, you’re so hot. You made me like this. Shit, princess. I missed you so much,” his thrusts became impossibly faster and deeper, bringing you just moments away from the feeling you were so desperately chasing.

“Jun,” your voice was high and needy, “I need more, I need more,” your words melted into incoherence but he still got the message and dislodged one of his hands from your shared grip to harshly rub at your clit. The touch was absolutely electric. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it only took a few more thrusts from Yeonjun before your vision turned white. You knew you were yelling and whining pathetically but you couldn’t get yourself to stop as he continued drilling into you to prolong your high and chase his own.

As soon as you began to calm down, Yeonjun pulled out. Although you felt painfully empty, your attention shifted immediately to the sight of him working a hand over his cock. He hadn’t given you the time to marvel at him earlier, so you took the opportunity to wonder at the perfect size and curve of his reddened cock, glistening with the sheen of your release. Yeonjun’s voice heightened the faster he moved his hand; swirling his thumb around the tip shakily before he finally released in hot spurts across your body. The sounds he made as he came all over your stomach and chest were nothing short of heavenly. Even through his ragged breaths he called out to you, chanting praise that made your stomach turn in more ways than one.

Despite the messy state of your skin, Yeonjun pulled you upwards and insisted on wrapping you up in a hug. You felt a little disgusted at all the fluids involved but said nothing. The two of you hadn’t really hugged since the day he left. He placed a kiss on your forehead and there was no denying just how tender the action was, especially following the spontaneous sex the two of you had just finished.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. I do like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I didn’t just say that to have sex with you, I hope you know that. I would say I even love you but…” his voice was raspy from overuse. You stared into his eyes, trying to read the odd mix of emotions swirling in his irises.

“It’s okay, Jun. I know you can’t...with work and everything,” you traced patterns on his bare chest, “I like you too. Even though we’ve found ourselves in a super weird spot here. And I’m happy we, ya know.” Your face was burning at the absurdity of being shy about it when a mere three minutes ago you were begging for him. “And I love that we’re cuddling and everything, and it’s a great moment for us, but I’m cold and sticky,” your nose scrunched involuntarily at the confession. Yeonjun couldn’t hold back the loud laugh that brought you back to every other moment you’d heard it before.

“Guess those things are my fault, huh?” Yeonjun teased, leaning down to place a light kiss onto your nose. You feigned upset but he didn’t buy it. Instead, he wiggled his way off of the couch. You tried your best not to stare at his towering form as you took the hand he held out to you.

“Shower?” He questioned, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you as you stood to your full height. For a second you hesitated, knowing the fondness growing in your heart would only hurt you even more in just a few hours. But you had him for just one day. Why not make the most of it?

[joaquinwhorres]

The Barest Ounce of Kindness (Klaus Hargreeves)

SUMMARY ››››› Klaus has been asking you to do small favors for him for months now. But brushing his hair? That’s weirder than the rest.

REQUEST ››››› Ooooh if you write for Klaus will you do 36 with him please!!! (36. Helping brush their hair after a shower.) 

WORD COUNT ››››› 2,028

WARNINGS ››››› Comfort, mentions of death

A/N ››››› I struggled a bit with an idea for this one before ultimately landing on the idea of "philia" love (meaning brotherly love, deep friendship). And well, this was born! 

Privacy did not exist within the walls of the Umbrella Academy

Hidden cameras--which were widely known  to exist despite their undisclosed locations--were placed in every room for monitoring. Most of your activities took place under the watchful eye of your father or Pogo. Mom breezed in and out of each room gathering clothes, making beds, shepherding you to wherever you needed to be next. But the worse culprits were your siblings. Luther was bearable, he was too busy shadowing the old man or sneaking around with Allison. When she wasn't with Luther, Allison had taken to snooping through everyone's things. Vanya perpetually hovered outside of each door which was at least a little better than Diego who was constantly hiding around corners to practice for "stealth missions." But the worst culprit by far was Klaus.

He was currently standing in your doorway wearing nothing but a fluffy lavender towel and with a baby blue hand towel piled on top of his head. 

"Will you brush my hair please?" Klaus asked, lip already jutting out in a pout.

You shut your book with a small thmp, because no matter how this conversation played out, Klaus was not going to leave your room until you gave him your full attention. That meant shoulders squared towards him, full eye contact, no finger saving your page, book placed in front of you on the desk. 

"What?" This was an odd request even from Klaus. Klaus who once asked you to tie his wrists together behind his back to see what the tightest he could get out of was. Klaus who once asked you to give him a tramp stamp of Pac-Man with a tattoo gun he procured from who knows where. Klaus who once asked you to watch him as he tripped because he swore he could levitate.

The thing that made this request odd was that it seemed rather...intimate. 

Intimacy did not exist within the walls of the Umbrella Academy either.

Klaus sighed dramatically, brushing past you to flop down onto your bed. "I've just had the shittiest day, and it would mean the world if just one human being showed me the barest ounce of kindness." 

You turned in your desk chair, resting your arms along the back so you could stare at him. He, in turn, was gazing up at the ceiling and the constellations you'd painted up there over the years, expanding your universe beyond the walls of the academy.

"What happened?"

Despite the complete and total lack of privacy, you felt like you never knew what went on with your siblings. Sure, there were the missions and your group trainings and meals and having them barge in on your personal space--but the rest of the time they seemed to slip through the cracks in the floors and disappear into the shadows of the halls. Their presence was felt. Their lives were not.

"Oh just one thing after another, I won't bore you with the details," Klaus dismissed, rolling over to prop his chin up in his hands and look at you expectantly. 

"You just want me to...brush your hair." The request would make more sense if there was some underlying catch. But he just nodded. So you remained still.

Klaus dropped his arms, giving you a more impatient look. "Come on, Y/N, you owe me one." 

"What? Since when?" you protested. You liked to keep your ledgers balanced in the house, and you were fairly certain you owed nothing to no one. In fact, over the past three months, Klaus had put himself more and more in the red with his strange requests.

“Ok, fine, I’ll owe you one,” Klaus relented. 

You paused, working your jaw, and Klaus squealed. Because he knew what that meant. 

It meant he won. Like always. And like always, you wouldn't even bother mentally logging this down as a favor owed.

Klaus clambered up to sit cross legged on your bed, the towel just saving you from having to burn your sheets. And your eyes.

"Do you have a brush?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at Klaus who in turn mirrored the look and gestured at himself in his towel.  

You heaved a sigh, dragging yourself up out of the chair and heading over to your dresser where the Umbrella Academy Personal Care Set lay neatly on top. Your father had seen fit to issue each of you a boar bristle brush, wide tooth comb, and thin pocket comb regardless of your specific hair needs. It had been several arguments and eventually an appeal to Mom just to get different shampoos for the seven of you. Back when it was seven.

You brushed aside the aching, hollowing sadness that grew whenever you thought of the number six and turned to Klaus, hair brush in hand. He had taken the blue towel off his head, leaving his hair sticking out in a multitude of directions. You snorted out a laugh, climbing up into the bed behind him. 

"Start at the ends and work your way up," Klaus instructed, wiggling his shoulders in anticipation as you brought the brush to his hair. 

"I know how to brush hair, Klaus," you deadpanned back. Klaus looked over his shoulder, eyes running over your head, assessing. He raised his eyebrows in a look that read quite clearly If you say so. You smacked him against the head, and he laughed turning back forward. 

"You need to cut your hair," you said, smoothing the brush through the ends of his shoulder length hair. "It looks raggedy." 

"I like it," Klaus dismissed, his voice dreamy already.

"You look like a stray dog." In response Klaus started panting loudly.

You smacked his arm, and since he remained face forward, you allowed yourself a smile as well. "You're so weird." 

"Good, it means I'm not boring," Klaus shrugged. You rolled your eyes, but the smile remained as you worked your way further up his hair. It was rather soothing, and despite the slightly uncomfortable twist in your stomach, it felt...nice to share this moment with Klaus. And because it felt nice, it also felt wrong. A bit like a betrayal.

"This is weird, you know that right? It's weird to brush another person's hair." you said, cringing at yourself slightly for using the word weird again. Because this kind of weird and Klaus' kind of weird were very different. Although, Klaus had brought on this kind of weird, so maybe he was both? 

"You used to love it when Mom brushed your hair," Klaus rebutted.

You shook your head. "That's different, it was Mom." 

"You're greatly overthinking this," Klaus said, turning to give you a significant look. "I wanted to be pampered, and you weren't doing anything."

"I was reading actually."

"A Brief History of Time, yes, how invigorating."

"Actually--"

"Nope."

"It is!"

"No. It's not. You need to get out more if you think that's exciting."

"Don't you want to know how the universe works?”

“Nope. I know how it works."  That statement had been slightly unexpected. You knew Klaus was more astute than he led the rest of the house to believe. You'd picked that up during your past few months of doing favors for Klaus. But the way he said that he knew how the world works...it sounded so matter of fact. Like he really did know the ins and outs of the universe. Like he had decades of knowledge whispered to him from the great beyond.

"Everything...” Klaus paused as he turned to look at you over his shoulder.You withdrew the hairbrush from his hair, looking at him expectantly. “Is fucked.”

You huffed, pushing Klaus forward and he laughed at you. You should have known not to expect anything too profound to leave Klaus. Still, you had hoped that he held some of the answers you'd been looking for.

"Come on, Y/N. You know I'm right," he protested, drawing himself up again and reigning his laughter in. "What else would explain why our daddy dearest is a millionaire and sweet little Vanya has no powers? Good things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. Bad things also happen to bad people, but they're never quite as bad as the bad things that happen to good people. See? It's all fucked."

He was right. 

Because if he was wrong, Ben wouldn't be dead.

You hung your head, shaking it a little, and Klaus took this for the concession that it was. He must have picked up a few things about you over the past few months as well. 

"Cheer up, if it's already fucked it means that we can't fuck it up worse."

"What's even the point though? If it's all fucked?" you asked. "What's the point of anything we do here if good people still die?" 

"The point is finding ways to make it bearable, I guess," Klaus shrugged. "I suggest pot as a starting point." 

You lifted the corner of your mouth in a vague smile, and Klaus turned around completely to face you. You held your hand out as a small shield to block any sights you did not want to see.

"Ben died making the world more bearable," Klaus said, his voice smaller than you'd ever heard it. As if he didn't want anyone else to overhear him being sincere.

You nodded, that hollow sadness echoing throughout your body. These waves came less than they had three months ago, and you no longer found yourself unable to hold in the tears, but it hadn't stopped hurting. You wished it would. You knew that there was an answer sitting two feet in front of you that could help. And yet, you'd never been able to bring yourself to ask it. It hadn't seemed fair to him, and you weren't sure you wanted to know. But here he was, and if there was any time, it was now.

"Klaus," you started. "Can you...is Ben...is he still around?"

Klaus looked out into the room, his eyes focused on the mid distance and you watched as his pensive look slowly pulled into a frown. 

"No," he said, offering a sad half smile. "Our Benny Bopper has gone towards the light. Eternal peace and all that." 

You bent your head, letting go of the breath of hope you'd been holding. "I don't know whether I'm happy for him or mad at him." 

Klaus reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'd go for mad," he said. "He always was an annoying little shit." 

You laughed. At least you tried to laugh. It broke about halfway through. 

"I know you two were close," Klaus' voice returned to the unusual sincere tone, rubbing a thumb lightly against your shoulder as a means of comfort. You nodded. Ben had been your closest friend in the entire house. He’d come to your room and the two of you would spend your spare time discussing the intricacies of life and dreaming of the day you could run off to Princeton or John Hopkins or any other far away college with a wonderful library. 

You had been kindred spirits.

And now he was just a spirit.

"Yeah," you breathed, looking out in the room, unable to meet Klaus' eyes. "And you guys were partners." 

"Eh, he always liked you more," Klaus dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Besides, you make a pretty good consolation prize." 

"Thanks," you answered flatly. A small silence grew between the two of you as you attempted to reel yourself back in to this moment, sitting on the bed with Klaus. Away from the memories and the wishes. 

You swallowed down the pressure that had built up in your chest and throat and turned back to Klaus. "Do you want me to finish brushing?" 

"I thought you'd never ask," Klaus said, turning back around, and you snorted vaguely aware of how your heart felt a little bit lighter than when he first walked into the room. It always seemed to feel this way after doing Klaus a favor. Maybe he was a pretty good consolation prize too.