#last time (her first session) she could retrieve a toy if it was in her path and she could only swim if she was swimming back to me

[tea-time-terrier]

A rat! A fish in water!! A flying pig!!! A speedboat!!!!

[wzrd-wheezes]

could i request a short imagine with remus x fem reader, where they’re best friends, and one day in the library while remus is talking about some book he’s passionate about, the reader just kisses him??? thank u!!!

Ink-Stained Fingers - Remus Lupin x Reader.

AN - this was such a cute request and i had so much fun writing it! thank you so much <3

Y/N’s fingers were stained with ink from her quill as she frantically scribbled on a particularly long roll of parchment, desperately trying to finish her potions essay that was due in the morning. Remus sat opposite her, his feet propped up on the table and a book gripped between his fingers.

“How many times have you read that one, then?” Y/N asked, glancing up at him.

“Dunno.” he replied, barely looking up, “Five maybe?”

Y/N smiled to herself, returning her attention to her homework. Remus would usually keep her company on her late night study sessions in the library when she was cramming in her homework last minute. She wasn’t as organised as he was usually.

Remus’ fingers toyed idly with a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper as he read. By the looks of it, it was a book that he’d read over and over. The edges of the pages had gone fuzzy like they had been thumbed through many times and his brow furrowed as his eyes danced over the words.

“I can lend it you if you want?” Remus broke the silence.

“Are you feeling alright?” Y/N laughed, “James asked to borrow one of your books the other day and you looked like he’d just asked you to sacrifice your first born child!”

Remus chuckled, closing the book and placing it on the table.

“That was only ‘cause I know he wouldn’t look after it,” he said, “knowing him he’d probably leave it somewhere.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, dipping her quill back into the pot of ink and carrying on writing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Remus reach down to retrieve something from his bag. He took out a quill and ink and began flicking quickly through the pages of his book.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked, not looking up from the piece of parchment in front of her.

“‘M just writing you some notes in the margins,” he muttered, clearly deep in thought, “y’know, for when you read it.”

Her eyes snapped up to look at him and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Remus was biting down on his lip as he scribbled down his notes, a crease forming between his brows. It was as if he couldn’t get the words down on the pages quick enough.

“This is one of my favourites, you know?” he spoke, “The characters are so well thought out and the way that it’s written is honestly…”

He went on, telling her every detail of the story telling without trying to ruin it for her. His lips pulled into a smile as he spoke, the words spilling effortlessly out of his mouth. His eyes were wide and shining with excitement and Y/N had lost track of what he was saying, completely in awe of how passionately he was speaking about the book.

Y/N didn’t know why she did it, but before she had even registered what she was doing, she had leaned across the table and kissed him. She caught him mid sentence, his mouth slightly open and his lips soft against hers. Y/N pulled away quickly, her eyes widening and her heart pounding.

“If you wanted me to shut up you only had to tell me.” Remus laughed, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m sorry - I don’t know why I did that!” Y/N panicked, “Shit. you’re my best friend-”

This time Remus cut her off. Leaning over the table and grabbing her face with his hands. The kiss this time was more sure, his lips confident against hers, his hand resting on her jaw. He tried to pull her closer to him to deepen the kiss when all over a sudden they were distracted by a dull thud as something hit the wood of the table.

Looking down, they saw that the pot of ink had been knocked over, the dark liquid spilling across the table and seeping onto the the roll of parchment where Y/N was writing her essay. She let out a gasp, trying to snatch her work away from the ink that was spreading at a rapid pace.

“Don’t worry about it.” Remus said, taking the paper from her hands and dropping it to the floor, his eyes still fixed on hers. The ink had got on his fingers too, and he chuckled as he looked at them. “I’ll help you write another one.”

His lips quickly found Y/N’s again, their ink stained fingers intertwining.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Femme Fatale - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Alex x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: Sub!Alex, Domme!Reader, pegging, blow job on a dildo, praise kink, bondage, cock bondage, spreader bar, dirty talk about exhibitionism, degradation Word Count: 3.2k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Praise Kink | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Blindfolds

A/N: Thank you so much for being my first ever commission Sin! I've had a lot of fun tackling this challenge because I've never written a Domme!reader before but I really appreciate you trusting me with your idea, and I hope I do it justice ❤️

Series Masterlist

Alex has been waiting so patiently. Since he and Y/N had gone to Femme Fatale a few weeks ago, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about everything he saw there. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what he saw Jared doing – or more accurately, what he saw being done to Jared.

Seeing Jared submit so publicly to all those people had been mesmerising; Jensen watching on proudly from the sidelines, offering Jared encouragement and praise when Jared finally couldn’t take it any longer and asked permission to cum. Jared had spurted into Jensen’s hand, held just below him while some tiny thing continued to pound into him from behind, her own domme egging her on the whole time, and then Jared had dutifully licked Jensen’s hand clean for him when he was finished. Alex had thought he was going to cream his shorts just from watching but he’d managed to restrain himself until they got home and Y/N had ridden him until they were both shuddering and sated.

He’s been dreaming about it, waking up hard every morning since that night. And not just semi-chubbed up – achingly, maddeningly, rock-solid and leaking. It’s gotten him into trouble, because he hasn’t been able to resist touching himself when he’s that hard up, and he’s not allowed to do that. Y/N had actually brought home a cock cage the night before for him to sleep in, so he didn’t wind up breaking his rules and ruining her plans for him. She can’t very well give him what he’s been dreaming about for weeks if he’s misbehaving.

Y/N had brought home a few other things last night along with the cock cage – she’d clearly enjoyed her shopping trip a little too much. The object of his fantasies is now sitting in front of him in the centre of their bed, black and threatening against the crisp, pale linens of the rest of the bedroom. The strap-on was a good size. Alex had been nervous that Y/N would be too cautious, too gentle with him, and get something shamefully small, but she hadn’t. Caution has never been her style anyways. He’s already getting ahead of himself imagining what it will be like to take something even bigger.

Alex is wearing the other new addition to their collection, a silicone plug that has been holding him open for the past hour or so while he kneels, waiting, at the foot of the bed. He had settled easily into the familiar position, his ankles and knees spread wide and in line while he sat back lightly on the spreader bar holding his legs apart. Being held open like this, he has to concentrate on staying tight so the plug doesn’t slip out. He knows if it does, he’ll be punished.

Y/N is in the shower, part of her ritual when they plan longer play sessions like this. She leaves Alex to sit and settle into his headspace while she uses the steam and the quiet to find her own. At the sound of the hairdryer, Alex feels his cock try to harden inside its restraint. That sound means Y/N is almost ready for him, and it’s a conditioned response by now, the excited heat he feels creeping under his skin. The sound of the door opening and closing comes a moment later, and Alex’s cock gives another smothered leap. She’s in the room with him now.

The scrape of blunt nails across the short hairs at the nape of his neck makes Alex shake, and the cuffs on his wrists and ankles rattle. He tries to crane his head back to see her but she pulls away, and he knows that means he’s not supposed to look yet.

“Have you been good for me, baby boy?” Y/N’s voice rings sweetly above him, sinking into his veins like a shot of something cool and calm. She’s using Jensen’s nickname for Jared again, the name he’s come to associate with this act. With dildos and harnesses and boys on their knees showing off how good they can be when they’re told what to do – when they’re owned like he and Jared are.

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex answers steadfastly. He has been good, he knows he has. He has been perfect for her.

“Yes, I can see you have been,” and he can hear the smile in Y/N’s voice, even though she still won’t move to where he can see her. He gasps suddenly but manages to choke it off before he gets too loud. Y/N had bent down to tap against his plug, nudging it maddeningly close to his prostate. “Good boy,” Y/N drops a small kiss to his shoulder in recognition of his efforts to keep quiet.

Alex savours the compliment, smiling proudly until a wisp of black trails up his back and over his eyes – his blindfold. He instantly deflates as Y/N secures the tie at the back of his head. He wants to see her. Well really, he wants to see her with a cock jutting out from her hips. He desperately hopes this doesn’t mean he won’t get to do that. A sharp tug on his cock sends Alex’s back rigid again as he tries to hold in the cry of shock at the sudden pain, however short lived.

“If you’re going to mope, we can stop right now,” Y/N speaks gently against his ear. She’s not mean about it, not cruel or teasing, she’s simply informing him.

“No, sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex sits as straight as he can manage, shoulders back, thighs and spine tensed.

��It’s okay, baby boy,” Y/N slips the back of her hand across his cheek and down his chest before pulling away. The creak of the bed springs tell Alex that she’s climbed on, hopefully, he prays as fervently as he can, to retrieve the strap-on she’d left him to contemplate this whole time. There’s moving and rustling and breathing but it’s all muddling together in his ears. He can’t make out where anything is, what anything is. He can only wait.

Something firm brushes against his lips. Y/N is in front of him now, and, he hopes, wearing the harness. The dildo is what’s pressing at his lips, and it is pressing now, not just brushing against them. Y/N wants him to let her in. He does, with relish.

“Good boy,” Y/N intones above him, her hands reaching for his head and combing through his hair. She doesn’t try directing him at first, just lets him explore the toy on his own. The silicone feels odd against his lips, it dries too quickly every time he pulls back so his mouth catches against its veins on each push back in. He isn’t sure how much of it he’s managing to fit into his mouth but he finds his limit fairly quickly, accidentally gagging himself and having to pull off.

“Sorry,” he pants, wishing he could wipe the spit that’s dripping down his chin, but his arms are still tied to the bar behind him. He must look so pathetic right now. His cock gives another twinge in its cage.

“It’s okay baby boy, try again, you can do it.” Y/N reassures him gently and pulls his mouth back to the toy. This time, when he reaches his limit and starts to pull away, Y/N stops him. She grips his hair tightly and holds the back of his head still on her cock. Alex gags again but stays still, and after a moment the intrusion doesn’t feel as bothersome. “Good boy,” Y/N murmurs above him, and Alex’s chest swells with warmth. “Just take a little more for me, baby boy. There we go,” Y/N eases him down just a fraction, and Alex starts to suck to distract his throat from wanting to push the toy out the other way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this baby,” Y/N sighs above him, petting his hair in appreciation. “Can just imagine how jealous all those guys at the club would be, seeing you suck me down so good. They’d all want a turn. It’s a shame to have you waste such a pretty mouth on a cock that can’t even feel it.” Alex moans around the toy and Y/N lets him pull back to suckle at the head. “You tryin’ to make me cum, baby boy?” Y/N laughs as Alex nods. “Such a fucking cumslut, aren’t you? Perfect fucking toy for that club.”

Alex’s mouth is suddenly empty and the air around him grows still and cold. He wants to call out, ask where she’s gone, but he doesn’t dare. Y/N keeps him waiting, testing him to see if he can behave, if he can keep quiet.

He passes.

The restraints holding his wrists to the bar click as Y/N undoes the buckles. She carefully rubs each wrist and moves the arm gently back and forth so she doesn’t shock his joints, before placing each hand palm down on the bed in front of him.

“Stand up, and keep bent over.” Alex pushes up from his knees onto his toes gracefully, in a move reminiscent of a yoga transition, and sinks his head and shoulders to the mattress, back arching and feet still widespread, leaving his ass open and on display. Arousal courses through him from the depth of the submission in this position. “So pretty,” Y/N coos. “I’ll have to bring a camera next time.” Next time. Alex’s blood sings at the promise, and he hasn’t even been fucked yet.

A fingernail trails lightly over the head of his cock through its cage, and he groans, unable to hold it in. That earns him a smack right over the plug sticking out of his exposed hole. He can’t stop the moan that follows that either, and Y/N repeats the motion harder, and harder again.

“C’mon baby, if you’re gonna moan like a little bitch then at least try to sound sexy while you do it,” she sneers behind him. Alex feels his body flame red under the insult. “You just sound like a slut. There’s plenty of those to go around, nothing making you special.” Alex cries out at the next hit and feels a spurt of precome force its way out of his cock. “That’s more like it,” Y/N praises, and he sighs in relief that he got it right.

The next sound Alex hears is the snick of a plastic cap – lube – he clenches just thinking about it. Then the plug in him is being twisted, swirled and thrust in and out of him teasingly. He moans again, now that he has permission, and Y/N pumps the plug in even harder as a reward. His ass doesn’t want to let it go when she pulls it away, oh so slowly, but it’s almost immediately replaced with her finger. It’s much thinner than the plug, and Alex feels his hole fluttering around it wantonly, silently begging for more, which she readily gives.

A second finger follows quickly and easily. The third is tougher, this time it’s a stretch, but the tight pain sends another shot of warmth through his cock and leaks out of the tip onto the bed. Y/N notices.

“You like that, baby boy?” she asks, sugar sweet. Alex nods and whines, and her fingers leave him instantly.

“Yes, Mistress!” he corrects, arching his back to try to find her fingers. She obliges him and pushes them in again.

“You think you’re ready?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answers properly, fucking himself back into her hand.

“Okay,” she withdraws her fingers and gives his butt a soothing pat. “On the bed, on your back for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Alex turns to sit on the bed and hoists himself back until he can feel their pillows and headboard behind him. He lays down, bending his knees and pulling them back to his chest. The bed dips below him as Y/N climbs on too, crawling between Alex’s legs. Another click, more lube drips down his ass, the cool liquid pooling on the covers as it runs off his ass. He feels the dildo press against his hole and he holds his breath.

The first nudge inside of him is strange. It’s thicker and rounder than anything he’s had back there before. The second little push is uncomfortable, and Alex scrunches his eyes shut, even though, with the blindfold on, it doesn’t make much difference. Y/N’s hands smooth up the backs of his thighs, rubbing gently, soothing the tension that had rocketed through them a moment before. After a few seconds of sympathetic touching Alex manages to relax, and he feels the dildo slip a little further inside of him.

Y/N keeps up soft cooing noises under her breath, making sure Alex knows how good he’s being, what a perfect baby boy he’s being for her. The praise makes him glow, and helps him forget the pain that’s still pulsing dully between his legs.

“I think you deserve a little reward, for being so good,” Y/N whispers when she’s finally pushed the toy all the way in, her hips flush with his.

“Can I see you?” Alex asks desperately. “Wanna look at you Mistress, please.”

“That’s what you want?” Y/N laughs, a little creully. “I was going to take this off,” her fingers skim over his balls and the cock cage keeping him soft and Alex jumps under the touch, “but if you want the blindfold off instead…” Y/N trails off, leaving the choice up to him. Alex falters, caught out by his own eagerness. If Y/N doesn’t take the cage off him now, she might not take it off at all. But on the other hand, the thought of not being able to see her the rest of the night… not being able to watch her fucking him, to see the cock pushing in and out of his body, the same sight he’d been so transfixed by when he was watching it happen to Jared… he needs to see it.

“The blindfold,” Alex whimpers as Y/N continues to tease his cock through the metal rings clamped around it. “Take off the blindfold, please, Mistress.”

“As you wish.”

Alex blinks up at Y/N’s smiling face as his eyes adjust to the light in the room. She looks fucking sexy. She’s in the same lingerine that she’d worn to Femme Fatale that night, the set he’d picked out for her to wear, and the addition of the leather harness at her hips is unfairly attractive. Alex glances down to their hips, takes in the sight of his cock lying limp against his stomach in its little metal prison, and skims further down to catch a glimpse of shiny black poking out from between their bodies. He swallows hard. This was absolutely the right decision.

“Like what you see baby boy?” Y/N taunts, swivelling her hips just a little to pull a groan from him as the dildo rubs against his prostate.

“Fuck yes,” Alex whines, the sound catching high in his throat and pouring out of him raggedly.

“Gonna let me fuck you now?” she asks sweetly, swinging her hips again.

“Fucking please, Mistre– fuck!” Alex shouts as Y/N pulls out and pistons her hips back in harshly. The pain is still there but the sharp strike of the toy inside him sends something like lightning up his spine that drowns out any other feeling his body is trying to conjure.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Y/N pants, beginning to sound out of breath as she fucks his ass relentlessly. “Love that about you, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s the only word Alex can remember right now. He’s been waiting for this, dreaming about this, for so long and now it’s finally happening he can’t hold himself back. His cock aches and his head goes fuzzy as all the blood in his body tries to drain to his groin to get him hard but the cage keeps him soft and passive. It doesn’t stop him from leaking precum all over his stomach though. It’s dripping down his side, pooling in his belly button, leaving him slick and sticky and fucking humiliated the more he looks at it. Y/N catches where he’s looking and smirks, running her fingers through the offending liquid and bringing it to his lips.

“Look at this fucking mess, such a needy little slut aren’t you?” Alex whimpers and nods, head jerking back as Y/N pushes his hips up so she can get even deeper. “Like my cock in your ass baby boy?” Alex nods again, lost for words and breath. “Can’t wait to see how much more this slutty little hole can take. Maybe it can take two? What do you think about that, me and someone else fucking you open so you’re all loose and used up?”

Y/N’s monologue has Alex gasping for air. He’s always found her voice sexy, and when she paints these pictures for him, how can he not fall straight in and give himself up to the pleasure she’s promising?

“Wanna get you a cock that’s so big I can see it inside you.” Y/N runs her hand over his stomach, through the sticky mess he’s leaking over his happy trail. “Wanna see it right here, punching up inside you, filling you up so good.” Alex groans, pushing up into her hand and pushing his hips back onto her cock. “That’s it baby, fuck yourself for me, good boy.”

Alex is starting to get dizzy. The physical exertion and the immense pleasure and the tinge of pain and lack of hard on to channel everything into has him thrown off, and achingly desperate – obviously just how Y/N wants him. Then, without warning, the pressure on his cock disappears and it fills so rapidly it’s painful and without the chance to even think about asking for permission he’s cumming in long pulses, shooting up his chest and onto his lips and his chin. He thinks he screamed but he can’t be sure and then everything goes orange and red and splotchy, and then white.

Alex blinks awake in the semi-dark, the blue glow of Y/N’s laptop illuminating her baggy t-shirt and messy hair as she sits up in bed reading. It takes him a moment to orient himself, to remember how to move his fingers and toes but he finally manages to drag himself closer to Y/N.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” she grins down at him, and reaches out to stroke his hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Completely dead,” Alex breathes. “In a good way,” he adds when he catches the tinge of worry flit across Y/N’s face. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, baby boy,” Y/N leans down and brushes his lips in a soft kiss. “So, you want to do that again?”

“Absolutely,” Alex sighs, snuggling into Y/N’s side and wrapping his arms around her like a teddy bear.

“Good,” Y/N pushes away her laptop and settles into the cuddle, curling up in Alex’s arms like a happy little spoon. “Because I’ve got some ideas.”

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[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 10- These Are Strange Times

Summary: Could something positive be truly on the horizon? With the random intrusion of though-to-be-dead Scott Lang at the Avengers Facility, your hope for seeing Bucky again may have yet to be a possibility.

Warning: yeah nothing enjoy the ride

Masterlist

-Five years since the Blip-

Throwing on a dark sleeveless top, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to sneeze which evidently causes your little furry companion to startle at the unexpected noise. The furry tigress lets out a meow of protest that pulls forth a humored snicker from you, while the little beast sends you an annoyed look.

Recovering her bearings in a flash, she walks across the short wooden dresser like a model strutting on the runway, her thick mane of mahogany and dark chocolate fur glossy and adequately brushed to perfection, just how your spoiled Main Coon, Silver, likes it.

She purrs happily as she begins playing with Bucky’s dog tags that lay across the small dresser top.

“What are you do..? Oh give me that you little shit.” Silver ignores you until she’s rudely lifted and placed firmly on the carpeted floor before you snatch up the valuable memorabilia. Placing it around your neck where it belongs then glancing down to give her a casual shrug, “Don’t give me that look Silv, I bought you a cool bird feathered cat toy like three days ago. What happened to that?” Silver meows, running her head against your worn out old boots as you smile, “Guess it’s as good as dead huh, you little beast. Now you staying or coming with me to find Nat?” Nothing but purrs of affection.

You lean down to gently rub her head before standing up fully and heading for the door, Silver hot on your heels. Soon you’re both traveling down the hallway until you finally reach the large study. Natasha’s on a conference call with Carol, Rodney, Okoye, and the last two guardians of the galaxy, Rocket and Nebula. And by the looks of it, nothing new has been reported. How disappointing.

Soon they all log off, leaving Natasha alone with Rodney who stays to give Nat a little insight into Barton’s violent whereabouts from the last couple years since he’s been rouge. Apparently he took out a whole cartel in Mexico, so he’s been busy. Definitely not keeping up with those group therapy sessions Steve makes you go to to help cope with the loss. Not that you’ve actually been that consistent with them if we’re being real here.

Quickly enough, Rodney logs out, leaving a tearfully conflicted Natasha as she slouches in her comfy swivel chair. Head in her hands as she holds back the waterfall that threatens to spill within her. You take a step forward, leaning casually against a steel rimmed display area for random nick-nacks. “I’d join you in the fun, but I’m limiting my crying sessions between 1 and 2 in the morning on Tuesdays. So, uh....I brought Silver.” You smile, pointing a finger down to your loyal companion, “Well I guess she brought herself but you know.”

Natasha breaks out into a reluctant grin, genuinely happy to have a bit of positive company within her gloom, “And you didn’t even want her to begin with.” Laughs the red head, “Now I never see one without the other.”

You nod with an almost shy smile, “Yeah, she’s alright.” 

You hear soft movement making its way through the hallway behind you just as Silver meows when Steve casually saunters into the room, coming to stand next to your side as the furry beast paws at his shoes, “What are you here for? Doing some laundry?” You tease at the tall blonde.

Steve smiles at your little jab since he’s not usually always present, doing Captain America stuff and whatnot, “Just here to see some friends.”

Natasha chuckles through glossy eyes, “Well clearly your friends are doing just fine.” Steve knowingly nods paired with a small smile, both you and Natasha look relatively well kept and functional as usual. It’s just, there’s a palpable pain and hidden darkness that always appears to simmer lowly on the surface. Just enough for a skilled eye like Steve’s to notice.

“Exactly.” You add, wandering over to sit cross legged on Natasha’s desk as Steve moves to lean against the display, “But if you’re here to tell us to look on the bright side...”

“I’m gonna hit you in the head with this peanut butter sandwich.” Finishes Natasha with a pursued lipped grin as the 90 year old nods. “Um, right. Force of habit.” Admits Steve, pushing himself off the surface to find a seat next to you and directly across from Natasha. 

The three of you keep to a mutual silence for a long moment until he finally speaks, “You know,” Starts Steve thoughtfully, “I keep telling everybody they should move on...and grow. Some do.” He pauses for a moment as you frown, Natasha looking elsewhere as Steve finally continues, “But not us.”

She shakes her head, “If we move on, who does this?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.” Suggests Steve, he means well of course, but maybe he’s right after all, its been five fucking years with absolutely nothing to make for it. Nothing of any significant progress or even a possible way to fix what's happened. 

Natasha blinks through bleary eyes of saddened green while you pet Silver’s furry mane, refusing to give in to that notion, “No.” You whisper softly, causing them to look at you, “We can’t, it wouldn’t be right...at least,” You let out a gentle sigh, “at least not for me....before all of this, before I met all of you. I had nothing.” You admit thoughtfully, “Not a soul in the world who gave a damn whether I lived or died. Then I found Bucky, then I found this. This.....family. And because of it, I’m better off now then I was ten years ago.”

They keep a respectful silence as your breaths become shaky, teary eyes now trained onto Silver’s little ears, “And I know they’re gone now, believe me I fucking know it, but I’m still trying to be better.” Natasha nods in deep understanding, a couple stray tears falling down her cheeks as Steve crosses his arms.

“I think we all need to get a life.” He muses, his tone light as he tries to pull you two back from the edge of grief. You give him a friendly nudge at his annoying brotherliness, “You first.” He chuckles as you throw him a playful glare while Natasha checks an incoming call.

“Oh, hi! Hello! Is anyone home?” Speaks a man frantically from one of the security cameras, an orange van behind him, “This is, uh, Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport.....in Germany?” Now you’ve got his attention.

“What the fuck?” You mutter in bewilderment at the blue tinged image of Scott as Steve and Nat share a confused glance, the three of you quickly rising to your feet while Scott keeps talking about who he is, how he got here, and what he’s learned about the world so far.

“Is this an old message?” Wonders Steve as he studies the image of Scott who’s still waving his hands up at the security camera.

“It’s the front gate.” Replies Natasha with a hopeful smile.

——

All you came here to do was shoot the shit with Natasha and maybe make some actual dinner, but here you are, laying across the study’s plush couch as Scott rambles on and on about the quantum realm. Whatever that happens to actually be, you’ve never heard of anything like that before, but then again you didn’t know aliens existed at one point. So perhaps anything's possible.

Silver brushes her fluffy head across your fingers as they dangle over the couches edge while Scott keeps at his long-winded tellings of how he got there, what it was like, that he’s been technically gone for only five hours, and now he thinks there’s a way to enter this new plane of existence and travel to a fresh alternate reality. Like through a time machine type deal, or whatever he’s on about.

Apparently he means one before Thanos. But it honestly sounds like a load of horseshit and gibberish coming from a desperate man refusing to acknowledge that this is the new shit reality. There’s no fucking way that’s even goddamn possible, right? No way. 

Maybe?

Drifting back out of your doubtful thoughts, you swiftly move yourself into a seated position as Scott begins to self doubt. Head lowering as he mumbles about how crazy that it. You start chuckling as he throws you an almost embarrassed look. “Scott.” You speak to gather his attention, “Nat gets emails from a raccoon. Your idea is admittedly a bit nuts, but nothings that crazy anymore considering all the wild shit I’ve witnessed in the past six years. So I don’t know, maybe there’s a way.”

Scott flashes a hopeful smile as his brows furrow in thought, uncertainty seeping right back into him, “So, uh...who do we talk to about this?”

——

“Stark! Miss us?” You shout at Tony as he holds Morgan in his left arm, an Ironman helmet grasped firmly in the right. He gives the four of you a less then enthusiastic nod of acknowledgment before wordlessly turning around and taking a step up onto the wooden porch.

You give Steve a shrug, “He misses us I can tell.”

Soon Tony let’s Morgan go off to play with you as you opt in to be the babysitter slash distraction from the grownups who are currently discussing if time travel and gathering the stones for ourselves is even a possibility, or even a palpable option that can be done. You skillfully listen to everything they’re saying as the little Stark shows off her array of multiple plant-life assortments picked from the local greenery.

“So I got this cone from that tree over there and then I put a frog in a glass but dad said I had to let him go so I did.” Babbles on the five year old as you entertain her constant musings.

You raise a brow, knowing her shenanigans all too well, “Is he in the garden?”

She mischievously smirks, sneakily peaking over at Tony who’s seated up on the porch, before giving you a nod, “Yeah. I made him a little house from some flat rocks I found too. I named him Froggo.”

You chuckle, “Oh really, Froggo? I like it, has a nice ring to it.” She nods in delight before walking into her tiny tent to retrieve something new as you catch either Scott or Steve saying something about a time heist, what the hell are they going on about now?

“Y/N! Look at this!” Calls Morgan excitedly while bursting out of the tent to run on short legs over to you who’s seated comfortably in the grass, “I got a cool rock from the lake but I didn’t get to show you last time cause you left early.”

Raising your brows in surprise, though you don’t exactly feel as thrilled as she is, you make sure she knows you care, “Woah! A cool rock from the lake, why Morgan I gotta see this.”

“Look.” She hands you a dull grey rock with a tiny fossil shell indentation on it, “It’s from the dinosaurs.”

Examining the small round object, you nod, “Next thing you know I’ll come back to a whole dinosaur excavation site. Impressive Professor Grant, I’m thoroughly amazed.”

She giggles in excitement, “Y/N I know what that means now.” You give her an inquiring look as she smiles proudly, “That’s from Jurassic Park.”

“And your dad let you watch that, with the big Trex eating the goat and everything?” You tease before handing her the prized object, “Next thing I know you’re going to have a whole dinosaur skeleton in your house.”

“Yeah that would be cool. Thanks ninja turtle.” Cackles Morgan as she hugs her rock, smiling brightly as you throw her a puzzled look before joining in on the laughter. “Okay, now you’ve lost me kid, I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about.”

She shrugs innocently, “Dad told me to call you that.” Clearly not understanding what she just called you either. A ninja turtle? The fuck is a ninja turtle?

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You muse before looking up to the four of them getting closer to a heated discussion, “Alright Morgs let’s go save your dad before he decides never to invite us back for dinner again.” You add, quickly rising to your feet as she laughs before racing past you, on a beeline for Tony.

You choose to stay out of the conversation and instead wait for Steve, Natasha, and Scott to start walking back towards the car. You lean against the metal as Steve round the corner before catching your eye as he goes down the three steps, “Are we banished from the castle? I was kinda hoping not cause I actually like Pepper’s cooking.”

Steve smiles, “No. He’s not gonna help us is all.”

“Damn that’s shitty.” You retort with a tinge of genuine disappointment, you don’t completely believe this shit is even possible. But dammit if you don’t want them to at least try for all it’s worth. “So what now? I’m guessing you bastards aren’t gonna let this go anytime soon. And cause Tony’s out for the count, we obviously need some different brain power.”

Steve nods while walking closer to the car, “We wanna do this right. So, yeah, we’re gonna need a really big brain.”

Scott turns from Steve to point a thumb in Tony’s general direction, face a mask of confused puzzlement, “Bigger then his?”

-

After a less then pleasant adventure to some cozy little diner in New Jersey where the four of you were subjected to Banner in his weird Hulkness body or whatever the hell he is now. Turns out he was most definitely on board for this time traveling experimentation. Of course he was, the weirdo takes fucking selfies with children nowadays. 

So here you five are now, in the giant glass and metal garage of the Avengers Facility getting things ready for whatever nonsense is about to take place next. The back of Scott’s orange van closed for the moment, keeping hidden some reactor core thing behind its doors. Scott in some safety quantum realm suit while Banner and Natasha stand behind a large intricate assembly of high tech equipment in preparation for the events to hopefully follow.

You keep an amused yet genuinely curious stance off to the side as Bruce gives you a thumbs up, nodding, you face Scott who’s walking over to the van. “Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one everybody! Scott get that bitch open!” You shout with a small bout of rare enthusiasm while he opens up the doors.

“Emergency generators are on standby.” Announces Steve as he walks into view from behind some large plastic containers covered in safety rope.

Banner nods, “Good, because if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose, uh..” He points a green thumb at Scott who’s getting his helmet ready, “Tiny here in the 1950’s.”

Scott’s head snaps up in an instant, “Excuse me?” He worries.

Natasha smiles while looking down at her touch pad, “He’s kidding.” She sing songs before shaking her head up at Banner, “You can’t say things like that.”

Banner turns around to face a fearful Scott as you snort at the small bout of humor that you did happen to find rather amusing. Then again, you’re not the labs guinea pig, so instead you casually shrug while giving Scott a half persuasive grin and a thumbs up of reassurance, “Bad joke.” You add as Bruce nervously laughs, “Yeah, it was a bad joke.”

Scott nods apprehensively before turning to walk over to the reactor, appearing to believe the two of you, “You were kidding, right?” Asks Natasha as you raise a brow at Bruce in question. Albeit a smidge doubtful he actually one-hundred percent knows what he’s doing.

“I have no idea.” Whisper yells Banner, confirming your suspicions, “We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is.” Explains Bruce, suddenly smiling as he lifts his attention back over to Scott, “We’re good!” He shouts with a positive thumbs up of that prominently famous green.

“Oh we’re so fucked.” You mutter humorously while Natasha shares an uncertain look with you.

“Get your helmet on.” States Banner as Scott does just that, “Scott, I’m gonna send you back a week...let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Make sense?”

Scott smiles brightly, waving him off with confidence, “Perfectly not confusing.” He muses with an almost annoyingly positive expression.

“Good luck Scott. You got this.” Encourages Steve while Scott grins proudly. “You’re right. I do, Captain America.” Then just like that’s he’s gone, sucked into the reactor like a crumb into a vacuum cleaner.

“On a count of three..” Begins Banner, “Three, two, one.” Bruce flips some switches as the machine whirs before a second later and there’s Scott. In the body of a teen. “Uh, guys? This doesn’t feel right.” Worries teen Scott as his brows furrow in confusion, clearly not aware of how he looks. This just got interesting.

“What’s going on?” Questions Steve as Bruce urgently flicks more switches. “Who is that?” Wonders Natasha as you snort at teen Scott, snickering at how absolutely ridiculous your life is becoming and the weird shit you’re adding to the list.

“Oh my god he looks so innocent, like before the world hurt him.” You muse as Natasha’s brows raise in bewilderment, giving you a side glance as she focuses back on the person in question. “Is that, Scott?”

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Protests the sassy little 14 year old before whoosh and he’s gone once again while Banner squats down out of view to mess with some more buttons. A hot second later Scott’s back, this time looking significantly different.

“Oh, my back!” Complains the short wrinkly 80 year old man, Steve sending the back of Bruce a troubled look, “What is this?”

“Hold on a second. Could I get a little space guys.”

Steve hastily jogs around Bruce as he makes his way over to you and Nat, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Mumbles Banner with underlying urgency as he flicks more switches in hopes of getting a better result, whoosh, and Scott’s gone again before reappearing as a...

“It’s a baby.” Deadpans Steve in astonishment.

You burst with laughter, “It’s Scott! Let’s just keep him this way so we don’t have to hear him ramble about how amazing you are, Captain America.” You tease playfully as Steve throws you a what-the-fuck kinda expression. “Y/N! He’s a baby!”

“He‘ll grow.” Adds Bruce as you shrug in agreement. Crossing your arms as you study baby Scott, “Steve you can change the diapers.”

“Bring Scott back.” Urges Steve as he ignores you and Banners amusement of the situation.

“Alright fine.” Chides Bruce, “When I say kill the power, kill the power.”

Natasha rushes past you while mumbling, “Oh, my God.” As you await for Bruce’s fantastic technological skills.

“And....kill it!” Natasha turns the breaker switch downwards and a moment later Scott’s back, this time fully Scott. Whether that’s good or not is debatable.

He stands there, arms open and face twisted in confusion, “Somebody peed my pants. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me.......Or just...me me.” Speculates Scott as you snort in amusement.

“It was probably just you.”

He sends you an unsure look that’s half offended yet he can’t exactly counter that claim considering he’s just jumped between three different age groups of himself. Bruce claps his hands together before spreading his arms out wide in excitement, “Time travel!” He shouts enthusiastically as Steve shakes his head before turning to walk elsewhere, “What?” Wonders Bruce, “I see this as an absolute win. 

——

In the following weeks after Banner’s half-successful attempt at legitimate time travel, Tony and Rocket have been toiling away tirelessly on Starks actual time machine since he’s agreed to help fix the mess that Thanos left behind. The Avengers base has honestly never been busier; with Tony, Banner, and Rocket working on the giant machine. Everyone else is going about their business helping when needed and hoping for good news.

So here you are now, in the middle of the night with all light sources retired for the evening, hanging out in the kitchen with a bowl of watermelon chunks in your hand, and greatly enjoying the recently rare peace and quiet. Though soon your silent midnight snacking is disrupted when the sounds of human feet padding on tile reaches your ears from down the hallway. Dammit.

The lights flicker on in an instant, blinding your vision for a brief moment before they adjust accordingly to find the blue eyes of Steve, he yelps in surprise, hand holding his chest as he relaxes once more when he realizes it’s just you. Then he does a double take, considering you’re seated crossed legged on the counter with a bowl of watermelon, “Uh, hey there Y/N.”

You nod, awkwardly taking a bite out of your snack, “Steve.”

He raises a curious brow, deciding to step farther into the large kitchen area, “Huh, never seen anyone eat watermelon like that before, but I respect it.” Says the blonde, nodding towards the chopsticks held in your right hand.

“Yeah. Less of a mess.” He nods before taking a Gatorade out of the fridge, “Mind if I sit?”

“Go for it.” He nods before promptly seating himself next to the marble table. “So, eating in the dark? Your inner night owl keeping you from sleeping again?”

You shrug, “I can kinda see in the dark so....yeah, a bit of a night owl.” You admit with a growing frown, not sure why you suddenly feel so down in the dumbs again, “....guess I haven’t really slept well for some time now....well, now since I think about it actually, I probably don’t get as much sleep as your average person.”

“I get that, yeah....I know what you mean.” Lightly chuckles Steve in understanding, taking a small moment of silence to let his mind think of something to sway the atmosphere away from an awkward tension. Parting his eyes away from his clasped hands, he looks up to meet your stoic gaze, “You think all this is possible? I mean they’ve made some real progress and I guess Tony really knows what he’s doing. Still after all this time I can’t help but find it amazing.”

Pursing your lips together in thought, you let a small sigh emit from your parted lips before answering, “I hope so, cause if not. Well, guess that would be as expected.” You admit with a frown, “Maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to go....a fitting punishment for my lengthy list of crimes. I guess that’s fair.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Counters Steve as he sends you a sympathetic look, “What happened to you isn’t your fault, neither is what they made you do, or everything Thanos did to the universe....”

“Yeah, guess you’re probably right....it’s just...just so difficult to move on you know? From all of it, everything swirling in my head, and even though it’s been five fucking years now. I still think of that shit, even worse, I still think of Bucky every single day, I miss him.....I just, I miss all of them.” You admit sadly, setting your snack down as Steve takes a moment to reflect on his own losses.

Suddenly his lips curl into a humored smile as he shakes his head, eyes looking down at the table before they connect with your curious ones, “God he was so different back in the 40’s....Y/N you wouldn’t believe the stuff we got up to, jeesh, the stuff he got up to.” Chuckles Steve as you raise an intrigued brow. 

“Alright Rogers care to elaborate?” You press with a growing smile at the thought of Bucky and learning more about him, “Bucky never told me a whole lot about that time. Considering he’ll probably never get the chance, I think I’d like to learn more about him and what shit you people did back then.”

“Aren’t you from the 1950′s?” Inquires Steve with a humored grin as you wave him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I was a baby back then I don’t remember what happened okay,” You explain, “I was born in 53 alright, and let’s not forget I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.”

Steve nods, “Right. Fair point.....Okay so..” He laughs, “There was this one time and if you knew me back in the day, of course I was getting in an unsolicited scuffle with some boys who thought it was funny to argue with the paperboy.”

Raising a brow, you begin to smile as his eyes light up, “An unsolicited scuffle?” You muse, “Or is this when skinny Steve got his ass kicked by a couple of mangy dogs?”

“Dogs. Yeah that’s probably more fitting, well you know, of course I had to step in and do something.”

“As expected.” You quickly add as he continues.

“Which I did. And let me tell you they were not a fan. Those assholes ran me for two blocks till I got cornered in some market when who would you know it.....Bucky was there, taking some cute strawberry blonde out for a date while he got groceries for his mom.” Chuckles Steve, blue eyes shimmering with the humorous memories coming back to him about his old friend.

You heart subconsciously swells with the thought of Bucky, “Clever man. Sweet talk your girl while doing something useful.”

“Exactly. I would have gotten a bloody nose if he hadn’t thrown a tomato right at the biggest guys head. That thing coated his hair like red paint, then...” Steve balls his fist as he presses it against his mouth to try and keep himself from losing it with laughter, “...then, his friend turned around and smack! Another tomato right in his face.”

Snickering in amusement, you run a hand down the side of your face at the vivid image forming in your head, “oh Bucky..”

“It was pretty damn accurate too. The other guy booked it down the sidewalk before Buck could get him. Then when he started walking towards us, the other guys took off like a couple of scared birds....fortunately leaving me with no bruises that day.” Says Steve proudly, no doubt thinking fondly on that old memory, “Then of course he told me I gotta be more careful and all that stuff, I said I was fine and he want back to shopping with that girl......huh, don’t think I ever saw her again, well....at least with him.”

“Don’t blame her, he sounded like a real ladies man back in the day, she probably got too jealous.” You joke with a small brow wiggle before your smile lessens again, God you miss him so fucking much, “Thanks Steve.....he seemed, so different. It’s just when I knew him, when I first met him that is, Bucky was very different.”

Steve’s face looses it’s once vibrant glow, he keeps a steady gaze set on you now, knowing your time with him was such a chilling contrast to Bucky in the 40’s. You sigh, “I think I would have liked to see that version of Bucky just once, but I liked the Bucky I got after everything we went through.....after everything’s that’s happened. Maybe 40’s Bucky wouldn’t even look in my direction, I’d probably scare the socks off of him anyways.”

Steve shakes his head, “No way Y/N, you’d have him wrapped around your finger so fast, not a doubt in my mind he’d do anything for you in a heartbeat. That’s just who he was, a player yes, but a kind one who treated everyone with respect through that famous charm of his.....and you, you’d have caught his attention in an instant.”

Looking down at your hands, you raise the corner of your lips into a small half grin at the thought of Sergeant Barnes losing it all to the dangerous vixen that is no doubt yourself, now that’s an interesting thought indeed. Bucky in the 40′s, how about that.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not....but I know one thing. That I’m glad to have even known him at all, he was...so special and he didn’t even know it.” You pause for a moment, lips pursing together as you think fondly of your past lover. Steve keeps silent, studying your disheartened features as you gather your words, “So if, if they can somehow do this....if it’s even actually possible to get those fucking stones again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Steve.”

Whatever it takes.

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[papergirllife]

Being the right hand women of the most evil man isn’t the normal lifestyle you think you’d had when you were going over career choices, working for Seoul’s very own joker sounds horrifying to others, but not when you had him wrapped around your fingers.

warnings : gruesome scenes (only the beginning), bloodshed  (only the beginning), unprotected sex, slight knife play.

You stood on your ground as guns rang out from all directions, this was a norm for you, flirting with death like it bought no consequences as a bullet barely grazes you when you ducked behind some container, but alas, this was the road that was given to you, no point fighting it, in fact you’ve learned to embrace it, turning yourself into the cold blooded killer you are today.

You looked into the sight scope of your gun, you only had 16 bullets left, but there were around 20 people, you knew you should’ve bought more, guess this would have to do. You took aim at a person’s head, hitting him squarely between the eyes, the gun vibrating against your arm as the gunshot was drowned out by the shouting and maybe a grenade or two. Once you were sure he was down, you opened fire again and again, not giving the enemy a chance of spotting your whereabouts, the warehouse was large, but not enough to make you seem miniscule in the midst of an open fire. You smile at their blur expressions before having a bullet struck onto their head, however, once you ran out of bullets, one of the men ran over to you, his expression livid.

You dropped your gun and took out your hunting knife, the man charged at you, his hand gun aiming at you, like he couldn’t decide on how to finish you off.

“You killed my brother!”

You threw the knife at his armed hand, the gun dropped out his grasp. You withdrew the knife from his wounded arm and proceeded to cut his wrists, legs, and thighs with it, cutting off his arteries, his blood splattering on your clothes as he falls onto his knees, eyes wide with fear.

“Time to join your brother, asshole,” you said before giving his neck a twist, killing him.

You looked around to see that your men have most of the people either killed or tied, but once you let out the breath you were holding in, you spotted a man with a knife charging at someone, your boss, Mr Raion. 

You quickly dashed onto the ground to retrieve the hand gun, shooting at that lunatic, Mr Raion made a hum of approval, followed by a tsk at the man that cowered in front of him. 

“Well done, Y/N,” Mr Raion said before turning to the man on the ground, slitting his throat for all to see.

“Now, time to answer my questions people, now Harley, would you do the honours?”

His Harley, just like the comics, Mr Raion had a Harley. His Harley kills, tortures, and taunts for him. Prancing around like a mad woman as she stuck numerous weapons at places that you wouldn’t want to know as Mr Raion asked questions. You retrieved your gun to clean it, weapons hold sentimental value to you, as it is something you used to attack as well as defend, one of your men handing you a cloth.

“It’s going to take a long time isn’t it, miss?” he asked in an exasperated tone, tired from tonight’s mission.

“I’ll give you 10k if you dare to tell her to stop shrieking like a mad woman,” you said without looking up, knowing that no one would want to interfere her at a moment like this.

“No thank you, miss, being in your team instead of hers is already a blessing,” your right hand man said as he stole a glance at Harley’s men, all wearing weird bunny costumes over their protective gear.

You guys were in for a long night.

Mr Raion, in Japanese, it meant Lion. He truly is the king of Seoul’s underground society, he has cops from little pawns, to big players in the defence ministry, all in his little pocket, making him invincible against the law. Harley, his little toy, is in fact just a toy. They aren’t in love, all of it is just for showbiz, or maybe most of it. You could feel your gaze hardened at the sight of Harley giving Mr Raion a lap dance for all to see midway through her torture session, like a death sentence isn’t painful enough that she has to make it worse by twerking in front of those men before their death, you couldn’t tell what Mr Raion was thinking, since he always had the mask on.

The lot of you were done with the mission in the warehouse, and as celebration, Mr Raion would treat everyone a night of joy by partying, their typical ritual. 

At the club that you specifically asked to clear out before anymore unwanted deaths occur, you gripped your glass of wine hard, before downing the rest of its contents, your hard gaze training on Harley’s hands wandering around Mr Raion’s exposed chest, the top buttons off.

“Harley, Harley, Harley. It’s always her isn’t she? I heard you saved his life tonight, yet you don’t get anything in return,” it was the club owner you’ve known ever since you worked for Mr Raion, Johnny Suh.

“You know I don’t do glitz and glamour, Johnny, nor any public shows, I value my reputation as a woman,” you said before downing the glass.

“Don’t let him hear that, Y/N,” Johnny said in a lowered tone, valuing his life.

“Thanks for letting us trash the place, I’ll be heading out,” you said as you threw a few notes down as tip.

“So early?” Johnny questioned in a shocked tone.

“Yeah, had a long day,” you said before heading out the club, the feeling of someone’s eyes on your back.

You washed up and got into bed, staring at Seoul’s beautiful skyline, but your mind wanders to the ugliest parts of Seoul, and how you were apart of it. Things always looked prettier from afar, don’t they? You let out a sigh of defeat before crawling into bed, the silk sheets smooth against your skin.

When you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt a pair of arms around your waist as kisses were peppered on your neck, the drowsiness fading away from the touch.

“Why did you leave so early? You look so beautiful today. I wanted to stare at you more,” the man said in a husky tone.

“Fuck off, Yuta. Go look for your Harley.”

Yuta climbed on top of you, caging you in his arms, his head laid on your shoulder, his gentle breathing sending shivers down your spine.

“You know we’re nothing. I wouldn’t have her around if it isn’t to protect you.”

That was true, Yuta only hired Harley to mask your presence, just like the mask on his face. To other people in the underground society, you were just one of Yuta’s men, and nothing more. That was how it was initially, until the two of you fell in love when the two of you were accidentally trapped in the hide out by one of the rookies, but that didn’t matter now, as your emotions swirled and bubbled under your skin dangerously. 

“Go, go get that lap dance that you were enjoying so much.”

Yuta’s gaze hardened under your obvious jealousy, it wasn’t the first time he dealt with this type of out burst from you, and it wouldn’t be the last either, just look into your closet and you’ll be able to see mountains of jewelleries and handbags, most of them are tokens of apology from Yuta.

“What about you and Johnny, huh? Do I need to kill him? Or ask you to kill him? To Prove me your loyalty.”

Yuta was looking at you straight in the eye, both of you having the death glare at each other.

“All these years being beside you is enough proof,” you said before reaching under your pillow, drawing out a knife, pointing it right at Yuta’s throat. “I could kill Seoul’s biggest criminal right now if I wanted to. Don’t test me, Yuta.”

Yuta looked into your eyes as he lowered your hand from his throat, his eyes switched from hard to soft within seconds, he could feel this wasn’t light banter anymore, you were truly angry today, and he knew how dangerous you could get if he was to burst your temper. 

“I’m sorry, tonight was indeed a bit overboard, I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow,” Yuta said as he took the knife out of your hands, placing it on your nightstand, his other hand pushing back stray hairs on your face, his touch gentle.

“Let me make it up to you, my queen.”

Yuta kissed you deeply, his tongue sinking into your wet cavern once you allowed him access as his hands wander down south, taking your nipples into his lithe fingers, pinching and twisting, your back bending upwards into his will. You bit onto his bottom lip hard, drawing out a groan from the handsome man above you, breaking off the kiss.

“You know I love it when you do that,” Yuta said breathlessly before he took the knife from the nightstand, slicing your nightgown from collar to the hem, the blade touching your skin gently.

“So beautiful, my love.”

You reached up to take off Yuta’s clothes, his perfectly sculptured body coming into view, the feeling of moisture in between your legs making you greedy for more. Once his pants and boxers were off, you reached up and took his length inside your mouth, clouding Yuta’s head with pleasurable ecstasy, but he gently pulled your head away from him.

“No, Y/N, tonight’s all about you. I’ll let you take me another time, okay?”

You nodded, lying back down on your bed with hooded eyes, those dangerous eyes that send blood down Yuta’s length. Yuta spread open your legs, and placed his mouth at your lower lips, licking at your slit, tasting your sweet nectar on his tongue.

“You taste so sweet, love,” Yuta said as he scissors you open with two fingers, his fingers sucked in by your welcoming walls, he could feel himself getting harder as he imagined how nice his cock would feel in your warm wet walls. Yuta held your entrance open with two fingers as his tongue ventured into you, the difference in texture and temperature making you whimper, it’s been so long since he last touched you this way.

Yuta ate you out with much fevour, his nose bumping your clit as he ate you out like a starved man, fingers mixing into the play, making your hands curl around his beautiful locks of hair, egging him to go harder and faster. Yuta took this as a good sign, increasing the pace of his fingers and tongue, tightening the knot in your stomach, once he sensed how close you were, Yuta opened his mouth wider, gently biting onto your clit, unravelling the knot in your stomach.

You could only scream when your high hit you so suddenly, Yuta’s name flowing out off your lips like a beautiful mantra, a melody Yuta would never get bored of. Yuta continued his ministrations to help you ride out your high as well as cleaning up your juices, licking at your pussy as his eyes fixed on your beautiful fucked out face, proud of his achievement.

“Can you take more? Or do you want to rest?” Yuta asked you as he kissed your forehead.

“I want more,” you said you pulled Yuta by his arms, drawing him close to you as you craved for his warmth.

Yuta gave his cock a few pumps before rubbing its head at your slit, coating his dick in your juices before pushing in completely, fitting inside you like a glove.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight.”

“Maybe it’s because you don’t touch me enough,” you answered breathlessly just to spike him. Yuta let out a laugh at your snark remark, “ You asked for it, baby. Don’t hold back on your words when I do just as you say.”

Yuta lifted up your legs and curled them around his waist before pulling out almost completely just to snap back his hips against yours, your back arching at the immense pleasure that coursed through your veins, your nails scratching down Yuta’s arms as he keeps up with the hard and fast pace, his face contorted in a mix of focus and pleasure as he chases for both your highs.

Every thrust of his hips sends you further over the edge as his length hits your sweet spot. Yuta is so familiar with your body that he quickly finds your sweet spot every time he touches you, bringing you your pleasurable downfall quickly. Yuta takes a nipple into his mouth as he pushes into you deeper, making you take him whole, before resuming to his quick shallow thrusts, both paces making you head spin and walls tighten around him as your orgasm grows nearer.

“Yuta, please, more,” you said in the heat of the moment, impatient for your high as you pushed your hips back onto his, developing a pace to match his, the sudden movement making Yuta clench his teeth in pleasure, his neck thrown back as the pleasure washes over him, making him more desperate for release. Yuta picks your legs up to thrusts into you at a higher angle that allows him to go even faster. Sounds of skin slapping skin filling your whole room as well as the loud bangs of your bed frame against the wall, if the whole penthouse wasn’t yours, you’d be receiving complaints by now.

“Cum for me, Y/N. I want to cum inside of you,” Yuta said as he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit, sending you over the edge. The way your walls were clenching down on Yuta’s length as well as the sting he felt from your nails on his arms brought Yuta his sweet release with a cry of your name, the pace of his hips slowing down to ride out both of your highs.

You cooed at the feeling of his warm spurts of cum painting your walls, his length going limp inside of you. Yuta collapses beside you with him still being inside you as he pulls you closer into his embrace, fatigue settling into both your bodies.

“I love you, Y/N. And it’ll always only be you,” Yuta said breathlessly as he laid on your breasts, the feeling of your soft mounds so addictive on his cheeks.

“Mhm, I love you too, Yuta,” you said before drifting off to sleep, barely registering the movements on your bed when Yuta pulled you into his arms, a feather light kiss on your temple.

[makaylajadewrites]

Of Teddy Bears and Sweet Nothings

Hi all! This is just a cute little one-shot that I felt inspired to write after this thread. Now, I do not have an ASD, but I received advise from a few people who do, but I'm always open to suggestions/advice!

Read on AO3 here

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Additional Tags: Teddy Bears, Autism, Autistic Spencer Reid, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex

Word Count: 2410

Summary: Spencer fears that his love for stuffed animals, specifically one special teddy bear, is enough to scare Derek away. He couldn't be more wrong.

~

The animals had always been a secret. The stuffed animals, that is. He had never told anybody about his incessant desire for them; how hugging one close to his chest at night made the darkness seem a bit more bearable, and helped him to sleep throughout the night. How their softness comforted him and helped him to wind down. He had quite a few of them, and most of them were placed around the head of his bed. 

But his absolute favorite one, an old brown teddy bear, was the exception to that. It was made of soft brown wool, its black eyes wide circles and its little nose stitched vertically with an upside down Y for a mouth. Around its neck was a pink checkered ribbon tied in a bow. He had had it ever since he was little, when his mother bought it for him at a fair - when she was still cognizant enough to go out in public without experiencing a panic attack or letting her delusions rule her decision making. It was at least two decades old, but looking at it, one could tell that it had been well cared for and loved. It had no stains or rips, and while the wool was getting a bit rougher with age, it was still soft for the most part.

He loved his plushies dearly. Like toys that were designed for stimming, his animals helped him calm down and relax, especially at night if he was antsy from a case or it had been a particularly stressful day at work. He didn’t like to broadcast his stimming at work, so he often resisted the urge and waited until he got home, where he could stim all he wanted to his heart’s content. He liked his routine. Sometimes the constant stress of his job could be overwhelming, and he didn’t eat as much or as often as he probably should have, but he was taking care of himself as best as he knew how. He had always been dependable, especially since he had been forced to grow up at a young age when his father left. 

His father’s leaving had definitely taken its toll, and growing up, he had been responsible for his own wellbeing as well as his mother’s. It was chaotic at times with little to no order, but the one constant that always had been there (and always would be, if Spencer had anything to do about) was his teddy bear. He knew it seemed childish, and he warred himself about it sometimes since he was a grown man who depended on a teddy bear to function. But the comfort it brought him rivaled the occasional thoughts of self-deprecation, and even though he kept that secret, he took it everywhere with him, hidden in the depths of his messenger back underneath of crime scene photos and case files.

And then he started dating Derek.

Derek Morgan, the ever impressive agent and his colleague who could have any woman that he wanted, had actually been the one to drop the question. He asked Spencer if he wanted to go to dinner one night after a normal day of work. Both pleasantly shocked and elated, Spencer agreed instantly. He had been nurturing his affection for Derek in private, letting it grow and sprout as their time together gradually turned into not-so-platonic interactions. Derek was a touchy person, and even though Spencer would usually avoid contact at all costs, when it was Derek, it wasn’t so bad. 

One of Derek’s favorite things to do was to caress his hair on the jet when they were on their way home after a long and stressful case. It was soothing, calming, and sometimes he found it hard to believe that the same fingers that gently combed through his chestnut curls had been wrapped around a handgun just hours before. 

That affection blossomed, and soon enough, they were in a full fledged relationship. They didn’t ever come out to the rest of the team, but Derek didn’t really try to keep it a secret either. He began to call him other pet names, and although pretty boy would forever be their mutual favorite, Spencer appreciated ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ too. He was amazed by how confident Derek was when it came to their relationship in public, because when they went out together, Derek always wanted to hold his hand and wrap an arm around him, but if Spencer was having a moment of touch aversion, he would never push it, and would allow Spencer to initiate the contact between them, and even if he couldn’t throughout the duration of the night, Derek never mentioned it.

The first time they had sex was incredible.

Derek was so gentle, so loving, and he took his time with Spencer since he was inexperienced in the realm of intimacy. Spencer had been with Ethan throughout the majority of his time in college, and over the years he had slept with a few men and women here and there, but most of those occasions were rare one night stands; he wasn’t in the double digits (possibly even triple) like Morgan was. But Derek assured Spencer that he wasn’t a number, he would never be, because this wasn’t just a hookup to him. He wanted it to be long term, and Spencer couldn’t be happier.

Their sex life was perfect. Spencer wouldn’t change a thing about it, because Derek really was the best partner for him. He cared about Spencer’s enjoyment and pleasure far more than his own, and on more than one occasion, Derek had spoiled Spencer without expecting him to return the favor.

“Sex isn’t a favor that needs to be returned, Spence,” Derek had chastised him after one of those times, his fingers cupping the sharp line of his jaw. They lay together, both naked beneath the soft sheets of Derek’s bed. Their legs lay intertwined together, Spencer’s toes curling against the back of Derek’s muscular calf. “It’s an honor, to be able to physically show my love for you.”

“You mean that?” Spence asked, raising his hand up to cup Derek’s hand over his rosy cheek, “It’s an honor?”

“An honor,” Derek confirmed, leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose, a smile spreading across Spencer’s face, “to love you.”

If Spencer had liked his routine before, he liked it even more now. Almost everyday after work, he spent the evening at Derek’s house, sharing dinner with him and spending the night the majority of days. Derek had been over to his apartment a few times, but they had never spent the night there together, much less had sex in his apartment. It was always at Derek’s house, not that that was a problem, but sometimes Spencer preferred the comfort of his own home.

But Spencer invited Derek to his apartment after work, and although Derek looked a little surprised, he instantly complied. They arrived together in the other man’s car since Spencer most often took the subway, and together they entered the organized chaos of his book-laden apartment. Even though it looked messy, everything was meticulously placed just as Spencer liked it. The stacks of books around the apartment were placed in alphabetical order and the ones on the shelves followed the Dewey decimal system. Derek knew better than to disturb his books; Spencer had threatened to get Penelope to hack his computer if he ever messed with his organization, and Derek was quick to surrender and kiss away the pout on Spencer’s lips.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Derek asked him, and Spencer instantly bobbed his head yes, a crooked smile on his face after Derek kissed him again. The two got comfy in their PJs (Derek used the ones from his go-bag). Spencer had on a pair of gray sweatpants and one of Derek’s sweatshirts, and Derek wore a black Nike basketball shorts and a tank top. The two made a bowl of popcorn to share and eventually settled in and watched a documentary on ocean life, but halfway through, their cuddling soon turned into a make-out session, nothing too wild, and both were pretty tame for the most part. Derek liked to touch Spencer’s legs, but Spencer pulled away from the kiss when he felt his touch traveling upwards, halting his partner by putting his hands over top of Derek’s when he remembered something quite crucial:

His stuffed animals were on his bed.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Derek asked, mouthing up the column of his neck, the alabaster skin flushed warmly. When Spencer didn’t respond right away, Derek pulled back immediately, scanning his lover’s face in concern. “Spence?”

“I just... I’m tired, Derek,” he said softly. Derek frowned, squeezing his hips gently and letting them rest there, not making any further moves to grope him. Of course Derek would be able to tell if something was wrong, Spencer realized, he was a behavioral profiler for Christ’s sake!

“Pretty boy,” he murmured, raising a hand up to touch his face gently, swiping a thumb over the arch of his cheekbone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just... I don’t want you to think any less of me,” Spencer murmured elusively.

“Why would I ever think less of you?” he asked, and Spencer’s hands slid down from Derek’s bare shoulders to his biceps, feeling the muscles rippling under his touch. He didn’t offer a verbal response, simply shrugging lamely. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to think he was childish or immature, and he feared that his stuffed animals would send that impression.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine... But can you show me instead?” Derek asked, and slowly, unsurely, Spencer nodded his head. He stood up from the couch and away from Derek’s touch, and he collected his messenger back from the dining room table. He returned and set it down on the coffee table, lifting the flap and digging around before retrieving his teddy bear, holding it delicately in both hands for Derek to see. Derek frowned, looking over it briefly and then up towards Spencer, confusion clear on his face.

“Babe, I don’t... I don’t understand,” he said slowly, “You have a teddy bear? What about it?”

Spencer took a deep breath and slowly moved to sit down beside him, sitting the bear in his lap. “You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked quietly, looking down at its brown head while twirling the pink ribbon around his fingers. 

“Of course not,” Derek said, smiling gently at Spencer and reaching for his hand which Spencer took immediately.

“I have more, you know,” he blurted out, feeling like he was in a safe environment to reveal even more of his secret. But he was smiling brightly, unable to help the feeling of joy he felt since Derek didn’t think he was strange or childish.

“More?” he repeated, “As in, more teddy bears?”

“More stuffed animals,” he corrected before explaining further, “I like the texture of them. They’re soft and they help me calm down after a long day.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek hummed, “You stim with them?”

“Yeah,” Spencer said before shrugging, “They just... I don’t know. They make me feel safe, I guess. They comfort me.”

“I hope I can be a source of comfort for you too, pretty boy,” Derek said, leaning over and kissing his temple before resting his head against Spencer’s. The young doctor just smiled, holding his bear close.

“You already are.”

About a week later, on an off day, Derek invited Spencer over to his apartment so they could spend the day together. He was always excited to spend time with Derek. He always made him feel so giddy, and he could stim freely around Derek without feeling self-conscious or the fear of judgement. Once he made it to Derek’s house, he was waiting for him at the door and welcomed him in, closing the door behind him. 

“Hi, baby,” Derek said, hugging his lover and greeting him with a sweet kiss. Spencer smiled in response, hugging his lover around the waist. 

“Hi, Der,” he hummed, and they kissed again before separating. “I missed you,” he confessed.

“We saw each other yesterday,” Derek reminded him with a laugh, and Spencer just grinned and shrugged, letting Derek lead the way into the living room. On the coffee table sat a lavender box, but Spencer didn’t mention it until Derek reached for it and held it out to him. 

“I, um... I got you something,” he murmured, almost shyly, and Spencer blinked, confused.

“Why?” he asked, hesitantly accepting the box that he now realized was a gift box, a royal purple ribbon of silk tied around it carefully. 

“I thought you would like it,” Derek offered simply, guiding Spencer to sit down with him on the sofa. Confused yet secretly excited, pale dainty fingers opened up the box carefully, pulling the ribbon loose and lifting the lid. Inside lay a light brown teddy bear, another purple ribbon tied into a bow around its neck. Spencer slowly reached for it and lifted it out of the box, glancing back and forth between it and Derek.

“Do you like it?” Derek asked softly.

Spencer didn’t respond right away, twirling the ribbon around his fingers and looking into the bear’s black eyes, his head nodding of its own accord. He looked up towards Derek, holding it close with tears in his own light brown eyes.

“I love it,” he said, unable to help the few tears that fell from his eyes. It was such a small gift, but it meant so much to him that Derek thought about him enough to buy a present filled with so much meaning.

“I just... wanted to get you something that can comfort you when I can’t be there,” Derek said, moving to wrap an arm around Spencer’s waist comfortingly. Spencer smiled and leaned into his side, hugging the stuffed bear to his chest.

“I don’t think I’ll need it all that often,” Spencer said honestly, Derek’s hand gently wiping some of his tears away.

“Why’s that?” Derek asked in a gentle voice, and Spencer smiled, turning to meet his eyes.

“Because I have you,” he whispered, “I love you, Derek.”

“I love you too, baby,” Derek’s whisper soon followed, every ounce of love and affection dripping from his deep voice.

And the two shared a kiss, the soft brown bear between them.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

MBJ Alphabet | Choker.

twenty-six fluffy/smutty stories, long over-due. a mixture of reader/oc fics divided amongst mike & the characters he has played. based on the word suggestions received for each letter of the alphabet. updated out of order, based on your votes. can be tracked under mbj alphabet in my tags for mobile users. check out the prompts & submit your vote for what you’d like to see next. feedback always welcomed

Link to the MBJ Alphabet Masterlist | Sign up to be tagged

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Black!OC

Summary: It’s midterm season again at MIT. Cue copious amounts of coffee and group study sessions. Erik’s distraction comes from Jaz’s favorite accessory

Words:  1.8K

Erik doesn’t play when it comes to his grades, but that’s not the reason he’s in the library at nine-thirty on a Saturday night. Any other Saturday, you wouldn’t dare catch Erik in the library. By this time, he is typically done working over one of the many girls he has wrapped around his finger.

Speaking of "one of the many girls" -- that’s why Erik has interrupted his usual Saturday night routine with a trip to the library.

Jasmine Stewart.

She may be one of the many girls that have entered the orbit of Erik Stevens, but she is definitely not wrapped around his finger. If we consider the sole reason Erik is in the library, it might be the other way around.

Erik can’t remember the last time he actually studied. He’s never had to. He hears the information once, and he’s good. That’s why he received the sight of rolling eyes upon his arrival.

“What?” 

Jaz bites her tongue as she watches Erik drop into the chair next to hers. When he chased her down, after class, with a smile and "you got one more spot on that list?" Jaz had extremely low expectations. 

She has crossed paths with Erik for the last year and has never witnessed him step foot in the library or attend a single study session. This is why, as her eyes pass over his lack of-- well lack of anything -- Jaz shakes her head. 

As she meets his playful eyes, she redirects her attention to the study guide before her. 

“You’re late, Stevens.” She replies, raising her pencil to point towards the clock. “Twenty-seven minutes late to be exact, without a single book. Which is why we started without you.”

“You didn’t think I’d show up?”

“Can you blame me?” Disregarding the rolling of Erik's eyes, Jaz easily swipes his hand away preventing him from dragging her chair closer to his. Instead, he settles for moving his chair closer. “It’s Saturday night, and trust me, we all know what you do on Saturday nights.”

Jaz’s eyes roll as Erik's arm drapes along the back of her chair. She knows pushing it away is pointless. Primarily because the smile she had intended on suppressing, has already made its way across her face. 

Now that her previous statement has had a chance to set in, Jaz's smile is gone. Erik's smile, however, has grown in size as he watches Jaz's gaze drop from his. It lingers on his lips for a brief moment before she pauses to clear her throat. 

Blinking, Jaz redirects her attention to the stack of study guides before her. 

"Um...I made these for everyone," she offers, blindly pushing a copy in his direction. 

"Thanks." 

Even after her focus has shifted, Jaz knows the remainder of the session will be useless. At least with Erik seated alongside her. He doesn't bother to read the study guide she spent hours creating. His gaze, instead, is preoccupied with regarding her.

The worst part about Erik's gaze is that it is unapologetic--shameless. It lingers on each of her features, somehow evoking vivid memories of how they felt beneath his lips. 

An all too familiar heat that only rouses in his presence spreads across Jaz's skin as she attempts to concentrate on her notes. Shifting forward, she rests her elbows against the table, trying to increase the space separating their bodies. The feeble attempt does little to help her focus. 

And he knows it. 

The last time Erik was this close was a week ago. Jaz was pinned against the fridge in his apartment. And Erik's hand wasn’t rapping against the back of her seat. It was wrapped around Jaz's throat while he watched her come undone for the second time that morning. 

The memories of last Saturday, that melded into Sunday morning, quickly flood her mind. The smile on Erik’s lips morphs into a grin as Jaz shifts in her seat, her legs uncrossing, fingers toying with the black lace around her neck. 

It was a nervous tick. One Erik noticed she only seemed to display beneath his gaze. No matter how quick she was with her words, Jaz toyed with her necklaces when nervous. A tick that made it impossible for Erik not to think about kissing her neck each time he witnessed it. 

Today’s distraction is Jaz's favorite black lace choker. With her long, dark locks pulled into a high ponytail, it’s easy for Erik to see that the evidence from their last encounter still marks her skin. 

If it weren’t for the fading hickies meticulously placed along her skin, barely covered by the thin lace, Erik would’ve accepted he dreamed their encounter. 

Because after he’d interrupted her making coffee for a round of half-sleep, lazy sex, Erik had stopped to take a shower. By the time he had found a towel and stepped back into the kitchen, Jaz was gone. 

She hadn't even bothered to leave coffee in the pot for him. Once they saw each other in class that following Monday, Jaz was back to addressing Erik Stevens with the same amount of energy she had the past several months. Little to none. 

When she came home with him that first night, Erik hadn’t initially planned on calling her the next day. 

Relationships aren’t really his thing.

But he did at least anticipate a phone call -- shit, even a text. 

They always come. No matter if Erik never bothers to respond half the time, they always come. Not from Jaz. 

“Speaking of Saturday night,” Erik sighs. His eyes drop to follow the action of her fingers as they trace the lace against her skin. “You lose my number or something?”

This question is enough to raise her eyes from her notes. Erik earns a smile as Jaz’s eyes meet his. 

"When you popped smoke-"

“Or something.” A light shrug accompanies Jaz's words.  Putting her pen down, she shifts in her seat to find Erik's eyebrow raised, his lips turned up into a grin. “And I did not pop smoke. Especially when you're Mr. Can't Sleep With The Same Girl More Than Once."

"Okay," Erik chuckles. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, dragging Jaz's mind straight back to the last Saturday. “Last I checked, we definitely went more than once-” 

Shaking her head, in a feeble attempt to clear it, Jaz ignores the smile she receives in response. 

"So, what?" Jaz huffs, the sarcasm in her voice surprisingly strong. "Is this where you tell me that you showed up tonight to say I'm the exception to the rule, and you suddenly wanna take me out?"

"I didn’t say all that-"

"Good," she smiles as she pushes her chair back. Standing, she retrieves the sticky note from her notebook. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend, so you can save the whole I'm not emotionally available speech."

"And pick up with what comes after?" He chuckles as he falls into step alongside her. 

She's not sure why the proposition throws her off, but Jaz glances in Erik's direction. 

"No," she laughs. The sound does not sound nearly as convincing as she intends. "Did you get up to annoy me or help me?"

"I'll help you," Erik shrugs as she stops to double-check the author on the sticky note. "Just tell me what you need."

"You wanna help me out?" Jaz lifts the sticky note. She presses it firmly against his chest, stopping his hands from finding her waist. "Help me find this book."

Jaz may have had pure intentions when she stood up from the table. Erik, on the other hand, might not have. 

In fact, if anyone in their study group could find the brainpower to look up from their notes, they would notice Erik is nowhere to be seen.

And has been M.I.A. for nearly ten minutes. 

While his classmates stress over the quickly approaching midterms, Erik is deep in the stacks. His teeth cutting into her lip, catching the whimpers that spill from Jaz as his fingers stretch her open. 

His thrusts are relentless and meticulous, melding into a torturous rhythm. Each time Jaz manages to regain control over her breathing, Erik's fingers move as fast as the stuttering of her heart. The second her fingers squeeze into his arm, her hips rolling forward to match his movements, Erik’s pace becomes teasingly slow. A chuckle is lost against her lips each time she whispers a protest. 

Erik’s tongue passes over his lips at the beautiful sight before him. 

Jaz’s head is tipped back, pressing into the books behind her. Her eyes gripped shut, chest heaving as she struggles to steady her breaths.

“We're in the library, babe,"  he teases. "You gotta be quiet."

It is the same taunt that comes each time he manages to pull a sound from her, and each time his pace slows. 

Jaz would try and shoot back a snarky remark, but the fear of something much louder slipping out presses her teeth deeper into her lip.

They both knew the problem could easily be fixed. 

All Erik has to do is lift his hand. Press it against her mouth, but that would be too easy. Instead of moving to muffle her voice, Erik's touch drags along the curve of her jaw. His lips follow its path, the brush of his tongue mixing in with heated kisses. 

His grip tightens as it finds the base of her throat, his thumb tracing the pattern of the black lace against her skin. Pushing it up, he allows his breath to pass over the bruises on her skin. The shiver that passes over her spine, arches her body into his. Each brush and suck of his lips work to pull out a fresh bruise. Between the pressure from Erik's mouth and his fingers, Jaz's legs are trembling in a matter of seconds. 

The wave of pleasure she has spent minutes chasing comes to an abrupt halt the moment “E-” passes her lips. 

In an instance, Erik’s touch is gone. His chuckle muffles the gasp that escapes Jaz’s lungs.

“You should head back.” Jaz’s hooded eyes open. The deadly look in her eyes is enough to make Erik’s smile morph into a cheese-eating grin. “Wouldn’t want your group to start wondering where you went.”

“I’m going to kill you,” the promise in her voice earns Jaz a chaste kiss. 

“You might need this,” Erik smiles. 

Jaz's gaze falls from his sparkling eyes to the deep navy book in Erik’s hands. The slowly ebbing high has left her mind hazy, meaning it takes her a moment to realize it’s the book she had initially set out to find. Pressing it against his chest, Jaz tries her best to ignore the smug look on Erik’s face as he takes a step back. 

“Use my number if you wanna finish later.” 

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[rebellioussinner09]

Who’s in Control?

Sub Kuroo x dom Fem Reader ❤️

Warning: VERY INTENSE AND LOTS OF CURSE WORDS AND KAMANYAKAN HAHAHAH (CHARACTER IS ABOVE 18 here)

If there’s one thing Kuroo prides himself for is that he knows he has good stamina.

Actually good was an understatement, he knows he has *excellent stamina* not only for playing volleyball but also for bedroom activities.

And Not to mention he was rough and unforgiving when it comes to sex(at least thats what he tells himself)

And he definitely uses that gift for his own advantages,

I mean he himself witnessed on how Y/N would just loose her mind from his Overstimulation or just his thrusting in general.

And a lot of their friends and peers often jokes about on how Y/N handles Kuroo’s attitude. Because as they quote “kuroo seems to be the type of guy who’s into bdsm”

*because lets be real He wasn’t called scheming captain by his team for nothing*

And Even Kenma and Bokuto would join in on that playful banter that Kuroo needs to tone it down sometimes so that Y/N can at least breath and have a chance to keep up with him.

Kuroo would only nod and smile to those comments because oh how wrong their assumptions were.

Because if the roles had been reversed, Y/N was literally 100x worse when it comes to teasing and sadism.

His teammates cleary hasn’t seen Y/N’s all dominant glory when she’s the one taking the reigns on their relationship.

And Kuroo totally had his first hand experience on this;

There was a time where they made a bet on who could last a week on teasing before the other one break, and Y/N won that bet fair and square cause not once did he saw her Crumble, she just shrugged off Kuroo’s efforts in teasing like it was just nothing.

And the dirty talk

*oh god the dirty talk*

If kuroo had a filthy mouth that calls out degrading terms when doing the deed, Y/N was more of a sweet smoth talker that would coo and whisper sweet nothings on your ear and somehow that was 10x worse cause man that girl knows her way with her words.

She would babble out on “how much of a good boy” Tetsuro has been and on how proud she is of him while she bounces herself up and down on his cock.

At that; Kuroo can practically pinpoint the moment he realizes and accepts he is no match for a dom Y/N

So he only whimpers in response as she digs her claws at the back of his shoulders as she continue the activity on riding him.

“Who’s my sweet boy now?” Y/N asks, her fingers slowly tracing the veins on Kuroo’s biceps.

“I am” Kuroo pants desperately “I am baby please- you’re killing me”

But the girl in front of her only raises a brow back at him, she growls loudly as her hand went up to grip Kuroo’s neck

“Now that’s not one way to adress me” she demands as she squeezed the lining of Kuroo’s adam’s apple

“Mommy” Kuroo moaned below her “Im sorry Mommy please”

With a satisfied smirk, Y/N realeses her hold, she leans down to her partners eye level to give him a passionate kiss on the lips

“Ok baby. You can cum now”

As if on command, Kuroo bucks his hips against her core as he splurted his load deep inside her

“Fuck” he hisses between his teeth.

By the time he was finished, he gives Y/N a sturdy glare “You’re killing me” he groans

But his girl only giggles in response “That’s what you get for picking a fight with Bokuto today”

And that was only Level 01 of Y/N being a dom.

Level 2 was way more intense and extreme because it involves a certain strap on toy that Y/N bought online

And to be honest Kuroo was a bit hesistant at getting pegged at first, because no way in hell was he agreeing on shoving up a dildo up to his prostate,

but the protest died on his mouth the moment Y/N pushed him in all fours over towards the bed.

“Awww but baby you take me so good” she purrs as she gently tugs of Kuroo’s boxers from his waist.

“Surely a big boy like you can handle a little strap on now would you?”

Kuroo lets out a deep growl as Y/N prods a finger into his hole to at least stretch it out before she pushes the toy in

“Y/N-“ he warnes

“Yes baby?”

He was about to retort a complaint when he feels the silicon material pushed up against his p-spot

“Fuck” he curses as he grabs a fistful the sheets below him

“You okay?” Y/N asks once she was fully in.

“M’good” Kuroo breathes “Just take it slow on me baby please”

But Y/N’s definition of slow was quite the opposite cause she rutted in him almost quickly as he lets the 7 inch toy slide in and out of him.

The overwhelming sensation of being full and the constant hitting of his prostate was too much for Kuroo’s liking.

He was too absorbed in processing the foreign object against his hole he was surprised Y/N’s hand made its way into his neglected cock.

She gives it a few gentle strokes before she pulls away to trap her arms into Kuroo’s neck.

“Straighten up” she orders lowly “Look at yourself in the mirror”

And Kuroo was quick to obey as he takes his full form on the reflection in front of him.

He was on his knees on the bed while Y/N relentlessly pounds him from behind.

“That’s it baby look at how much of a slut you are” Y/N snarls as she tugs him upward again so he can get a full view of his lower abdominal muscles and his cock that is leaking out pre-cum

The pleasureable feeling of him getting fucked and the degrading words from Y/N was just enough to send him into the edge that he even almost pulled out an aheago face right then and there.

And of course Y/N’s quick eyes didn’t miss that;

“Look at the mirror when you cum” she tells him roughly “Let me see that face you make”

So he does, one quick glance into his messy reflection he’s already cumming hard. He takes and jerks his cock out of sudden reflex all in as he maintained eye contact with himself through the mirror.

And fuck does the sight before him will live rent free on his mind from now on. 😂😂

3rd and Final Level was Y/N’s style of Exhibitionism and Public Sex.

Now in their relationship its no secret that kink is somehow Kuroo’s teritory.

Once his horny in public, Him and Y/N are known to be possibly hooking up in a nearby stall or bathroom or even the storage room if they’re inside the gymnasium.

That’s what all the team knew, It was always Kuroo who initiates the first move, But what they didn’t knew is half of those sexual activity was Y/N s idea.

(At least Kuroo has the decency to at least let them do it in a secluded place where he knows is private but at the same time the possibility of anyone walking in on them excited them both so honestly that was the whole point of it so it was definitely a win win situation)

But what Kuroo doesn’t know is how his girlfriend managed to get turned on in broad daylight and in the middle of the library during a study session

(And one thing about Y/N ; if she’s the first one to get turned on; Don’t even try to think of domming, Kuroo learned that the hard way)

So here she was eyeing him up and down with lusty eyes as she drew little circles around Kuroo’s thigh

“Y/N stop it” Kuroo snaps as he gently slaps the hand away.

“Want you” Y/N breathes unto the shell of his earlobe “You’re so sexy today”

Kuroo sighs in annoyance, he then dips his head down so he could give her a small kiss on the forehead

“Hold on a little longer baby” he reasures “When we’re done with the homework we can have a little detour inside one of the classrooms”

Y/N pouts at the idea of having to wait a little longer “But I want you now”

Kuroo gives her another kiss “I know. But they’re like 50 other people here with us”

At his statement Y/N gives a sly smirk.

And Kuroo was quick enough to piece the puzzles together “Baby dont you dare-“

But it was too late, Y/N reacted quickly on knocking few of her books down to the floor catching the attention of few other students from across their table.

She mumbles a quick apology before she kneels down to retrive them.

And by retrieve it was her kneeling infront of Kuroo’s legs to palm his bulge against the fabric of his pants.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo growls “Get up”

But Y/N wasn’t taking any hints and continued to fundle with his balls “You’re already hard babe” she comments “I know you like this. You like me blowing you out inside the library while they are peolple around us”

At the suggestion of blowing him, Kuroo’s breath hitched; “Y/N Im serious” he says “Not here”

Y/N lets out a sarcastic scoff “It will be fine” she assures as she zips Kuroo’s fly down to free his aching cock “Just dont make a sound”

Without another word, she envelops Kuroo’s long shaft into the depths of her mouth.

Kuroo lets out a soft whine as he takes a quick look at the surrounding around him, luckily no one has took noticed of them yet and he thanked the Nekoma high school library for having closed tables that covered their lower halves.

He then turns his gaze back to Y/N who was busy bobbing her head up and down on his cock.

He groans again as he feels her tongue move up to the base then around to his frenulum.

“Fuxk” he curses under his breath as he feels the building organsm ripping away through his stomach down to his shaft.

“baby I’m gonna cum” he whispers as he wraps a hand on her hair to guide her head up and down.

With another quick swish of Y/N’s tongue, Kuroo lets a harsh yelp as he involunarily thrust his hips into her mouth to ride out his orgasm.

Y/N pulls away with a loud pop as she gracefully wiped away the cum stains around her lips

“See?” She mused “that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

He fixes her a stern glare “oh fuxk you” he says as he took in the mess they made.

If they keep doing random stuffs like this; Kuroo’s gonna need a change of pants and possibly change schools. (His reputation as a volleyball captain would clearly be damaged) but when he tooks in the sighs of his girlfriend’s smirk and lewd face in front of him, Kuroo wouldn’t trade it for the whole world.

[blush-and-books]

Maybe 17 for Juke? :)

17: Tugging on the end of someone’s shirt. Thank you anon!!!!!!!!! Here’s a canonverse drabble :)

Julie never liked to feel needy, or weak, or little -- but sometimes, she just needed a hug.

Don’t we all?

Luke, being the ever-affectionate best friend, bandmate, and unofficial boyfriend, was constantly trying to be aware of whether or not Julie needed him. When she was struggling on math homework and needed a pick-me-up, or if she was feeling particularly depressed about her mom, or if she felt discouraged from a lack of creativity during a writing session. 

While he was always a pretty good judge just by reading her facial expressions, there was one cue he always noticed from her when she needed a hug: She would tug on the end of his shirt. 

The first time it happened, she had had an unfortunate conversation with her aunt about her grades. Unbeknownst to Victoria, Luke had been sitting next to Julie on the couch the entire time. Whenever Victoria said something blunt about Julie’s grief or how bad grades could send her on a downward spiral, he felt Julie’s index finger hook into the loose-fitting bottom of his hoodie. 

As soon as Victoria left, Julie threw herself into Luke’s side, sniffling like she was trying not to cry. 

The next time it happened, Luke had been paying a visit to Julie at school. While they spoke at her locker, that Carrie girl in the music program approached Julie with mischief in her eyes:

“Disappointing that you didn’t bring your holograms to perform with you today in class, Julie. I mean, they’re really all that people want to see when you perform anyway.”

Julie, who had kept her phone against her ear to talk to Luke without looking insane, pretends to hang up the phone and tuck it in her back pocket. Luke temporarily forgets that he’s a ghost and defensively steps in front of Julie, scowling at the girl insulting her. 

Julie’s fist curling in the back end of his shirt reels him in as she steps forward, ready to stand her ground. 

“Says the girl who needs four other girls to perform with her because she doesn’t think she could entertain an audience on her own.”

Carrie retreats hastily. But that doesn’t keep Julie’s face from dropping the confident mask when she’s gone, and turning back to her locker with a frown on her face. 

Luke realizes that the way that she pulled on the end of his shirt wasn’t to pull him back, it was a coping mechanism. A comforting action. 

Walking behind Julie at her locker, he wraps his arms around her waist and props his chin on her shoulder. She can’t jug him back, obviously, but he feels her let out a deep breath when his arms are around her. 

“You better not believe anything she says,” he mumbles in her ear. “It’s Julie and the Phantoms. We’re nothing without you. And everybody loves you.”

With slow movements, like she’s overwhelmed by him and how much love he shows her, her hand sneaks around to retrieve her phone and hold it to her ear. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, to which he responds with a kiss on her cheek. 

On the anniversary of Rose’s death, Luke, who was asleep on the couch in the garage, wakes up to feeling a pull against his shirt. It starts out sudden and light, but grows more insistent as his eyes flutter open. 

Julie is sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, looking down at him with tears in her eyes. Luke, without hesitation, reaches out to uncurl her hands from his shirt and pull him down next to him. 

He wastes no time in tucking her into his front and latching his left arm around her to hold her tight. Her legs are intertwined with his, and he feels Julie lightly begin to toy with his fingers. 

“You comfy?” He whispers into her hair, already feeling himself lulled back to sleep. She nods.

“Thank you.” Her voice is small and quiet, and it prompts him to use his last bit of sleepy energy to press his lips to her shoulder before sleep finally pulls him away.

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

I am currently closed for requests, BTW! Will post it on my masterlist next to the requests heading whether or not I am open or closed. 

[songtoyou]

Chapter 7: No Such Thing As Good News

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,373

Warnings: Swearing

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Rose wakes up the morning after the gala and her night with Tommy. She meets Isaiah Jesus, who takes her back home. Tommy wants to know more about Louis. We find out that Alfie continues to be a double-crossing little shit. Our favorite Italian mobster catches wind of Tommy taking away his favorite “toy.”

A/N: This chapter was fun to write and brings a lot of new plot development to the story. 

Italics represent past conversations. 

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​ 

The remainder of the night was not a quiet or restful one for Rose. No, Tommy still had needs that he wanted to be met. While the first session was the most intense, the rest after were a tad tamer. Well, as tame as it came when dealing with Tommy Shelby. It was like the man didn’t have the words soft and slow in his vocabulary. Rose noted that when it came to actual sex with Tommy, everything had to be fast and hard. He seemed to take great pleasure in prolonging Rose’s orgasm or retreating just when she was at her peak. It was a long, drawn-out game for Tommy. 

Tommy had Rose on her back, stomach, knees, and on top of him. For a man who was a notorious chain smoker, his stamina was off the charts. He seemed to finally wear himself out by 3 p.m. With Rose on her stomach and head tucked into the pillow, she was quickly falling asleep. She could feel the light caress of Tommy’s hand up-and-down her back. It was as if the gentle act were lulling him to sleep, and soon Rose could hear his soft snores. 

Rose opened her eyes to look at the man sleeping next to her. With the room dark, she could only vaguely make out Tommy’s features. She was able to see a hint of softness to him as he soundly slept. Turning over on her side, Rose pulled up the blankets and fell asleep.

By morning, Rose was awoken by the curtains being drawn back. The blinding sunlight permeated the room. “What the bloody Hell,” Rose groaned and covered her face with the pillow. “It’s too bright.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” spoke a female voice. “Here, let me close them a little.”

Uncovering her head, Rose looked to see what looked to be a housekeeper in the bedroom. 

“Hi, I’m Rose,” she introduced herself to the older woman who appeared to have a friendly disposition. 

“Hello, I’m Annie. Mr. Shelby’s housekeeper. I apologize for walking in on you. Must have slipped Mr. Shelby’s mind when he left for work this morning.”

“What! He’s gone? What time is it?” Rose asked, looking for a clock.

“It’s ten in the morning, dear. Would you like me to fix you some coffee or tea?” Annie asked sweetly. 

Rose was about to get up but realized she was still naked. She could not believe she overslept or that Tommy left without any sense of ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later.’

“No, thank you. I…if you don’t mind, need to take a shower. Then I will be on my way.”

Annie nodded her head and left Rose alone in the guest bedroom. With the door shut, Rose tossed the covers off of her and grabbed her to-go bag. She pulled out her toiletries, some underwear, socks, a bra, along with jeans and a t-shirt. She also hauled out her running shoes and tossed them on the floor. 

For a guest bedroom, the bathroom was huge with a standing tub and walk-in shower. If Rose didn’t have somewhere else to be, she would have opted for a bubble bath. Looking at herself in the mirror, Rose traced every bruise, love bite, and red marks that were plastered over her body. 

“He always leaves his mark,” Rose said to herself. She turned on the shower and stepped inside.

The hot water helped ease the soreness Rose was feeling all throughout her body. She lightly washed away any dried fluids that were left on her. Rose more than noticed the soreness between her legs, which would take a while to subside.

When Rose was finished showering, she dried herself and put on her clothes. She did one more look around to make sure she had everything, sent off a quick text to Louis letting him know she was okay and headed downstairs.

Annie warmly greeted her, “I hung up your dress by the door. It is inside the garment cover. I put your shoes in there as well.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate that very much. Uh, when did Mr. Shelby leave this morning?”

“The same time he always does, about six o’clock,” the housekeeper answered. “He told me to let you sleep in, but I was unaware of which room you would be in.”

“Yeah, yeah, look, I have to get going,” said Rose and retrieved the garment bag. She slung her to-go back over her shoulder and walked outside the townhouse.

Before Rose could head down the street towards the Tube, an unknown voice called out to get her attention.

“Ms. Turner,” said the voice.

Rose turned around to see a young black man leaning next to a car. She had seen him around previously outside of her house or place of work. Rose suspected this was one of Tommy’s guys he ordered to look after her. 

“Yes. What do you want?” she asked, not moving.

“Mr. Shelby told me that you would need a ride back home. I’m Isaiah Jesus,” he said, extending his hand out. When he noticed that Rose’s hands were full, he offered to take her garment bag.

“Thank you. I guess you won’t need directions to my house since I have seen you around,” she said, walking to the car. 

Isaiah opened the trunk and put in Rose’s belongings, and ushered to the backseat door, but Rose cut in, saying, “Do you mind if I sit in the front seat?”

“Not a problem, mam,” replied Isaiah with a smile and opened the passenger door for Rose.

The ride back home was quiet except for the sound of music coming from the car stereo. To cut the quietness, Rose decided to speak up. “How long have you worked for Tommy?”

“For a long time,” Isaiah answered.

“How old are you?”

Isaiah laughed, “I’m 21, mam.”

“Okay, you’re sweet, but knock it off with the whole ‘mam’ thing. Call me Rose, okay.”

“As you wish, Rose. My family, well, my father to be exact, has known the Shelby’s a long time. My father’s family immigrated from the Caribbean to England. He met Tommy, Arthur, and John while serving during the War in Afghanistan back in 2006,” Isaiah shared and went on, “It was not the time to be over there, that is for sure. The arrival of the British soldiers in the southern province of Helmand was met with violence from the reviving Taliban. The Afghanis made sure to let our soldiers know that they were not welcomed over there. My dad, his name is Jeremiah, did not come back the same after that, neither did Tommy or his brothers.”

Rose could not believe this young man was telling her all of this, such revealing information. It all started making more sense to her with Tommy’s behavior. He had all of the signs of someone living with post-traumatic stress. And then top it off with his wife, the person he most likely felt comfortable and vulnerable around, diagnosed unexpectedly with cancers, and then dying. No wonder Tommy was the way he was.

“Wait, your dad is Jeremiah Jesus?”

“Yeah,” Isaiah responded, looking over at Rose.

“I have seen him on the news lately. He leads many of the Black Lives Matter demonstrations,” noted Rose.

Isaiah beamed with pride, “That would be him. He’s amazing. Definitely the type of voice and leader we need right now.”

“Yeah, my son has become more socially active at school and around our community. It is a good thing. I want him to be aware of his privileges and use them for good causes,” Rose responded fondly. 

When Isaiah pulled into Rose’s neighborhood, he parked the car in front of her house. Both got out of the car, and Isaiah helped retrieve Rose’s belongings from the trunk. 

“Thank you, Isaiah, for driving me home. It was nice not having to take the Tube.”

“No problem, Rose. It is my job, after all. I have to get back to London, but someone will be around to look over your house. Have a nice rest of your day,” said Isaiah and tipped his hat to Rose, and retreated back to the car.

Rose walked up to the front door to unlock it and went inside her home. In the car, Isaiah pulled out his phone to call Tommy. By the second ring, Tommy picked it up. “She home?” he asked.

“Yes, Tommy, she is just walked in her house right now,” replied Isaiah, looking over at the house. 

“Okay, good. Once Darren shows up, you can leave,” Tommy instructed Isaiah.

Hanging up the phone, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. When he let it out, he sat back down at his desk. Truth be told, Tommy did feel bad leaving Rose to wake up alone that morning. But he had to get to work. He knew she needed the rest from the previous night. Tommy did not know why, but when he was with Rose, he became a different person. It was as if he felt freer. More relaxed. More willing to pursue his darker desires than he ever had before. The way Tommy was with Rose, he was never like that with Lizzie. 

He was not quite sure what made the two women different. Lizzie, he noticed she would never push back, never quite challenge him. With Rose, he could see there was a fire in her. Tommy especially noticed it last night when she turned the tables on him during his line of questioning. For a second, she caught him off guard but managed to recover quickly. Rose was also more open to his sexual fantasies, whereas Lizzie was never that hardcore. Yes, he and Lizzie would experiment with role-playing or bondage, but it was never to the level he had with Rose. 

There was something about Rose that Tommy could not quite put his finger on. While he knew most everything about the woman, he still felt that he didn’t “know her.” That feeling bothered him. He was a man who liked to know everything about everyone and anything. Rose’s son was a factor that he did not know much about. 

According to information Tommy gathered, Louis was sixteen years old and attended public school. His birthday was July 3, 2003. He currently was in his 11th year at school, with next year being he would enter as a lower 6th. While his grades were decent, he was active with after-school sports like football or basketball. All in all, Tommy needed to determine if Rose’s son was a liability. He needed to meet the kid himself to determine if that was a fact.

Once Rose settled down at home, she opened her laptop and looked through her work email. Rose’s boss, Linda, wouldn’t be in the office today. She had to take her husband to a doctor’s appointment. So Rose knew she could get away with not physically being in the office that morning. However, Rose did not foresee herself oversleeping and missing much of the day’s work. She emailed Linda, letting her know that she was not feeling well that morning. Thankfully, Linda believed Rose and told her to rest up. 

What caught Rose off guard was when Linda mentioned how beautiful she looked last night. 

‘What the fuck,’ Rose said to herself, confused. She reached for her phone and saw the mass of text messages from friends and even her mother, Pam. All wrote how gorgeous she looked at the gala and congratulated her on “bagging” Tommy Shelby. The text from her mother stood out amongst the rest. Pam said she wanted to see Rose and Louis and planned to make a London trip sometime soon. Nothing indicating if Rose’s dad, Geoffrey, would join Pam on the trip. While Rose’s relationship with her mother was somewhat cordial, her relationship with her father was practically non-existent. Geoffrey more than let it be known that he wanted nothing to do with his daughter or grandson. It was one of the big reasons why Rose left Blackpool.

Against Rose’s better judgment, she googled Tommy Shelby. Low and behold, there was an array of articles about him with the mystery woman from last night’s gala, with pictures to boot. A part of her knew this would happen but didn’t quite expect this much attention from her friends, boss, or mother. Thankfully, news in England never lasted longer than 24 hours. Soon, a new shiny toy would be dangled in the face of the nation, and Rose would, literally, be yesterday’s news. She only had about a couple more hours to wait until more important and titillating news came along. 

With a slam of his fist to the desk, Luca Changretta was more than upset. He was angry once he caught sight of the pictures. Luca thought Alfie Solomons was lying when he said that Tommy Shelby had taken something from the Italian mobster. The Jewish gangster never quite stated what it was that Tommy had taken.

“Trust me, mate. You will find out soon enough, eh,” Alfie told Luca over the phone a while back. 

“You better not be fucking with me, Solomons. I know you enjoy playing games with Tommy, but I am no fool,” Luca sneered into the phone.

Alfie just laughed, “I’m not fucking with you. No, I wouldn’t do that to ya. I think our boy Tommy needs a reminder of his place, don’t you think. The lad has gotten a bit too big for his britches. Good ol’ Tom thinks he can take anything he wants with no consequences.”

“Again, Solomons, why should I care what Tommy Shelby does?”

“Well, come Thursday morning, be sure to check the London news. Then you will see. Be sure to call me when you do,” Alfie instructed and hung up the phone.

Luca’s first instinct was to brush Alfie off. The man was always playing tricks. However, there was a part of Luca that was intrigued to find out what Alfie was talking about. The pictures of Tommy with Rose infuriated Luca so much that all he saw was red. Blood red. Blood that needed to be spilled. 

[hqprotectionsquad]

Notice Me (Kenma x Reader)

Title: Notice Me Pairing: Kenma x F!Reader Summary: If you move in with Kenma, you save money and you get to go to your dream school in Tokyo. Just one thing: you start developing a crush on your roommate who you barely know. Word Count: 2441 A/N: This is the original fic I had planned before I lost it for a few bits. I wrote a whole HC set for this, which is very similar because I wrote down everything I could remember. This would be an extension of a sort in that case.

A few months ago, it was never like this. You were just about ready to attend a junior college because your top choice university waitlisted you for your program. You were okay with it, considering the price was significantly less than what you expected to pay at university. What are two years working on transferrable credits anyway? In the grand scheme of things, you were making the right choice.

And then you got off of the waitlist. You jumped for joy and your parents baked you a cake for your achievements. Everything was dandy, up until you remembered the tuition. It wasn’t like you’d be in crippling debt if you attended, just debt that isn’t as crippling.

Luckily, your neighbor, Kenma is also moving to Tokyo, to study something like business or management or something like that? You don’t do much of exploring his personality until you hear a plan that your mom proposes to you.

“Mom, are you serious?” You can’t believe what your ears are hearing.

“Of course! We don’t have much money to send you, let alone boarding. So while you’re in Tokyo, you can stay with Kenma! Kenma will have a large enough apartment, according to his parents when I spoke to them about this.”

“You already spoke to them about it?!”

“Yes! And you both move in two weeks.”

It’s weird, packing up your entire life is weird. Waves of nostalgia crash every time you notice an old toy you used to play with or old photos you forgot existed. Soon enough, you’ve got everything you need in boxes that will meet you in Tokyo.

Tokyo. It still feels like a fever dream. Something that is, but you aren’t sure how it happened. A few months ago, you were days away from enrolling in junior college, and now, you’re going to Tokyo.

Today, your family packs the car with all of your clothing and things that can be easily carried. Later on, you’re in the apartment, settling your items. Soon enough, your family’s back in the emptier car on their way home. Everything goes too quickly.

The process of getting to know Kenma goes too slowly. Sure, you’ve been his neighbor for your entire life, but you’ve never really spoken to him, even though you’ve gone to the same high school and boarded the train together in the mornings.

Now, if you have classes in the morning, you take the train with him to the university. Still, after a few weeks of moving in together, you haven’t spoken much to him. It’s like ebb and flow, except he’s flowing at his own pace.

On the train to classes one day, you ask, “Kenma, do you want to have dinner together? I can pick up something after my last class.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m streaming something tonight.” So that’s all the noise he makes at two in the morning, not that you could assume anything based on the yelling.

“Oh. I didn’t know you streamed. Um, what do you stream?” You don’t want this conversation to stop. From all the years you’ve known him, you were actually jealous of Kuroo for being able to know Kenma so well. This could be your chance to see what’s going on behind that pretty face of his.

“Mostly games.” He digs into his messenger bag and you assume that the conversation is over. This is it, he probably just wants to be roommates without being friends. “You forgot this earlier, by the way. On the counter.” He puts a book into your hand.

“Thank you.” And thus begins your habit of forgetting things and him retrieving them for you. For the most part, it’s not on purpose; you’re just a forgetful human being. However, one time, you checked to see if he’d actually notice if you left something. It was a bit of a gamble, but you just wanted to see. Sure enough, Kenma came right before your class began to hand off a notebook.

These drop-offs are simple, yet his attention to detail is what draws you to him. His perspective means everything when you’re asking him for his opinion on assignments or life events.

You wish there was something more, though. He’s so reserved. It’s not like he’s actively trying to hide something, but maybe, he just wants to be by himself.

That’s such a lonely life.

He has his friend Kuroo, as far as you know, who is a year older than you two. You’re at the extremes of your mind, weighing the pros and cons between your two halves. If you try to befriend Kuroo, that could be your way to knowing Kenma, but Kenma might also be confused by your friendship with his friend. If you don’t try to befriend Kuroo, then you’re essentially stuck in the same place without a stimulant to move forward.

So you do what any college student would do; decide your fate on a coin flip. Heads is get to know Kuroo, and tails is to stay stagnant and find a way through. You flick the coin off of your thumb and it sails into the air until it finds solace in your hand. You slap the coin onto your opposite hand, and what do you know, it lands on—

“Heads.”

Huh. You’re going to have quite a time. You even begin laughing to yourself because you have no idea how to start.

“You know, Kuroo’s a chemistry tutor.” Your friend informs you after she sees your brain unfolding when you go out for a literature study session. She seemed very concerned, but you reassure her that you simply had a crush on your roommate and you aren’t sure how to go about it.

“I’m taking introductory chemistry, and I’m not near failing, Mika.”

“Exactly, it could just be supplemental and you use the studying so you can get a better grade.”

“You know what, I think you’re right. I’m going to do that.” A smile graces your lips and it’s something in between a smirk and a genuine grin, but you’ll take it.

The next time you visit the library, you stop by the corkboard by the entrance. You trace your fingers to find the chemistry tutoring sign-ups and you find Kuroo’s name at the top of a page in bold font. Lines are filled left and right, and you find an opening for two days from now. Now that you’re looking at it, there aren’t too many girls who have signed up for him, just mostly boys. You suppose you’ll find out why soon.

When you approach a table on the day you’ll be tutored, your mouth gapes when you see the face of this guy. How are there more boys who sign up for him than girls? If you weren’t faithful to your mission, you’d probably be reconsidering everything.

“Hey, I’m (Y/N), you’re Kuroo, right? You’re tutoring me in intro chemistry,” you say as you take a seat and unload your notebook and textbook from your backpack. You place your items onto the table, including your trusty highlighters and pencil case.

“Hey.” He offers you a smile. “Glad you could make it.” He does one look over you before asking, “Haven’t we met before? This isn’t an attempt to pick you up, but I mean if you wanted me to, I wouldn’t object.”

You roll your eyes and grin. This guy has no shame from the get-go. “Maybe in passing. I’m Kenma’s roommate.”

“Right, right, that’s where I’ve seen you.” Kuroo nods. “So did you want to get into the parts you have trouble with or do you want to do a brief overview first?”

“Brief overview would be good.” You start to get into all of the general basics of chemistry, like the formulas and diagrams you’ll need for tests. The way Kuroo explains all of this makes so much sense, even the things you thought you knew before.

“Alright! Water break.” It’s been about an hour, but judging by Kuroo’s expression, you might be here a little longer. Even though the world has passed by around you, it feels like you just arrived and introduced yourself.

“Have you considered being a teacher? You’re really good at explaining.”

After chugging down half of his bottle, he runs some fingers through his hair and you’re surprised he can even get them out based on the messy appearance. “I’ve thought about it, but I kind of want to go into forensics or research. Something like that. But something tells me you’re not here because you want to do better on your tests.”

“Red-handed,” you say with your hands up. “What makes you think that though?”

“You’ve kind of got everything down, but I wouldn’t expect anything else from a pretty and smart girl like you.”

Your mouth hangs open just the slightest bit and you have to force yourself to press your lips into a smile. You try to look anywhere else except meet his eyes. “I,” you stop to breathe. “I’m flattered, but um, I guess I did come here with a different intention than just studying.”

“And that would be?” Kuroo clasps his hands together and leans forward. By the looks of it, he’s even tilting his head so his ear faces towards you.

Your breath can’t make a silver barrier between Kuroo and your flushed cheeks. “I, um, kind of have developed a crush on Kenma, and since you’re his friend—”

“Damn. I really thought I could get a girl from tutoring, but it looks like she’s only interested in my best friend.” He then does this thing where it looks like he’s smirking and fake crying at the same time and you can’t really tell what he’s trying to accomplish from this. Still, he bites his lip and you’re led to believe he’s actually a little upset that he’s being passed over.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo.”

“Why are you sorry?” He laughs through his question.

“I don’t know.” With your smile on your face, you peer down at your chemistry notes, the ones you’ve just written. “I’m really thankful for all your help with this. I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve taken advantage of you.”

“Believe me, it’s no big deal. You’re one of the first girls I’ve tutored and you’re pretty cool. I still don’t know why I keep getting guys to tutor, don’t know what witch cursed me with that.” Kuroo clicks his tongue before continuing, “But you’re his roommate. Shouldn’t you at least know him up to a certain extent? I just don’t get it when you could just try to seduce him.” He pauses. “Don’t actually do that, it probably won’t work, it’s Kenma.”

“Exactly. He’s been my neighbor for basically all of my life, but I don’t know him enough to try to start something. I can’t tell if he enjoys my company or not.”

“You know what, I know you’re Kenma’s roommate and you barely know him, which is understandable, because it’s Kenma. Come check out the intramural games and you’ll get to meet the team.”

You tilt your head at his statement. “Intramural games? For what?”

“For volleyball. Kenma’s the setter, I’m the captain for our team.” Kuroo nods. “Saturday at 4. I’ll invite you out for ice cream and it’ll be all cool.” He starts packing up his stuff and shoving it into his backpack.

“Alright, I’ll see you then,” you confirm while you mirror his actions. You bid him goodbye and the last thing you hear from him is mumbling that you had to, of course, like his best friend.

Saturday comes and you wish you could say it wasn’t a blur, but with all of the volleyball lingo—still unsure what some of the positions are, but at least you know Kenma’s—and the men just talking amongst themselves, it’s not hard to get stuck in the whirlwind.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You give your head a little shake before looking to see who was speaking to you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for asking, Kenma.”

“If you don’t want to be here, I can take us back to the apartment. I’m sure Lev’s loud voice is hurting your ears.” He casts a strained glance to the man leaning back on the counter, slurping his ice cream like it’s a soup. The rest of the lot is in the circle, speaking to teammates, and whoever happened to respond to Kuroo’s invitation. Turns out you weren’t the only one that wanted to share in the company of the team.

With your unfinished ice cream cup still in your hand, you bid goodbye to Kuroo and the other team members. Turns out there really is a whole world outside of your small circle at the university. Without them, you wouldn’t have realized how interesting life could be if you continued to hang out with them all.

You wondered if you kept this up, maybe you’d have a chance with Kenma, and so you did. They were all kind enough to allow you to tag onto their plans, even if you’ve stuck onto them like unwanted glue residue. They never grumbled when you walked into cafes with Kuroo, nor did they whisper underneath their breath when you joined them for movie nights at Tora’s apartment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were becoming very good friends with all of them, including your roommate.

Nowadays, he’ll subtly expect to have dinner together when you are both free and you’ll commute to school with him on the days that your classes start around the same time. All the while, you’re still trying to talk to him. Ask him about the weather, what can he recommend as far as video games go — anything that will get him to move his mouth. He really enjoys talking about the games he plays and it seems like that’s his life. Behind his nonchalant expression, fiery eyes dance.

One day on the train, he sits next to you. Everything takes you back to earlier in the year when you barely knew him. All it took was volleyball and the intervention of a very important person in Kenma’s life. He’s no longer just a roommate. He’s a friend, someone to talk to, someone who listens to you.

He turns his head and looks you up and down, from your eyes to your shoes. His gaze is sure but slow, and you aren’t certain of his intentions.

Finally, he asks, “(Y/N), are you flirting with me?”

Hearing this come from his lips tugs your own into a smile. “You finally noticed?”

navi! | master list | tag list form

[grandmother-goblin]

Hangman’s Mercy

Chapter 1

Summary: After the war, Levi remembers how he fell in love with the executioner.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Decapitation, Suggestive Themes, Language, Period-typical Sexism.

On a summer morning, outside an oceanfront cafe, Levi longed for the executioner's embrace. Seagulls cawed on the distant beach and the gentle ocean breeze blew salty air over his steaming cup of tea. Chamomile; the executioner's favorite. Especially with a little honey after a stressful day. They spent countless nights together, sitting across a candlelit table when neither of them could sleep or in each other’s arms, with a hot pot of chamomile tea between them. God, he missed those days. 

The chamomile tea at the Marelean cafe did not taste as sweet, even with honey. Maybe that was just because of the company. Not that Levi minded the overzealous journalist scribbling in his journal across from him. After all, he paid well, and it wasn’t like Levi had much to do after the war. Despite the massive loss of life, humanity trudged towards a new sense of normalcy only weeks later. Businesses had to continue, people needed a new sense of purpose or just a moment of peace, and society was never one to stay still. Levi still had to make a living in a world without titans, so when a fast-talking kid with a fire in his eyes offered to pay him for interviews he took the opportunity.

The young man, Marty Chase, tapped his pen against a pile of notes with a nervous energy. Levi took a few days to get to know Marty’s work before he agreed to a biography, and the kid checked out. Marty co-authored three bestsellers before the age of thirty, all biographies of Marelean warriors. Levi did not know any of the subjects, but he felt like he did after a few chapters into his works. How he wove together someone’s life with just interviews and notes, Levi did not know. Some sort of creative witchcraft he would never understand. 

Marty flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and clicked his pen. “When I was listening back to our last session, you mentioned an executioner a couple of times. Tell me about that.”

“What about her?”

“Her?” Marty made a note and underlined the fact the executioner was a woman several times. He flipped back through his notes, finding some highlighted passages in the ink. “How did you know her?”

Steam rose from his teacup, and Levi watched as it disappeared into the wind. He hadn’t realized he mentioned the executioner enough during his interviews for Marty to take notice. In fact, he tried to leave the executioner out of it as much as he could. Those who read his biography wouldn’t give a damn about that. Why would they? They wanted to know about his military experience, his title of Humanity’s Strongest, about Eren Jaeger, the military coup, what he saw, and what he experienced. They wanted to know what his comrades could no longer share. Without bringing her into it, they could know all of that. Would she even want them to know? 

Levi tasted the chamomile on his tongue and closed his eyes, wishing it was as sweet as he remembered on her lips. He could not ask her permission to share her part of the story. It was impossible. Levi turned the warm teacup in his hands and sighed.

“I almost asked her to marry me.”

The incessant pen clicking stopped. Marty stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water. Marty dove into the fat briefcase he lugged around and retrieved that stupid little recording device. It was slightly bigger than a deck of cards with black casing and a roll of tape inside. “And you thought you could just leave out that teensy-weensy, tiny, detail?”

Levi shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d care about that.”

Marty rolled his eyes, as if Levi said something ridiculous, like cats could be herded or the moon didn’t exist. “This stuff is the heart of a good story, no pun intended,” he said. “You’re pretty extraordinary, Mr. Ackerman, no two ways about that. But, people like you seem so far out of reach to an average guy like me. What we need is something to reel you back in. Something to tell our audience, ‘hey, this guy is as human as he is amazing’, and what’s more human than romantic love?”

“Taking a shit?” 

Marty set his pen on the table and eyed him like a disappointed teacher looking at the class clown. “If you really don’t think she’s important, you don’t have to tell me about her.”

“Don’t give me the guilt trip shit, Marty.” Levi finished his tea and set the empty cup at the edge of the iron bistro table. “You have plans today?”

“Not if you have a story to tell me.”

“Then get me another cup of tea. Lavender and bergamot, no sweetener.”

Marty beamed like Levi had offered a pot of gold instead of a day's worth of work. Though to Marty, those two were likely one and the same. His book about Reiner’s time in Paradis sold out in some of the biggest shops Marley offered. Well, Levi hoped the paycheck would be worth both of their time. 

After Marty returned with the tea and a heart-attack inducing amount of coffee, he pressed the little red button on the side of his recording device. He leaned in close to the speaker and rattled off his typical prelude to the recording. “Levi Ackerman. Tape thirty-two. Who is the executioner?”

Levi sipped his fresh cup of tea, thankful for the bit of caffeine because he knew he’d be needing it. “Don’t turn my biography into a romance novel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Ackerman,” Marty answered without missing a beat. He clicked his pen and tapped it against the first line in his notebook. “Now, tell me how you first met the executioner.”

Levi held his cup of tea just above the table, not sure if he was going to set it down or take another sip. He guessed he had nothing to lose by sharing their story. “Twenty-five years ago, I saw my first beheading. I was still just a kid scraping by in the Underground…”

Levi, a tiny, twelve-year-old piece of garbage, had only been on his own for a few weeks. Kenny taught him just enough to take care of himself and drop-kicked him from the relative safety of the nest to the dogs. With Kenny, awful as he was, Levi at least felt a sense of safety with an adult around. Once that was ripped from under him, it took him a while to regain his bearings. 

The Sunday market was the perfect place to pick pockets and swipe valuables, whether they were from a vendor or a customer. The place was so crowded, a small kid like him could disappear in an instant. He just needed to find the right target. Ideally, someone who looked like they didn’t belong Underground. Someone who would be unused to the dim lighting, the stale air thick with the smell of smoke, and the echoing chatter of thousands of people crammed into one place. Few people from above ground went to the Sunday market, but there were enough to make them easy pickings. 

On the outskirts of the market, right outside a general store where Kenny used to buy his liquor, sat a young girl atop some supply crates. One look at her, and Levi knew she was the perfect target. Clean clothes? Check. Shiny hair? Check. Dirt-free face? Check? Alone? Also check. The pretty, sun-kissed face was also a dead giveaway. The brown leather satchel on her lap, scratch-free with shiny copper buckles, would be a great steal. He just had to get a hold of it.

Levi smoothed his ratty, moth-bitten coat and checked his hair in a dusty shop window. Well, he did not look so bad that the girl would run away from him screaming. At least he hoped he didn’t. Not that he cared. Normally, he would go for a more covert approach, one where his target would never know he was there, but there was no way he could take the bag right off of her lap. He’d have to get her to put it down. 

With his heart beating faster than a bat's wings, he approached the girl. When she smiled at him, his breath caught in his throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the bag. Even if there was nothing good in there, the bag itself would be worth something, whether it be money or for his own use. 

Unable to keep eye contact, he swallowed and looked at his shoes, restless fingers pulling at a loose thread in his pocket. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking in a way that it hadn’t before. He cleared his throat and willed the heat from his face. What was wrong with him?

The girl leaned on her bag. “Hi,” she said with a pretty, white smile. “I like your haircut.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected compliment and the blush he swallowed before heat rushed right back to his face. Thank the walls the Underground was dark, because he was certain she would have laughed if she saw the color on his face. “Thanks, uhh—” he toyed with the thread in his pocket. “I, uh, like your face.” Stupid. Idiot. Maybe if he ran away right now, she would forget about the whole thing.

She covered her mouth when she giggled. It was the cutest thing he had ever heard. What the hell? Was this what Kenny meant when told Levi that girls would stop being gross one day? What a joke. A terrible, awful joke.

He needed to act fast. Plan A: get the girl to stand. Maybe she would put the bag down for a second, long enough for him to grab it and run. He scratched the back of his neck and eyed the crate she was sitting on. “I need to get to that box.” 

“Oh.” The girl straightened, one hand still on her bag. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way,” she said and pushed herself off the crates, her long green skirt billowing behind her. Unfortunately, she looped the handle around her forearm, keeping it close.

Well, that did not work. Time for Plan B. Levi looked over the crate and found a serial number. He pretended to examine it for a second before he turned back to the girl. “Can you help me move this?” he asked. “I think I need the one below it.”

Still smiling, the girl set her bag down and dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Sure. What should I do?”

Perfect. “Grab that side.” He pointed to the side of the crate furthest away from her bag. Without question, she tucked her fingers under one side of the crate while Levi lifted the other. Sure, he could have just snatched the bag while she had her back turned, but that was too risky. He wanted a little more of a head start before she followed him. 

Levi lifted the top crate well off of the bottom one, and the little girl followed, shuffling her feet against the cobblestone. Her skinny arms strained and her cheeks colored with exertion. There was his chance. 

His fingers released, and Levi’s end of the crate crashed into the ground. The girl faltered and Levi acted before the girl could even let go of her half of the crate. His deft hands swiped the bag as he darted past. Too easy. Way too easy. Levi couldn’t help but smile to himself as he swung the bag over his shoulder and the girl shouted after him. Levi circled around the edge of the market to put some distance between him and the girl before he ducked into the thick of the crowd. 

In the bustling marketplace, Levi swung the bag onto his shoulder and blended in among the other patrons. No one gave him a second look, like he was just there for a bit of shopping, like everyone else. Easy, he thought to himself. Even if the bag had little in it, the bag itself was nice. Sturdy, with lots of pockets and a comfortable strap. Maybe he’d even keep it for himself instead of pawning it off. 

When Levi ducked through a small crowd near a pastry stand, he felt a sudden tug at the back of his jacket. His collar caught his throat as he was yanked back, and a hand the size of his head gripped his shoulder like a vice. 

“Say, my daughter has a bag just like that,” said a deep, gravelly voice as the grip on his shoulder tightened. 

Levi felt like his heart had stopped. No. What were the fucking chances. The surrounding people started to take notice of the altercation and backed away. People in the Underground knew Levi through reputation alone, and he had taken on men twice his size more times than he could count. Too late not to cause a scene. 

Levi grasped his knife and struck behind him, the blade making contact with the man’s flesh. The man groaned and Levi felt another hand on him as he was spun around. Levi’s heart jumped to his throat. This man wasn’t twice his size, he was even bigger. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought a titan had made it Underground. 

Under a bushy red beard that surrounded his face like a lion’s mane, he smiled, a gold tooth front and center of his grin. Levi briefly wondered how much the tooth was worth before he felt his knife plucked from his hand. 

“Get him, Ivor!” yelled someone in the crowd. 

Another man shouted. “Teach that shit a lesson, hangman!”

The hangman. The fucking hangman. Levi felt his blood run cold as he stared up at the monstrous man. So he was the man Kenny would talk about when he got drunk. The one man that Kenny actually seemed to fear. Not because he thought Ivor would hunt him down, but because Ivor would be the one to carry out his sentence if he was ever tried for his crimes. Remembering the way Kenny described how the hangman would torture his victims before the execution made Levi’s stomach turn.

“I’m not going to fight a child,” Ivor called back to the crowd. “Piss off. You’re not getting a damn show, you buzzards.”

The crowd did not disperse as more insults and jeers were thrown the hangman’s way. 

Ivor ignored the taunts. Instead, the hangman focused his pale blue eyes into Levi’s gray ones. “I made that bag for my daughter,” he said. “All it has in it is tea and bad handwritten poetry. I’d tell you to see for yourself, but she’d kill me if I let a stranger read her poems,” he added with a light chuckle. 

“Let go of me.”

One hand tightened its grip while the other let go, giving Levi what was supposed to be a friendly pat. “Aye, can’t do that until I get that bag back, son.” 

Levi tossed the bag on the ground. Whatever. He knew when to cut his losses. “Take it.” 

Still not letting go of him, Ivor placed a boot on the bag strap, keeping it secure. “Thank you, my boy,” he boomed and ruffled Levi’s hair. Ivor knelt as close to Levi’s level as he could, his trench coat made of thick hide bunching up at his feet. He smelled of bergamot and lemon, like he had doused himself in perfumes. Something about Ivor contradicted all of Levi’s expectations: respected and ridiculed, fearsome and jovial, a killer with kind eyes. Despite the iron grip on his shoulder, the hangman seemed… almost nice? Much more tolerant than most of the folks Levi came across, and definitely more so than the ones who felt they were wronged. Blood soaked through Ivor’s pant leg where Levi had slashed his knife, but Ivor did not acknowledge it.

“Take this, boy,” he said in a rough voice barely above a whisper. Ivor reached into his pocket and pressed a small, yet heavy, bag of coins into Levi’s hands, doing his best to shield the transaction from the crowd. “Stay out of trouble. If you don’t, you’ll be seeing me again, boy. And next time, I won’t be so nice.” 

Ivor picked up his daughter’s bag and finally released his hold on Levi, patting him on his certainly bruised shoulder. Levi stumbled back, reaching for the knife that was no longer there. Right. The hangman had tossed it aside. Levi pocketed the coins and stood his ground, waiting for an opening to grab his knife again. 

Around them, the crowd booed. They hurled words not even Kenny would have used the hangman’s way, and he stood tall and proud, stoic as a statue. When a piece of rotten vegetable pelted Ivor’s coat, he brushed off with a laugh as people in the crowd continued to taunt and jeer. The hangman turned to look at Levi once more, before giving a subtle nod towards a break in the crowd. Levi swore he saw the man mouth the word ‘go’ from behind his massive beard.

“Thought you were going to give us a show, hangman!” a shrill woman shouted.

Ivor tossed the bag over his shoulder. “You’ll be getting a show tomorrow.” He spread his arms with all the showmanship of a magician. “Now stop gawking and do something with your miserable lives, you scabs!”

With a slight limp, Ivor turned into the crowd. Not really thinking, Levi picked his knife off the ground and ran the opposite direction. He did not know where he was going, just that he needed to get out of the marketplace and away from anyone who saw Ivor give him money. Maybe that was the man’s true intention: to put a target on Levi’s back with the cash rather than true altruism. Why else would he give a kid who just stabbed him a satchel full of coins?

The woman’s voice rang in his head. Give us a show, hangman! He was the fucking hangman, and Levi had robbed the hangman’s kid. Levi never felt so stupid in his life. The human embodiment of Death had Levi in his grip, at his mercy, and let him live. 

With that gift, Levi ran and did not stop until he reached his lodgings. Levi locked the door behind him and slid to the floor to catch his breath. 

When his breathing settled, he pulled the bag of coins out and counted them. More than he expected. A lot more. Enough to get him food for an entire month, or even longer if he planned right. Levi closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wooden door behind him. What the hell kind of person gave a piece of shit like him such a gift? Maybe Ivor had something wrong with him.

Despite how Levi never wanted to see the executioner again, Levi found himself drawn to the town square the following afternoon. He never watched an execution before, but he knew where they took place. The crowd made for good pickings, as those who came to watch were distracted by the morbid spectacle and alcohol. Levi always took his pickings and left before the cart with the condemned even made it to the podium.

There were no gallows for hanging, just a raised platform with a block of wood at the center. People gathered a healthy distance away from the platform. Out of the splash zone, as one man said. Levi did not want to think about how that distance was determined, and stood behind two larger men as a human shield. He could see the podium well enough between them, so long as they stood relatively still. It would have been so easy to swipe something right out of their pockets, but he resisted. It was a day for observation, and observation only. He didn’t know why, but he needed to see the executioner in action. He needed to know it was, in fact, the same man he met the day before. 

Nothing he knew of the man, the little he did know, made any sense. Obviously respected, yet despised. A brute who didn’t flinch at a knife slicing his thigh and laughed off a jeering crowd. A man who made bags for his daughter, gave coins to a kid who stabbed him, and went off to kill a person the next day.

One man in front of him, with a stocky build and a mustache that looked like a push broom, puffed at his cigarette. “Any idea what this one did?”

His friend, a taller man with a ponytail, replied, “I heard she killed a few of her customers from the whore house. Poor bastards. Thought they were paying for a good time, then they’d get home and drop dead. Took them ages to find out why.”

“How many did she get?” 

“At least twelve, from what I’ve heard.”

“Shit.” The mustached man tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boots. “Executioner will let us know.” 

The man with a ponytail cocked his chin towards the main road. “Speak of the devil and he will come,” he said. 

Far down the end of the main road, a draft horse pulled a rickety wagon fixed with a rusty iron cage. The giant, red-haired hangman sat at the front of the cart, his boxy gloved hands gripping the reins as he shouted at people to get out of the way. Beside him was the little girl from yesterday, hugging her precious bag.

“Can’t believe he’s training her,” Mustache Man muttered.

Ponytail shrugged. “Not like she has many other prospects,” he said. “Being the hangman’s kid, it’s not like men will be lining up for her. Hell, I don’t know if a whore house would take her.”

Mustache Man hummed thoughtfully and lit up another cigarette. “Poor kid.” 

The wagon reached the podium and Ivor hauled himself down from the rider seat, the wagon creaking with the sudden loss of weight. Levi would not have been surprised if the ground shook when those massive boots hit the pavement like a fallen powder keg. Ivor turned back to the cart and gingerly lifted his daughter and set her down beside him. Without a word, the girl dug into her bag and passed a vial to her father before she went to the edge of the podium.

A man in a Military Police uniform lingered nearby. Probably acting as some sort of bailiff, Levi figured, judging by the official-looking documents clutched between his fingers. He ascended to the podium and shouted something to Ivor, who went to the back of the wagon. 

A desperate wail echoed over the crowd when Ivor swung open the metal bars. A frail woman with her hands tied behind her back scrambled to the back of the wagon, sobbing and pleading. Her hair had been cut short, but Levi recognized her from the brothel as a woman his mother would sometimes talk to. Her name was Ada, if he remembered correctly, and she was almost unrecognizable between the haphazardly chopped hair and tear-stained face. Kicking at his meaty hands, squirming away from his vice-like grip, Ivor pulled her from the cart despite her best efforts. 

Turning her away from the crowd, Ivor pinched her jaw and dumped the vial down her throat. He held her mouth shut until she swallowed as he whispered something in her ear. Sobbing, tears leaving salty streaks on her face and snot dripping from her nose, she stopped fighting him. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung like a rag doll, as if she had finally accepted what was coming to her. Guiding her by the back of the neck, Ivor led Ada up four wooden steps to the chopping block, his blocky hand grasping her arm when she tripped. 

The crowd booed and jeered as Ivor pushed Ada to her knees in front of the block. She stared ahead, her eyes already dead and her body slumping to the side. Ivor righted her long enough to tie a blindfold over her eyes before she slumped over again. The man from the Military Police rang a bell to quiet the crowd. When the chatter and yelling subsided, he read the charges brought before Ada. Like the gentlemen in front of him had said, she had confessed to poisoning at least a dozen men, all of whom were prior customers of the brothel. 

Once the charges had been read, Ivor pushed the woman down. With one massive hand on the back of her skull, he guided her neck, so it rested across the chopping block. The moment he let go, her head lolled to the side.

Releasing Ada to pick up the ax, Ivor watched as she slipped off the block completely. Her body curled up into itself like a frightened child, wetness seeping through her blindfold. He set the ax down on its head, holding it upright with one hand and motioning for his daughter with the other. The crowd grew quiet as the little girl joined him on the podium.

“Shit,” Ponytail drawled with more pity than Levi ever thought could fit into a curse word. 

“Yeah,” Mustache Man agreed, forgetting the cigarette that burned between his finger tips.

Levi could not hear what Ivor said, but the girl nodded and knelt in front of Ada. Her small hands lifted Ada from beneath her jaw and pulled her back onto the chopping block. With Ada’s neck in place, the girl walked back on her knees as far away from the block as she could manage without letting go of Ada’s hair.

Ivor wrapped his bulking hands around the long handle of the ax and poised himself beside the block, waiting.

When the man from the Military Police gave the signal, Ivor hoisted the ax into the air and brought it down. Once, then once again, each strike accompanied by the thud of metal against flesh, wet plops of blood, and gasps of horror and cheers from the crowd. At least two people vomited at the sight and one man in the front row fainted. 

Pale in the face and speckled with blood, the little girl detangled her fingers from Ada’s hair. Ada’s head rolled a few inches from where the girl had dropped it, blood staining the wooden podium in its path. The girl did not move until Ivor yanked her to her feet. Deaf to the audience, the little girl walked back to the cart as though she were drawn by a string and not of her own accord. 

The man from the Military Police pronounced Ada dead as Ivor held up the still dripping head to the crowd. Levi’s stomach turned. For a moment, he thought he might join the people who lost their lunch at the sight, but he swallowed thickly and turned away. If he never saw either of them again, it would be too soon. 

Twenty-five years later, and he still remembered that afternoon more clearly than he would have liked. It was not the most brutal death Levi had witnessed. Titans were plenty worse. Something else stood out about that one in particular, but Levi did not really know what. Even as he recounted the story to Marty, he could not say why the memory stuck with him so strongly. 

Marty poured creamer into his coffee and paused the recording device. Quietly, he wrote a few notes while Levi finished his cup of tea. Even though Marty had listened to the very worst of Levi’s stories, it seemed the story about a little girl holding a severed head and struck him differently. The change in disposition only lasted long enough for Marty to finish writing his notes, the gears in his brain seemed to turn as he did so. Marty checked his recording device and looked up at Levi, intrigue written across his face.

Levi picked up one of the cranberry scones Marty ordered almost twenty minutes ago. “You’ve got questions.”

Marty tapped his pen. “I do,” he said. “But first, I want to hear what happened next.”

[jace-todd]

Slack

@oh-faithful-inner-demons this is totally not about the headcanon you posted a little bit ago, pssh totally not but uhh enjoy anyway~ I tried to use some of your headcanons in this too!! Sorry if it's not that good- I decided to go with the first part of the headcanon, becoming slack in a hug to focus on Aizawa and Hitoshi's relationship as Father-Son but I'm still open to writing a second piece-

Word count: 2,069

You can read it online right here on my Archive

warning for bullying, jumping (as in bullies cornering a student after school hours to beat on them, i'm sorry hitoshi), neglectful parents, abandonment

There were only two people in the whole world who knew how weak Hitoshi was for affection. Affection was never something Hitoshi got a lot of when he was growing up. His parents were firm believers that vulnerability would only aid in you getting soft and getting yourself killed out there in ‘the real world.’ When he was four, not long after his quick manifested, all of the early affection he received to keep childhood development on path disappeared altogether. Maybe every now and then, his mother would ruffle his hair when she’d finish a long shift at the hospital - too tired to even remember her hatred.

At school, without friends, Hitoshi didn’t get to experience friendly hugs. He didn’t have that one friend who’d practically vibrate in their seat when he’d enter the room in the morning, calling out his name with greetings and asking all about his previous afternoon. That one friend didn’t exist so they never pulled him close in between classes, an arm thrown over his shoulders, talking loudly in his ears to combat Hitoshi’s natural silence. That one friend who understood that Hitoshi didn’t feel comfortable talking - not with his quirk as villainous as it was, not with his quirk putting up the risk it did merely by interacting with anyone. That one friend who’d sit next to him at lunch, against a tree, their entire body shoved against his side - completely foreign to something called personal space.

What he got instead were people leaving the seats around HItoshi empty every year, too afraid to go near the kid with the villainous quirk and the absent parents and the snarky personality. They whispered behind his back rumors about how he was the one that leaked the test results two weeks ago, he was the one that made Miyuki punch Kako in the fact yesterday after she hung out with him. The only kind of company and touch Hitoshi received were pushes in the hallways and jumpings behind school. Instead of hair ruffles Hitoshi’s hair would be held tight in a fist to maneuver back to punch him in the face. Instead of hands holding his, feet ground against them until he broke his promise to not show signs of weakness. Instead of hugs, arms kept him from slumping to the ground hit after hit landed.

After a while, Hitoshi stopped expecting to get affection from anyone. It became easier to expect the worst, assume that anyone who got close only wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, it made Hitoshi’s life easier - knowing the world already wanted to hurt him prepared him for the worst. It prepared him for when his parents up and left two weeks before he started UA - no real explanation, just a final argument between him and his father that ended with Hitoshi silently heading to his room and hiding. When he came out for his work-out the next morning, their rooms were empty and money was left on the counter.

Life really became lonely after that. School was awkward and quiet - coming home to an empty house made it seem even worse. At least when his parents were still around, one of them would be home by the time he got back from school. They wouldn’t greet him but at least Hitoshi knew someone was there. Now though, there were no one to glance in his direction, to eat dinner with, to awkwardly stare at when they found each other in the middle of the night doing their own thing. He had the entire place to himself.

Then Eraser-head started mentoring him. After the Sports festival, being pulled aside during homeroom to talk to his favorite hero had felt like a fever dream. The minute he walked away, Hitoshi pinched his arm three times just to be completely sure that it wasn’t. Starting up training had been learning where Hitoshi’s boundaries were, being taught how to use Aizawa’s - Aizawa, Hitoshi gets to call his favorite hero by his name - original capture device, and figuring out their own dynamic. Every minute kept Hitoshi on his toes, exhausted with lack of sleep and too much working out, but more energetic and happy than he’d been in years.

Their interactions started out as just mentor-mentee. Aizawa was trying Hitoshi to get into the hero course, to get enough strength and control to impress the Board, Hitoshi was learning everything he could from his idol. It was strictly business. And then Aizawa broke first, offering Hitoshi a trip to get some food and water down at a cat cafe, not even two blocks from the school. Hitoshi had flushed, unused to any sort of attention from the hero outside of these training sessions. He had agreed without thinking too much and for the next two hours, Hitoshi found himself pouring out more information about himself than he’d told anyone in his entire life.

Two days later, Hitoshi perfected one of the hardest maneuvers to learn after only a month. Aizawa had given him that weird smiling-but-not-smiling thing of his and reached out. He initially flinched away, expecting the worst but the hand just slowed down. A moment later, it dropped onto his head and ruffled his hair. Hitoshi did not tear up. He didn’t, really. If there was one lesson his father taught him that stuck was that crying meant vulnerability and weakness. However, Hitoshi did feel lightheaded at the sudden affection.

Aizawa ever-observant kept it on his head a moment or two too long before letting go, nodding in the direction of their jungle gym, telling him to get going.

The next couple of months passed pretty much the same. Slowly, Aizawa integrated casual affections into their interactions. Whenever Hitoshi did something well, Aizawa ruffled his hair. When Hitoshi smiled, Aizawa gave it back. Eventually, when Hitoshi started to open up, Aizawa did the same - it was a sign of trust. They were going good - Aizawa and Hitoshi had what he was slightly afraid to call a father-son dynamic, Hitoshi was already admitted into the hero course, Aizawa was getting through physical therapy steadily and surely.

And then Aizawa came into their usual weekend breaks to the cat cafe with a manilla folder. Hitoshi was pressed against the back of the cat cafe, sipping at the strong coffee he had ordered when he arrived, stroking the back of the tabby on his lap, reading the latest comic he got his hands on. When the little ding of the door closing rang out, he lifted his head out of the pages to see who it was. Aizawa lifted a hand in greeting, heading straight to him rather than get his usual strong coffee and retrieval of his favorite cat.

Immediately, Hitoshi felt a pit rise in his stomach. This was it, this was where Aizawa decided Hitoshi wasn’t fit to be in the hero’s life anymore, wasn’t fit to be a hero, that he had come to his senses and Hitoshi would be nothing more than a low-life villain. He stuffed the comic back into his bookbag, careful with it despite the way his hands were starting to shake and he was getting light-headed. “Aizawa-Sensei? Is everything okay?”

Aizawa slid into the seat across from him, “Everything’s fine, Hitoshi. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” He didn’t want to take a deep breath. What he wanted was for Aizawa to just rip the bandage off so he could leave. One of Aizawa’s hands disappeared from view for a moment before coming back with one of the fidget toys he kept around for his kids. In a sign of peace, he put it in the middle of the table and Hitoshi took it, swiftly working it over with practiced ease.

It worked well to calm him down enough to hear what Aizawa wanted to tell him. “What’s in the folder, Sensei?”

The teacher flipped it around so that it was facing Hitoshi before opening it. “See for yourself, kid.” Staring back at Hitoshi in big bold letters were the words ‘Report of Adoption.’ The world stopped as Hitoshi read through it all. His biological parents had been contacted and had signed over custody already, Aizawa and Yamada’s information were nearly completely filled out except for the very last signature, which left only Hitosh’s section empty.

“Are...Are you serious?” He couldn’t look away from the papers, going through them over and over again just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Surely, there was his mother’s signature and then his father’s. On the other page, neat Shouta Aizawa stood above Hizashi Yamada.

Aizawa nodded, “I’m completely serious. It’s only logical considering your living arrangements and the multitude of arising issues as you enter the hero course next year. Hitoshi, you deserve to have someone who cares about you and whether you make it home safely or not. Hizashi and I have already spoken it over and we’ve contacted our lawyers. Before we continue anything else, I needed to tell you. Do you consent to being adopted by Hizashi and I?”

Did he consent? Did he consent to being taken in by the hero that kept Hitoshi going his entire childhood? Did he consent from having to leave the one place that was always home to him to move to a brand new location, a brand new layout, a brand new family? Everything between them would change again. He would have to readjust, find himself and where their limits were - surely, they would have rules and strict No’s for him. Maybe they’d regret adopting him not even a week into their legal adoption and then it’d all be for nothing. Maybe Eri would fear him and he’d leave. Not that he’d mind it. Eri and her had interacted plenty of times but he knew he made the little girl uncomfortable.

But Hitoshi wanted it. He wanted it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life. Hitoshi wanted to wake up to Hizashi’s singing in the mirrors as he cooked breakfast. He wanted to wake up to his own cat pressed against his side. He wanted to step out of his room in the morning, dressed for the hero course, and see Eri leaving her own room, smiling up at him while he smiled down. He wanted to be able to walk home with Aizawa after training rather than have to go separate ways every day. Above all else, Hitoshi just wanted to be loved.

“I- I consent.” Aizawa’s smile was toothy and a little lopsided but Hitoshi didn’t really see it past his own tears. He hadn’t cried since he was six and had scraped his knee badly enough to need a hospital trip. This was the biggest thing in his life, the biggest change surpassing the hero course with ease.

The cat had already scurried off, leaving Hitoshi’s hands and lap free once he dropped the fidget toy. He stood up, rounding to Aizawa’s side. The hero stood up as well, and Aizawa reached a hand out to ruffle his hair no doubt. No more did Hitoshi flinch but he didn’t let the hand reach him. Instead, Hitoshi threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Aizawa’s shoulders, tucking his head in the crook of his arm and Aizawa’s neck. Aizawa returned the hug, holding on even tighter than Hitoshi was, one hand on his back and the other curled around purple hair.

He let the emotions and relief finally escape him, completely silent sobs racking his body as he went limp, letting the hero hold his weight for him. Aizawa grunted, planting his feet more strategically before shushing him, “I’ve got you, Hitoshi, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

Aizawa didn’t budge under Hitoshi’s weight - even if the teen was nearly as tall and as heavy as the hero was, steadily starting to surpass him even. For nearly five minutes they stood there, Aizawa supporting both their weights, talking softly to Hitoshi the entire time, telling him to let it out, that he would be there and so would Hizashi no matter what Hitoshi needed. Unfortunately, Aizawa’s straining muscles eventually caused them to both slide to the floor, still gripping each other tight, Hitoshi slack in his arms.

They didn’t need to move anytime soon so Aizawa let the kid remain there. After all, it was about damn time Hitoshi got some well-earned affection.

[jjyusmile]

finders keepers | lee jaehyun

hyunjae (lee jaehyun) | finders keepers

pairing: hyunjae x {female} reader!

word count: 2,293

note: so i was literally lying with my dog and immediately thought of hyunjae and dogs bc my mind often wanders to hyunjae,,, so enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________________

“Present! Here boy! Bring it back, come on… bring back the tennis ball!”

You noticed a guy attempting to get the attention of his dog, and failing. His dusty hair was perfectly styled, so much so that it didn’t move an inch when his head whipped around to follow the movements of his golden. He must’ve still been in his puppy years, taunting the guy in a lunge whilst holding the tennis ball in his mouth, ready to pounce. This was park not too far from your house – a haven for multiple humans and four-legged friends in the evenings.

You turned your attention to Luna who laid with her head on your feet. Near the bench under the sycamore tree was her favourite spot to park under on a warm summers evening. The lilac blanket creased underneath as you wriggled to get comfortable; over an hour of playing with your four-legged friend made you both tired and desperate for relaxation. You shifted your weight onto your left elbow to flick the page of your latest novel and Luna’s head popped up as if she thought it was time to play again.

The way her pointed ears perked up with joy made you smile. Your one year old corgi had listened to you complain about everything with those ears, and yet, they still perked up with interest every time. You threw the toy that she had rested by your hip just moments before she conked out at your feet; her little legs ran quickly as she snapped up the toy like it was her lifeline. So dramatic, you chuckled.

“Why are you so cute!” She excitedly bounced around you and you took her small head between you palms giving her all the pats she deserves.

But quickly her attention was stolen by bounding golden fur coming toward you, knocking you down onto your blanket as the intruder chased at Luna tangling you in a mess with her leash. As they continued to chase one another, you looked around for the dog’s human.

Much to your annoyance, you spotted the same tall, dark haired boy who stood a few meters away in a prime filming position; the phone in one hand and a deep red leash dangling from the other. A boisterous laugh burst from him as he slapped his ripped denim knee with joy – that was a sound that you’d never heard before, and wanted to hear more of. But at this precise moment, you wanted nothing but to drag him by the ear to calm his dog down.

But it all ended quicker than you thought, when he lowly whistled and the excitable golden retriever left both you and Luna sat in shock as he bounded over to the boy in denim. It happened so quickly you didn’t even have a moment to call him out before they left the park.

With a huff, you packed up your blanket and picked up the end of Luna’s leash, that you managed to untangle yourself from, and headed home.

***

Perched under the sycamore week later, your cube speaker played soft jazz as you relaxed from the intense week at work. You were laid on your front with your legs fluttering to the sound of the beat; your coral dress was complimented by the golden sunlight that glimmered when you shuffled into a new position. In front of you were the chocolate covered strawberries and the crossword puzzle you had been saving for this very moment.

Luna had laid not too far from you on the grass, chewing on the cut-up strawberries you prepared especially for her. It was peaceful this evening, the numerous sounds around you mingling together against the melody: children laughing in the playground a short distance away, maintenance finishing up the rounds on a lawn mower nearby, the subtle sounds of metal clanging from the piped artwork dangling from the tree above you. The smell of the freshly cut grass put you at ease.

After breathing in the addicting scent a few more times, you focused on the pocket-sized book beneath you.

8. Six letters: the incorrect use of a comma.

You pondered for a moment. Gosh, you should’ve paid more attention in your literature classes at school. Six letters. You tried every literature technique you could think of…

“Splice”, a voice said from beside you. You jumped in shock as you looked up to find a familiar face - the proximity of the familiar figure you hadn’t noticed until he spoke. But your shock washed away when you saw that said figure held one of your chocolate covered strawberries in his hand and ready to place in his mouth.

“Do you often invade someone’s personal space?” you snapped, annoyed at him for ruining your peaceful moments, but more so at yourself for letting him get the reaction he wanted. How did he reach for the delicious treat without you noticing?

Beside you, a familiar flash of gold mixed with Luna’s black and fawn fur. Her yelps of excitement joined with low barks from the stranger’s dog.

“Number twelve, twenty letters. Look up.”

Your eyes shot down to the page that he had pointed to, a confused expression morphed your previously irritated one. Yet, you saw his eyes glimmer with a knowing look – know it all.

Looking down back, you matched it to the instructions written in cursive.

12. Twenty letters: also, known as ‘platanus occidentalis’

“No, that’s six letters”, you huffed, wiping your fringe out of your eyes that blew with the wind that had picked up.

He grinned down at you and crouched to meet your eye level. Slightly mesmerized, you wondered what on earth he was about to do. His hand stirred in your peripheral vision, coming into view with a finger pointing upwards. You focused a little too long on the rings that clad his finger, making them appear slender but strong. It took you a few moments to realise what he meant. So, you looked up and sighed.

Sycamore.

Losing your train of thought, you hadn’t noticed that same finger that had pointed you to the prize start to brush your fringe out of your face and behind your ear, lingering for a few moments until your wide eyes snapped back to him.

But, the wink that followed was the last thing you saw as he quickly stood from his squat and turned to walk away, calling his dog in the process.

The pink that stained your cheeks got deeper as your face flushed.

Who is he?

***

You sat under the familiar tree with the intention of bumping into the stranger a few days later. His actions irritated you to no end, but something stirred within you that left you more excited than irritated to be in his presence again.

You had finished the chocolate covered strawberries already – this time, keeping a close eye on the pleasant treat.

You weren’t relaxed as you watched Luna gnaw at a stick she had found in the bushes. Your eyes darting from her to any stranger that came a little too close. This stranger had too much of an impact on you for only having met him twice – once with minimal conversation.

It wasn’t long before you notice him enter the park with Present, a smile on his face as the golden dragged him leash first to the ice cream cone that a child had dropped moments ago. Eyeing the interaction, the action made your smile match his and your gaze lingered on him for longer than you had anticipated.

He was lean. He wasn’t hugely muscly, but his body filled out in all the places you found attractive. The white t-shirt he was wore complimented the melanin in his skin and his smile lit up his entire face – the way his eyes crinkled as he threw back his head in laughter.

Your smile faltered as a blush came over your face. Luckily he noticed you after your gawking session. But it didn’t stop him from making a beeline from the park gate to the exact spot that you and Luna laid each visit. You averted your gaze quickly and opened the novel that was placed beside you, ready as a disguise from your look-out position.

As he came closer you noticed the slight sweat that dripped down the side of his face as you peered over the book, the ends of his auburn hair slicked to his face. That moment you noticed the grey sweatpants that accompanied the t-shirt that clung to his skin with a red bandana tied around his wrist that matched Present’s leash. He must have been for a jog.

Stop staring, you’re being weird!

You focused back on the book that happened to be upside down. A subtle rotation of the book didn’t go unnoticed to the man that approached you, he chuckled as he neared.

“Have you read Ulysses so many times that you could literally read it upside down? I don’t think even James Joyce himself could do that…” he questioned, whipping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. The slight definition of his stomach didn’t go unnoticed by you either. But your preparation of his moment followed you to focus back on his question before you embarrassed yourself completely.

“No. I was… uh- distracted by Luna! She must’ve found a worm and she started barking really loudly!” Your tone was nervous, as was your forced laughter.

“Luna. So, that’s your name.”

He leaned down to give her a pet on the top of her head, which caused her to jump up as her paws rested on his squatted knees. His lips pulled up into a toothy smile as his attention focused on the way her ears perked up to his attention. “Cute.”

You rolled your eyes – everyone found Luna cute, it was nothing special.

“And the name of her lovely human?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes sparkled in a teasing way.

After contemplating for a few moments, you told him your name, to which he replied, “Jaehyun” with his hand stuck out awaiting a handshake.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to shift from an awkward first {third time lucky} encounter to a flowing discussion between lifelong friends. You sat a short distance apart on your blanket, snacking on the mixed nuts you had stashed in your picnic bag. It dawned on you after an hour or so how easy Jaehyun was to talk to.

“So… let me get this straight. Your name is Jaehyun, but your friends call you Hyunjae? What’s the point?”, you quizzed. You liked both names, but would rather call him by his preference.

“A friend I grew up with is also called Jaehyun, but he was born in February 1997, whereas I’m September. So, he got first dibs on the name and we flipped mine to stop the confusion. You can call me either, I don’t mind.” There’s that mischievous grin again.

You smiled back and became distracted by Luna’s attention to the movement of Jaehyun’s fingers along the blanket; both you and your four-legged friend mesmerised by this man. You pondered your next few words, concerned that he might take it the wrong way. Worth a shot.

“I think I’ll call you… Hyun!” 

He beamed at your nickname for him, directing his attention to the way your hand rubbed your arms from the chill of the breeze. He cursed himself for not bringing a warmer jacket just so he could give it to you.

“Present, cuddles!” Jaehyun pointed in your direction and before long the fluffy golden had parked his bum on your lap and the warmth spread through you.

Your joyous reaction made Jaehyun’s insides melt, an overwhelming heart-warming feeling. You couldn’t tell but behind his composed demeanour laid a slightly nervous one; Jaehyun fiddled with his rings contemplating how to continue the conversation you were both so invested in.

In the process, a single ring flew off his pinky finger and rolled across your blanket, landing in front of you.

Leaning around Present, you picked it up with a sly smirk, you looked Jaehyun in the eye and muttered, more flirtatious than you had hoped… “Finders keepers.”

His glimmering eyes matched the cheeky grin that made its way across his features as placed the ring meant for his pinky on your index finger. His eyes lingered for a moment at the way your skin glowed a desirable shade of orange under the evening sun.

To both of your dismay, the night was looming over your conversation and you decided it was best if you and Luna headed home. The disappointment soon disappeared when Jaehyun spoke up.

“So, I guess I’ll see you again? – Uh, I mean, I-I think Present would like that…” His ears tinged a shade of deep pink and his hands flew up to pat them a bit in humiliation. You smiled, nodding enthusiastically at his question.

As you stood up and rolled up your blanket into your bag, you realised in the process you had managed to swap fluffy friends during your hours of conversation. As you picked up Present’s leash to give to Jaehyun, he was already doing the same with Luna.

He took hold of the end quickly as you went to reach for Luna, but was startled by his alternative intention.

Reaching his hand toward yours, his pinky confidently wrapped through the leash handle and around your own, holding it firmly. The action brought a mixture of a blush and shock in a wave across your features as you looked up at him.

Your gaze lingered on each other for a moment before Jaehyun spoke up with a content grin.

“Finders keepers.”

[sanutopia]

Fever Dream [M]

park jinyoung (got7) x fem!dom

Request:  I was interested in a reading where jinyoung would be a hard business man and he would go to a dominatrix play session to unwind

A/N: I was originally going to write this as y/n being the dom but the more I wrote, the more I liked the third person POV? I didn’t use any names so if you want to imagine it as being you, go ahead! hehe but I hope that’s okay with you guys and I hope you like it :) xo

word count: 2,641

[fem!dom, sub!jinyoung, swearing, use of restraints, edging-ish, slight pain kink??? (jinyoung receiving), begging, spitting, cum eating, handjob, use of a cock ring, a smidge of degradation (if u squint)]

He can’t ever remember a time he wasn’t this tense. Jinyoung had worked hard the past five years to excel at his position as an executive secretary to one of the biggest CEO’s in the area. Yeah, the guy was sort of an asshole but Jinyoung was one of the only one’s tough enough to endure it. Everyone in the building knew Jinyoung had a hard persona - stoic, serious...cold, almost. He fit in well with the higher up’s. For the past three months, he’d exchanged multiple calls with other executives from Hong Kong, Tokyo, and New York City to set up a business conference in which he would pitch what the company has to offer and why international investments would be beneficial. This was important to him and his job, and his stress was building up by the day.

This day, in particular, hadn’t gotten off to a good start. He got a ticket on the way to work (which he was almost late for), the coffee machine is broken, and now the phone call he’s in the middle of does not seem like it’s going to end well. To his dismay, he’s right. One of the companies he had reached out to withdrew their interest in investing.

Luckily for him, sharing the news with the CEO didn’t get him fired. He did get yelled at, yes, but at least he was still employed. This day added up with the past few months was enough to make Jinyoung realize he’d had it with work. He needed a getaway.

When he got home that night, he took what felt like a boiling hot shower and had a drink. The drink gave him the courage to do something he hadn’t done in a while. He picked up the phone and called an old friend.

“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.. what can I do for you?” her voice sends chills down his spine. It sounds deeper through the phone, almost like she knew he was going to call. The last time he heard her voice, he was begging her to cum. He never forgot the last night he spent with her, and his dick certainly didn’t forget it either.

He skips straight to the point. “I need your help. Please tell me you’re not busy tonight.”

She chuckles into the speaker, “Come on over youngie, I’ll take care of you.”

He hangs up and downs the rest of his drink, grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out the door. He has the entire cab ride to get in the right headspace and prepare himself for what’s to come, and he doesn’t get more than halfway without getting a raging hard on. He gets to the street’s corner and tells the cab driver to stop there, thinking he could use the fresh air before getting to her house. She lives in a peaceful neighborhood in a cute, innocent looking house, which he thinks is ironic considering her basement is a soundproof sex dungeon like something out of a movie. His legs are becoming shaky now, both out of nerves and excitement, both of which he feels again walking up the steps to her front door. He knocks lightly, and five seconds doesn’t pass before the door opens. She opens the door and smiles gently at him, “Come in, angel. How have you been?”

She’s changed since the last time he saw her; her hair is a little longer and darker, she has a couple more tattoos, and her olive skin looks soft as ever. Jinyoung takes a deep breath, just mentioning how tough and draining work has been and also apologizing for being out of touch for the past few months.

“You don’t have to apologize, Jinyoung. You can make it up to me in a little while.” He gulps lightly with that statement, watching her reach a manicured hand up to the doorframe, where she retrieves a gold key. She unlocks the basement door and opens it, motioning for Jinyoung to go down first.

Nothing has changed down here, the walls are still the color of red wine, different toys being used to decorate the walls, complete with whips, riding crops (his favorite), strap on’s (her favorite), and multiple chests, where she stashed away everything else. In the middle of the hardwood floor is a white wooden chair, which is where she directs Jinyoung to sit after watching him get completely undressed. His aching cock is already standing against his lower abs as he sits there, looking up at her as she smirks down at him, starting to strap his hands to the armrests of the chair along with another strap that comes from the back of the chair around his chest.  

“Do you still remember our safe word?” He nods. “Purple.”

“Good. I was hoping you didn’t forget.”

“Let’s see if you can still last as long as you could a few months ago.” She pulls out a black cock ring and kneels down to meet his gaze. She slides the ring down his shaft and he sucks in a breath watching her, her nails coming down to scrape fairly hard up and down his thighs when shes done. She pulls a remote out of the satin robe she’s wearing and presses the top button without remorse. The ring starts vibrating at the base of his dick, and he’s half tempted to bust his load right then and there. She stands back up slightly and looks him in the eye, “I’m gonna go finish getting ready. I’ll take as long as I want and if I come back down here and see that you came, you’ll get punished. Do you understand?”

He couldn’t answer quick enough. “Yes mistress.”

She hums and he hears her steps getting distant from him until she slams the door to the basement. He lets out a heavy breath, nails white from clenching the armrests. His hips twitch every other second, and the vibrating ring isn’t going to let up anytime soon. In fact, he swears after a few minutes, the vibrations intensify. His hips are rutting as much as he can considering his upper body is mostly restricted and there’s already a thin film of sweat starting to coat his forehead and chest. The pearl of precum runs down the head of his cock and he only ruts his hips harder, the legs of the chair scooting against the floor until he’s almost up against a wooden pillar that stands in the middle of the room. He’s so close to cumming he can almost taste it, and he wants it so bad. He knows he shouldn’t do this, but it’s been so long. He’s so entranced in the vibrations he doesn’t hear her come down the stairs, grabbing two more sets of straps from the table against the wall.

She drops the straps and comes behind him, slapping both of her hands on his thighs, his flesh feeling her sharp nails and rings on almost every one of her fingers. He jolts in his seat as much as he can move, cock twitching for what felt like the eightieth time that night. As she’s kneading his thigh with one hand, the other hand comes up to grab his hair, yanking his head to the side.

“Bunny... look what you’ve done..”

He always loved when she called him that when he entered subspace. He lets a small whine slip through his lips. She was nurturing but torturous, which is what he needed right now.

“Mistress I’m sorry I-”

“I was gonna let it slide seeing as it’s been a while, but we both know you love it when I punish you anyway, don’t we?”

“Yes, mistress.”

She grabs the straps again and walks around to face him. She bends down and starts strapping each of his ankles to the chair legs, and then adds one coming from under the chair over the tops of his thighs, keeping his hips from thrusting.

“If you keep thrusting your hips, I’ll keep tightening the straps. See how that works?”

He looks up at her and she tilts her head, waiting for him to speak his understanding, but all he can mumble is, “I missed this, missed you..”

She lets out a low chuckle while turning around, searching for a blindfold in the drawer. “Oh, bunny. You’re going to regret saying that later.”

She blindfolds him and ensures he can’t see anything and pulls out the sleek remote once more, putting it on the highest setting. He moans so loud it scratches the back of his throat. She grabs the riding crop off of the wall where it hangs and walks over to Jinyoung, running the leather end of the crop up his shin, watching as a trail of goosebumps marks it’s path on his skin. He whines and tries one more time to grind his hips upwards, that leading to him getting a hard whip on his thigh. He throws his head back, cock twitching and leaking even more than before.

“P-please..” he asks shakily, “Do that again, please, mistress”

“You want it harder?”

“Yes, please.”

She runs the crop even further up his thigh and when she raises and lowers it again to smack him with it, it’s not his thigh she hits. She lands the smack right on the head of his cock, causing his whole body to convulse, chair creaking as his body jerks with all it’s might. A moan rips its way out of him, almost sounding choked. He’s sweating profusely now and his aching dick is so red it looks like it could explode (and honestly it might).

While running the crop up his stomach this time she taunts him even further. “Wouldn’t it be funny if all of your colleagues could see you right now? They’re intimidated by you, scared even! Peel back that hard exterior and you’re nothing more than a horny little bitch who’s about to cum when I haven’t even touched him yet.” She lifts the crop once more and lashes it against his thigh this time, just missing his cock.

Seeing his reaction, she proceeds to whip his thighs six more times, three times on each thigh. After the last hit, he can no longer stand it. He’s panting, thrashing around in the chair (or at least trying to), and clawing at the armrests so hard they might just break.

“Please let me cum, please- I’ll do anything if you please just let me cum- please, it hurts”

She sighs aloud, “You wanna cum so bad you’re begging for it, bunny?”

He furiously nods his head and moans once again when she shuts off the cock ring. She reaches over and slowly drags the cock ring off of his shaft, watching him shutter and hiss as she does so. She removes the blindfold too, and then gets on her knees to remove the straps around his chest and thighs. He looks down at her with his chest heaving, silently thanking her for giving him his vision back. She reaches a hand out to stroke his sweating face and taps her nail against his cheek.

“Spit, baby.”

He does exactly that, garnering as much spit as he can and lowering his head so he can slowly drop the spit into her palm. “Good boy. Now keep your eyes on me or I stop.”

“Yes, mistress.”

She starts at the head and he sucks in a sharp breath. All he needs is thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of her touch and he’ll blow his load. She wraps her whole hand around it and slowly jerks him, his whines getting louder with every stroke. He starts to fidget in his seat once more, not taking his eyes off of her. His heavy breathing starts back up, and within ten strokes of her touch, he’s begging again.

“Ask me.”

“Can I cum please?”

“You can do better than that, bunny. Ask me.”

“Mistress, can I cum please? I c-can’t hold it, please let me cum please!”

She tells him to let go and almost instantly, long strings of cum coat her hands, her chest, and the leather corset she was wearing. Jinyoung’s hair is curling along his hairline from the amount of sweat, and his forehead is scrunched while his mouth is in the shape of an O. He can’t hold his moans or curses in. He’s thrashing around in the seat, trying to use her hand to milk the rest of his orgasm. He’s panting and sweating and his mind is reeling but as he’s coming down from it, he notes that as the best orgasm he’s ever had.

She gets up and straddles him the best she can and scrapes some of the cum off of the leather corset with her nail. She puts the finger in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it, mixing the cum with her spit. She takes her index finger and her thumb and squeezes Jinyoung’s cheeks. He knows what she wants. He opens his mouth and she raises above him, spitting the cum-laced saliva onto his tongue. He closes his mouth and swallows just as she expected.

“You’re always so good at helping me clean up, so clean up the mess you made.”

“Yes, mistress.”

She sits fully on him again and cradles his head in her hands before lightly pushing him against her chest, his tongue coming out to lick the cum out of the valley of her breasts. She guides him with her ring-clad fingers in his hair. He laps at her cum covered chest like a thirsty puppy. Her favorite Jinyoung is post-orgasm Jinyoung. He’s so eager to praise her and thank her for what she’s given him, even if tonight it was basically just a handjob. He needed the release.

After he’s finished and fully soft, she releases him from the restraints. He rubs his wrists until they have feeling again and grabs her hand as she begins to turn around to put them back in the drawer.

“Thank you for doing this. I know we usually make appointments and it was late notice-”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jinyoung. You said you needed help and that’s what I’m here for. Did you think I was going to let you suffer?”

Before he had come here, she had a whole list of things she’d planned to do to him, and she had planned to cum too, but seeing how drained he looked and how much he was thanking her for one orgasm (which wasn’t the normal routine), she decided she could wait. She really stood by being a selfless dominant. She smiles down on him and he smiles back at her, his pupils still blown out.

He kisses the back of her hand he’s holding and stands up, regaining feeling in his legs and feet before he tries to put his underwear and dress pants back on. The material drags against his red, scratched up, still stinging thighs, making him hiss rather loudly.

“Make sure to put some aloe or something on those. You remember how it goes.” She says while shuffling around, putting things back to the way they were and cleaning up some more.

“Thank you for everything...again.”

He leaves her house with that, the fresh air from outside making him take a deep breath, seeing as it felt he had been holding one in all this time. He almost falls asleep in the cab on the way back to his place. He’s worn out- although it was only one orgasm, it had the power of ten. When he gets home that night and he’s lying in bed with his eyes drifting closed, he can’t help but to believe that tonight was just a fever dream.

------ END ------

Ahhh!! I loved writing this a lot and I really hope you guys liked it !! This was my first request so thank you to the person who requested and if you guys want some more stuff like this PLEASE request it!

Also who’s excited for Got7′s comeback? What song are you looking forward to hearing the most?

[welcometoels]

Session Fifteen - Betrayal!

Ditched by their supposed friend Zanthia in the middle of what turned out to be a bank heist, the party finds themselves in a smoke-filled corridor, with a large, angry gentleman in armour demanding their surrender.  At his back stand two guards; a mage; Wandbutt; and, outside the door, a peaky Herrington.

With limited options available, the group decides to stand and fight.

Kadis is the first to move, sneaking into the middle of the thick smoke to contemplate his next action.  While he cannot see the enemy from this position, they also cannot see him - giving him the advantage.

The knight - Sir Beeswax Halffeather, according to his own pompous declaration - becomes frustrated by the poor visibility, and makes a grab at the only person he can see - Julius.  Fortunately, now back in his Otter form - Zanthia’s magic having expired upon her departure - Julius manages to slip the knight’s grasp.

Now even more annoyed, Beeswax calls out to Herrington, telling the nauseated wretch to blow on his horn for reinforcements.  He follows the orders, and miraculously manages to not vomit.

Cailynn follows Kadis’ lead and sneaks into the smoke, followed by the tiny wyvern Moo.  Julius also has his eyes on the smoke and dips in too.  However, he takes a hefty blow from Beeswax straight across the back.

Reeling from the injury, Julius spins around and summons up a wave of druidic power, targeted at the spot he just left.  Water rises up from nowhere, and slams hard into the knight, one of the unnamed guards, and Wandbutt.

Beeswax and the guard brace against the water, and though the damage is enough to knock the guard out, the knight barely flinches.  Wandbutt, however, is knocked backwards.  He lands heavily on his posterior, winces, and expires with a complex look on his face.

Talion steps forth now.  After passing a Healing Word to Julius, he shifts to the edge of the smoke and trains his shortbow on the mage in the corner.  The arrow finds its mark, leaving a deep gash along the mage’s face.  As the spellcaster turns his head slowly back towards the Half-Elf, he mutters an incantation, and a ball of flame appears at his fingertips, which he then launches Talion’s way.

Fortunately for most of the team, the blast’s range is too short to reach them.  Sadly, Talion and Julius are not as lucky.  They dodge the worst of the damage, but still take a very unpleasant singeing.

As the last surviving unnamed guard stands slack-jawed at the carnage [DM’s note: I totally forgot to give him a turn], Oddsock rushes forth into the smoke, raring to get involved in the action.  Before he can do so, however, Kadis hones in on the location of the knight, and shows him who’s boss.

It turns out that Beeswax is boss.  All of Kadis’ deft monk attacks glance off the suit of armour - unlike Beeswax’s greatsword, which leaves deep gashes across fragile Human flesh.  Good job he recently changed into a red outfit, really.

Cailynn dips out of the smoke now, and throws out one of Melf’s famous Acid Arrows right into the knight’s smug face.  Acid gets right into he helmet, causing a surprising amount of damage - bolstered by the Mote of Creation.  Moo attempts a follow-up, but misses.  Silly Moo.

Attracted by the commotion, Julius rushes through the smoke, colliding with Kadis.  He puts his healing paws on the monk, and channels his druidic magic at the highest power he can muster, knitting the wounds almost entirely.

Talion nocks another arrow to his bow and fires it at the knight, but Beeswax’s armour is too thick for him to notice.

Someone who does notice, however, is the mage.  Since he can now see more of the group, he triangulates a second Fireball to catch all of the visible miscreants.  The blast hits hard and true - even Oddsock does not escape - and the damage is extensive.  Whilst most of the group stays upright, Talion, sadly, does not.  He falls to the ground, unconcious.

The forgotten guard, deciding that he is extraneous to requirements, slips outside to find out what is keeping Herrington and the reinforcements.  Herrington blows the horn again, and feels an unpleasant sensation in the back of his breeches.

Things are looking bleak for our heroes, but fate had not accounted for an angry Golden Retriever with crispy fur.  Calling upon the unholy powers of his patron, Oddsock fights fire with fire, in the most literal sense.

The effect is horrifying.  The guard in the doorway is immediately reduced to ash, and Herrington follows shortly after, with just enough time to regret lying about killing a dragon.

Beeswax is partially cooked inside his armour, and collapses into a heap, while the mage barely stays standing.  This is only a temporary matter, though, as a sharp whack from Kadis’ quarterstaff rattles his head off the back wall, and the floor makes another new friend.

A moment of peace follows, allowing the team to take stock and assist their injured members.  Cailynn uses Spare The Dying on Talion to stabilise him, and Julius follows up with some healing magic to get him back on his feet.  Talion pays it forward by decanting a healing potion into his special cup and passing it to Kadis.

Unfortunately, the downtime is brief, as the reinforcements arrive.  Oddsock peeks out the door to see seven more guards, and two lumbering clay golems with guard uniforms painted on.

The group weighs up their options.  A suggestion to return to the vaults and pretend to be hostages is mooted, but eventually disregarded as the approaching aggressors make it clear that they somehow are aware of who the group are, and what they are doing.

Next suggestion is to stand and fight.  A good idea, perhaps, for a time when spell slots are less depleted, and the threat of further reinforcements is less pressing.

Julius presents one more option - running away.  The group of bold adventurers baulk at this initially, but then accept that retreat may be best.  Off under a tree outside, Storm Hellflayer loudly concurs, though only Oddsock and Julius are aware.

Though they are fleeing, the team are damned if they are going to go out without a bang.  The offensive is lead by Cailynn, who flips up a rock from the pathway and flings it magically into Beeswax’s face, just as he was beginning to regain consciousness.  The charred High Elf slumps back to the ground with a whimper.

Oddsock has more dramatic ideas.  As his companions dash to the horses, he unleashes another fireball at the approaching guards.  Three of them are immediately vapourised, and another three are knocked unconscious, along with two guard horses.

Spoiler - The horses eventually recover entirely from their injuries, and later enjoy telling the story to their three friends, Horse, Horse and Horse.

As the ground sizzles, the gang mounts the five horses they parked up earlier, with Julius drawing the Storm straw.  With one last Eldritch Blast from Oddsock laying waste to the final guard, the group makes good their escape.

As they gallop further north, horns sound behind them, but begin to fade.  The forest gets thicker, and the path patchier, and after a short while they decide to slow down.  They are safe, for now.

As the horses walk along, their riders look about.  Mostly they just see forest.  Even Julius’ expert eye for this kind of terrain sees nothing of note. Cailynn, though, sees a crow.

And the crow sees her.

Alighting from its branch, the crow lands atop Cailynn’s horse’s head, and begins tapping its beak against its own leg.  Around this leg is tied a small piece of paper.

With care, Cailynn removes the paper, and the crow taps her hand and flies away.  Unfurling it, she reads the note to herself:

Looks like you’ve got yourself in some trouble, kitten.  Keep going north east and ask for Ebeneezer.  He’ll take care of you.

At the bottom of the paper is a symbol - a circle with two triangles above it, side by side and pointing upward.  Cailynn knows exactly what this means, and who the note is from.

Making a decision to share the more pertinent information with the party, she tells them that the note is from a friend, who can be trusted.  Since they have no better leads, they head north east.

Before long, daylight all but disappears, and the party makes camp.  Julius gathers up some nutritious leaves and berries, and Rupert the fey weasel clambers up a tree to keep lookout for pursuers.

As they settle down, Cailynn starts the work of recreating Moo, and Julius asks Talion what Zanthia might have meant by ‘Dragonboy’.  He takes a deep breath, and tells the group more about his history.

While his father was indeed a High Elf, his mother was a dragon - a Song Dragon more specifically, and perhaps the last one left in the world.  Throughout his life, his family was pursued, which left his father dead and his mother missing, but not before she could magically transport him away in a bolt of lightning.

Talion holds up the jagged piece of obsidian that hangs from his neck, beside his silver dragon scale.  This is his memento of that day - fused sand from the black Elsian beach where he found himself.

The mood grows a little sombre, broken only by a squeaking from Oddsock’s pack.  He pulls out Tim the chewy dragon toy and has a gnaw, and is immediately dragged from this reality to a little hipster pocket dimension.

Oddsock’s patron stands ready sum up the situation.  Yes, being betrayed was bad, but pretty much everything else was brilliant - especially making all those guards explode.

Best of all, though, is the book.  Across its cover, the word Sre’Yalp glows faintly with magical potential.  Inside, however, the writing is indecipherable, shifting constantly into different languages, then somehow all languages at once.  Trying to read just a single sentence induces terrible eye strain, even for a powerful genie.

One thing that is easily legible is a bookplate, pasted on to the first page.  It reads, in Common and all capitals:

PROPERTY OF REMINI BENSK SOTS

Warlock and patron look blankly at each other.  Clearly more information is required.

Before sending Oddsock on his way, his patron bestows a little more power on him, with a gentle nose boop.  Oddsock’s lustrous golden fur crackles with potential, becoming more resistant to fire damage.  Furthermore, his paws tingle and he unexpectedly finds himself floating.

Oddsock bobs around the pub for a few minutes while his patron tried to give him steering advice.  After watching his charge paddling furiously while his tail helicopters ineffectively, the genie shrugs and sends his floating four legged friend back out into the world.

Oddsock thankfully reacquaints himself with the ground - still upside down - just in time for bed, under the watchful eyes of Rupert and the new and improved Moo.  The adventurers settle down to an uneventful night, though Talion does have several thrashy rage dreams about a certain Halfling.  Thankfully, he is sleeping alone on this night.

Come the morn, the team breaks up camp and strikes back out.  After a few hours, they find themselves at a clearing, and staring down the shaft of a drawn arrow.  At the feather-end stands a Wood Elf, dressed all in black, demanding to know why they are there.

Cailynn steps forth and presents the note.  The black-clad figure peruses the note, then Cailynn, then the note.  After a few back-and-forths, the arrow is lowered, and the Wood Elf leads them further into the clearing.

Beside a fire sits an old, skinny Human with two left teeth.  His clothes are flithy, and barely more than rags, but he carries a clear air of authority.

“My name is Ebeneezer Chaotic-Neutral,” he says, in a voice thick with tobacco and bad lifestyle choices.  “Welcome to my camp.”