#no one is afraid of calling someone out or throwing out low blows when the other person deserves it

[dvrcos]

I fear some have severely lost the plot on how the foxes are characterized. None of these fuckers are truly softies or pacifists

Yes some of them are kinder than others but when it comes down to it they all know how to be abrasive and how to push people’s buttons. They are assholes (mostly as a means of defense) and that is part of what makes them foxes

They’re especially not pacifists with each other (Dan and Renee are probably the closest but they’re really only trying to keep peace so no one kills each other). They push and prod at each others most sensitive parts with little to no remorse for a multitude of reasons but mostly for enjoyment (and also out of care)

Every single one of the foxes is a fucking asshole !!! Especially to each other !!! Their attitudes know no bounds !!!

[ashwhowrites]

I need help! Are we wanting a happy ending with them getting together or them not ending up together? Let me know your thoughts

Here is part 2- not much that has action. More internal thoughts on both sides of the situation :)

never proofread

Eddie found himself back in a hotel room, again all over. His hands burned whenever he looked at them. The hands he put on his own kid. He was spiraling out of control. He did exactly what his wife was praying he would never do. And then added fire to it all when he lost control with Jake.

She told him to get a lawyer and he didn't know where to start with what she meant. Did she mean divorce? Fidning for custody? Was she going to turn him in him for putting his hands on their son? His brain was going a million miles an hour.

He should have known he couldn't just stop. He heard the story about Liam, he heard about the aftermath and how fucked up he became. Why did Eddie think he could easily avoid the addiction? That he could spend many nights getting high and just turn it off in a day?

He hates what Liam put Jake through, and he hates himself for doing it to him and Aria. He knew Y/N didn't deserve it either. She lost someone she loved to drugs before, and now it was happening again. He felt so damn guilty for putting her through this again. He can't imagine the nights she spent crying when he was at parties and blowing his life away.

She loved him and supported him with everything and he betrayed her in a way that was too close to home.

Eddie knew in his heart that his family was more important than the drugs. He knew he wasn't that far gone that he would choose the drugs over them. He just did a horrible job at showing it.

But he wasn't going to just give up. He had the time to get clean, he had places to go if the withdrawals were worse than he planned. He wasn't afraid to throw himself in rehab if that's what she wanted. He was going to get clean and stay clean.

He knew he had to make it up to Jake as well. All the games he missed because he couldn't get out of bed.

He wasn't going to be in any of Aria's birthday pictures, and one she will ask. He owed to make that up to her too.

And Y/N? He didn't know where to start with making it up to her. She welcomed Eddie into Jake's life and he put Jake in danger. That was unforgivable in many ways. And Eddie wasn't sure if that was something he could exactly "make" up to her. But he knew he'd never make his family feel scared of him again.

~~~

He called every morning, and every night. Sometimes she'd pick up, tell him about Aria's day but that was it. She never said a word about Jake and Eddie understood that. It's been a week since the fallout. He knew that he didn't deserve to even get to call her so he took every minute she gave.

Jake had a game this afternoon, Eddie was nervous to show up, but he refused to miss another game. He wanted to be better and this was a shitty step in the right direction. It wasn't much but he hoped it showed he was serious about being there.

He found Y/N and Aria on the bleachers, he respected their space and sat on the opposite side. He didn't want Jake to be distracted by him. He didn't want to upset Jake in a place he always felt positive in.

As the game went on, the more Eddie got invested. Kicking himself for missing so many games. He tried to keep his cheering low and to himself. Not wanting to alert anyone that he was there and make them all feel uneasy.

Jake's team won and he watched as the boy ran to Y/N, hugging her and talking all about his hits. Eddie craved to be there with them, and it hurt knowing he messed up. It was a reminder that even the little things were different because of his mistakes.

~~~

Y/N was used to being alone since Eddie was distant the whole time he was on tour, but this was so much worse. Knowing he was just blocks away and she couldn't feel him. It was like when she was being tortured, he was dangling right there, but everything was different. It wasn't easy, he messed up and it hurt her to make sure he was held accountable. She wanted her husband back and wanted to fall asleep in his arms. She wanted him to make Aria breakfast, and drive Jake to school.

She just wanted it to go back to the way it was before he left for that damn tour. Before he ruined everything and put them in this tough spot.

She almost felt like she was seeing him places. She felt like he was at that baseball game but when she looked he wasn't there. She shrugged it off and took Jake for his celebration ice cream. Aria blabbing happily in her arms.

~~~

As she got Aria settled for bed, she heard her phone ring. She set Aria down and pulled out her phone. Eddie's name and face flashed across her screen. She took a deep breath and answered the call. Allowing him to say goodnight to their daughter.

Once Aria was set for bed, she moved out of the room. Eddie nervously asked if he could talk to Jake. Eddie felt disappointment settle in when Y/N said that Jake refused. But Eddie accepted his answer.

"Thanks for answering, I love you." He held his breath as he waited for her to say something back. A tiny whisper of "I love you too," traveled through the phone. He felt himself smile as she hung up. It was small but it was something.

She got herself ready for bed, Eddie's side still left untouched. She wanted her husband and her family back. But there was a ton of damage done. She was worried they might not be able to come back from this. Would she look like a fool for forgiving him? Would she be a horrible mother for allowing him near Jake again? She had so many questions and hated she was the only one with the answers.

~~~

Jake tossed and turned in his bed. The picture of him and Eddie framed on his desk was taunting him.

He knew what Eddie did was wrong, but he missed him. He never saw his real dad and barely missed him. But Jake has missed Eddie since he left for tour. The Eddie that came home from the tour wasn't his dad, and he missed that version of Eddie.

He believed that version of Eddie was still there, inside him. How did he know?

He saw Eddie on the bleachers during his game. He still cared and he wanted to make up for his mistakes.

Jake wasn't scared of Eddie, he missed his dad.

~~~

Eddie was seconds away from passing out when he heard his phone ding. He blinked open his eyes and adjusted to the brightness on his screen.

"Thanks for coming today, dad"

Eddie smiled at the text from Jake.

He has a lot of work to do fixing himself for his family. But he knew he wouldn't stop until he did.

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[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Randomly struck me how Arya's first trip down to the Winterfell crypts seems to parallel Jon's recurrent crypt dreams on one particular motif - a dead king rising.

Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. “There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya’s hand. When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him, “you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.

Arya IV, AGOT

Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he’d heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering. Even when Ghost leapt up on the bed to nuzzle at his face, he could not shake his deep sense of terror. He dared not go back to sleep. Instead he had climbed the Wall and walked, restless, until he saw the light of the dawn off to the east. It was only a dream. I am a brother of the Night’s Watch now, not a frightened boy.

Jon VIII, ASOS

In Jon's dream, he's a witness to the Stark kings rising to confront him. But in Arya's POV, Jon is the dead rising from a tomb to confront them.

It's just funny because a common theme in Jon's crypt dreams is how he doesn't belong. He voices the rejection to himself - he's not a Stark, he has no place.

Jon shook his head. “No one. The castle is always empty.” He had never told anyone of the dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk of it. “Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It’s black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it’s not them I’m afraid of. I scream that I’m not a Stark, that this isn’t my place, but it’s no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream.” He stopped, frowning, embarrassed. “That’s when I always wake.” His skin cold and clammy, shivering in the darkness of his cell. Ghost would leap up beside him, his warmth as comforting as daybreak. He would go back to sleep with his face pressed into the direwolf’s shaggy white fur. “Do you dream of Horn Hill?” Jon asked.

Jon IV, AGOT

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. “Father?” he called. “Bran? Rickon?” No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.” Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark …

Jon VIII, ASOS

Yet Arya's POV shows that Jon does have a place. Not only that, but he becomes a resident of the crypts as a ghost. There's the implication too that he spends more time in there than all his siblings as he waits for them to arrive. Then when they do, he rises out of his own tomb like the dead Kings of Winter rise out of theirs in his dreams.

Bran's POV also says that only Starks belong in the crypts.

After that, oddly, Rickon decided he liked the Walders. They never played lord of the crossing again, but they played other games—monsters and maidens, rats and cats, come-into-my-castle, all sorts of things. With Rickon by their side, the Walders plundered the kitchens for pies and honeycombs, raced round the walls, tossed bones to the pups in the kennels, and trained with wooden swords under Ser Rodrik’s sharp eye. Rickon even showed them the deep vaults under the earth where the stonemason was carving father’s tomb. “You had no right!” Bran screamed at his brother when he heard. “That was our place, a Stark place!” But Rickon never cared.

Bran I, ACOK

It seems that Snow or Targaryen, bastard or trueborn, it doesn't actually matter. At the end of the day, Jon will always be one of them: a Stark son, and a true King of Winter.

[dira333]

To be known - Akaashi Keiji - Soulmate AU

words: 3456 - fluff and some insecurities

requested by @misfit-megumi​

No one really knows when it started and no one really how it works, but at a certain point your dreams become no longer your own.

They call it the edge of adolescence; for some, the night they first dream a stranger's dream is quite the shock. Other faces, other languages than you’re used to. And the only remedy is meeting the person whose dream you’re dreaming.

For others, there is no clear difference. It’s harder to find someone you’ve already been close to when you don’t even know that you have to start looking.

You’ve always been creative, your mind a whirlwind. 

Last night you dreamt your mother clapped her hands and you turned into a frog, tiny, green, and oh so content, sitting on the giant leaf of salad you’d been supposed to eat.

But tonight your dream is anything but that.

You’re in front of a huge net and you’re so close to panicking, you can taste your own heartbeat.

There’s a ball up in the air, a twirling mass of blue and yellow. It’s far too slow to be realistic, the time stretching thinner than chewing gum before you blow a bubble.

But the bubble never pops. The ball doesn’t drop, you’re just staring up at it, your mind reeling.

Who do you set it to? Should you do a feint? Will you even be able to touch it?

And then, when you’re ready to faint from tension alone, the dream shifts so fast you get motion sickness, saliva pooling in your mouth as you stand in front of a class of unfamiliar faces, the teacher asking you something but his voice is so low you can’t make out what he’s saying.

It starts a circle, a loop of you asking him to repeat it and his voice staying that low, low rumble you can’t understand while the class watches you with more eyes than there are students.

Someone coughs as if to hide a laugh, more noises follow and the classroom erupts, a cacophony of sound until your hands are pushed against your ears and you want to scream.

You wake up at that moment, clamber out of your room and, for the first time in a long time, slip into your mother's bed.

-

You miss your dreams. You miss the comfort of the craziness, giggling with your friends the following day as you tell them what outlandish story your head has produced.

You miss the calmness of sleep. 

You spend half a year afraid of falling asleep until your grades drop so low, your mother drags you to a doctor. 

There’s not much you can do because it’s not your anxiety. 

Sleeping pills make you hazy - and you still want to get to know your soulmate, no matter how horrible his dreams are - and plant-based medicine usually makes you throw up in the middle of the night.

When there are no other options than to break the bond or keep fighting, you take your fight to the world wide web.

By the time you graduate from Inarizaki high school, you’re an expert when it comes to all things anxiety.

You keep a journal with you, make sure to eat healthy, and do light exercise before bed.

But you also graduate with a job offer, a full-time assistant manager position for MSBY, and a deep longing for your soulmate.

-

You know so much about him now. 

How he misses his best friend Bokuto, memories of him often the only source of comfort in his anxiety-ridden dreams, and how much he cares for his team.

You’ve gotten into Volleyball because of him, wondering if you dream as much of the sport as he does.

No longer do you dread the dreams he shares with you, rather you see them as a way to comfort him, to take away the stress at least for the night.

-

In your fourth year at MSBY, you get the news of a player getting drafted, the name Bokuto ringing several bells. You meet him over Atsumu threatening the newcomer.

A quick slap across the back of his head shuts the blonde up promptly.

“Bokuto-kun!” You smile at him in earnest. “It’s so nice to have you here! Don’t listen to Tsumu, he’s a menace but he’s all bark and no bite. Do you need any help settling in?”

“Ah, you’re so nice!” 

Bokuto takes your hand and shakes it vigorously. “I am so glad you’re our manager! We did have cute managers at our College but they were never as nice as you!”

To say you’ve dreamt of this moment would be a lie - if you did, you hope that his friend caught the hints - but you prepared for his arrival. Too bad he’s four days early.

-.-.- Akaashi -.-.-

Here’s the thing.

Ever since he can remember, Akaashi has been great at figuring things out. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, a means to keep his anxiety at bay, or something entirely else.

He knows what mood a teacher is in from the way he walks down the hallway towards their class, he knows when to keep quiet around his parents and when to keep his head down in public. It’s not just the people he’s familiar with but those are even easier to read.

He’s got a list of Bokuto’s weaknesses memorized, knows what topics to avoid around Konoha, and when to look out for Komi who’s always the first to get sick.

Everyone tells him that it’s a good thing that he’s so perceptive.

When he grew up, his mother used to tell him that he’d surely be quick to find out who his soulmate is because every riddle she presented him was solvable and there was always an answer for every question in his too-quick-to-be-comfortable brain.

And here’s the thing… he doesn’t bother trying to solve this riddle.

From his first dream to today, the presence of something unknown in his life is comforting. You’re a riddle he doesn’t want to solve. He wants to stumble upon it when he’s ready, wants to be surprised for the first time in his life. 

Every night he goes to bed he has no clue what he’s going to dream. Last night he was riding a cow across the ocean and the night before that he was selling potions from a little van that was covered in ivy.

-

Bokuto decided on a whim that he wanted to start his volleyball career four days earlier. Akaashi would have told him not to if he’d been given the chance but he can’t say he’s surprised.

Ever since Yuki had decided to bite the bullet and tell him that they were soulmates, he was clinging to her every waking minute. And now that she was back in College, he needed something else to devote his energy to.

But understanding him and being okay with being left behind in a place he wasn’t familiar with were two entirely separate things.

“Bokuto.” He addressed his friend sternly which in turn makes Bokuto finally drop the hands of the poor manager trying to help. “You should have called in before coming early.”

“I wanted to but I had so much on my mind.” 

 “It’s okay, don’t worry. We’re happy to have you here.” 

Akaashis eyes are drawn back to the smile you’re giving Bokuto. It’s easy and calming but there’s some quick wit hiding in the corners. 

“Miya, you’re showing him around.”

“Why do I have to-?” A pointed glare shuts the setter up and Akaashi can’t help but smile at that display. It’s good to know that you will have no problem keeping Bokuto in check. He always thought the Miya twins were worse to deal with.

“Would you like a tour as well?” You offer him and he almost chokes on his saliva.

“Oh, no, I’m good, I’m just here as moral support.”

“That’s very kind of you. But I have the time and this is probably your only chance to see everything…” You trail off and he feels himself drawn to the end of your sentence, as if your voice is the pretty reflection of sunlight on soap bubbles and he wishes it would never stop.

He finds himself agreeing without meaning to, feels himself following after you without the usual guilt nibbling on his mind. There’s something about you that sets him at ease and he chalks it up to you being a talented manager. 

-

5 months later he can no longer deny it.

Impressive manager you might be but he’s fallen for everything else.

From the big things - how you view challenges and people who’ve hurt you in the past - to the small things - the way you drink your coffee to the fact that you’re always wearing a little frog hairpin somewhere on you.

He’s got your number under the pretense of planning a surprise party for Bokuto and Yuki and the witty banter between the two of you is keeping him up at night or distracted from work.

Akaashi feels like he knows you, the little quirk of your eyebrow, the twitch of your nose, but there’s always something hiding in the slope of your mouth, the whisper of your voice, that keeps him on his toes. 

He’s always been good with words but you make him feel like they’ve fallen out of his pockets at the sight of you, fled from him like unruly puppies when he thinks about putting his feelings into words and maybe actions.

And it’s not just his own insecurities bubbling under the surface but something much more serious.

One time, in passing, Miya Atsumu mentioned to him that you were waiting for your soulmate.

The information has haunted him ever since. 

Could you be his soulmate? He doubts he could ever be this lucky.

But if you’re not, have you found your mate? Are you looking for him? Or are you one of the few that doesn’t dream, unable to know if your mate never dreams or already passed away?

Six months into knowing you, he spills his secret to Osamu over Onigiri, the familiar taste lowering his shields.

The outburst of emotion must have been too much too fast because Osamu stops scrubbing the countertops, a surprised look on his face.

“I’m not asking you if you know anything.” Akaashi hurries to tell him. “I know you went to school together but that doesn’t mean I want to exploit our friendship or anything, I-”

“It’s cool.” Osamu continues scrubbing but his brows are furled now. 

“I don’t know her as well as Sumu does nowadays but I know a few things. I think you should just talk to her. Tell her how you feel.”

“But what about her soulmate?”

“Well it’s her decision anyway, isn’t it? And she can’t decide if she doesn’t know.”

The advice is solid but also nerve-wracking. 

With his tendency to dream about his worries, his soulmate must know what’s going on.

He wonders about it, too, how it must feel for them to know he’s in love with someone else. He’s sorry for them but it’s a muted feeling, something he experiences as if buried under the heavy weight of his current worries, worries that are so much more real to him right now.

One night, after a cup of sake too many - they were celebrating a new novel - he confesses to himself that he’s scared. He always wanted to be the one that took the first step, that talked about his feelings openly and clearly, but the what-ifs are drowning him, and his worries are having him in a chokehold.

If only you could give him a hint, he thinks before he falls asleep.

-.-.-.- You -.-.-.-

There’s knowing someone and knowing someone.

Akaashi’s dreams have been very detailed since the very first night you shared them. 

But there’s a difference between watching him relive an embarrassing moment or ponder tomorrow's terrifying possibilities and talking to him about it.

He’s funny with his deadpan humor and quick wit, he’s caring with his attention to detail and his questions about your feelings and how your day has been, and what you’re looking forward to tomorrow.

There’s being in love and loving someone and you didn’t know the difference until you met him and saw the worry weighing down his shoulders, the stress lining his eyes.

Sure, you could have told him right there that you were soulmates but why hurry? Why push it onto him when he looked like he hadn’t slept in two days?

When he got your number and started texting you, you knew it had been the right call to wait. 

Three months in, you wanted to do nothing more but throw yourself at him.

But he did not give you any indication that he felt any less stressed, any more ready to be in a relationship, or at least ready to get to know a soulmate.

Five months in you started dreaming of yourself. 

It wasn’t a sudden change but a startling one when you realized it. 

The dreams felt calm most of the time, except for the odd one where he obsessed over something he had said or done.

There were the dreams where what you’d done and said happened repeatedly as if he was rewatching your interactions on a television screen. There were dreams where he thought of things not yet real. These dreams often left you a nervous mess in the morning, knowing that he had dreamt of kissing you just moments before he woke up and texted you.

“You know,” Osamu said as he watched you nibble on an Onigiri, “Everyone else would be excited that their soulmate fell in love with them.”

“I just don’t want to rush him.”

“He doesn’t seem like someone that lets himself be rushed.”

You snort ungracefully. “You don’t know him as well as I do. Just because he seems calm on the outside doesn’t mean he’s obsessing over it on the inside. And he’s never mentioned that he knows that we’re soulmates.”

Osamu halts his movements, alerting you just seconds before the door opens.

Akaashi’s shaking the rain off his jacket before catching your eyes through the room, immediately perking up. 

“I didn’t know you’d be in tonight.” He greets you first, before turning to Osamu.

“Hi… I’m here to pick up…”

“The order for your party? Yeah, it’s done.”

To your surprise, Osamu winks at Akaashi before he moves towards the rooms at the back where he stores larger take-out orders.

“I needed a pick me up.” You explain the Onigiri that’s half-eaten in front of you.

Okay and maybe you knew he’d come in later after he told you how he convinced the team to order from Osamu this time.

“Bokuto giving you troubles?”

You decide on a whim to try something you haven’t done before.

“No, he’s fine. It’s my soulmate.”

To your surprise, Akaashi’s easy smile slips off his lips as if you’d slapped it off him.

“Oh…” He says, his voice low and careful.

His shoulders are tense as he straightens, maintaining a polite distance towards you.

“Do… do you want to talk about it?”

You realize with a start that he truly has no idea that you could be his soulmate.

Before you can start to explain, his phone rings at the same time Osamu steps out with two big bags.

“I have to take this,” Akaashi whispers to you, and to someone less experienced with his emotions he might look more apologetic but you can see the relief wash over his features.

He leaves shortly after that, unable to get away from the call for even a minute.

When he leaves, you look after him, your mood even more somber now.

“What did he say?” Osamu asks and puts a bottle of beer in front of you after checking out a few customers from one of the booths. 

“Nothing, really. I just mentioned that I was having soulmate troubles, thinking it would get us onto the right topic, but he got all tense. He doesn’t think we’re soulmates.”

Osamu laughs, a sound so sudden it startles you.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t meddle. That’s Sumu’s thing. But everyone can tell he’s head over heels with you. If he’s too insecure to think you could be fated for each other, what’s stopping you from being together? He loves you for you not because he’s seen your dreams. Isn’t that what a girl wants?”

You stare at him, speechless for the first time in a long time.

Osamu gifts you a lazy grin. “Tomorrow you’re going to tell him what you feel. Not tonight, because he’s got that business thing going on, but tomorrow you’re doing it. If not, I’ll sic Sumu on you.”

“You’re evil.”

He smiles and clinks his glass of water against your beer bottle. “I know.”

-

That night you dream so vividly, it’s like you’re there.

You see yourself through Akaashi’s eyes at the same time you look up at him. It’s like a neverending reflection of yourself in him and him in yourself.

He takes your hands in his and holds them so gently you fear he’s the one breaking apart. 

“I love you.” He tells you, “I just don’t know how to tell you. Can you please give me a sign that you might feel the same? Even if I’m not your soulmate, even if the universe might not have chosen us, would you be willing to be with me? Even if only for a little while?”

You cry when you wake up, grab your shoes and your jacket, racing out the door even faster than the time Atsumu accidentally set the changing rooms on fire.

The sun breaks through the clouds when you park haphazardly in front of Akaashi’s dingy apartment complex and someone jogging by eyes you warily in your messy hair and pajama shorts, but you ignore them in favor of saving every breath you need to make it up all the three stories to Akaashi’s apartment.

Only when you hammer against his door you realize that you have no idea what you’re going to do when you see him.

The door opens before you’ve formulated much of a plan. You just know that you need to be with him, as soon as possible.

He breathes your name and all your self-control leaves you at his sight. He’s got the shadow of a beard, his hair is a mess and his eyes are still half shut from sleep. But he looks just like you feel - like you’ve just dreamed of each other, loved each other even when unconscious.

“Keiji.” His first name slips off your lips so naturally as if it belonged there from the moment you were born. “I love you.”

His eyes shoot open and he stretches out his arms as if to pull you closer, hesitating at the last second, his hands shaking as he swallow’s thickly.

“Wha- Can you… can you say that again?” 

Instead, you take a step forward and press your lips to his. 

He tastes like too early mornings, like too many sleepless nights in a row, like the only thing missing from your life.

“I love you.” You tell him again. “You’ve been dreaming of me for weeks, silly. I love you.”

“You…” He chokes on the words and you nudges his knees with your own, moving him back into his apartment, allowing the door to close behind you as you take his hands in yours, holding them gently because you know how fragile his heart is.

“I’m your soulmate.” You tell him and kiss him again, savour the feeling of finally, of this is just the start.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks and you smile.

“Because I know you. You were so scared. I could see it in your dreams.”

“Why now?” He’s lifted his arms, allowing himself - finally - to put them around you, to hold you close. 

“Because I couldn’t go another day with you thinking you’d not be enough for me.”

-.-.-.-

Extra:

Hours later you’re cuddling on his bed, enjoying a spontaneous day off - because what else would you do but take the day off after a morning like that?

His fingers are drawing pictures on your back and your nose is pressed against his neck as if you could inhale a lifetime of him if you just tried enough.

“What did I dream last night?” You ask, the question tumbling out of you like an afterthought.

He’s quiet for a moment before a laugh falls out of him, he sounds surprised as he recounts his memory.

“You were riding a cow through the ocean in a frilly pink dress.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[witchfall]

superposition

[Fallen Hero series. Mid-Retribution.]

[Flystep. Daniel POV with River Basri. Takes place after the coffee date at some point, but before dinner. ~1000 words.]

[Sort of a writing exercise...mostly an exploration of Daniel and their dynamic.]

She slips so easily into cold imperiousness. 

It's the single tell Daniel gets before River slips low and swings out a slender leg. 

He doesn't move in time. In the same breath that warmth leaves her eyes, she becomes an arrow of confusing intention, bizarre enough that he nearly falls over, forgetting himself, before he tumbles, weightless, back into another opening stance.

But then she stuns him again — by giggling. 

Once, light as air, trilling like a bird call. Easy to miss, but he doesn't because someone should notice these things, shouldn't they? She covers her mouth with her hand, fingers long and thin. Beautiful. This is how art works. Everyone finds their own meaning in the sunrise.

He grins—

Her fist snaps right for his shoulder but pulls back before she hits collarbone. Taps twice. A warning.

That's...new. Since they started getting coffee, she’s started giving him tip-offs. Warm-ups. Space before she sends him to the ground.

"Did you forget you can fly?" she asks. The tiny upcurved corners of her lips for once reach her eyes. "You could have built momentum and got me on the ground."

Blood rushes to his face. "Bad instinct, I guess."

"You were in your head again, weren't you?"

She asks, like she doesn't already know. She tries so hard to pretend, like she’s practiced with a script. He knows that a little too keenly. 

"Yeah," he says. Sheepish.

The light leaves her eyes. "I'm your enemy right now. Remember that."

His body goes taut. Why does it have to be like that, exactly, so serious and exacting? Who taught her that the only way to live is by fighting every second for it? Where do you rest, in a world like that?

"Good," she says, and his blood turns to ice. "Get mad, if you have to. Whatever works."

And yet, she has no idea. 

He launches into a flurry of blows, momentum from the core not the arm, prompting her to twist away in surprise. He never goes first, and he knows she'll appreciate the tactical maneuver. But something itches where he can't reach it. She's a mind-reader with an incredible blind spot. 

She can see every contour of his emotions except the ones that apply to her.

They enter the old routine; he swings, she dodges with perfect grace, born to the dance. But she is right, that anger can be useful, so he lets a little of it through. 

How can I make it so you will laugh without covering your mouth?

Who hurt you? 

How do I stop it? 

How do I stop it, before you hurt yourself bad enough you don't come back?

Is that what you're afraid of? Did he think that, before—

His skull suddenly rocks back, whiplash from a fist to the chin. He falls from some edge inside himself, furious and keen, before he remembers gravity doesn't have pull on him anymore. Just other people. His hands clench hard and snap outward. 

Just other—

River goes flying. Across the rooftop, skittering like a stone on water, too fast.

"No!" 

The word is torn from him worse than a reflex. He doesn’t remember the push-off into flight; in the next instant, his back is to the sky, arms tight around River’s middle so she doesn’t fall, momentum pushing them further into the sky. 

He swore it to himself when she fainted that he would never make her afraid again, but here he fucking is, mind screaming one harsh note, a single word, then four: Mistake. Mistake. You are a mistake.

“Daniel. Daniel.” Hands grip his forearms. Her back is curled into his chest still, stunned. “It’s okay. We weren’t that close.”

Lies. Why does she choose now to lie, instead of throwing the truth at his feet like she always does so he’ll lay down like a dog? They are in the fucking air. There’s barely an edge of rooftop below them. “I’m so. I’m so sorry. I’m so…we should…”

“You’re squeezing too hard.” Cold imperiousness seeps back into her voice. He deserves it. It also brings him back to earth, in every single sense. She is taking control of the situation. That’s what she does. “Put me down.”

They both return to the rooftop. His senses return to him akin to exiting a tunnel. His stomach churns. His fingers feel numb.

“I’m done today, I think,” he manages. 

She is a single arm’s length away from him, her head tilted slightly to the side. Her mouth curves downward, matching the trajectory of her gaze, which is affixed to his feet, still cemented to the ground. It’s moments like these he remembers what it feels like to be pulled so fiercely down, so harshly down that it might as well be law. Humans aren’t supposed to fly.

Everyone should orbit something. Even him.

Hubris kills. He saw it happen.

“You’re really mean to yourself,” she mutters.

“You’re one to talk,” he says, before he can stop it.

But then, fuck—

She laughs again.

She sparkles a little, when she laughs. Her freckles catch the sun and her eyes wrinkle slightly, though she hasn’t laughed enough for it to leave lines. Her face is so barren when she thinks no one is looking; but there’s a raw beauty to this, like moon quartz, that means it has to be real.

Fuck. He hopes she didn’t hear that one.

“You’re right,” she says, smile lingering.

He laughs. A balm. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Ortega you said that.”

Her smile turns conspiratorial. “I’ll give it to you this once.”

“He won’t believe me.”

“Exactly.”

He floats again, a little bit. He catches himself in the act, drifting toward her.

And she lets it happen. She lets it happen.

“I’ll get you down,” he says, before his mind runs somewhere else.

They are halfway down the building when she says: “It’s okay.”

A step outside the script. It comes out clumsy and poor.

He holds her just a little closer, all the same.

[endversewinchester]

Someone is grounded after getting spotted at Kings Cross. He didn’t seem to mind the scolding he definitely got much when Hermione brought the daily prophet up article up though.

I will raise my eyebrow at the order leaving Sirius alone unsupervised in the house with all the PTSD he’s going through. Yes, it’s a war and you all need to act quckly, but he is one of you, and he is literally at the headquarters. I would be very afraid of him doing something careless.

See my heart breaks here because as much as the kids are right, Sirius just wants to spend time with you, Harry. He wants out of the house and the memories and the ptsd, sure. But he also wants to feel like he’s doing something meaningful. Honoring your father’s last wishes, and his legacy.

He’s also afraid of you moving on and forgetting him, as he cannot be there for you most of the time. He suggests Hogsmeade because from his POV you really enjoyed having him nearby last year. While him not wanting to lose you because he doesn’t really want to be alone is unfair, as Remus is literally living with him and you not wanting him to take risks comes from your love for him, it’s understandable. Sirius lost so much to Azkaban. He doesn’t have a lot going for him in his life right now. Keeping the things he does still have is really important to him.

And here is the famous part. My heart breaks for him. Seriously (no pun intended). Harry loves you so much, buddy. No need to be so insecure. Nevertheless, he’s wrong.

Here’s the thing. I’ll bet any amount you want that Harry isn’t the first or the last person to tell him he can’t just do whatever he wants, because he needs to worry about going back to jail. I’m fact, I’ll bet he hears that at least ten times a day, which is precisely what set him off. Similarly to what Harry says earlier in the chapter (it’s on my previous post), Sirius thought he and Harry understood each other deeply. Especially because he shared with Harry things about his past, the abusive relatives, and how trapped he felt in that house, not being able to help with the order. And here is where the projecting part comes in as well. Harry stops being Harry and becomes Sirius’ dead best friend. So when Harry tells him “you need to worry about Azkaban”, he doesn’t take it as the heartfelt worry that it was, he takes it as betrayal. As Harry (James) treating him like everyone else.

And here’s the other thing I’ve been meaning to talk about for ages but never really found the space to. Sirius is 34, but he did not get to live a day past 21. So emotionally, that’s how old he actually he is. This is why he still comes across as rash and careless, and childish too, compared to the other adults. The world moved on, but he didn’t. So on top of everything else he’s dealing with, there’s this.

Which is why instead of handling it as an emotionally intelligent adult and a father, he snaps at Harry. In a very bad way too, may I add. Using his dead father against him is a low blow so big James himself would be mad at Sirius. It’s also not even true, because James too had lines. Remember the prank, pads? Yeah. I will call your bluff that he would have wanted you to risk being killed (because that’s what the minister ordered for you. The kiss. Not jail.) just so he could have you near for a few hours.

Even if it was true (which it’s not), but even if James was that level of careless, Harry is under no obligation to live up to it. Harry is Harry, and James is James. They are two separate people and are allowed to behave differently in different situations. So unfortunately Sirius, even though my heart is breaking for you, you were wrong here. But I think you know that too. You know you were throwing petty blows, and you should really apologize to your godson next time you pop your head back in that fireplace.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Camp North Star - August 15th

AFAB!Reader x Hirai Momo x Minatozaki Sana x Park Jihyo

Word Count: 7166

Contents: foursome, truth or dare, fingering, dom!Momo, dom!Jihyo, sub!reader, implied switch!Sana, teasing, hair pulling, use of titles (Mommy, Mistress), use of pet names (baby), breast play, clit stimulation, tribbing, choking, slight scratching, oral (reader receiving), praise, over-stimulation, crying

You dried off your body as you sat up on the deck of the pool in the dark. Momo, Sana, and Jihyo were all climbing out from the evening swim you’d taken. You looked at your watch, knowing that Momo and Sana couldn’t stay out too late, not when Nayeon had so graciously agreed to watch their campers, but only for a bit.

Jihyo threw you each a boogie board to sit on instead of the hard concrete and you relaxed back in the warm August night. A breeze was blowing through but it only carried more hot air, though it felt perfect for drying off.

“That was fun,” Sana chimed. “We should do that more often.”

“We can only get Nayeon to babysit so many times,” Momo chuckled.

“I can only do this sparingly,” Jihyo said. “I mean I don’t think Hongseok would be that mad, but if Seungcheol caught us…”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, laying your towel over the boogie board and sitting on it. “Hongseok is getting to be a bit more of a stick in the mud in his old age.”

“You say that like you didn’t fuck him in his office,” Jihyo laughed.

“Shut up,” you giggled, throwing a stray boogie board at her which she managed to catch anyway.

“Didn’t you say something about the showers after?” Jihyo questioned.

“We didn’t do anything in the showers,” you said, sticking your tongue out at her.

“Yeah,” said Sana. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck them in the showers.” Everyone laughed at her comment.

“That explains why you came back with wet hair the other day.” Momo said.

“At least tonight we have towels,” you chuckled.

“I might have forgotten the towels,” Sana confessed with a sheepish grin, blushing while Jihyo and Momo burst into laughter.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, Sana,” Momo giggled.

“It’s a good thing Minji was willing to bring us towels,” you chuckled.

“Well luckily everyone can dry off comfortably now,” Jihyo said. “How much later do you guys wanna stay?”

“We still have time,” Momo said. “Nayeon said she would stay until just before lights out, she’s checking the cabins tonight anyway so as long as we’re back by 10 we’re fine.”

“We could play a game,” You offered.

“Ohhhh we could play truth or dare,” Sana said excitedly.

“That ought to be interesting,” Momo chuckled.

“Why not?” you laughed. You could already tell Sana was plotting ideas. She was bound to make it sexual right out of the gate but you didn’t mind all that much. It would at least be fun. You were feeling slightly better now. Things were still far from normal between you and Wonwoo but at the very least you could hold a casual conversation again without it feeling massively awkward or like pulling teeth to get an answer. So that was something.

“So long as it doesn’t get too out of hand,” Jihyo said, chewing on her lip.

“See now you sound like Seungcheol,” Momo teased.

“I do not,” she whined. “I’m fun!”

“Fine, then truth or dare?” Momo asked.

“Truth.”

“Figures.”

Jihyo grabbed a nearby pool noodle to whack Momo. “Just ask me a question.”

“Is it true you guys have orgies in Cabin Hydrus?”

Even in the moonlight you could see Jihyo blush deeply. “I-I wouldn’t call them orgies.”

You and Sana squealed while Momo laughed.

“If you’re all having sex than it’s an orgy,” Momo said.

“Hold on, why was I not invited?” You asked.

“You’re not in the cabin,” Jihyo said.

“Yeah but we’re in the same department,” you whined.

“Okay but you’re in a boat usually,” Sana said. “They like to get wet.”

“Okay okay,” Jihyo said, trying to hush you all a bit. “Momo, truth or dare?”

“Dare because I’m not afraid.”

“Whisper a secret to me.”

“Oh my god, you are getting boring,” Momo said, crawling over to her. You couldn’t hear what she said but you saw the look of surprise that crossed Jihyo’s face as she heard the secret.

“Wait really?” Jihyo asked. Momo nodded with a slight grin.

“What was it?” Sana pouted.

“Sorry, can’t tell you,” Momo giggled. “She should have told me to tell the whole group.” Momo looked at you. “Truth or dare?”

“I’ll go with dare.”

“Take your top off.”

You felt heat rush to your skin as the others giggled. “Hold on, you just had to whisper a secret and I have to take my tits out?”

“You really should be prepared for anything,” She shrugged. “You can switch the truth, but only once.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you muttered, pulling down the straps on your bathing suit top. You didn’t look any of them in the eye as you took your arms out of the straps and pushed it down just enough to rest under your breasts, thankful for the warm night so the air didn’t chill you.

You would have thought by this point in the summer this wouldn’t feel so embarrassing and yet…

“Okay, Sana,” you said, very aware of how she was now staring at your chest. “Truth or dare?”

“Hmmmmm truth,” She said. 

“Ummm,” you wracked your brain for a good question. “How many times have you faked an orgasm?”

“I never fake an orgasm!” she said. “I want them to know if they do a bad job.”

Momo nudged her hard and gave her a pointed look.

“Okay, well I don’t anymore.”

You and Jihyo snorted.

“Some people just cannot figure out how to get me off, not like it’s that hard,” she muttered. “Anyway, Jihyo, truth or dare?”

“I don’t trust you at all,” Jihyo said.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Sana grinned. “And you said truth last time.”

“Fine, dare.”

“Perfect,” she smiled brightly. “I dare you to do a pole dance with an imaginary pole.”

Jihyo flushed red, visible even in the darkness, as she stood up. You tried for a moment to forget about how bare you were as you watched her in all of her embarrassment, trying to be sexy while Sana hummed music and Momo giggled. She was quick to sit back down, letting her hair partially fall in her face.

Jihyo said your name. “Truth or dare?”

“I’m going for truth this time,” you said.

“What’s your body count for this summer?”

“Oh geez,” you said, looking up at the sky. “Give me a second.” The girls all giggled as you counted out on your fingers, trying to remember everyone. “Wait is it just sex or anyone I’ve fooled around with?”

“Include anyone you fooled around with,” Said Sana.

“Then, god I think it’s 18?” You said, hoping you weren’t forgetting anyone. “That kinda blows Soonyoung out of the water.”

“Congrats,” snickered Momo. “You’re the resident whore.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, grabbing a wayward pool noodle and whacking her with it as she giggled.

“Your turn, truth or dare?”

“Hmmm dare,” she said.

You grinned. “I dare you to play with your nipples for the rest of the game.”

Sana giggled while Jihyo looked between you two, a little panicked. “See when I said not to get out of hand-”

“You say that like it’s hard,” Momo chuckled, pinching her nipples through her swimsuit top and rolling them slowly, clearly more than happy to be giving herself pleasure. “Sana, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she said easily.

“Show us a fake orgasm.”

“You guys!” Jihyo hissed.

Sana blushed, biting down on her finger coyly. “You really wanna see it?”

“Oh shut up and do it,” you laughed, nudging her knee with your foot. Jihyo was looking over her shoulder towards the camp building, clearly worried someone would notice your increasingly risque game.

Sana, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care. She rested back on her elbows before letting out a moan, legs rubbing together and squirming as if she was actually experiencing pleasure. You watched as her mouth fell open, brows knitting together and eyes falling closed as her back arched and she let out very convincing moans that climbed higher and higher in her voice.

You couldn’t help the way it sent thrills of arousal through your body. You shifted a little, pressing your thighs together as you watched and listened to her. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Momo pinching her own nipples a little harder and Jihyo biting down on her bottom lip.

Sana drew her knees up close to her, head falling back in a beautiful, high cry as she “finished,” even managing to have her legs shaking a little and letting out heavy breaths as she opened her eyes. Whether she still did it or not in bed, she was very good at it.

“O-Okay,” Said Jihyo. “Maybe not so loud,” she glanced over her shoulder again, trying to shift her thighs inconspicuously. “B-But let’s keep playing.”

“Okay,” purred Sana. “Truth or dare?” Her voice was much more sultry and it was doing you no favours. By the looks of it you weren’t alone in that.

“Uh, dare?” Jihyo said.

Sana grinned, “I dare you to give me a hickey.” Jihyo seemed surprised at the relatively tame request but Momo was eyeing Sana.

“You are such a whore,” she snickered.

“I’ve done nothing,” Sana said innocently, batting her eyelashes as Jihyo crawled towards her. She rested back as Jihyo kissed low on her chest, pushing down the top of her swimsuit before sucking the skin between her lips.

Sana let her head fall back, letting out a moan, you hugged your knees to your chest, shifting again as more heat started to pool between your legs. She was putting on a show now, and you were sure the whole goal was to rile all of you up. It was working too. Somewhere in the back of your mind you questioned how you had become friends with so many people that liked to initiate orgies.

Jihyo pulled back, a fresh, dark bruise blossoming on Sana’s chest. Sana smiled at her cutely.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

You bit down on your lip as you watched Jihyo taking a deep breath, looking like she could just about devour Sana but restraining herself instead and sitting back on her heels.

“Momo,” Jihyo sniffed, regaining her composure. “Truth or dare?”

“I haven’t picked truth yet,” her voice still sounded even but the way she subtly  squirmed her body told you she was very much turned on.

Jihyo sighed, thinking for a moment. “Tell us about one of your favourite porn tropes.”

“See that’s a good question,” she smirked. “I really love the ones where a group of girls all gang up on one girl. Sometimes they’re cheerleaders, maybe lifeguards. The all hold down the one girl and make her cum until she can’t think of anything else and it’s the best fuck she’s ever had.”

Whether she was trying to toy with Sana or Jihyo you didn’t know but you did know that it was getting to you. Without warning your brain started swimming in images of the three of them surrounding you, all pleasuring you at once. Your fingers curled into the hem of your swimsuit as more asorual rushed through your body at the sudden but not unwelcome mental images.

What you absolutely could have done without though, was the whimper that escaped your lips.

You quickly looked around at all three of them, feeling heat licking at your skin and suddenly wishing for a cool breeze. None of them said a word about your outburst, but the looks on their faces made it clear they had all heard you.

“Sana,” Momo said. “Truth or dare?”

“Hmm, truth,” she said.

Momo nodded towards you with a smug look on her face. “If you could do anything to them right now, what would you do?”

“H-Hey!” You cried, curling in on yourself. Momo was definitely just trying to mess with you now. Jihyo, however, just bit her lip, invested in whatever Sana was going to say.

“I just want to eat them out,” she smirked, though her voice was sweet. “I only got such a little taste last time. I just want to push them back and hold their legs open and taste them. I want them dripping on my tongue. I want to know just how wet they’ve been getting watching everything.”

You knew that Sana knew she was making it worse. You did your best to hold still but something about having others around emboldened her. She was far less sweet and far more teasing. You could feel the others with their eyes on you even though your gaze was locked with Sana’s.

Heat licked at your skin as it curled down your spin. You knew you were wet at this point, though your body had long dried from the pool. But the more they talked the more your need grew, even if you were determined to hide just how much everything was affecting you.

“Does that sound good to you?” Sana asked sweetly.

“It sounds fine.” Your voice was so breathy and obviously turned on it wasn’t even funny. Sana looked so very proud of herself as Momo and Jihyo regarded you with the gazes of lionesses just waiting to pounce on their prey.

“Truth or dare?” Sana asked sweetly.

There was no good option at this point.

“Dare?”

A smirk curled Sana’s lips. “I dare you to finger yourself.”

It was a mark of how much the mood had shifted that nobody giggled. Jihyo looked mildly surprised, though more interested in if you would actually do it. Momo was unphased, only expectant.

You felt your skin burning as you looked down.

“C-Come on,” you mumbled. “You already made me half strip.”

“Well if you’re going to forfeit,” Sana said.

“That’d be no fun,” Momo added. “Sana even showed us a fake orgasm.”

“You made Momo play with her nipples,” Sana said.

“Okay,” you said. You spread your legs just the smallest bit, hyper aware of the way they were watching you. You bit down on your lip as you pushed your hand into your swimsuit bottoms. One hand came up to hold your breast, if for no other reason than to cover you a little bit. You slipped your hand down until your fingers found your clit, biting back the moan that threatened to leave your lips at the touch. Of course you were already wet and sensitive, of course it was going to be harder to keep yourself quiet now.

“Wh-Who wants to be-”

“Hold on,” Jihyo stopped you from moving the game along. Apparently she wanted in on the fun now too. “Are you fingering yourself or just touching yourself?”

“I-I”

“Oh naughty,” Sana chided. “The dare was to finger yourself.”

“I know that,” you mumbled. They were all shifting a little closer now, watching you intently. You couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement from all the attention. Some part of you wanting even more and your mind refusing to stop playing images of them taking you all at once. Your own finger slid lower. You were still covering yourself shyly as much as you could as you pressed the finger into your heat.

No amount of lip biting or self control could stop the moan that left your lips. Each of them pressed even closer to you as you stopped moving your finger, face burning and butterflies in your stomach. Jihyo reached out to touch you, rubbing your thigh soothingly.

“Sh-Should we move on?” You asked quietly, already knowing the game was long gone from everyone’s minds.

“You’ve barely shown us anything,” Momo said. “You need to properly finger yourself.”

“You need to let us see,” Sana smirked, settling right next to you, her hand landing on your knee. Your body tensed a little but Jihyo hushed you and as you relaxed the two of them pulled your legs apart to see you properly as you slowly curled your finger inside yourself, only doing so halfheartedly and trying to make sense of your overwhelming feelings. You were embarrassed beyond belief but you also couldn’t deny that the ways they were looking at you, the light touches of Sana’s and Jihyo’s fingers, the attention, was turning you on even more. It had you clenching around your finger.

It was no secret to yourself that you wanted this to continue.

“Looks like one part of your suit didn’t quite dry,” Momo murmured. Her fingers reached out to trace the edge of your swimsuit at the apex of your thigh. You took in a sharp breath at the feeling, some part of your brain wondering if you should outright ask them for more.

“I-I It’s still wet,” you mumbled.

“Are you sure it’s still wet?” Jihyo purred, leaning in a little closer to your ear. “Are you sure it’s not freshly wet?”

“It’s- I mean-”

“It’s not very nice to lie to us,” Momo added, sounding more stern than Jihyo had.

“I think we’ll need to see for ourselves.” Sana added.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know what she was getting at, or where this seemed to be headed. Still, you looked at Sana with wide eyes at her suggestion as Momo hooked her fingers into the waist of your swimsuit bottoms. Sana simply gave you a smirk and Momo looked up at you expectantly. You looked over at Jihyo and she brought her hand up to caress your cheek.

“Can you show us?” She asked softly, really looking to see if you wanted to continue. You nodded slowly for her and she grinned.

Momo pulled off the bottoms of your swimsuit and you let your hand fall away, pulling your finger away from your core. Jihyo shifted partially behind you, pulling off the top of your swimsuit and leaving you bare as they spread your legs again. Each of them let out a moan or whine at the sight of your body and your glistening core. You only took a quick peek at your own pussy before looking away, unable to shake the shyness nor the embarrassment and very aware that they only made you hornier.

“You look so pretty,” Sana moaned, fingers dragging through your folds and sparking pleasure inside you. Jihyo sat behind you, leaning you back against her as Momo ran her fingers over your thighs.

“Fuck, and you got me all turned on, too,” you said, breathiness finally showing in her voice.

“You two could put on a nice little show for them,” Jihyo murmured. “I think I need to help them with their fingering technique.”

Momo was almost rough as she grabbed Sana’s hair, earning a moan from Sana as she pulled her closer. You watched Momo strip off her swimsuit in the moonlight, throwing it aside. Your eyes couldn’t help but rove over her form, the way her hair cascaded down her back, the swell of her breasts, down to her waist and the curve of her hips as she seated herself, spreading her legs and pulling Sana closer.

Sana kissed her feverishly, wasting no time in sinking two fingers into Momo’s awaiting core. Momo let out a moan, knee falling to the side so you could see just what Sana was doing as she started to finger her.

“They look good, don’t they,'' Jihyo hummed, her hand wrapped around you and her fingers found your clit, teasing you lazily.

“Th-They do,” you whimpered, squirming in her grasp. You were already very turned on and the pressure she put on your small bundle of nerves was easily making you wetter and needier. Your whole body felt hot as you melted back into her, desiring nothing more than more of her touch.

Jihyo brought a hand up to your chest.

“You and Sana are turning out to be a lot of fun,” she purred. “Momo is certainly enjoying her.”

Momo let out a moan, her fingers tangled firmly in Sana’s hair as her head fell back. She pushed Sana’s head down roughly and Sana took one of Momo’s nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. Her fingers curled into Momo quickly and you could imagine, could remember how good it felt.

“And you're just too cute,” Jihyo teased. You let out a whimper as she tugged on your nipple, fingers pressing a little harder against your clit and circling just a little faster. Not fully giving you what you craved.

“You are so adorable when you get shy,” She said, making you look away from her. “Even now when I’ve got your legs open. You’re all spread out to the world and you’re still being shy for me. It’s just precious.”

Her words were only turning you on more as you squirmed, trying to rock you hips against her hand for more. The sight in front of you was incredibly arousing, and the way Jihyo moved her fingers had tension building in your body already. Even still, your core was very aware of what it was missing and you found your hands curling into the towel under you as you wondered if Jihyo would try and tell you off for fingering yourself.

“You’ve got such cute tits,” she hummed, tugging on your nipple again. “Does it feel good when I get a little rough with you?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Come on,” she said, squeezing your breast roughly. “You know I have a title.”

“Y-Yes Mommy,” the words dripped from your lips just the way arousal dripped from your cunt. The word managed to turn you on even more, something about the feeling of it leaving your lips was making your head spin. You were starting to feel desperate, squirming more in her grasp as the tension in your body built slowly, but not as fast as you wanted it.

“Very good,” Jihyo hummed. “You should look at your cute little pussy, baby.” 

You whined at the pet name, somehow even in this state your brain still had the capacity for shame, though you were sure it wouldn’t take too long before that was gone too. Still, you looked down at your pussy just as she said. Even the moonlight you could see how much her touch was affecting you, already a little swollen from her teasing.

It just made you want to cum even more. Momo’s moans and curses weren’t letting up and Sana was letting out moans of her own, particularly each time Momo pulled her hair. Her ass and thighs kept shifting and rolling as they searched for some kind of friction while she fucked Momo with her fingers. 

Their sounds were filling your mind and making you clench around the utter nothing in your cunt. Even though you could get to your high eventually, it was clear Momo was getting closer to hers and you were still frustratingly far from your own, wanting Jihyo to go a little harder, a little faster, instead of taking her time.

You reached a hand between her legs. There was no way she wouldn’t notice, but maybe-

Jihyo grabbed your wrist sharply, pulling your hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked.

“I w-want to cum,” you mumbled pitifully.

“So I’m not doing a good job?” She questioned.

“N-No you-”

“You have to do it yourself? I’m not treating you well?”

“N-No th-that’s not- I-I just wanted-” You were shrinking into her, complete putty in her hands now. She was making you feel good, just not fast enough. “I-I want to cum now.”

“I see,” she said. For a moment you were afraid she would pull away and you thought it might just make you cry if she didn’t give you any more attention. But her hand came back to your clit, rubbing much more roughly as her other hand moved to play with your other nipple roughly.

“I’m so nice to you, baby,” she said. “I’ll make you cum. I’ll make sure we keep you cumming until I think you’ve had enough. Does that sound good?”

“Y-Yes Mommy,” you moaned, back arching as tension started through your body, winding you tight. Jihyo’s fingers teased your nipple roughly and her hand didn’t let up on your clit.

“You’re going to cum for me just like this,” she said. “I’m not putting anything inside of you. Your greedy little pussy will just have to wait.”

“Mhm,” your whine was high in your voice as your hips ground and rolled up against her fingers. Your eyes squeezed shut but you could hear Momo moaning out as she came on Sana’s fingers. 

“And you’ll be grateful for every orgasm we give you, tonight,” Jihyo said, warning in her tone.

“Yes Mommy,” you breathed, feeling your whole body pulling tight, every muscle tensed as she brought you right to your edge.

“Then cum for me, baby.”

You cried out as you came, legs trembling but you managed to hold them open. You hips ground in circles as she kept teasing your clit and tugging roughly on your nipples while pleasure washed over you, enveloping your senses.

“Th-Thank you, Mommy,” you already knew you had made a mistake tonight and you didn’t want to make more. Her fingers kept teasing you, though much slower. It was still enough to have you jolting and squirming and whimpering in her grasp as she looked up at Momo and Sana.

“Momo,” she called.

You opened your eyes, seeing Momo smirking at you. “Yes?”

“I’d love some time to play with Sana,” Jihyo said. “But they’re just so desperate to keep cumming.” She squeezed your thighs. “They nearly started touching themselves. Do you think you can come over here and help them?”

“Of course,” Momo grinned, releasing Sana’s hair. Jihyo moved away and you managed to sit up as Momo came over and took her place. She was gentle as she rested her legs on either side of you but you knew it wouldn’t last long with how she was with Sana. You bit down on your lip, holding in your whimpers as she dragged her nails over your skin while you watched Jihyo pull off her swimsuit, instructing Sana to do the same. Sana scrambled to follow her lead as you felt Momo’s fingers trail towards your core.

Jihyo gently sat Sana back and spread her legs. You bit down on your lip as you watched Jihyo lower herself onto Sana, starting to grind her pussy against Sana’s and holding onto her leg for support. Sana let out a cute, whiny moan, while Jihyo let out a low groan, leaning forwards to stick a finger in Sana’s mouth and murmuring something to her that you couldn’t hear.

You gasped as you felt Momo spreading your lower lips with one hand and finding you clit with the other. She looked down over your shoulder as she tapped her fingers against your clit quickly. Even though it wasn’t too rough you were already sensitive and the sensation made you squirm and whimper and grip her thighs for support.

“Oh, so sensitive,” Momo teased, rubbing your clit before tapping it again. “It was naughty of you to try and play with yourself.”

“I-I know,” you whimpered.

“Now you better be good for us, can you do that? Can you be good for Mommy and Mistress?”

“Y-Yes Mistress,” you gasped taking her cue. Your legs threatened to close but Momo wasn’t having it.

“Keep them open,” she growled. “I want to see how swollen your pretty little cunt gets when I make you cum.”

“Y-Yes M-Mistress,” You managed, your voice only getting whinier.

“Maybe I should make you cum just like this? What would you say?” She was toying with you, you knew it. But you also knew better than to be a brat at the moment.

“Th-Th- I would- I’d say thank y-you, M-Mistress,” you whimpered, your hips trying to pull away from the quick taps against your sensitive clit. Each one sending an intense jolt of pleasure through your body. But you could only back up into Momo. You had to take it, even though it was already intense and you were only just starting to build to your second orgasm.

“Good job, baby,” she hummed. “Is that what you want?”

You squirmed and whined. Was it a trick or could you actually tell her that your pussy was so frustratingly empty. That you needed something in it.

“You can tell me the truth,” she murmured.

“I-I want s-something inside me,” you moaned, letting out a squeal as her taps got a little bit rougher.

“I can do that for you, baby,” she purred. Finally her fingers relented, one hand slipping down to your core and easily pressing two fingers into you. You moaned out embarrassingly loudly as she curled his fingers into you. After so much waiting the feeling of being full of something was so welcome. Momo’s other hand came up your body and you gasped as she wrapped it around your throat.

“Why don’t you watch the show while I fuck you,” Momo said, squeezing your throat lightly as you brought your eyes up to look at Sana and Jihyo.

Sana’s head had fallen back and her chest was heaving as she gripped Jihyo’s hips. She looked as if she was just on her edge. Though her fake moans had been good, they were nothing compared to the whines and cries falling off her lips now.

Jihyo was grinding down on her hard, moans cascading off her own lips between cooing at Sana and the look of pleasure on her face. She had Sana’s leg up in the air, holding onto it for support while the other rested on Sana’s waist as she chased her high.

You moaned, clenching around Momo’s fingers as they started to fuck into you fast. There was no gentleness to it, moving quickly and nipping at your ear playfully when you let out a broken moan.

“Is this what you wanted?” She teased.

“F-Fuck,” your eyelids were heavy as your body started to tense again. Your legs were already shaking and you were clenching around her fingers as she brought you towards your second orgasm. Momo’s hand squeezed around your throat and your eyes flew open.

“What was that?” She growled.

“Y-Yes Mistress. Thank you M-Mistress,” you whined quickly, trying to save face.

“You just can’t quite behave today, can you?” Momo said. Her hand dropped from your neck as Sana started to cum, crying out and shaking underneath Jihyo who was still grinding on her hard.

Momo’s fingers were relentless, fucking into your fast and rough and making your own legs shake. She brought her other hand down to your clit and you cried out as she started to rub it roughly, only able to press back into her as the intense feeling coursed through your body and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Poor baby, are you too sensitive for this? Did I make your poor little cunt too sensitive?” She cooed.

You nodded, unable to give her proper words in response. But you just heard Momo chuckle as you squirmed and wriggled in her grasp.

“That’s too bad, I’m not done with you yet.”

Curses and moans fell off your lips at the nearly overwhelming feeling as she played with your clit just as roughly as her fingers fucked you. Your body tensed as you got close to your edge again. You could hear Jihyo’s moans as she came, which only made you clench around Momo’s fingers more. She nipped at your neck.

“Come on, baby.” She murmured. “Cum again, cum for me.”

You cried out, unable to keep your legs open as your body released. Pleasure coursed through you and you shook from the force of your orgasm, grasping at the towel beneath you and squeezing your eyes shut as Momo brought you through your orgasm.

You were tired and twitching when she finally let up. She was gentle as she pushed your legs open again, only to start tapping her fingers against your clit again.

You couldn’t tell if it was harder than before but it didn’t matter. You were so sensitive that the feeling was verging on painful, but not quite. Even if it was a lot, it still felt good.

“Th-Th- Thank you M-M-Mistress,” you managed as Sana and Jihyo came closer.

“I hope you know I’m not done with you yet,” Momo murmured as she let you lay back on the towel. Sana and Jihyo came to sit on either side of you and you gently reached out to touch them both, finding a spot on each of their thighs as you looked up at Jihyo.

“Can you handle some more, baby?” Jihyo asked.

You nodded, your brain struggling to form words. The nod seemed good enough for her though as she threw some sort of glance at Momo. You felt her push your legs back, opening them wide as you laid on your back and you whimpered, already knowing what was coming.

“Shhh,” Jihyo hushed you as she took your hand, rubbing soothing circles into the back of it. “You’re doing so well.”

“And you look so pretty,” Sana added, lying down with you to kiss at your neck. “I still wanna taste you,” she hummed against your skin.

Your mind spun at the idea. You weren’t sure you could handle that much more, but for as overwhelming as it felt, it was also so good. You hadn’t felt this good in a while and you knew when they were done with you you would feel so utterly satisfied.

Sana kissed down to take one of your nipples into her mouth as Momo pressed three fingers into you and drew her tongue over your over-sensitive clit.

Your body jolted and tried to buck up against her as you cried out from the intensity. Momo held you down as she started fingering you quickly again, her tongue lapping over your clit and sending shockwaves through your body each time she did.

Jihyo leaned down over you. “You poor thing, I bet you’re so sensitive now.”

“Y-Yes M-Mommy,” you gasped, gazing up at her. You moaned, back arching off the ground as she took your unattended nipple between her fingers and started rolling it.

“I know, baby,” she cooed. “But you are just so much fun to play with. You sound so cute.”

“You’re so soft,” Sana murmured against you before sucking on your nipple again.

Jihyo threaded her free hand into your hair gently, tilting your head to look at her.

“If it’s too much, just tell me,” her voice was a little more serious. You knew she was checking again, making sure they weren’t pushing you too far. Despite how overwhelming the touch was starting to feel each oragsm that they brought you was better. And your sensitive body was so much faster now, already you could feel the tightening in your core, your body getting tense as your third orgasm approached.

“I-I like it, M-Mommy,” you moaned.

Jihyo smirked down at you, tugging your nipple a little more roughly. “Perfect, baby.”

You panted and moaned and took in the sounds they made. Sana’s were quiet, small sighs and whimpers against your skin, punctuated by words.

“You’re so pretty,” she hummed. “I want to taste you so bad. Everything about you is so divine.”

Her praise only had you clenching around Momo’s fingers more as they fucked into you. Momo let out moans against your core, if only to send the vibrations careening through your nearly fucked out body. She seemed to like it when you squirmed or bucked your hips, holding you still with more force.

The lewd, wet sounds of her fingers fucking you and her tongue lapping at your clit was only adding to everything you were feeling. Your fingers curled around the towel, your other hand grabbing at Sana and holding her close as your body trembled and you managed to look up at Jihyo.

“Are you going to cum for us again, baby?” She grinned.

You could only manage to nod at her, no words forming in your head. Jihyo still played with your hair sweetly.

“Good, cum for us baby.”

You let out a broken cry as you came on Momo’s fingers again. Your cunt squeezed around them tightly as she sucked at your clit. Your eyes rolled back and your back tried to arch up, stopped only by Sana pressing you down as she kept sucking at your nipple. Jihyo played with your other nipple teasing it as you rode through your orgasm until you were twitching and gasping, eyes unable to open.

Momo pulled away from you gently and you laid there, panting as Sana moved away too. Very gently, Jihyo lifted you up a little, laying you back on her but not fully sitting you up, lounging back. You felt Sana pushing your legs up and you whimpered, head lolling to one side. You knew she wanted to taste you but you didn’t know if you could take another orgasm.

Jihyo pressed a kiss under your ear as she and Momo pulled your thighs back until they were nearly flush with your chest. 

“All you have to say is stop,” she whispered to you. You felt Sana pressing kisses near your core and Momo trailing her fingers over your legs and hips, but they all gave you a moment to think. You managed to open your eyes, gazing down at Sana’s sweet, hopeful expression and feeling arousal course through you.

How were you still needy? You didn’t know. But you did love the attention they were showering you in. It was so nice, felt so good. You bit your lip, taking in the sight of how swollen your pussy was from so much stimulation.

“Just a little more,” you mumbled.

Momo pressed close to you, lips brushing against yours and pressing your thigh more firmly against you as Sana pressed her face closer, her tongue dipping into your dripping core.

“I thought so,” She murmured. “You’re still needy, aren’t you?”

Jihyo chuckled. “Poor baby can’t get enough of us.”

You whimpered and moaned at the feeling of Sana’s tongue starting to fuck into you. The fact that she was moaning as she did so only made it that much worse. The vibration rushed through your body and you trembled from them as Jihyo and Momo continued to tease you.

“You knew it was a bad idea to try and touch yourself,” Jihyo said.

“That was naughty of you,” Momo added, lips just out of reach for a kiss. “And all we did was give you pleasure.”

You cried out, fully meeting her eye as the fingers of her free hand found one of your nipples. She tugged on it roughly before rolling and pinching it between her fingers quickly. You felt yourself clenching around Sana’s tongue as she fucked it into you.

“You are so lucky,” Momo smirked.

“Y-Yes Mistress,” you gasped.

“We’ll keep being nice to you,” Jihyo murmured. “One more orgasm.”

She waited for a moment and though you whimpered at the thought you didn’t protest. The two of them chuckled as Jihyo’s hand slid down your body.

“I knew they were needy,” Momo grinned.

“Such a needy baby,” Jihyo added as her fingers reached your clit and started rubbing, fast and rough.

The sound that made it past your lips was somewhere between a moan and a scream. The feeling was so intense. Sana’s tongue curling into you, Momo’s fingers playing with your sensitive nipples, and Jihyo toying with your poor clit again. Waves of pleasure were washing through you in an overwhelming way as your body jerked and squirmed in their grasp.

Momo dropped her lips to kiss at your neck and chest while Jihyo nipped at your ear.

“This is just what you wanted, right?” She teased. “The center of attention, everyone making you cum until you can’t think straight?”

“Y-Y-Y-” Words refused to form on your tongue but Jihyo seemed to understand you.

“Exactly what you wanted,” her fingers moved even faster and you felt your eyes rolling back then squeezing shut as tears started to prick them. “To be fucked senseless.”

Your body shook as every part of you tensed. The force of your impending release was almost frightening but also so welcoming as stars started bursting behind your eyes.

“Cum for us again baby, just like you wanted. Cum for us and show us just how well we’ve ruined you.”

You nearly screamed out as you came. Momo and Jihyo held your legs open, Jihyo’s fingers and Sana’s tongue not letting up, nor did Momo as your release crashed over you, nearly knocking you out. You felt your world tilting and you head felt fuzzy as your body shook and jerked and squirmed while pleasure completely sucked you under.

A few tears slipped from your eyes and Jihyo pulled her hands away. Momo and Sana followed suit. You couldn’t open your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing, babbling out a series of “thank yous” as Jihyo turned you onto your side to cuddle into her chest.

“Good job,” she hummed, rubbing your back. “That was such a good job.”

You felt Sana and Momo’s hands on you two, touching you soothingly as your body shook.

“That was so perfect,” Sana murmured, leaving a series of kisses along your skin.

“You took everything so well for us,” Momo added.

You snuggled into Jihyo's chest more, trying to keep calm while the intensity of it pushed you towards tears. Jihyo pressed a kiss to your head, seeming to read you well.

“You can cry if you need to,” she said softly. You shook your head and she chuckled while an alarm went off. Sana looked around, finding her phone in her bag.

“Oh crap, it’s 10.”

You managed to look up as Momo looked at you worriedly. “We have to go.”

“It’s okay,” your voice was a bit rough as you managed to speak.

Momo gave your thigh a squeeze and Sana kissed your nose as they scrambled to get their things back on before they headed to their cabin. You sat up and Jihyo followed you, not letting you sit up yet.

“Hold on,” she said. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, trying to push the swell of emotions down.

Jihyo held your jaw gently, looking at you a little more intently. You felt everything rushing back up to the surface and your face scrunched up as you started to cry.

“I-I’m sorry,” you blubbered as she pulled you against her chest.

“It’s alright,” she soothed, rubbing your back. “That was intense. Just let it all out. You can come stay the night with me if you want.”

“Yes, please,” you sniffled, clinging to her and nuzzling your head into her neck.

[starryhyuck]

pride. (m)

pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader

words: 4.7k+

summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation

It all started before you hit rock bottom.

When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.

There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.

She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”

You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.

“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.

“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”

You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.

“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”

“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”

“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”

You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”

She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”

For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.

You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”

She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”

You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.

You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.

“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”

She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.

“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.

“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”

Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.

Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”

Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.

“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.

“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”

When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.

You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”

“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”

Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-

“Never seen you here before.”

You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”

Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.

“My first one. Are they always like this?”

“Boring, you mean?”

You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.

“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.

He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”

You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.

You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”

He shrugs. “Could be.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”

He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.

“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”

“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.

“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”

He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”

“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”

You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.

“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”

You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.

Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.

—

“Nice shop you got here.”

You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.

“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.

“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”

“Um, okay?”

Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.

“I know why you’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”

He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”

You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”

He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.

“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”

“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.

“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”

He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”

“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.

“Whatever company you like, little one.”

You’re fucked.

—

You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.

Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.

About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.

You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.

Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.

“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”

You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”

“Then what’s with the frowny face?”

“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.

He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”

You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”

He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.

Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”

You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.

To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“

“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”

—

You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.

The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.

This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.

You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.

The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.

“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”

“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”

He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”

He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.

“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”

He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.

“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”

Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.

“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”

You whine. “It’s not like that.”

“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”

You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.

“Hungry?”

You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”

He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.

“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”

You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.

“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”

You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.

“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”

You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.

His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”

You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”

He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.

“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”

It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.

You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”

“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.

“Good, little one?”

“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.

You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.

“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.

“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”

“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”

Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.

You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.

“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.

“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.

“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”

You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.

Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.

[dr4cking]

BIRTHDAY SMUT

Birthday Boy.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | fluff |

a/n : we love spoiling our ferret boy and thank you for requesting! <3

y/n look up at the clock hanging on her bedroom wall. its 12am sharp, confirming the next date has arrived, which means that it's June 5 now.

she was feeling excited and nervous as she finishes wrapping up the present that she will give to one of her best friends, draco malfoy.

they had been best friends for long years, it started in 2nd year and became inseparable since then and now they both are already graduated.

as they grew up they often flirted with each other, always got jealous when the other see another person.

they both knew that they always wanted to be 'more'. the sexual tension between the two is becoming too hard to ignore, but they were too scared to ruin their friendship.

she stood in front of her mirror, taking the last look at herself. she decided to dress up, it was a special day after all.

she wore a dark green satin dress because draco's favorite color is green and paired it up with silver heels. she had decided to put black lingerie underneath her dress incase 'it' happens.

she had asked her parents to let her stay in malfoy manor today so she can celebrate draco's birthday. and because their parents know each other too, they let her stay there.

she swishes her wand and in a second she was apparated to malfoy manor hall, it was really dark but she still managed to found his bedroom, she knocks softly on his door not wanting to wake his parents.

the door opened, revealing the blonde-haired guy who stood straightly with a genuine smile on his face.

draco is wearing his usual black suit which always making him look hotter than he already is.

she feels her heart will going to jump out of its place at any second when she cant take her eyes off of him.

"you came," he said as he greeted and taking her hand in his guiding her in. they both sit at the edge of his bed.

"of course, i wouldnt miss my best friend's birthday, making sure i was the first celebrating your birthday." she laughed softly making draco chuckle.

"you look so beautiful in that dress, love. green really suits you.”

draco once again take her hand in his and brought it to his lips and kiss it, making her cheeks heated at his action and the nickname he just called her.

"here, happy birthday draco." she placed the gift in his hand.

his eyes lit up and he immediately opens it, making y/n getting more nervous waiting for his reaction.

"oh merlin! this is so cool y/n!! i love it so much!"

he took out the black ring that had a snake symbol carved in it from its place and put it on his ring finger, taking a look and admiring it.

"i’m so glad you like it, draco! i wasnt sure what to get you then i remembered you've been looking at this ring when we passed the store last week"

"thank you so much y/n!! you dont have to do this i appreciate it so much, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, love."

he pulls her by her waist and kisses her forehead, thanking her.

no one has ever treated him like the way she does and he's so grateful to have someone like her in his life.

"aww stop it draco or i will cry in front of you now" she laughs, nudging his elbow making him laughs too but he suddenly stopped and looking at his lap.

"whats wrong, dray? are you okay? did i do something wrong?" she asks worriedly tilting his chin making him looking up at her.

"i'm afraid that i have to say this, y/n..” he takes a big sigh looking into her eyes.

“what is it? tell me i wont judge, draco”

“i- i think i’m in love with you, y/n. no! i know that i am in love with you, i have always been."

he inhales deeply and broke the eye contact, looking anywhere but her eyes, knowing his sudden confession would make him lost her this instant.

"draco, look at me" y/n said as she tilts his chin again making him look at her.

"oh god.. i’m sorry y/n i shouldnt have said that! i was just- its just i- i cant hold it anymore y/n. i need to get this out of my chest and now look, i just ruined us"

"oh draco.. you're not ruining anything, quite the opposite actually, you just made the right move, i'm in love with you too, idiot, always have been."

she chuckles and cupped his face in her hands, pressing both of their foreheads, looking at each other causing a shy smile to appear back on his face.

he tilted his head and wasting no time to smashed his lips on hers, kissing her passionately, showing her how much he loves her which she gladly returned with the same passion.

he put one of his hands on her throat and the other on her waist pulling her closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged softly on his hair making him moan into the kisses.

as the kiss turning into a full makeout, he lays her down to his bed, resting both of his hands on the side of her head still kissing her hungrily.

his suit already thrown out on the floor and her heels too. she snapped back to reality and realizing what is gonna happen then flipping their position over and now she is on top of him straddling him.

"let me do all the work draco, today is all about you, wanna make this special and a night to remember, let me make you feel good, love."

she slowly grinding against him after earning eager nods from him, both of them let out a moan at the feeling.

then she gets down and started to unbuckle his belt, kissing his growing tent and palming him through his trousers causing him to squirmed under her touch.

getting excited she pulls his trousers and boxers down, throwing them somewhere as draco's hard swollen cock sprang free and standing tall in front of her, begging for attention.

she moans at the pretty sight, licking her lips, craving to feel him. she runs her fingers around him and placing soft kisses on his inner thighs before going up to the part he needed the most.

draco let out a throaty groan when y/n finally take his hard cock in her hands pumping him, his body jolted out as he feels y/n kitten lick his tip, his hand founding its way to her hair.

she looks up to him with innocent eyes who already watching her movements, she smiles and took his balls in her mouth making draco instantly moan her name, his other hand gripped on the sheets.

then she pulls out to rest her jaw and lick a straight line on his cock from the base to the tip then going all in, his cock feels so heavy and full in her mouth, draco is already a moaning mess.

"fuck y/n- feels so g-good.." her name repeatedly left his lips like a prayer as he keeps moaning her.

she bobbed her head up and down at a steady pace, hollowing her cheeks and pulling draco deeper each time she suck him.

"yes y/n, just like that, fuck.. feels so fucking good"

she swirls her tongue around his length, sucking on his tip and taking him back inside her mouth again, her hand pumping the rest of his cock that she couldnt fit in her mouth at the same pace making sure that part got pleasures too.

he bucked his hips accidentally making her gagged and choked out, saliva dripping off her mouth and eyes watering.

"shit i’m sorry y/n!" he said as he watches her struggling.

"do that again, draco."

y/n replied as she took him back inside her mouth, and hand still stroking his cock. draco groaned and buck his hips again, making her gagged and moaning at the same time, the vibration sending him near to his high.

she noticed his cock twitched in her mouth and begin to suck faster and deeper, her hand move to his balls and massaging them helping him reach his high.

he let out a low scream of her name as he shots his warm liquids down to her throat, his legs are shaking. y/n moaned and pulls him out showing draco that she swallowed all of his cum. he smirked and mutters a 'good girl' to her.

"how was it, draco?" she asks him smirking as she slowly sat up and straddling him again.

"fuck.. you have no idea y/n.. that was amazing, the best i ever had" he replied as he still catching his breath.

she smiles at him and takes off her dress slowly showing draco her black lingerie. his pupils widened at the view in front of him.

"god y/n.. you are insanely gorgeous, you look so hot in this lingerie, darling. are you preparing all of this for me? planning all of this cause you know this is going to happen, yeah?"

his hands are now roaming around her body, admiring her in every way he could. she blushes and nodded, taking her lingerie off of her showing draco her full body making him embarrassingly moaned at the view.

she starts grinding her now bare cunt on his still hard cock, earning a soft whimper from the boy under her. his hands instantly gripped her hips helping her grinding faster, her wetness now coating his cock.

"now enjoy the ride, mr. malfoy" she said as she lifts her body and pumps his cock lining his tip against her lubricating it with her juices making both of them groaning at the sensation.

she sunk down on his cock, filling her up in a perfect way. its like their bodies fit together and were made for each other.

they’re moaning each other as draco is fully inside her. she paused and take a few seconds to adjust to his size.

"mhm.. fuck- you're so big draco.. fill me up so good inside"

she starts bouncing up and down, resting her hands on draco's chest as she picks up her pace, throwing her head back and screwing her eyes shut in pleasure.

"you're so tight y/n, wrapping my cock so tight, taking me so well" draco praises between his moans, his hands gripped harder on her hips helping her bouncing faster.

"do you like how i ride you, dray?" she leaned into his ear, blowing her hot breath and biting his earlobe making him shuddered.

"y- yes mommy" draco's breath hitched as y/n suddenly going faster, her walls now hugging his cock very tight.

she let out a groan hearing draco called her 'mommy'.

placing her lips on his jawline, licking it then going down to his neck, sucking hard as she found his sweet spot causing draco to moan his raspy voice into her ear, turning her even more.

y/n starts to give him her lovebites and marking him as hers sending butterflies to his stomach.

she put her hand on his throat, choking him lightly while her other hand toying with his nipple, making draco whine. pulling her closer to him and captured her lips on his to muffle his moans.

she broke the kiss and screaming his name out loud as his cock nearly brushing her cervix and hitting her g-spot.

"shit.. you feel so good inside me dray"

she rolled her hips faster on his cock, her tits bouncing up and down in front of him and he caught her nipple in his mouth and buried his face on her breasts, enjoying the warmness.

"ah- you feel so good too, fuck- never felt this good mommy"

his breath got stuck and he feels his cock twitched inside her indicating both of them that he was close, y/n seems close too as she bites her lips feeling the coil in her stomach tightened.

"cum for mommy, baby boy"

y/n rolls her hips and bouncing faster, tightening her grip on his throat.

and that was it for draco, he moans her name out loud not caring if someone might hear as he spilled his cum inside, filling her to the brim, ropes of his warm cum shooting inside her.

y/n cant help but cum all over his cock at the feeling of his cum shooting inside her nonstop, her walls clenching and squeezing hard on him.

both of them are a mess, legs shaking, vision blurry as they were on cloud nine, she rolled her hips lazily to ride out their orgasms before collapsing on top of draco, both panting heavily.

"fuck you have no idea how long i've been wanting to do that, love" draco said softly as he caressing her cheeks pulling her in for a sweet loving kiss.

"happy birthday, draco." y/n broke the kiss smiling at him tiredly, giving lovely kisses all over his face.

"best birthday ever, thank you my love for everything. i love you so much..” he kissed her lips one more time.

“i love you so much too, dray.”

those were the last words they spoke before both of them drifted off to sleep with a smile on their faces.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @underappreciated-spoon-321 @youreso-golden @silverdelirium @littlemissnoname13 @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @starstruckgranger @lieswithoutfairytales @dlmmdl @yiamalfoy @black-repunzel99 @rylynn-m @slythermuf @acciodignity @i-love-scott-mccall @maybesandohnos @yvonnearce22 @arzfia @alexthealexthealex @seriouslyinlove

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.  

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards  the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

[delusion-of-negation]

Alright well as a Christian I'm supposed to forgive you but it's NOT gonna be easy. You, that pervert guy and that pedo tranny Dasha are EVERYTHING wrong with the world right now. It's YOUR FAULT our society has no morals. Congradufuckinglations you've made a girl with anxiety depression and BPD cry :)

forgive me for what, exactly? what did I specifically, only me, do?

because I don't remember doing anything bad to or with you, I wasn't involved in any group chats, I didn't spend time with you nor attack you. honestly, as far as I recall, I've said more about you these last few days, and all of that has been talking about finding out who you are, what happened, and what can be done to help end this mental break you're having - a mental break you seem to think justifies bombarding people with slurs and insults.

if you're gonna start forgiving me for shit I didn't do, then I'd rather you start by forgiving me for killing the dinosaurs, demoting pluto, and creating the coronavirus with stolen lab equipment.

dasha isn't a pedo, you dumb fuck, and falsely accusing people of being attracted to kids isn't gonna cure you of the alleged trauma of being a dumb kid who thought you'd make buddies in the anti-feminist community and then it turned out they were just as fucked as any community, and you got hate and made enemies.

we've all been through that shit, but the rest of us get therapy and move on with our lives - if I'm not blowing up the inboxes of people who tortured, sexually assaulted, starved, and beat me as a toddler, a child, a teen, I think you can handle not harassing people who knew someone who knew someone who said some mean shit in your tumblr inbox. when you're afraid of someone who actually hurt you, you don't make it your life's mission to antagonise people tangentially related to them to put yourself back on the radar of the people who actually dislike you - or, in case I need to spell it out, I don't buy your claims about your reasoning one bit.

I think you're being a pathetic attention whore who knows none of the people you're messaging - ace, dasha, etc, and now me - could or would do a single thing to hurt you, you know we're not what you claim, so you feel safe slinging whatever insults your tiny brain can conjure up, so that you can scream about how sad you are and get validation and comfort and requests for forgiveness from people nice enough to care about your temper tantrum. or more backlash and argumentation to fuel your persecution complex.

and you're too pathetic to even think of anything imaginative so you resort to ace's username, dasha's trans status, false allegations, and now you're trying to use the fact that I advocate for mentally ill people as a way to get at me - it's hollow and low effort.

I've tried to be nice the last few days, tried to say it sucks that stuff happened, that I hope you get well, etc, and all you've done is get worse and worse to people in their anons, I'm tired of trying.

as a "christian" (which you barely even are, you're just a wanna-be evangelical fundie fuck repeating what the big names in that area disingenuously vomit out), you're supposed to believe that forgiveness comes from god, that mortals are not called to judge on his behalf - and it's a damn good job because you'd be throwing people in hell for passing some guy on the street who's cousin once sold a spliff to someone he didn't know was seventeen.

while we're on the topic, I was raised around dumbass fucked up catholics (if you couldn't tell from my aforementioned childhood experiences), and you've got every single red flag for "fuckface who's only religious to justify being a fuckface" disease.

buddy, I'm a zombie, I know brain-dead when I see it, and you're on a whole new level of it. so cry more. your mental health issues make me feel sorry for you no more than mine made you not want to send this anon. or, in case I need to spell it out again, I don't give a fuck, you ain't special, I've got a list more than ten times as long as that and I'm not here using it to justify calling people slurs.

sucks that you're sick, but you're not gonna get sympathy points when you act like a slimy little wretch for days on end. I get it, being ill makes you mean sometimes, I've been there. still not my job to be your daddy and tell you to go eat some pasta and chill.

and I wish society had no morals, I wish I was giving it none, I wish I was half the amoral influence that you give me credit for.

I'm sick of puritanical, pseudo-religious, over-moralising of every insignificant aspect of our lives - we don't get a moment's peace from being asked to weigh in on every allegation in the news, every company's practices, whether it's okay to listen to some guy's songs, if your thoughts can make you a terrible person, the politics of other countries, the backlash to the backlash to the backlash to the backlash to some celebrity's baby name, whether some rando is "really trans", and a youtuber's mental health issues.

at this point I would gladly trade it in to be a four year-old chimney sweep in victorian england engaged to my cousin, fuck it. at least my aunt-mother-in-law in that world wouldn't believe in chemtrails and couldn't even spell problematic. it'd be total bliss.

in summary, I don't want forgiveness for shit I didn't do, especially from you. I want you to grow up, you bitchy little cunt.

[jonkentt]

I seem good on the surface

When Sam came home in the spring, he did everything he was supposed to: made a routine, spent time with loved ones, kept himself busy, and didn’t talk about it. Now it’s the end of summer, and Sam’s afraid he lost himself somewhere along the way.

3k, emotional hurt/comfort, no-powers AU, summer camp, childhood friends to lovers

on Ao3 for @yammz​

“Uncle Sam!!!” Even from across the field, the perturbed pitch of Cass’ voice is clear. “Bucky’s being weird!”

Cass drags Bucky by the hand towards the staff cabin where Sam is sitting on the low porch, watching the sky change color. As exhausted as he is, Sam still laughs when Bucky trips over his own feet trying to keep up with Cass’ short but determined strides. Some of Bucky’s dark hair falls from his bun and he tries to blow it out of his face when Cass finally halts them in front of Sam.

“Weirder than usual?”

Bucky makes an offended sound but Cass ignores him, launching into his bad-camper-Bucky report despite Bucky being the camp counselor.

“I asked him why he put cages around the trees we planted today, and he said because he didn’t want them to escape.” Cass scowls at Bucky before turning back to Sam. “And then he said they might sneak into the cabin and steal my socks while we’re all sleeping. I told him that was stupid cause trees don’t wear socks and he said—”

Sam glances up at Bucky, who’s already grinning at Sam and chewing on his lip to keep from laughing. His hair still hangs in his face tickling his nose.

“—they would if they knew how groovy my tie-dye socks were.”

Apparently that’s the end of Cass’ report.

“I see,” Sam says, making his ‘stern uncle’ face. “And you want me too…”

“Tell Bucky not to steal my socks,” Cass demands. He lets go of Bucky’s hand to cross his skinny arms and stick his chin out. “Stealing is against camp rules! And if my socks go missing, I’ll know it was him cause he’s making that stuff up about the trees.”

Sam hums and frowns at Bucky, who offers a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ears. The little butterflies in Sam’s stomach remind him how adorable Bucky looks right now. Sam turns back to his nephew.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him.”

Cass is already running toward his friends as Bucky sits on the weathered deck beside Sam.

“It’s lights out soon, kiddo!” Sam calls. Cass throws an ‘okay!’ over his shoulder. Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Kids these days.”

Sam snorts. “Ah, he can’t help it. He’s got no-nonsense parents.”

“So I shouldn’t hang his socks from the trees tonight?”

“No!”

Bucky laughs at Sam’s elbow digging into his ribs. “Okay, okay!” he concedes. “Out of respect for your reputation as Cass’ badass uncle.”

“Sure,” Sam mumbles. 

“That kid adores you! It’s Uncle Sam this and Uncle Sam that. You’re all he talks about when he’s not telling me off for something.”

“Really? I thought…”

He wouldn’t recognize me when I came back. He wouldn’t think of me as family.

Sam was terrified that morning he arrived on Sarah’s doorstep, convinced he’d made a huge mistake not telling anyone he was coming home. He didn’t know if Sarah would forgive him for all the years he was gone. For not calling as much as he should have. For not meeting her new babies. Sam broke out in a cold sweat waiting for someone to answer the door. He almost turned back. But then his little sister was there, not little at all anymore, and her brown eyes were wide with shock. Sarah had a toddler balanced on her hip, AJ was asleep and drooling on her shoulder. Sam remembered thinking the pair were so beautiful, that Sarah reminded him so much of their mother, and felt his cheeks wet with tears before he’d even said hello.

You’re home? Sarah had asked like she couldn’t believe it.

Yeah, Sarah, I’m— and Sarah pulled Sam into a crushing hug. She cried all that day.

I just missed you so much, she would say every time Sam caught her eye. She talked about Cass’ science projects and how he was so excited to be a big brother for little AJ. And Sam was so glad he’d come home.

Now, in the warm summer twilight, Bucky has a softness in his eyes like he knows what Sam is thinking.

“He missed you.”

“He didn’t know me…”

Bucky hums like he doesn’t quite agree. “But Sarah missed you. So Cass did too.”

Sam’s chest tightens. He doesn’t know what to say, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. They both look out across the open field where the whole camp plays games each afternoon. Off to their right are the cabins, kids skittering from one to another. Ahead is the river, wide and glittering. Frogs are starting up their evening chorus all around them.

Sam takes a sip from his mug. Bucky leans closer and sniffs.

“Is that?”

“My dad’s cocoa mix? Yeah. I found a stash in the staff room.”

Bucky grins from ear to ear.

“You’re the only person I know, Sam Wilson, who will drink hot chocolate on a humid summer’s day.”

Sam raises his mug. “There’s no better cure for heartache.”

Sam regrets his choice of words immediately, seeing the smile slip off Bucky’s face. Bucky opens his mouth to reply but Sam clears his throat.

“There’s a secret ingredient to it,” Sam says quickly. “If my dad is to be believed. He used to make up all kinds of stories about where he got it.” Sam half-laughs and fixes his gaze on the lazy river in the distance. “Dad used to pretend he was a sailor that went on grand adventures instead’a just fishin’ in the local spot like everyone else. He’d come home and say he fought a pirate that day, one with a real talking parrot. Or that he found a chest buried on the beach, or a secret cave.”

Sam rubs his thumb over the still-warm ceramic of his mug.

“He loved chocolate. My dad. And he tried to pass that love to me but the cocoa was the only thing that stuck. He made it when I was unhappy. And he’d tell a story every time.” Sam recalls his memories like old photographs, worn and creased from travel. Bucky listens silently beside him. “Like, he met a woman who could talk to birds, and the seagulls gathered cocoa nibs that she traded for fish to eat. Or he won a game of dice against a man in a huge feathered hat.

“Sometimes the stories would get real bizarre. And by the time he was done tellin’ em I’d usually forgotten what had made me upset.”

Sam offers Bucky a smile that he returns warmly.

“He told one about an archeologist with gorilla arms,” Bucky muses. “She was a witch? Or maybe she got the gorilla arms from a witch?”

Sam and Bucky both laugh. Bucky scratches at the stubble on his chin.

“Yeah, your dad told stories at camp sometimes. You remember? When Sarah was too little to stay overnight, he’d come to get her and end up having every kid in the camp sitting around his feet listening to some tall tale or other. I guess he was probably giving those poor counselors a break from us for a while.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Sam grins at Bucky. “But I’m surprised you do. You were always convincing me to sneak around and cause trouble.”

Bucky gawks. “I was not! You and Steve were the trouble-makers but I always got blamed somehow.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Sam bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his. Bucky grins and bumps him back. They go back and forth, knocking shoulders, recounting the trouble they got into as kids and who started what. 

Bucky throws his head back and laughs. Sam wishes he felt as light as Bucky’s laughter. Then Bucky rests his head on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam is dealing with those pesky butterflies again.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Bucky murmurs.

“You’ve said that to me every day, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true.”

Bucky slips his hand into Sam’s. They lapse into silence. Sam’s eyes brim with tears that drip silently down his cheeks till he inhales a shaky breath.

“Sam?” Bucky looks up as Sam quickly wipes his face on his shirtsleeve. “Did I upset you?”

Sam can only shake his head. His throat is too full of emotion to let any words out. The harder he tries to tamp it down, the more the tears run, and Sam doesn’t look at Bucky cause he knows those gentle eyes will open the floodgates of everything Sam keeps trying not to think about. Bucky squeezes his hand and rests his head on Sam’s shoulder again, pressing against his side in an almost-hug. Sam grips Bucky’s hand so tight it probably hurts. He’s grateful for Bucky’s weight leaning on him. He’s grateful Bucky doesn’t ask as he shakes apart, trying so hard and failing to hide his pain.

Where did Sam go wrong? Was it in the leaving or the coming back? Or worse, was it always out of his control? Could he re-make every right choice and still end up feeling this way? Lost when he’s at home. Lonely when he’s not alone. It tears Sam up inside, feeling this way, afraid he’s not the Sam everyone remembers.

Sam inhales and counts to four, holds his breath for four. He exhales, one two three four, and holds, one two three four, inhales again. He slowly starts to settle. Only when Sam’s breathing steadily again does Bucky move from his shoulder.

“I gotta check on the kids for lights out,” Bucky says, reluctantly letting go of Sam’s hand. “But I’ll be right back.” Bucky leaves with a kiss on the top of Sam’s head. Such a soft comfort, it threatens to send Sam into tears again. Inhale, one two three four, hold, exhale.

“I got it tomorrow!” Sam calls after him. Bucky answers with a thumbs up and bright smile that Sam doesn’t feel he deserves after ruining Bucky’s perfectly good day. This stupid ache in his whole body that won’t go away. No matter how hard Sam pushes himself, no matter how many days he sleeps through, either way the ache doesn’t let up.

Sam’s so tired. He didn’t think that coming home would be all rainbows, but he thought it’d be a little better than this.

Sam tucks his empty mug under the porch steps and stands, stretching his arms high above his head. He waves at the other counselors coming towards their cabin as he walks out into the field. Sam lays back on the dry grass. He looks up at the open sky and stars.

The sights, sounds, and smells of home surround Sam like a blanket. Cricket chirps mix with laughter from the staff cabin behind him. The humidity sinks into his skin. Sweet cocoa lingers on his tongue.

Bucky collapses next to Sam with a ‘oof’.

“These kids wear you out, old man?” Sam teases.

“Oh, my bones,” Bucky laments with feeling.

Heat rolls off Bucky where he’s settled close to Sam, maybe too close for the hot summer but Sam doesn’t mind. It’s nice to know that Bucky still has no concept of personal space when it comes to Sam, that he treats Sam the same even after years apart. Sam used to tell Bucky everything. Maybe he can get back in the habit of that.

“It’s just— I don’t—” Sam starts and stops. Bucky waits. “It’s been five months and I still don’t know who I brought back. I feel like a different person, walking around my home town, and it’s almost weird when people recognize me. 

“I always knew who I was here. I was Paul and Darlene’s son. I was Sarah’s big brother. In the Air Force, nobody knew who my family was. They just cared was I fast enough, was I strong enough? Did I play nice with others? Now I’m home, my parents are gone, Sarah’s all grown up. I strolled back into her life like I have any right to it. And she leaves me alone with her kids—”

Sam chokes on the tears bubbling up in his throat. Sam sits up and pulls his knees to his chest. His body shakes with the effort of holding itself together. 

“I don’t know why she’s not treating me like a stranger! I don’t know why you’re not treating me like a stranger! I don’t know what anybody expects from me and I—!” Sam gestures helplessly. “Ya’ll are so happy I’m back, and I’m just waiting to disappoint you.”

Bucky’s hand settling on Sam’s back. His quiet plea that Sam doesn’t want to hear. “You’re not gonna disappoint us, Sam…”

“I will though!” Sam snaps too loud. “I knew exactly what the Air Force wanted from me and I still disappointed them! I—” I lost my partner and I couldn’t keep going without him. They had to shut down their super secret project cause I couldn’t do it anymore. And I couldn’t let Riley be replaced.

But Sam can’t say that. He can’t say any of it. The EXO-7 Falcon project was his whole life for the past few years, and he’s not allowed to talk about it.

Sam scowls and turns away from Bucky, his face hot with shame. Sam left even though no one wanted him to. He left and came back with nothing to show for it except a broken heart he can’t explain and stories he can’t tell.

Bucky’s hand is big and warm. Sam has the impulse to shrug it off but he doesn’t let himself push away the one person he can open up to.

“Sam…” Bucky’s voice is rough like he’s been crying too. “Sam, look at me.”

When Sam doesn’t move, Bucky sighs and drifts forward till his forehead is pressed to Sam’s back.

“I know what it’s like, feelin’ like everyone expects something from you. But, Sam, the people that love you… we’re just happy you’re here. Living, breathing, moving through Delacroix. And if you feel like you don’t know who you are? We’ll be here while you figure it out. Cause you’re Sam and that means you’re someone we love so much. And… whoever else you wanna be is up to you but it isn’t gonna change how loved you are.”

Sam lets that soak in. The way Bucky’s words fill up Sam’s heart, make the ache less intense there. Sam feels like he’s steeping in a hot kettle that’s maybe starting to cool, just a little, just enough. He sits with it for a long time.

Someone we love. Sam can be that. He can be loved, right? He just has to remember how. And maybe he doesn’t have to remember on his own.

“This is your home, Sam. You’ll never be a stranger here.”

And that. That hits the spot. Like the most perfect cup of cocoa.

Sam turns and lets himself sink into Bucky’s chest. Sam can have this. He can have people that will always love him.

Sam stops thinking. He stops giving voice to his grief and guilt for just a minute. Just this one minute he’s taking for himself. To bury his face in Bucky’s sweaty shirt and to feel the grass poking his bare legs.

One minute turns to two, then four, then stretches on. Sam starts thinking again, but that’s okay. He’s thinking about what crafts he’ll do with the kids tomorrow. It’s nice to think about tomorrow.

“You have really comfy shoulders, you know that?” Bucky says.

“Huh?”

“All this extra muscle mass,” Bucky explains, squeezing Sam’s pec. “Makes you soft and squishy.”

Sam gapes. Bucky’s cheeks drain of color.

“Was that inappropriate?” Bucky asks with a grimace. And Sam laughs.

He laughs and laughs. Bucky’s face goes from horrified to embarrassed to hesitantly amused. Sam laughs through Bucky’s stuttered apology. He topples back onto the grass and laughs till the tight coil of stress inside of him finally shakes loose. Sam opens his eyes to find Bucky peering down at him with a grin that Sam might know better than his own name.

“You haven’t changed one bit!” Sam tugs on a piece of Bucky’s hair that’d fallen into his face. Bucky shakes his head, loosing most of his hair from his bun and looking like a frazzled muppet. Sam tucks some of it behind Bucky’s ear. “I swear I came back,” Sam murmurs, “and everything was different but you.

“Watching Sarah be a mom was so surreal. And then I saw you at the restaurant that weekend. You stood up so fast you knocked your table over and made an absolute mess. And as that look of horror settled on your face, I thought, yeah I’ve come home.” Sam runs his thumb across Bucky’s jaw. “You’re exactly the same.”

Bucky blushes deep pink. “I think most people could tell you that I’m less of a klutz now.” Sam only has to raises his eyebrows for Bucky to admit, “Except around you.”

Sam grins. Bucky groans in embarrassment and hides his face on Sam’s chest. Sam tangles his fingers in Bucky’s soft hair. Bucky flips over to lay on his back and kisses Sam’s palm. They lay there, looking up at the stars, Sam tracing the curve of Bucky’s ear.

“This weekend,” Bucky starts carefully, “is a holiday. We don’t have work.” Sam hums. “I thought maybe we… if maybe you wanted to hang out? We could split a pizza or…”

“Not the most romantic dinner you could have chosen but yeah, I’d get a pizza with you, Buck.”

“It—it doesn’t have to be romantic,” Bucky stammers, propping himself on his elbow to look at Sam with wide eyes. “I mean it—this doesn’t have to be a date. It could just be pizza.”

And Sam knows it could just be pizza. Bucky, his best friend, who’s had a crush on him since they were teenagers. It took Sam years to see it and then he couldn’t unsee it, but he didn’t know what to do with it. Back then, Sam knew he was leaving, knew he had to get out of Louisiana for awhile and didn’t want to break Bucky’s heart. But now that he’s home…

“What if I want it to be a date?”

Bucky opens and closes his mouth. He stares. He whispers, “Are you sure?”

Sam heaves a deep sigh. “I’m not sure about a lot of things right now, Buck. I’m not sure about most things. But I’ve liked you for a really long time and, yeah, I am sure about this one.”

[katnissmellarkkk]

Elllow! Today’s bookcomb consists of Peeta being protective of Katniss. Could have been much more implied moments but here’s some explicit ones 🤗

-

But it’s too late to run. I pull a slimy arrow from the sheath and try to position it on the bowstring but instead of one string I see three and the stench from the stings is so repulsive I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.

I’m helpless as the first hunter crashes through the trees, spear lifted, poised to throw. The shock on Peeta’s face makes no sense to me. I wait for the blow. Instead his arm drops to his side.

“What are you still doing here?” he hisses at me. I stare uncomprehendingly as a trickle of water drips off a sting under his ear. His whole body starts sparkling as if he’s been dipped in dew. “Are you mad?” He’s prodding me with the shaft of the spear now. “Get up! Get up!” I rise, but he’s still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. “Run!” he screams. “Run!”

-

I trip and fall into a small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death.

Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

-

I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. “No,” he says. “You’re not risking your life for me.”

“Who said I was?” I say.

“So, you’re not going?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m not going. Give me some credit.”

-

Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!”

“I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says.

“You won’t get a hundred yards from here on that leg,” I say.

“Then I’ll drag myself,” says Peeta. “You go and I’m going, too.”

-

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

-

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence.

“What?” I say, trying to force my way back up.

“Go home, Katniss! I’ll be there in a minute, I swear!” he says.

-

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

-

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

-

“Peeta’s argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,” says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta’s not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me. Shame isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel.

“You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know,” Haymitch says.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say brusquely. “No question, he’s the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch sighs. “Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name’s drawn at the reaping, it won’t matter. He’ll just volunteer to take my place.”

-

The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

-

“And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it. . .”

“If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say.

“It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta.

-

I check over my weapons, which I know are in perfect condition, because it makes me seem more in control. “I’ll take the lead,” I announce.

Peeta starts to object but Finnick cuts him off. “No, let her do it.”

-

No one’s thrilled with the idea of me going off alone, but the threat of dehydration hangs over us.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far,” I promise Peeta.

“I’ll go, too,” he says.

“No, I’m going to do some hunting if I can,” I tell him. I don’t add, “And you can’t come because you’re too loud.” But it’s implied. He would both scare off prey and endanger me with his heavy tread. “I won’t be long.”

-

Nothing. I find nothing. Not so much as a dewdrop. Eventually, because I know Peeta will be worried about me, I head back to the camp, hotter and more frustrated than ever.

-

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently.

-

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

-

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o’clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

“I want to go with them as a guard,” Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he’s less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

-

I’m so light-headed I’ll black out in a matter of minutes. I’ve got to get away from this tree and —

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

-

Caesar leans in to him a little. “I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive.”

“That was it. Clear and simple.” Peeta’s fingers trace the upholstered pattern on the arm of the chair.

-

A hush has fallen over the room, and I can feel it spreading across Panem. A nation leaning in toward its screens. Because no one has ever talked about what it’s really like in the arena before.

Peeta goes on. “So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss.”

-

“When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Killing Brutus myself. I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena . . . blew out.”

“Katniss blew it out, Peeta,” says Caesar. “You’ve seen the footage.”

“She didn’t know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee’s plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire,” Peeta snaps back.

-

Peeta’s on his feet, leaning in to Caesar’s face, hands locked on the arms of his interviewer’s chair. “Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?” He’s yelling now. “She didn’t know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!”

Caesar places his hand on Peeta’s chest in a gesture that’s both self-protective and conciliatory. “Okay, Peeta, I believe you.”

-

Gale’s expression darkens. “Peeta might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will dismiss what he said immediately, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The cease-fire’s clearly President Snow’s idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta’s mouth.”

I’m afraid of Gale’s answer, but I ask anyway. “Why do you think he said it?”

“He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He’d put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there’s still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right.” I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. “Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.”

To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren’t killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands. His idea is to have me lie low, remain safe and imprisoned, while the war plays out. Then neither side will really have cause to kill me. And Peeta? If the rebels win, it will be disastrous for him. If the Capitol wins, who knows? Maybe we’ll both be allowed to live — if I play it right — to watch the Games go on. . . .

-

Caesar and Peeta have a few empty exchanges before Caesar asks him about rumors that I’m taping propos for the districts.

“They’re using her, obviously,” says Peeta. “To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really knows what’s going on in the war. What’s at stake.”

-

He asks Peeta if, given tonight’s demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen.

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

-

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

-

[dira333]

To be known - Akaashi x reader - Soulmate AU - Alternate Version

As I mentioned, I struggled a bit with this one and this is the version that was the most advanced before I found what worked best.

@misfit-megumi​ I post the second version for you

No one really knows when it started and no one really how it works, but at a certain point your dreams become no longer your own.

They call it the edge of adolescence and for some, the night they first dream a stranger's dream, is quite the shock. Other faces, other languages than you’re used to. And the only remedy is meeting the person whose dream you’re dreaming.

For others, there is no clear difference. It’s harder to find someone you’ve already been close to when you don’t even know that you have to start looking.

.

You’ve always been creative, your mind a whirlwind. 

Last night you dreamt your mother clapped her hands and you turned into a frog, tiny, green, and oh so content, sitting on the giant leaf of salad you’d been supposed to eat.

But tonight your dream is anything but that.

.

You’re in front of a huge net and you’re so close to panicking, you can taste your own heartbeat.

There’s a ball up in the air, a twirling mass of blue and yellow. It’s far too slow to be realistic, the time stretching thinner than chewing gum before you blow a bubble.

But the bubble never pops. The ball doesn’t drop, you’re just staring up at it, your mind reeling.

Who do you set it to? Should you do a feint? Will you even be able to touch it?

And then, when you’re ready to faint from tension alone, the dream shifts so fast you get motion sickness, saliva pooling in your mouth as you stand in front of a class of unfamiliar faces, the teacher asking you something but his voice is so low you can’t make out what he’s saying.

It starts a circle, a loop of you asking him to repeat it and his voice staying that low, low rumble you can’t understand while the class watches you with more eyes than there are students.

Someone coughs as if to hide a laugh, more noises follow and the classroom erupts, a cacophony of sound until your hands are pushed against your ears and you want to scream.

You wake up at that moment, clamber out of your room and, for the first time in a long time, slip into your mother's bed.

.

You miss your dreams. You miss the comfort of the craziness, giggling with your friends the next morning as you tell them what outlandish story your head has produced.

You miss the calmness of sleep. 

You spend half a year afraid of falling asleep until your grades drop so low, your mother drags you to a doctor. 

There’s not much you can do because it’s not your anxiety. 

Sleeping pills make you hazy - and you still want to get to know your soulmate, no matter how horrible his dreams are - and plant-based medicine usually makes you throw up in the middle of the night.

When there are no other options than to break the bond or keep fighting, you take your fight to the world wide web.

By the time you graduate from Inarizaki high school, you’re an expert when it comes to all things anxiety.

You keep a journal with you, make sure to eat healthy, and do light exercise before bed.

But you also graduate with a job offer, a full-time assistant manager position for MSBY, and a deep longing for your soulmate.

.

You know so much about him now. 

How he misses his best friend Bokuto, memories of him often the only source of comfort in his anxiety-ridden dreams, and how much he cares for his team.

You’ve gotten into Volleyball because of him, wondering if you dream as much of the sport as he does.

No longer do you dread the dreams he shares with you, rather you see them as a way to comfort him, to take away the stress at least for the night.

.

In your fourth year at MSBY you get the news of a player getting drafted, the name Bokuto ringing several bells. You meet him over Atsumu threatening the newcomer.

A quick slap across the back of his head shuts the blonde up promptly.

“Bokuto-kun!” You smile at him in earnest. “It’s so nice to have you here! Don’t listen to Tsumu, he’s a menace but he’s all bark and no bite. Do you need any help settling in?”

“Ah, you’re so nice!” 

Bokuto takes your hand and shakes it vigorously. “I am so glad you’re our manager! We did have cute managers at our College but they were never as nice as you!”

To say you’ve dreamt of this moment would be a lie - if you did, you hope that his friend caught the hints - but you prepared for his arrival. Too bad he’s four days early.

“Don’t bother flirting with her!” Atsumu tells him with a pout. “She’s waiting for her soulmate.”

You bite your tongue at his comment.

“You’re a bit early so your jersey isn’t in yet, but you’re welcome to join training as soon as you feel settled in. If you have any questions, you can come to me.”

“I told you that you should have waited four more days, Bokuto-san.”

His voice is smooth but it cuts through you like lightning. 

From somewhere behind Meian, a tall figure steps forward, a slender hand grasping Bokuto’s shoulder.

He sends you an apologizing smile and Atsumu elbows you in the side when you don’t speak, too stunned to process the reality of it.

He’s here. He’s here and you can see it now, the furrow of his brow, the little shiver of his lip.

Just as you think you’ve gathered your words, another person steps forward, hand grasping Bokuto’s other shoulder.

“Ah, the earlier the better, wouldn’t you agree?”

To your utter demise, Bokuto has two best friends and brought both of them with him.

Your heart stutters in your chest, realizing that you know so much about your soulmate but not enough. What’s his name? Did he ever dream about someone calling him by name? Did he ever dream about his own looks?

You can’t remember and anxiety is reaching for your heart. 

Now that you need it, all the knowledge comes in handy.

You take in a deep breath and focus on five things you can see. Bokuto’s blinding smile, his huge hands still holding yours. The way the light catches in the glasses of his pretty friend -

“You want to train?” Atsumu interrupts your exercise rudely, “We’ve got spare training jerseys.”

“Oh, can I?” Bokuto looks at you and you stutter out a nervous “Yes, of course.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll go over some stuff with Meian. Call me when you need me.” His taller friend, hair a wild mess and grin even wilder, waves at you as he turns around, reducing your group to two.

He’s pretty and calm, but you’ve met enough calm people to know that quiet waters run deep.

“How nice of you to accompany your friend.” You offer a compliment and he eyes you carefully for a second before taking a deep breath. You wonder if he’s anxious too, wonder if he knows you.

“Would you mind showing me around?” He asks, his eyes traveling over the people around you.

“Oh, sure. Follow me.”

Predictably, the weight on your chest eases when you step outside, a strong wind pushing the hair out of your face. You laugh softly until you turn to see him, Akaashi, as he had introduced himself, standing there, stiff as a board.

“Are you okay?” You ask and his eyes snap back to yours.

“What-” He clears his throat. “What did I dream tonight?”

You laugh again, louder this time, so much easier too, as if the tension can only leave you through laughter.

“How did you know?” You ask when you catch a breath, your hands already reaching for his.

A small smile forms on his lips and he takes your hands, slender fingers fitting just right around yours.

“You dream of yourself in third person.” He tells you what you’ve forgotten long ago. “I’ve seen you every night.”

“So you knew how I looked like but not who I was as a person?”

His smile grows bigger. “I have to disagree with that. Your dreams tell a lot about you as a person.”

“Why? What did I dream last night?”

He laughs now, his face changing with it. He looks so much younger when he laughs, at ease with himself and the world. 

“You rode a cow over the ocean.”

“Oh.” You can’t help giggling. “That does sound like me.”

.

Three years later Keiji has moved in with you. 

You’ve since learned that your dreams are your own when he sleeps by your side but if you fall asleep without him there, you’ll dream his dreams instead.

That wouldn’t be a problem if he had stopped dreaming about his worries.

Your phone alarm wakes you around midnight and you groggily move towards the kitchen, fully expecting him to either have a quick snack or go over his notes one last time before bed. 

Tonight he’s crouched over his phone, mumbling as he reads through something.

The sight is so familiar, his whole demeanor so well-known it’s soothing on it’s own.

You know what time of the month he comes home late and what food he likes to eat right before bed.

Most importantly, you know he’ll wake up in pain if he keeps up that posture.

You step up behind him, slinging your hands around his shoulders as you press into his back.

“Hey,” you mumble into his hair, “Straighten your back.”

He chuckles but it sounds terse and you rub his stomach comfortingly. 

“Don’t worry,” You tell him softly. “I am going to say yes.”

There’s a soft thud and you guess that he just dropped his phone.

“How- How did you know?”

“You’ve dreamt about it.” You remind him softly and kiss his ear. “And I know you.”

There’s a soft sigh and his body relaxes. 

“Will you let me propose properly?”

“Sure?” There’s a smile in your voice. “I’ll let you have all the moments you need. But don’t worry about it. I am going to say yes.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[hockeylvr59]

Wedding Dress || Matthew Tkachuk

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no 

Author’s Note: This was completely inspired by the song Wedding Dress by Levi Hummon because it just screamed Matty to me. I have another song in mind for a follow up, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in. 

Warnings: mentions of legal drinking

Word Count: 1,134

~~~~~~

Everyone that knew Matthew Tkachuk knew that he was a goner for her from the moment they met. And though he tried to deny it - at least at first - that everyone included him. 

But what wasn’t there to be a goner for? She was smart, funny, beautiful, and his entire family loved her. They had met her first after all, given that she was a graduate assistant for Taryn’s field hockey team at UVA. 

Matthew could still remember the day he first met her, standing outside the visitor’s locker room in D.C. next to his sister. She was wearing one of the many Flames shirts that Taryn had acquired over the past few years and was laughing at something his sister had said. The way she smiled made it impossible for him not to mirror her expression involuntarily even if they had lost the game to the Capitals in overtime. 

His sister had introduced them and explained that the beautiful woman in front of him had offered to be her ride since she didn’t have a car at school. Well, Taryn didn’t phrase it quite like that but that was the gist that Matthew had gotten out of it. He’d later learned the role that she played in his sister’s life but even without that knowledge he was grateful that Taryn had such a great support system at school including having someone willing to drive her up to D.C. mid-week just to watch him play. 

Before long, she had been added to their family group chat, helping to arrange for Chantal and Keith to attend a tournament Tayrn was playing. Even after the tournament, she remained, providing Matthew with updates about her life and who she was as a person: witty, able to give it just as good as she got it, and never afraid to call him and Brady out on their shit. Matthew was growing more and more infatuated everyday. 

By the time summer arrived, Matthew was already head over heels and he’d only met her once. Learning that she was going to spend the summer with them nearly knocked him off his axis and the first few weeks were honestly a little embarrassing for him. She was just...so perfect... and Matthew didn’t know how to act around her. Brady teased him endlessly once he’d realized and Taryn had threatened him to back the fuck off because this was one of her mentors and friends. 

Matthew of course didn’t listen. Well...he’d tried, but failed miserably the first time they took the boat out on the lake and he saw her in nothing but a semi-skimpy bathing suit laughing and drinking with his mom. He’d been unable to bite back a flirty comment and when she returned her own he was sunk. Matthew wasn’t present for the ensuing conversation with Taryn but clearly the girls had reached an accord of some sort with a promise that she could handle Taryn’s older brother. 

Since then, they’d been together. Through the highs of a party and relaxation filled summer and the lows of a long distance relationship once September hit and Matthew had returned to Calgary while the women he loved went back to Virginia. It hadn’t been easy but they had made it through that first year and Matthew was by her side as she graduated with her masters degree. It was at that point that people...namely Chantal and Matthew’s grandmother...started asking if there would be wedding bells anytime in the near future. But they’d talked it over and agreed to wait. Even though she was planning to come to Calgary in the fall, neither saw any reason to rush that step of their lives. They were more than content with where they were, moving in together was going to be a big enough step already. Matthew recalled that she’d told him repeatedly that she didn’t need a ring on her finger to know that he loves her and that marriage could wait until they were both truly ready for it. 

Yet, now...just a few months later...Matthew was questioning that decision. Letting her tug him to the dance floor at Mitch Marner’s wedding he couldn’t help but think about how much he loves her as she rested her head against his chest, slowly swaying to the beat the band played. Across the room Steph, Mitch’s bride, was mingling with the guests. Matthew wasn’t stupid, he knew Steph looked gorgeous today as the bride certainly should, but when his eyes fell back on the woman in his arms his mind drifted away. 

She’d be the most stunning bride the world has ever seen. Maybe it was just the champagne starting to go straight to his head but for the first time he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d respond if he proposed. Would she even say yes? He knew that he was far from perfect, that she was leaps and bounds outside of his league, but he was pretty sure that she loves him as much as he loves her. 

They said they were going to wait, but the way she’d cried during the vows made him wonder now if that was something she wanted for herself. Did she really want to wait? Or did she want to be the one to catch the white bouquet that Steph had left waiting at the couple’s table to throw later in the evening. It was a silly superstition that whoever caught it was going to be the next to get married but suddenly Matthew didn’t even care, he wanted her to be the one to catch it so that he could made that stupid wives tale true. 

Spinning her around, Matthew watched the fabric of her dress swirl around her knees and after a moment he pulled her back against his chest kissing her deeply. His eyes sought out hers and he slid his hand around her lower back smiling softly down at her. 

They’d only been together for a little over a year, but Matthew knew that she was the one. Aside from the Stanley Cup, there was only one thing he wanted in life and he was now determined to make it happen. 

He wanted to see her in a wedding dress. To make the most perfect woman he’d ever met his wife. Now obviously wasn’t the time, but as soon as he got a ring...asked her father’s permission...he was going to get down on one knee. 

Until then, he was just going to fantasize about the way she’d look in not just any wedding dress, but her wedding dress. He already knew she was going to blow him away and that he’d be even more in love with her then, then he is now. 

[donald4spiderman]

Sweating, And A Lesson On Self-Worth

masterlist

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for his NAT (new agent training) defensive tactics coach.

Pairing: SR x Fem!Reader *described as petite to give the illusion of assumed vulnerability when IRL she’s a badass— no other specific physical details are mentioned*

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of body image, general CM talk, mentions of fighting/grappling/wrestling, small age gap (reader is 28 & reid is 22)

concept inspired by @sierraraeck’s fic “Bad Liar” about Morgan training Spencer. I love wrestling so I wanted to do one about a badass female combat coach/agent.

REBLOG!

-

When Spencer and the rest of the trainees are ushered into the fitness center on their second day at the academy, he almost shits himself. He’s well aware of the physical demands being in the FBI requires, and he’s been dreading the PFT (Physical Fitness Test) since he applied.

There are hundreds of men and women huddled in the middle of the room, anticipating the orientation, and Spencer feels his palms sweat before he’s even started working out. The majority of the trainees are football players, wrestling’s, and weight lifters— he can tell by their muscular build and general atmosphere of strength and confidence.

SSA Jesse Fallon introduces their defensive tactics coach for the next twenty weeks— a petite but athletic woman. She’s dressed in a gray t-shirt and flexible khaki pants— Spencer would be lying if he said she didn’t look gorgeous, even in the bland attire.

“I’m SSA and defensive tactics coach (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She introduces herself, giving a warm smile to the crowd. “I’ve been an SSA for five years and the head coach of this portion of the academy for two. This is my third official wave of trainees— and believe me— I won’t be going easy on any of you.”

Light laughter disperses through the crowd, and Spencer wears an uneasy look on his face.

“Today, I’ve prepped stations for each of you to cycle through for the next three hours. Agent Rivera is monitoring the weapon defense; Agent Glover is in charge of the takedowns; And I’ll be handling hand-to-hand combat and grappling. You’ll spend an hour at each station, run a mile at the end, and then you’re done for the day. Sound good?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Choruses through the crowd.

SSA (Y/N) clasps her hands together, “Alright, you know your groups. Split up!”

-

Spencer’s assigned to the takedown station first. Agent Glover’s criticisms are primarily nonconstructive, and Spencer struggles with apprehending and cuffing his more robust and much more muscular partner on the floor. He’s never trained this hard for anything in his life, physically, speaking. He’s half-dead within the first hour, and he dreads having to do this two more times.

His next stop is with Agent Rivera, who’s much kinder to Spencer than his prior. Reid is better at disarming his opponent, but his long limbs flail wildly due to his incoordination— he’s trying his best, but he sees the way everyone else giggles at him. It’s a blow to the chest that leaves him defeated more than any gunshot could.

The last hour is spent working at SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s station. She commands the attention of the entire group so naturally, despite being considered a rookie, she has an intimidating amount of knowledge.

“How many of you are wrestlers or judokas?” About sixty percent of the group raises their hand, and Spencer scans around for who might have the strength to kill him with one blow.

“Good,” She smiles. “This will come naturally to you, then. Now, a head-and-arm throw most likely won’t work in the field— so, sorry, judokas. However, double legs, body locks, and blast-doubles are constantly used to take down an unsub with minimal injury to the agent. Even someone as short as me can use leverage to grapple and control a much taller person.” (Y/N) scans the crowd of trainees for a moment before pointing directly at Spencer.

“You, come here.” She commands, and Spencer waddles nervously up next to her on the mat. “This is...”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing she’s asking for his name. “S-Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Spencer.” She smiles. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot two.”

“Spencer has the advantage of almost a whole foot of height against me. But, I can use his higher center of gravity to tip him over more easily. We do this a lot in wrestling— being low to the ground and agile is important.”

(Y/N) firmly plants her hands on Spencer’s shoulder, moving him so that he’s turned to the side. “This move is called a modified blast double— it prioritizes attacking the ankles and knees rather than the knees and abdomen.”

She leans in closer to Spencer, “Don’t post your wrist out when you fall.” She whispers in his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Keep your neck tucked too.” Her breath is warm and minty, and Spencer almost forgets that he has 30 other people watching him.

“I’m going to simulate an active attack with Spencer. Doing this move in a wrestling match is much more controlled than against a rogue criminal playing by their own rules. They might have a melee or close-range weapon like a knife or hammer on them, so it’s important to make this move when the best opportunity strikes.”

“Spencer’s going to run at me and attempt to land a punch to my face.” She gives him a nod, and he chambers over to her.

Swiftly crouching lower to the ground, she launches herself towards him, gripping the back of his ankles and pushing her shoulder into his knees, and suddenly he’s flying back onto the mat. She follows through, straddling Spencer’s hips and covering his movements with an arm under his neck.

He’s out of breath as he watches the beautiful SSA leaning above him. His head is slightly sore from the impact, but overall he feels... invigorated.

“You never let your opponent fall onto the ground without covering them. Straddling your opponent allows you to keep them down while having full use of your fists.” She swings her leg off of Spencer, standing up. She reaches a hand out and quickly yanks him up.

“Find someone and drill that move. I’m coming around to help all of you.”

She gives Spencer a firm pat on his back, to which he blushes furiously, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

-

Spencer spent the rest of the hour getting slammed onto the mat over and over by various men and women. His entire shirt is soaked, and his breathing is so labored he thinks he’s going to faint. SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N) might have appeared at ease earlier in the day, but she wasn’t kidding when she promised she would work them to no end. Everyone was at the brink of death when they approached the last lap of their mile— Spencer at risk of passing out more than others.

The relief he feels after completing his tenth lap around the gym is euphoric. Trainees collapse onto the ground with exhaustion all around him.

“Great job today.” SSA (Y/N) compliments happily. “I appreciate all the effort you guys showed today. It better still be here in four months.” And with that, she excuses them, along with the agents monitoring each station.

Spencer’s one of the last agents to trickle out of the gym. His legs feel like jello when he walks, and his lungs burn.

He almost makes it past the threshold of the door before his name is called.

“Dr. Reid.” She beckons him over with a finger. “May I talk to you for a moment.”

Spencer nervously shuffles over. “Yes, SSA (Y/L/N)?”

“I applaud your effort at training today. I can tell you were working hard.” He blushes. “But I’ve been informed that the board is willing to wave all physical training requirements for your acceptance into the FBI.”

“Yeah... I-I uh figured they’d want me for my IQ only.” He jokes nervously, shrugging his shoulders. He knows it’s disrespectful not to look her in the eye, but she intimidates him too much.

She laughs, and it’s a sweet, joyful sound that Spencer can’t get enough of. She’s powerful and radiant— stealing attention from everyone else. “You’re charming, and your reputation precedes you.”

Charming? Since when has little Spencer Reid ever been charming? He smiles awkwardly, looking off to the side to hide his blush.

“You know, the forensics department wants their hands on the trainee with the chemistry doctorate, and the surveillance department wants the kid with eidetic memory, and word has it that you speak more than four languages, so everyone wants their fair share.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Spencer asks, voice shy and barely above a whisper.

“Because,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, “You need to carry yourself with more confidence, Spencer. I saw you— surrounded by all those athletes— it made you feel out of place. I get it.”

“How d-do you get it?”

“I was 23 years old when I became an SSA, surrounded by people two decades older than me. I felt like the office secretary— constantly getting pushed around by people I was afraid to upset. But the thing is, Spencer, you need to demand respect from other people. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant or be a bully, but you are one of— if not the most promising agent trainee— and you need to realize your self-worth.”

“I’m smart, I-I know that. But I’m not strong or athletic by any means.” He sighs, gripping the duffle bag slung across his shoulder tightly.

“That’s alright. You’re not going to be Kyle Dake overnight. But you can’t beat yourself up about it.” (Y/N) chuckles lightly.

Spencer thinks for a moment, “T-thank you... for uh saying all those nice things about me.”

“They're true.” She nods.

“I think I’ll continue with the defensive tactics training. I could um use it.” Its partially true, but he’s most inclined to stick around because of the kind and beautiful SSA that’ll be training him.

“Yay! That’s great, Spencer.” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug that’s a little too friendly to be professional. He accepts despite being drenched in sweat.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around Spencer, and she pats him on the back twice before pulling away like a proud mentor would. He can’t decide if (Y/N) would be a better girlfriend or a better teacher. If she would, he’d prefer for her to be both. He’d give her all he had to offer if she’d allow him.

He doesn’t recognize the smile that plays on her lips, and it’s a foreign feeling for the aggressive and focused SSA. She hasn’t felt something like this in a while, especially not for a nerdy trainee named Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Hit the showers.” She teases. “You stink.”

Spencer nods furiously, “Y-yeah, of course. Thank you, again, SSA—“

“Just call me (Y/N).”

“T-thank you, (Y/N).” He smiles, scurrying out of the gym and into the hallway as giddy as ever.

(Y/N) knows she can’t pursue this— at least, not right now. She’ll give it a few years to let him settle in the FBI (his acceptance is inevitable) if she can be patient for that long. All she knows is that eventually, she wants the awkwardly adorable boy to be hers— and she wants to be his.

i’m so proud of this fic but sry i got carried away talking about wrestling i love it sm