#punishment for accidentally hurting her ankle

[scentedluminarysoul]

Classic Who is such a rollercoaster.

One moment, you have whatever the fuck this scene is:

And two minutes later, you get a gem like this:

[pigeonwhumps]

Delivery

Finding Home masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Letitia is delivered to Sandy as a Christmas present from xier parents.

2.7k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, accidental misgendering, threats, gifting a person, dehumanisation, starvation, dehydration, fainting, restraints (zip-ties, ribbon), collar, cutting off of circulation, brief mentions of caning and sexual harassment

025602 sits in her box, wrists and ankles zip-tied, listening to Christmas music that doesn't seem to have stopped since she left the facility.

Only a few minutes after she was loaded onto the delivery van (which she didn't see, but her handler explained the process to her), music started and someone rapped on the top of her box hard enough to make her flinch.

"Hey, pet. You like Christmas music?"

"It can't answer you, dumbass. And be careful back there. Premium wrap, remember? It's not just the box that's wrapped."

That much she does know. Ribbon tied in a bow is wrapped around her collar, and her zip-ties, and artfully (tightly) crossed over her body into another bow, winding over her torso, arms, and legs, trussing her up.

Where does the word 'trussing' come from? She doesn't know. But it means she can't move an inch. Even her fingers... there's a tiny box held there, wrapped in paper and an elaborate bow. She doesn't know what it is. She can't bear to drop it, to disobey before she even gets to her new owner.

All she can move are her toes and head. Her toes hurt and tingle, she thinks the circulation's going, and she's scared to move her head.

She's allowed to be scared, here, between the facility and her new owner. She doesn't know if her new owner will let her.

She doesn't know whether she likes Christmas music, either. She doesn't know whether she's supposed to.

Now, in the present, she's been set down somewhere that still has Christmas music playing. The sticky bow on her forehead itches, and the ribbon itches, and her clothes itch, and she wishes she could soothe herself. But that's not allowed, and not possible.

In the dark and the heat and the endless sound, she allows herself to imagine what her new owner might be like. Short? Tall? Lenient? Kind? Strict? How will they punish her? What will she be used for? Will she be allowed outside? Bedding or not? Maybe she'll sleep in her box.

Despite herself, she hopes not. It's getting so sticky in here.

The music stops. She hears footsteps and her heart beats faster but they're heading away, which she supposes might be better.

No. No it isn't. How could she think that?

Although she's not allowed this either, she hopes that the scary woman who directed the delivery men earlier isn't actually her new owner. She sounded... prone to punishment. She's already threatened her once.

As nothing else comes, she allows herself to drift into an uneasy sleep that never lasts. She hears snatches of music and laughter as a door opens periodically, pushing into a dream of her attendance at the handlers' Christmas party. While they celebrated, she knelt in the corner of the room, face to the wall, and if she didn't keep perfectly still and perfectly perfect she'd be punished.

Sometimes they provoked her just to punish her. She knows it was deliberate provocation, despite what she was told. She also knows, now, that canes don't scar easily.

She has vague snatches of memories of celebrating, sometimes, but they just confuse her. As her handler said, pets don't celebrate. Why would they?

Her mouth is dry and her stomach cramps, and she cannot see a thing. But it's okay. She was prepared for that. What she wasn't prepared for was the sticky heat and how long she'd spend like this. And the uneasiness of the isolated noises that she can't quite pinpoint.

In between disorientating dreams, she wonders what's in the little box.

Eventually, the music starts up again, and she breathes a sigh of relief despite the slamming on her eardrums, grown used to the quiet.

Slow footsteps make their way down the stairs. Two pairs.

"Oh, it looks perfect under the tree. I can't wait to see how it's wrapped inside."

That's the woman from last night (025602 can't allow herself to think of her as scary anymore). A man (she thinks it's a man) hums in agreement.

"Sandy honey!" the woman calls. "It's present time!"

"Coming, coming," says a younger, groggy, less enthusiastic voice. 602 can almost hear the dragging of feet down the stairs, and then a much closer, "Why do we always have to do this so early?"

"You wouldn't think it was so early if you didn't stay up half the night," admonishes the man (her father?).

"I was talking to a friend." There's a thump on carpet. "So, who's first?"

"You are, honey. These two go together. Open the small one first. Your cousin chose it."

There's the sound of ripping paper, and tape and cardboard, and then a silence only interrupted by the jingling of bells.

"What..." says the younger one, sounding baffled. "I don't even have a pet."

There's quiet.

"No. No, you didn't."

602 can't tell if it's dread or excitement or disapproval or what in her voice, and she tries not to worry. The paper directly above her is ripped off, and the box lid removed, and 602 tilts her head back and smiles up at her new owner.

Unfortunately, it's more of a grimace, as the light hits her after probably nearly 24 hours in the dark and the pain shoots through her head.

A woman in her late 20s is looking down at her with an expression of shock or horror. She has shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes, vitiligo dotting her pale face. Her glasses are round and golden and it's all far, far too bright.

"Oh, hun, how long have you been in there? Let's get you out, let me help you. I'm just going to reach in, okay? I'm Sandy."

Without waiting for an answer 602's not sure she's capable of giving, Mistress Sandy hooks her hands under 602's shoulders and lifts her out.

"Christ. Did you order her this trussed up?"

"It's the premium holiday wrapping," replies her mum primly.

"Well, thank you, both of you. I'm unwrapping her." She lowers her voice. "I'm going to take that box off you, okay? And then we can get to your wrists and ankles, and everything else. Bet you're uncomfortable as hell."

That might be a statement 602 should answer, but her mouth is too dry. She can't move her fingers to help as Mistress Sandy prises the box out of them. Mistress Sandy looks at her... worriedly? Maybe? She'd like to believe that over the other expressions it could be.

Mistress Sandy picks up a small pair of scissors and cuts the zip ties on her wrists and ankles. She breathes in sharply as the blood flow begins to painfully return fully. Mistress Sandy snips the ribbon too.

"There you go, honey. Can you move now? Try to stand."

602 tries, but as soon as she attempts to straighten her leg she falls flat on her face, her vision spotting and tunneling and her hearing muting until all she can hear is the rapid beat of her heart.

She's moved, but she's not really conscious of it.

When she can see and hear again, she notices she's lying on the oh so soft carpet, her legs on a cushion.

"Welcome back. I was worried there. How do you feel? Honestly."

Mistress Sandy's voice sounds tighter than earlier, angry, and 602's heartbeat speeds up. She opens her mouth to answer but only a rasp comes out, and she coughs.

"Oh. You need something to drink. How long was she in there for?"

That must be directed at her parents, and out of the corner of her eye 602 sees her mother shrug. "She was delivered last night."

"So that's what? At least twelve hours? And that's not including packing or transport. No wonder she nearly passed out. I'll get you something, hang on."

Mistress Sandy rushes out of the room. As soon as she's gone, her mother fixes 602 with a piercing stare.

"Right. You listen up. I do *not* want you making a scene again. I don't care what happens, you're here to help our daughter, not hinder her and become the centre of attention when you shouldn't be. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And stop that rasping. Speak properly."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mistress Sandy runs back into the room with a cup of orange squash and one of soup, both with straws. Her eyes flick between her mother and 602, and her jaw hardens.

"Mom, don't scare her. Here you go, honey, sit up against the wall. I'll help you." 602 pushes herself backwards, and Sandy lifts her up and against more cushions. She helps 602 curl her tingly fingers around the cup.

"Orange squash, with extra sugar to get your levels up. It's strong and sweet, but drink as much as you can."

602 obediently drinks the whole cup. It is very sweet, and has a lot of taste to it, far more than anything at the facility ever had.

"That's better, honey. Drink this soup as well. Chicken, no stars until you're better enough to use a spoon. Let's get some nutrients in you. Easy does it, honey."

602 sips at the soup. That's tasty too.

"There you go hun. You sit here while we open the rest of the presents."

602 obeys, watching as Mistress Sandy and her parents open presents, conversation a little stilted. She thinks that might be her fault. It makes her a little sad, a little emptier, to watch this, a sense of aching familiarity, like she had something similar, once. But she doesn't know it.

Mistress Sandy claps her hands together. "Okay. Mom, dad, if we're finished here I'm going to take my new... pet upstairs. Tidy her up a bit."

"Right you are, honey. Make sure you're down in time for lunch."

"We will be."

"Just you. Not the pet."

"Right," says Mistress Sandy through gritted teeth, before turning to 602. "I'll help you upstairs. Can you stand enough to lean against me?"

602 tries, holding determinedly to the wall, and just about makes it upright before collapsing onto Mistress Sandy with wobbly legs.

"It's okay. I've got you. Let's go nice and slow, easy now."

602 doesn't think she could walk fast right now, even if she was ordered to. Mistress Sandy is supporting most of her weight, which she shouldn't be, 602 is a bad pet for making her owner do so much for her. Finally, they reach a room. Mistress Sandy leads her inside and shuts the door behind them, and 602 breathes in relief at the cutting off of the Christmas music. It's quiet, just the sounds of her and Mistress Sandy. That makes her nervous but she has quiet when she can see and that more than makes up for it.

"Let's sit down on the bed, okay? I want to talk to you, and I bet you need to get your bearings."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mistress Sandy winces and sets them both down. This is soft and bouncy and *weird*.

"Firstly, my pronouns are xie/xiem, and I'd like you to refer to me as Sandy, or Mx Sandy if you need a title. Although only in front of my cousin Jason, I'll introduce you to him tomorrow. No-one else knows."

"Yes, mx. Sorry, mx." Her stomach feels like butterflies are taking flight in it. Less than 24 hours and she's already screwed up.

"Hey. Wasn't your fault. It's not like I told you, and no-one's omniscient. Now. Do you want to get clean? That box must've been horrible. I have a shower and a bath, you can use either, and any of the soaps in there. There's also a shower cap, if you want to protect your hair until we can get you to a hairdresser. Would you like that? Private wash. Don't worry about the cost of the hot water, my parents are rich and won't check the bills."

602 nods. A wash that isn't a cold, pounding communal shower with handlers staring and not-so-subtly eyeing her up. They don't even remember that.

"Thank you, mx."

"It's the least I can do. I'll leave some clean clothes outside the door, and start thinking about your name while you're in there, yeah?"

"Yes, mx," replies 602, confused. Isn't Mx Sandy supposed to choose her name? That's what she was taught.

602 is slowly but steadily recovering her strength, and she makes her way unsteadily to the bathroom. There's no time for a bath, she doesn't know what her owner will do if she takes too long, so she warms up the shower water, strips and puts on the shower cap. Then she steps inside.

Even a few seconds in there makes her feel so much better. The warm, pounding water hits her screaming muscles, softening them, helping them. She scrubs the sticky sweat and stink off herself, using soaps that bubble and smell so good.

There's a knock at the door. "I've left some clean clothes outside when you're ready, honey, and I'm going to fetch you some food for later. Take your time."

602 does, but not too much, just in case. Mx Sandy has left her a baggy t-shirt, tracksuit bottoms, and a sweatshirt. She still has the plastic collar, and that's never been comfortable, but it's better without so much sweat.

She wishes her owner was here to allow her to wash under it properly. But the clothes are comfortable, at least.

Mx Sandy bursts through the door and 602 jumps, straightening to attention, heart pounding at the dark look on xier face.

"Sorry hun, didn't mean to scare you. My parents just gave me the small present you were holding, and it's a newly-developed tracker implant. There is *no way* I am injecting that shit into you."

"Thank you, mx."

"Again, bare minimum. You can take your collar off when you're in this room if you like." 602 tilts her head back to allow her owner access, and Mx Sandy unbuckles it carefully.

"Oof, that rubbing must be painful. We can buy a better collar and clothes that fit tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, mx."

"It's not a problem. None of it is." Xie hold up a full plastic bag. "My parents have confirmed you won't be allowed to attend our Christmas dinner or even eat any of the leftovers later, which is totally unfair but there's nothing I can do about it. So I've brought you some food, both snacks and proper food, and some bottles of drink. Please try to eat and drink as much as you can, we need to get your sugar levels back up. You can sit on the bed, entertain yourself however you like, etc, just don't come downstairs. Okay?"

"Yes, mx."

"Great. Did you manage to make a start on names?"

602 swallows. Yes, yes she did.

"I want whichever name you want, mx."

Mx Sandy sighs. "That wasn't what I– okay. Okay. How about this. I would like you to choose a name you'd like to be called. That would make me happy. Can you do that?"

"Y- yes, mx." She's confused, but she can do it. Possibly.

"I can read out a list of baby names, if you need suggestions. Unless you can read?"

"No, mx. That would be helpful, mx."

"Right." Xie pull out xier phone and type something in. "Here's a list. I'll read more if you don't like these. Serena, Aria, Elise, Evelyn, Letitia, Mila, Adelaide, Estella. Fancy any of them?"

602 hesitates, rolling the sounds around in her head. She pretends to herself that she's still trying to make a decision, even though she's already found one she's drawn to.

"Letitia, mx. I like Letitia, if– if that would be acceptable."

Mx Sandy smiles. "If you like it, and you're not just trying to please me."

"Yes, mx."

"Excellent. May I call you Tish for short, sometimes? You're allowed to refuse."

Tish. Tish. She likes that. Sounds a bit like fish.

Why is that a good thing, again?

"Yes, mx. I like it, mx."

Letitia. Tish. Letitia, Letitia, Letitia, Tish. She has a name now. She's owned, and she belongs, and Mx Sandy is happy with her.

Now all she has to do is ensure the situation stays that way.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 18 - Untitled Training Montage

You walk, walk, walk, walk, walk. Accidentally hit Lae'zel with a stick. Walk, walk, walk, jog, spar. Lae'zel is done with this shit.

On AO3.

The dead boar stares up at you with glassy eyes, its tongue lolling out into the dirt. Hefty thing. Probably some good bacon on it. Lae’zel hisses something, and Gale answers. You’ve only got the one potion left, and you want to save it for whatever you find at that swamp.

Y’all move on.

***

You trudge for two days. You lose time twice more—only small episodes, once while walking (you crested a hill, and suddenly you were down it again) and once while taking a break on the side of the road (you’d gone to pee, and woke with your trousers around your ankles; you made vague hand gestures when you returned to quizzical looks at how long, you assume, you were gone).

You kick the panic in the face and wrestle that bitch to the ground. It’s easier to focus on the language lessons, especially now there’s no magical translation twisting in your brain. You can construct toddler questions after Gale introduces you to “this is” and “what is”. You decide to use it to maximum effect and really lean into the toddler aspect, asking “what is this” about almost every item you pass.

It’s hard to remember when you can’t write anything down. Gale corrects your pronunciation several, several times. Especially once Astarion involves himself, and takes up duties when Gale disappears off into the woods for a moment. You thought he was teaching you “stone.” But judging from the flat look from Gale once he returned (and an intrigued-bemused Shadowheart), and a hands pantomime, turns out he’d taught you the word for panties. In a posh accent, no less.

This fucking guy.

That bit brightens his whole day; he stops complaining for at least an hour.

By then, Shadowheart has dropped back enough to watch you for a second. And, in heavily accented English, she says, “Gofgel?”

“Goddamnit, Gale,” you say.

He gives an apologetic shrug from the front of y’all’s miscreant party.

That night, you notice Astarion watching you. Nothing overt—you only catch him the once—but you can feel eyes on the back of your neck. That and the others (Shadowheart) keep giving you pitying looks while Gale seems agitated.

Lae’zel finishes cleaning her owlbear head. Rubs the inside with something greasy and sets it to the side to dry.

On the third day, y’all get jumped. The bandits everyone had been alluding to. You try to hang back, but one of them (rightly) singles you out as the weakest link and comes straight for you. You try to hit him with the stick the way Gale showed you. But then Lae’zel darts in to cleave off a chunk of one of their faces, and the two of them stagger in, and you end up cracking her right on the shoulder instead.

She hisses nastily and wrenches the staff out of your hands. Leaves you standing at the edge of a fight, with nothing but the rock you pick up.

That night, after dinner, she steps in to loom over you. Arms crossed, sharp face stern. She snaps something.

Astarion perks up.

This alarms you.

She repeats herself, and then shoves your stolen staff at you and motions you to stand. You look to the others and they’re all resigned, glaring at Lae’zel, or scooching closer on a stool he found somewhere.

Are…is she gonna beat you up? Is this some form of corporal punishment?

Your palms go slick. Your legs wobble as you stand. They’re all watching; everyone here is so goddamn casual about killing, what would a lashing be but a form of entertainment?

You try hard to tamp the fear down, resist the urge to fall to your knees and apologize (uselessly), or start praying (better, but never enough). It’s mortifying how fast these responses flood back. You almost want to give yourself the ass beating.

But Lae’zel does not hand you a knife so you can go find and cut an appropriate switch (not too thin cause that hurts like a motherfucker, but not too thick so it doesn’t break your damn ass). Nor does she strip you down to your underwear to receive your punishment. Probably a good thing; fifteen years of freedom and an adult body later and you’d probably start clawing and biting, consequences be damned.

What she does, is pick up a stick herself and turn to face you.

When you hesitate, she says what you’re ninety-five percent sure is an insult, repeats her first words, and gestures you forwards.

When you finally do totter over, and she lifts her staff, it isn’t to hit you (you don’t flinch, you don’t. Goddamnit, goddamnit this stupid fucking place fuck the whole thing and fuck all these fucking people).

Instead, she sweeps the staff up into some sort of stance. Horizontal, held in front, hands a shoulders-width apart. She says a word. Waits for you to repeat it. Waits again for you to mimic.

Your face is hot. Fucking everyone watching. Why for fuck’s sake can’t they go find their own goddamn entertainment? Fucking watching you? Fuckheads.

But you recognize what she’s doing. Or intuit it, anyway. Weapons training. She’s teaching you how to actually use the damned thing.

That knowledge should soothe your out of control endocrine response.

It does not.

You proceed to follow her as she shows you various stances. There’s two crouching ones you can’t do very well because your bad knee screams when you try.  You manage to stop yourself from looking over to your goddamned audience. Watching you fumble. Watching your thick thighs and thicker trunk try to move with scrawny, ropey-muscled and lithe Lae’zel.

She either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care about your self-esteem crisis. Just examines you, and raps an elbow or knee when you fuck up. Which is often.

You’re trembling by the time she lets you stop. Want nothing more than to collapse face first into your bedroll and let the sweet exhaustion of oblivion wipe you from consciousness. But she swats your arm again, harder. Motions you to set down the staff and follow her.

As she jogs.

You stare. She gets four steps, glances back, and you’re learning “Tsk’va” is definitely a swear. You also know what “come here” sounds like in Faerunese.

Your friendly onlookers give you a sort of “that sucks” wince. They make no attempt to intervene. Astarion gives you a jaunty farewell wave. You consider stealing his camp shoes and dunking them in the river while he’s not looking. Except the guy has a lot of knives by this point, so that’s probably a bad idea.

“Fuuuck,” you groan.

***

You’re out of shape. You know that. Had known it for years, in fact. You were never a runner. Even as a kid, you came in last place when the other kids would race. Not that you, a girl, were expected to win or even try that hard. Future mothers don’t need to be fast, they need to be sturdy enough for chores, need to be dutiful and obedient.

You didn’t realize you’d forgotten how to jog, though. Didn’t know that was a thing that could happen. The movement feels weird, your body disconnected and stiff and sloppy. Lae’zel mutters, but her frown seems more thoughtful, and less disgusted. She takes you for a few, gasping laps around camp. You consider veering right and disappearing into the night, never to return. Then you wouldn’t have to meet any of their gazes and know that they saw you being such a disgrace.

Once that’s done, Lae’zel still doesn’t let you stop. She moves onto strength exercises. Shocker! You can’t do a single push up.

So she has you lift and carry a bunch of water skins instead. By the time she’s done, your muscles ache all up and down your sides. Your shoulder blades are sore, your crotch feels sore for some godforsaken reason, and your hands and fingers are so weak, you can’t actually uncork the water skin she hands you.

She opens it without a word, and glares at you until you’ve drunken enough she deems it sufficient.

Then she makes you stretch.

Later, you have to palm your own bedroll back to flop onto it.

Your stays are just going to stay on all night. You have no dexterity for unlacing. Everyone else is bedding down. The fire burns low. And that’s why you jump when someone sits beside you.

The scent of sweat mixed with something delicate and floral washes over you. Shadowheart looks at you. Gestures to your stays. You try for a self-deprecating smile and hold up your useless fucking hands.

She nods like she’s expecting it. Asks you some kind of question. Goddamn dirt potion rationing. She repeats herself, points to the laces, motions to herself.

Help. She’s asking if you want help…getting out of the stays.

She’s been quiet around you. Speaking up mostly to snark (mostly at Astarion) (or to verbally gut Lae’zel). You can’t tell if she’s super reserved, or she doesn’t like you in particular.

It’s a tentative connection, you think. A simple offer. She’s watched you make an ass out of yourself all evening, and instead of making fun of you or using this to cast you out (fucking raspberries; raspberries and that sickly, fake lemon), she’s…offering to help.

That or she’s making sure you like her more than you like Lae’zel. Trying to one-up Lae’zel. Who the fuck knows.

You know this word. You nod. Say, in their language, “Help?”

She nods and makes efficient work of it. You try to hold still and not melt into a useless mess as your posture support disappears. Once it’s done and hanging open—your shirt is soaked in sweat, at least you have one, clean spare you got from those bandits you did absolutely nothing to help with.

“Thank you.” The other phrase you know.

Her smile is tiny and brief and just a bit detached. So you probably got the vocabulary right. Then she’s off, striding over to her own bedroll—the night is warm and they all set up out here, so you’re guessing it isn’t going to rain (except for Astarion, who always sleeps inside his tent).

You hope you won’t be as sore tomorrow (it’ll probably be worse!). The night air carries a heavy sort of fug that reminds you of humidity and growing things and Oklahoma. Y’all had spotted the swamp down the next rise; you’d reach it tomorrow morning.

You think your tiredness and achiness would make it easy to fall asleep. It ought to. But your body seems hell bent on revenge, and you sleep rough, tossing and turning.

And maybe something about that puts you more on edge than usual. Or maybe you just get lucky. Cause the next time your eyes crack open and you roll to your opposite side, you spot the teeth.

Adrenaline blasts right through the fatigue. You’re scrambling away before you even fully register what you see. Until he also stumbles back, and Astarion lifts both his hands in surrender.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[silversatoru]

step-dad nanami + brat taming 😼?

dark content event!!!

yes yes yes yes yes yes yesyyesysyesy mmm so good mm very tasty idea ily and i got very carried away

nanami + brat taming

tw: nsfw 18+, f!reader, psuedocest (nanami is your step-dad), brat-taming, noncon/dubcon, impact play, power imbalance, mild size kink?, manhandling, fingering, nanami said fuck jujutsu and is a very rich business man au

wc: 1.7k

you knew your mother’s new fiancé was a moderately successful business man, but you certainly weren’t expecting to pull up to a security gate on the day that you moved in with him. a large house constructed with dark-colored bricks loomed over your mom’s dented toyota prius, and you wondered what the hell one lonely man needed all this space for.

the white-haired butler that opened the front door and offered to carry some of your bags seemed nice enough, but you couldn’t help but scoff at the entire situation. walking onto the pristine and shiny floors in your scuffed up sneakers made you wonder just how your mom had managed to gold-dig her way into this one. either she was terribly convincing, or this guy was horribly desperate — either way you weren’t opposed to reaping the benefits. a butler, a giant in-ground pool, a bedroom that was three times the size of your old one?

yeah, you’d settle in real quick.

and you did just that, taking whatever you wanted and not feeling a shred of guilt for it. this guy, nanami kento, had more than enough money to go around, so why shouldn’t you indulge yourself? why shouldn’t you throw unsolicited pool parties while they’re at work? invite boys over to spend time in your king sized bed? your mom forced you out of your hometown to move in with this rich asshole, might as well make the most of it.

and things were going pretty fucking smoothly if you do say so yourself, or at least they were until nanami caught you sneaking a boy through your window one night.

you thought your were so smart, so slick with the way that you used his house as your personal playground behind his back. but why would he own such an esteemed property and not have security cameras? you weren’t smart at all, in fact you were incredibly, incredibly stupid.

and you’ve been getting on nanami’s nerves for a while, sashaying around the house in tiny outfits surrounded by a horde of immature boys. he’d watch you through the security footage while he worked — blood boiling at the way you flaunted his home as if it were your own.

those boys were never going to be enough for you; you’d walk all over them with your inflated ego and terrible attitude. you needed a man, someone grown, who could put your back in your place — you needed nanami — and fuck, he’d wanted you since the day you walked through his front door. he’d been patient, very patient, but this was enough to snap the thin wire that was holding him back.

he didn’t hesitate to kick the boy right back out the window he climbed through, threatening to call the cops if he didn’t leave his fucking property right now. and then a firm hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you up the stairs and into his bedroom.

he gave your arm a harsh tug, tossing your body towards his large neatly made bed. the edge of the raised mattress whacked you in the gut, your face falling forward and mashing into the silky comforter.

“what the fu-,” you snapped your head back to look at him, but were immediately met with a rolled up black sock being shoved into the back of your mouth.

you coughed and whined through the fabric as he grasped both your wrists in his one large hand, his other weaving the leather belt that was previously looped through his trousers around your wrists. he had zero patience for you right now, and he was making that evidently clear.

“i’ve tried to stay patient with you, but you’ve forced my hand this time,” he looked at you with dark eyes, one of his hands undoing the zipper at the back of your skirt.

you tried to kick with your legs, tried to cuss him out through the sock, but it was entirely ineffective, his strong hands holding you down and the cotton preventing a single coherent word from leaving your lips. your skirt was gliding to your feet now, your bare ass exposed and looking nanami right in the eyes.

“sneaking in another boy? how many times should i spank you for that? five? ten? i think ten would be suitable in this situation,” he used one hand to keep you pinned to the mattress, and the other to caress the smooth skin of your upper thigh, “what do you think?”

obviously you tried to reason with him, tell him that you didn’t deserve any spanks, that you weren’t a child, that this whole thing was fucking weird — but none of that made it out of your mouth, not through the soggy sock that was still in your way.

“i’m glad you agree, ten it is,” he gave you a thoughtful look, raising up his hand in preparation to strike you for the first time.

“one”.

his hand swung down with incredible force, a piercing smacking sound echoing through the room as you squealed and kicked under his touch. it felt like a thousand pins piercing through your skin, a blazing fire that burned through his fingers and straight through to your brain.

“two”.

the second smack was brought down with even more strength, your whole body lurching in response to the impact. you still kicked, still fought, still screamed through gag for him to fuck off, but a small part of you was already anticipating number three.

“three”.

the third strike to your backside flipped a switch in your brain, your legs falling limp and your screams replaced with pitiful whimpers and whines. his hand on your skin was starting to hurt so good, bits of the sock becoming trapped in your clenched teeth.

four, five, and six came quickly after, only a few seconds of rest between each of them — and nanami knew that he’d won when your feet began to push up onto your tip-toes, your ass wiggling closer to him as you waited for more.

“you count the next ones,” he reached forward and plucked the disgusting sock out of your mouth, tossing it to the floor and caressing your cheek.

seven came down hard, goosebumps lining your arms as you yelped; your tied up hands grasping at air. a shameful “seven”, rolled from your tongue a few moments later, your shaky voice flooding nanami’s ears.

“good girl,” he cooed, “three more”.

the next three stung the worst, nanami hissing at how badly it hurt his own hand — but your were a lightheaded, dizzy mess; practically drooling on his sheets by the time he was done. you’d done exactly what he asked, taken all ten and even counted out the last four — you were so good for him, and it was so easy.

he helped you roll over onto your back and then slipped his hand under the waistband of your panties, pulling and letting them fall down to your ankles. you’d taken the punishment pretty well, so it was only fair that you were rewarded now.

he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, one of his hands pressing down onto your puffy clit. you knew how inappropriate this was all becoming, but your head was much too hazy to care.

he dipped two of his fingers low, slipping them into your slimy cunt and gently pushing them up inside you. his fingers were long, a sharp whimper flying through your teeth as he curled his fingers against your walls.

what the hell would happen if your mom got home right now? if she saw her soon-to-be husband fist-deep in her daughter?

those were the things you should have been thinking, but they didn’t cross your mind once. how could you care about the what if’s when nanami was stuffing you full with his thick fingers on one hand, and expertly massaging your clit with the other.

no one your age had this experience, and none of the boys you’d messed with had ever made you feel this good with such little effort. nanami was opening your eyes to his expert hands, and you began to wonder how many sorry brats had ended up in this exact spot before. maybe this is what he did for fun — romancing middle-aged women just to prey on their college-aged daughters until they inevitably get caught one day — and then the cycle continues.

but right now, on the edge of losing yourself around his fingers, you didn’t care if you were the hundredth step-daughter he’d done this to — it was worth it.

your walls clamped around his fingers as he thrusted them deeper, his other thumb rubbing hard and consistent circles over your sensitive nub. it was impossible to hold out any longer, the ball in your stomach flying undone as you rolled your hips into his hand and creamed all over his fingers. the room was filled with the prettiest mewls and whines, your body shaking and lurching as he kept feeling you even after your orgasm was fading.

only once you accidentally kicked him from the intensity of the overstimulation did he unsheath his fingers from your cunt, his skin glistening with your fluids. he shoved them into your mouth, your eyes widening as he offered a simple: “suck”.

but you did what you were told, you’d quickly learned that disobeying him would only lead to something worse. he smirked for the first time after he plucked them from your mouth, your lips making a satisfying popping sound.

“never gonna invite those boys over again, right?” he taunted you, an obvious bulge sitting in his dress pants.

you quickly shook your head no.

but if breaking the rules meant this would happen again?

you’d be breaking them every goddamn day.

[writer-akihiko]

TW First year students x fem! MC who's secretly a demon princess, who will they react to her powers when they found her in her demon form?

First Years + DemonPrincess!MC

I had fun with this prompt in general, and I hope I made some fun scenarios that you like!

Warnings: Bullying from other students and hurtful words, Epel is censored because Vil doesn't allow it

Sebek Zigvolt

He forgot to give you back your notebook from class, so he had to go in the evening

If Sebek remembered correctly, in his 'I'm A Good Boyfriend' notebook, you said you usually rested in the evening

"YN, I'm here to deliver your notebook!-"

"Go away Sebek!"

He was appalled. You've never scolded him in such a way before!

He quickly fished out his notebook, and he flipped to a page where Lilia had lectured him on what to do when you were feeling down

"Here it is…" He muttered

He barged in your door, breaking down the rickety door, "YN! I am here to comfort you!"

"S-Sebek?!"

He almost dropped the notebook. He was surprised at you appearance, as he saw horns on your head, as well as tattoos on your skin that he's never seen before

"YN… You're…"

You sighed. "Yes Sebek, I'm a dem-"

"You're a Fae! Like me!"

Before he got too excited, you settled him down and explained your appearance

He felt ashamed of himself for his initial behaviour when you explained that you were a princess. He doesn't really mind that you're a demon, in fact, he understands you more as people of his world usually misunderstands Fae-kind

In general, he's quite amazed anytime you demonstrate your powers

He lowkey wants to see you and Waka-sama have a showdown with magic, but his heart knows it'd hurt to see you in danger

Ace Trappola

He got held back by Professor Crewel due to some argument he got in with Grim

He asked around if anyone else saw you, but much to his shock, he found you surrounded by some other students. Again

He wanted to pummel their faces in, but now looking at you, you seemed calm…

In the blink of an eye, a net of dark magic appeared underneath the students, trapping them at their ankles

Ace had his mouth open as horns and wings similar to the colour of your hair started growing from you. What freaked him out more was that the wings weren't made of feathers… They looked ripped apart and made of the same magic he couldn't identify

"A-Ace!"

Upon seeing your boyfriend, you flung the students away into the Garden with your magic. Someone would find them later…

"U-Um… This…" You got embarrassed, feeling shy in your demon form

"THAT WAS SO COOL!"

Ace then pestered you to tell him where you learnt such magic, although he might've accidentally grabbed your horns the wrong way

He listened carefully, since it caused you such discomfort when he touched your horns

He didn't think you'd be a princess…

"Wait… Does this mean you have a demon father?"

You nodded your head. "But my brother's the Demon King at the moment… Why?"

"I need to mentally prepare myself if your demon family want to kill me since I want to propose to you after graduation…"

Deuce Spade

You and Deuce were nervous, since it was a magical mana exam. It would dictate certain classes you'd be able to take next semester…

You were the last to go, and your boyfriend cheerfully waved at you as he gave a thumbs up. He must've passed the test…

You had to remind yourself to control your mana, otherwise you'd have some explaining to do

As you let the teacher examine you, you couldn't help but notice that there was some kind of barrier around the orb you were practicing with

As you removed the barrier, you realised that it was a trap by the teacher!...

You couldn't help but pour your normal amount of magic into the orb, which, put on a show around the students as they marvelled at the dark magic

"Well," Principal Crowley announced, after you were done with your examination. "You'd best be coming with me."

After a long talk with Crowley, you were surprised that Deuce and Grim were at the door, eavesdropping at your conversation

"I overheard… I was worried about you…" He admitted

Deuce however, was quite curious about your appearance, so after his and your dinner, you allowed him to see you shift into your demon form

He did ask if it hurt, to which you shook your head

He admired your wings and your bigger, claw-like hands as you felt heat in your cheeks by the way he was intensely staring at you

"Y-You're adorable…"

Even though you towered Deuce's height in your demon form, it didn't stop him from giving you your usual goodnight kiss on the forehead

Jack Howl

He always wanted to show off his skills to you, so he invited you to a practice match against the Diasomnia dorm

He was against the first years of the dorm, so you silently cheered for Jack

As you were continuously impressed by Jack's speed, you couldn't help but notice a strand of magic tagged on him…

Your magical vision traced it to one of the students on the opposite team, who was passively reciting a spell to jinx Jack's next move

There was only the seniors… So it should be fine to stop that student this once…

You were too slow, as the spell had already whizzed through the field. You could still stop it from hitting Jack!...

You felt everyone's gaze on you as you interrupted the spell. Knowing that your appearance had changed, you shied away

Some students ran away, but Jack didn't. He picked you up, horns, feathers and demonic body parts, all of it and embraced you

"Hey! Stop looking at my girlfriend like she's a monster!" He growled

The seniors quickly punished the student causing tricks on the field, but some were still weary of you

Jack put you down, kissing your forehead. "Thank you precious for saving me there."

Eventually, you had to explain to the teachers what you were

Some dorm leaders grew afraid of you, but Jack didn't care. You were still his precious girlfriend

So what if you both were seen as monsters? He thought. The big bad wolf and the terrifying demon princess could live in peace and quiet, in their own space in the forest…

Jack thinks the whole thing is cool, but he is a little jealous that your magical abilities are so much better than his. You tell him he makes up for it in his physical strength

Epel Felmier

You and Epel were taking a stroll, on the way to the field for the MagiShift club

You promised to cheer him on, and you decided it would be a cheeky way to take some photos with your Ghost Camera

You comfortably sat next to Jack as you got ready to take some photos

Unfortunately, you weren't sure of the exact details, but a student decided it was a perfect opportunity to set off a prank near you and Jack

You weren't exactly in control of your own powers, so the impact caused you to scream and lose control of your appearance

The other students screamed in turned, seeing a 'monster' transform in front of them

Epel saw the prank beforehand, but he couldn't run fast enough to get to you

He couldn't think straight, he just had to make sure you were alright. So when he overheard the students yelling at you, he threatened them

Everyone was freaking out at your changing body, since your skin had different markings, almost like carvings etched into it and a pool of dark magic flooded below you

"I-I'm sorry I-" You tried to apologise, but others constantly berated you

"She's a freak! Someone seal her away!"

Epel couldn't stop himself from whacking the student who said that on the head

The other seniors managed to calm the students down, sending them away

You briefly explained everything to Epel, repeating your apologies to him

"Don't aplogise YN. Those idiots don't understand."

Epel, in all honesty, didn't care if you were a demon princess or a human or a fairy

Whoever got in the way of your relationship on the other hand, he'd pick a fight with them even though you were the one who could easily clean the fight up

"Hey YN, don't listen to em. They don't know how cool you are. As long as I'm the one you love, I'm okay with anything."

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[pansyslut]

little minx

pansy x fem reader

warnings: dom pansy/sub reader, spanking, grinding, slight masochism, subspace, aftercare, safe word in place, mommy kink

you had been such a good girl to pansy and she knew it. she had been wanting to reward you for a while but couldn’t quit come up with a good one. she really wanted to spank you but she had only ever done it when you were being bad and she didn’t want you to only associate it with punishments.

walking in the kitchen, just gotten home from work, she sees you cooking something at the stove as you wave your hips to the music. walking up behind you, she snakes her arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. “my little, minx.”

“hi momma,” you reply bashfully turning and nudging your head in the crook of her neck. you stand in her embrace as her arms move around you, finishing up what’s on the stove.

“as yummy as this meal looks, princess, i have other plans for us in mind. when you’re done, put it in the fridge and we’ll heat it up later.”

“yes ma’am”

lifting herself up, she sits on the island countertop and watches you silently. once you were done, she pulls you into her arms once again and presses a kiss to your temple. “you have been so good recently little girl. i’m gonna take care of you tonight, ‘kay? we’re gonna try something new if you’re comfortable with it.” she says and you nod.

leaping from the counter, she takes your hand and guides you to the couch, positioning you in her lap. pressing her hands against both your cheeks, she strokes you softly with her thumbs. “baby we’re gonna try pleasure spanking tonight. you’ve only had spankings when you were in trouble but you might like it? and plus you know i love seeing your bottom all red and marked up,” she says making your cheeks heat up.

you put your head down bashfully and you feel her legs bounce underneath you sending butterflies straight to your stomach. she knew her knee bounces always got you worked up and you send her a look which was supposed to come off somewhat mean, only to find her looking down at you with a teasing grin.

“of course you can tell me no but you know i always wanna try something once with you. you can color out at any moment. is this okay?” she asks sweetly and you nod your head. you feel her hands on her hips starting to guide you in position but you grab her hands, making her halt. “can i please go get my stuffie, momma? i know you get annoyed when i give him more attention than you but-”

you were suddenly cut off by pansy’s lips and you feel her nod against you. “of course you can- i should’ve thought about that sooner. i want you to be comfortable princess,” she says a taps your bottom lightly, “hurry on.”

scurrying away, you run up the stairs to your shared bedroom and see your stuffed animal tucked away in the covers, probably from when pansy made y’all’s bed this morning. smiling to yourself, you can’t help but think how sweet your girlfriend is- although she doesn’t show it a lot.

breaking out of your thoughts, you grab the stuffed animal and run back to the living room, only slowing down once you were in her sight before she could get on you for running.

she now had her heels off and her work blouse slightly unbuttoned, waiting for you patiently. getting in position you’ve practiced with her many times, you drape over her knees and start mentally preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

“what’s your safe word, y/n?”

“red”

you hear her mutter a ‘good girl’ as you feel her slowly sliding down your pants, revealing your bare bottom to her. “oh someone got a little confident today, huh?” she asks making you giggle.

she starts rubbing your bottom, making you squirm in her touch. “y/n you know why i do this. if i don’t warm you up first it will hurt more and i don’t wanna do any permanent nerve damage. i’ll count okay?”

nodding your head, you cross your ankles trying to internally tell your body not to thrash out. feeling her hand leave your rear, whack.

clutching your stuffed animal, you burry your head in your arms.

whack, whack, whack

“four”

arching your back up, you push against her one of her hands which is now cupping your core.

whack, whack, whack, whack, whack, whack

“ten- such a good girl”

whack- woah baby that felt good

after letting out a moan, you hear pansy ask “are you okay baby?” frantically nodding your head “more momma please more,” you plead.

her hands wrap around your hips and pull you to sit up in her lap. laying down on her chest, you hug her neck and your stuffie tightly. her hands start needing your bum, trying to calm you down- or to stop the bruising you didn’t know, all you knew was that you wanted more.

whack, whack, whack, whack

“fifteen, such a good princess.”

starting to jump up in down in her lap, “more more more momma”

whack, whack, whack, whack

“thirty, look at my little baby doing so good,” she coos in your ear, “who knew my baby was a little masochist?”

you knew she was teasing but you were too far in to care right now. trying to pull her even closer to you, you accidentally rub your clit on her skirt buckle making you ram your hips into hers.

“hump mommy baby. cum, you don’t need to ask.”

whack, whack, whack, whack

“oh my- momma momma i’m cum- i’m cuming,” you say now fully humping her buckle, letting your hips run wild.

finally slumping against her, you lay your head against her breasts while listening to her heartbeat, trying to catch your breath. she lets you lay there for a few minutes while patting your head when suddenly she hoists you up in her arms and walks you to your room.

setting you in bed, she lays you on your stomach which your ass in plain sight. hearing her rustle around the bathroom, she comes back and sits next to you. “i’m gonna rub some cream on your bum to help you heal faster okay princess?” you only nod your head and grab her knees trying to pushing your face into her touch.

you feel the cold ointment on you as she rubs gently before putting a fresh tshirt over your head, letting it fall, swallowing your figure. you watch contently as she throws on a nightgown and joins you on her side of the bed and finally placing a kiss on you and your stuffies foreheads.

giggling, “mommyyy ted- teddy wants more kisses,” you say shoving your stuffie near her. inside she couldn’t help but wonder what strong personal attachment you had to this bear. yes, it had been the first stuffed animal she had given you but- oh, it clicked in her mind. you were in subspace.

deciding to humor you, she grabs your teddy and starts kissing it repeatedly making you giggle even harder. deciding that was enough, you snatch it back, getting jealous. “that’s my mommy- not yours. she loves me more,” you say whispering in its ear so pansy wouldn’t hear.

bringing a hand to caress your cheek, “y/n are you feeling alright? i didn’t go too rough did i?” shaking your head, you start peppering her face with kisses and start nibbling on her neck.

“okay- okay baby,” she says laughing, “it’s time for bed. goodnight princess.”

[skiller0dani]

Sinful | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | sub!spencer x bau!reader requests info summary | when spencer decides to let the witness flirt with him, you decide to have some fun of your own with derek. it becomes obvious that it's a mistake.

this was sitting in my drafts unedited!! I'm still trying to finish up Amortentia part 2 & the Ethan AU. They'll be up I promise, until then.. enjoy Sub!Spencer! This is my first real stab at a dom reader so I hope I did okay. I've read fics about face slapping as a kink and I just wanna let you guys know that I am not comfortable writing that so I probably never will include that.

Also I hate saliva so I probably wont write about spitting either. Sorry lololol

thanks @imagining-in-the-margins for the inspiration! (was totally inspired by "messy lessons" if you guys haven't read it...you should!)

At first you doubted he knew what he was even doing.

At first.

Maybe he wasn't trying to get in her pants, and maybe he wasn't trying to lead her on. But he was still letting her shamelessly flirt with him. You'd been with the FBI for years and made the silly mistake of assuming that working in the same department as your boyfriend would make things easier on you. Being able to see him everyday is a definite plus, seeing him in danger every time you're in the field is definitely not a plus. Watching a busty blonde witness flirt with him is certainly not a plus, especially when he lets her throw herself into his chest. Supposedly "distraught" but you see the cheeky smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

You see the thing about Spencer that nobody except for you knows, is that deep down he's a very naughty boy. The little mischievous glint in his eyes when his eyes meet yours from across the interrogation room proved that. You were professional however, so you were forced to stand by and watch him comfort her. Bitch.

"C-Could you get me some water?" Her voice was shaky, you still didn't buy it.

"Sure, Doctor-"

"Agent Y/L/N if you wouldn't mind?" Spencer's much more dominating voice cut through yours. Your eyebrows flew up as you shared a millisecond stare down with him. You could see the playful look in his eyes, flashed by the brattiest smile you'd ever seen grace his lips. Your lips stretched in a tight smile before you nodded and turned out of the room.

When JJ joined you near the kitchenette she opened her mouth to say something, but once she'd noticed you white knuckle gripping the faucet handle she changed her mind. She continued with whatever she was doing, not looking at you. It was a tense few minutes until she turned out of the room. While everyone in the BAU knew you and Spencer were together, it was easy for them to forget seeing as you never acted as a couple at work. For obvious reasons. Only in moments of danger, like when Spencer's helicopter went down and there were panicked tears streaming down your cheeks did they remember that you were in fact, together.

Apparently your usually good boy seems to have forgotten who he belongs to as well. The sight you returned to left tendrils of anger licking at the pit of your stomach.

"Oh really, that is so cool! I'll bet you're so strong!" The witness had perked up considerably since you'd left the room. Her hand reached up to curl at his bicep, and he didn't stop her. What a brat. Spencer sat next to her rather than across from her at the table, presumably to console her. Spencer beamed at her praise, an action you did not miss.

"Yeah, actually FBI agents are required to pass a variety of physical exams to insure they're physically healthy enough to chase down an unsub if need be-"

"Here's your water." Your voice was tense and you had to resist the urge to "accidentally" spill the water on her as you set the glass down. You didn't meet Spencer's eye as he stood to follow you out of the room. You could see the naughty façade fading as soon as he'd left the room.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft and his big brown eyes wide when you turned to glance at him. Your heart melted at the sight of those sad puppy dog eyes but you're not going to give in when baby boy broke so many rules.

"Shush." Is all you say, your voice sharp. You're not going to hide the fact that you're mad at him. And you're going to stay mad at him, no matter how cute he is.

"Yes ma'am." Spencer mumbles as he follows you towards the room Hotch is waiting in with the whiteboard. You try your hardest to focus on whatever Hotch is saying but all you can think about is that stupid witness pressing her chest up against Spencer, and the fact that he was practically bathing in the attention she gave him. You hated the fact that Spencer was getting exactly what he wants, he lives for your punishments. In a way, punishing him was also rewarding him but it was rewarding for you too.

After vaguely remembering Hotch asking for Spencer, you watched him scramble forward. You don't miss the fact that he nearly stops to ask for your permission to do so, you have him trained so well. A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth and you almost feel like forgiving him until Hotch speaks again.

"Reid, I want you to take Allison Calloway home..." he lists off where the rest of you will go but at that point you're no longer listening. You hear Hotch pair your name with Derek, which sparks a wicked idea in your head. He's having Spencer take the witness home? Is the world punishing you? You see Spencer steal one nervous glance at you before rushing to get Allison. You tongue your cheek before reluctantly following Derek out of the precinct.

//

You and Derek were apparently instructed by Hotch to go investigate the second crime scene, where a young man with his hands missing was found earlier this morning. You peek at Derek out of the corner of your eye, Derek is one of your close friends and he knows more than he should about yours and Spencer's...extracurricular activities. He seems to be in a good mood today, and he's unlikely to think anything of it. He'll definitely tell Spencer about it, which is sort of what you're hoping for. While this is hardly the place for you to "come on" to Derek, you're willing to do it. Spencer needs a taste of his own medicine.

"Odd, that the unsub removes the hands but repositions the watch around the victims ankle." Derek muses, his hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Luckily the officers sent to patrol the crime scene are nowhere nearby. You circle Derek, trying to formulate the perfect sentence in your mind. It can't be too much, but definitely enough for him to inform Spencer. Derek is used to more lewd phrases coming from yours and Penelope's mouth, so surprising him enough to tattle to your boyfriend will be a challenge.

It can't be anything that would hurt Spencer however.

Derek views Spencer as his little brother and would never hurt him, and you wouldn't want to hurt Spencer either this is all in good filthy fun. It has to be a little risky, but not so risky that Derek would prefer keeping it from Spencer to protect him. If its too much Derek will approach you directly about it which would be humiliating and would entirely miss the point. This is a very delicate operation.

"Oh Derek, have you been working out?" You decide to take the easy route, adding a dash of sultry to your tone.

"Occasionally." Derek doesn't turn his head towards you, you haven't quite captured his attention yet.

"Firm is a good look on you." You tease, you'll need to ease him into it because he's going to have the wind knocked out of him when you finally lay it on him.

"Easy girly, you're venturing into dangerous territory." You hear the lilt to his tone letting you know that he's joking. You need to push it further.

"No I'm serious," you need to tread very carefully. You don't want to ruin a friendship you still want to keep, "it's a really good look on you."

Derek turns to you then, an eyebrow raised as he watches you trail your eyes down his body. While Derek isn't a bad looking guy, he doesn't even come close to comparing to your beautiful boy. Spencer is easily the cutest and sexiest man you've ever had the privilege of standing in the same room with.

"What's with you?" He asks, keeping the smile on his face so he doesn't alert you that he's concerned. You're on the right track but if you leave it here Derek will let it go. You need to drop that mini bomb on him, just a little more. You trail a finger down his shoulder, towards his bicep.

"Nothing, just admiring the view. The big, strong, sexy, view. What I wouldn't give to have you in bed Derek Morgan." There's the bomb. Your words have an immediate effect over him. The half-lidded sultry look in your eyes is enough for him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he can tell if you're joking but now he really can't tell. He's speechless, which doesn't happen to Derek Morgan very often.

"Y/N..."

"Call me if you wanna take me up on my offer." You send a wink at him before turning to head towards the black SUV. That should be enough for him to tattle.

//

When you return to the precinct, you watch with pleased eyes as Derek immediately pulls Spencer into a side room. Derek briefly glances at you, and you send him a smile but do not receive on in return. You don't think anything of it, Derek will get over it eventually with an explanation. You watch carefully as Derek begins to speak and an unreadable expression crosses onto Spencer's face, you expect he's just absorbing what Derek is telling him. Any minute now that look will cross onto his face, those dark eyes that warn you that you've officially annoyed him.

Derek keeps speaking, you can see his lips moving. What are they talking about? It shouldn't be taking this long. You're too far away to really make out their faces, so you subtly sneak closer when Spencer's eyes flash to meet yours and you gasp. There is no anger on his face, no playful annoyance, instead you see pain. Hurt. Betrayal. Derek tries to reach out to grab Spencer but the door to that side room opens and Spencer comes rushing out of it. Not bothering a side glance at you as he makes his hasty exit.

"I was only kidding." You explain quickly as Derek emerges. He doesn't look amused.

"It was too far Y/N. He's crushed." Derek snaps, brushing past you. Immediately you turn and exit the precinct, quickly finding Spencer tucked away in a secluded corner. He's sitting against the building, his head tucked into his knees and the absolute worst part is the fact that he's softly crying. You kneel in front of him in an instant, although you're not sure what to even say.

"Oh baby boy, I was only kidding. I didn't mean it, I said it because you flirted with that blonde witness!" You explain in a hurry, trying to reach out to take him in your arms. Spencer resists, instead lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy and red rimmed, "kidding?"

"Yes precious, I was kidding."

"But Derek is more...attractive then I am." Spencer whimpers softly. You reach forward to firmly grasp Spencer's chin, ensuring he looks at you.

"Spencer Walter Reid you look at me," You order, and hesitantly Spencer lifts his watery eyes to meet yours. "There is not a single person who is more attractive then you are, you are flawless."

"But deep down you want Derek-"

"I was kidding Spencer. I only want you, my good boy." You purr, and you see a shiver run down his spine. You lean forward to press your lips to his before your thumbs come up to swipe away your tears.

"I'm not a good boy, I don't deserve it." Spencer whimpers once you help him stand up. Even though you're looking up at him, it's still very clear that you're the one in charge. "I flirted with Allison."

"You're right, you haven't been very good have you? I'm sure you'll make it up to me in the hotel room." You smile pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. He nods immediately, it warms your heart.

"I love you." Spencer whispers after he catches your hand as you're about to open the door. You press a kiss to his palm, "I love you precious."

//

You could feel the nerves rolling off of him when you opened the door to your shared hotel room. The door shut with a soft click as you kicked off your shoes. Spencer remained at the hotel room door curled in on himself and wringing his hands together. You have to hide the smile as you shed your jacket from your shoulders, beginning to reach for your jeans when you pause. You take a seat on the bed, watching Spencer eye you carefully from his spot by the door.

"Come here." There isn't a question in your tone, it's more of an order. An order Spencer hastily obeys as he scrambles to stand before you.

"Undress me." You instruct, and Spencer kneels immediately to grab at the hem of your shirt. He carefully lifts the fabric off your body and tosses it aside before reaching around your body to unclip your bra. "No touching baby boy, you were naughty remember?" You snapped, and you saw him turn his head down in shame before turning his attention towards your pants. He unbuttons your jeans and helps pull them down your legs. Spencer's breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on your clothed pussy.

"Like what you see precious? Maybe if you were a good boy and didn't let that woman run her hands all over you, maybe I'd let you touch." You purr watching the disdain in his eyes when he realizes what his punishment is going to be.

"Tell me the truth baby boy, did you let her touch you in the car?"

He nods, but that's not good enough for you. You reach down to roughly palm him through his slacks.

"I said did you let her touch you?" You punctuate every word with a gentle squeeze around his cock. Finally, Spencer seems to find his voice.

"Y-Yes!"

"Where? Show me where she marked what's mine." You hiss, not even attempting to disguise your frustration. Spencer lifts one hand to his chest and trails it down his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his pants before thankfully he stops.

"You let her touch you, this close to your cock?" You snap, tearing your hand away from him.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammers, his eyes wide and his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Boy does he look pretty on his knees before you. Not pretty enough for mercy however. There's a pleading look in his eyes, and a desperation. A desperation to please you.

"Make it up to me." You snap and as soon as the words leave your lips, Spencer's fingers are curling around the waistband of your underwear and tearing them off your body.

"Y-Yes ma'am." You lean back on your elbows as Spencer lowers his head between your legs, his eyes flickering to yours briefly. With a nod of your head, Spencer is delving between your legs with the enthusiasm of sex deprived teenager. Your head tosses back immediately as you feel his tongue licking thick stripes over your entrance. He continues to lap at you, his tongue teasing your entrance before he returns to his heavy licking. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his curls and pulling his head closer.

"Just like that, you're being such a good boy." You praise through breathy moans, and Spencer can feel his chest swell with pride. He loves being your good boy. But he isn't your baby boy all the time, sometimes, with a bit of coaxing, he becomes daddy. Spencer reaches up to prod a finger at your entrance before he's sinking in knuckle deep, his mouth curling around your clit. Spencer pumps on finger, to stretch you a little before slowly working a second finger into your suffocatingly tight heat.

"Yes Spencer, don't stop." You beg, feeling yourself climbing closer to reaching the peak, especially when his tongue flicks expertly against your clit while his fingers pump steadily into you. "Oh God, my good boy-" You praise again, and this time Spencer moans against you. Your toes curl as the vibrations send a course of pleasure through you, you've got to make him do that again.

"Do you like being my good boy Spencer? My good, obedient boy. So eager to please me, to make me feel good. And you do, you make me feel so good because you're such a good, good, boy." Your heavy praise causes Spencer to release a low groan, and the feeling is enough to launch you over the edge. Spencer keeps pumping is fingers into you, his tongue swirling soft circles over your clit to help you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped jerking, you finally pull him off you.

"I forgive you precious, but unfortunately I still have to punish you." You inform him as you pull him back up to his feet. You hear him whine as you push his chest to lay him back against the bed.

"Do you have to?"

"Are you talking back to me baby boy?"

"N-No!" He squeaks instantly, his cheeks painted red. You stand over him, laying beneath you and you can't fight the soft moan that escapes your lips upon seeing him. His hair is disheveled from you raking your fingers through his, his brown eyes are wide and innocent as he looks up at you, and his cheeks are dusted such a beautiful shade of pink.

"Take off your clothes precious, I want to see all of you." You instruct, and you love the shy look on his face as he reaches up to remove his shirt. You let your eyes shamelessly roam his body as he slowly exposes more skin to you. Despite having been together for a few years now, Spencer is still incredibly insecure. Deep down he's worried you'll grow tired of him. Worried that you'll seek out other men despite being with him. Spencer is worried he's not enough to keep you interested. Which is wildly untrue, it's already been over 3 years and if anything you become more interested as time goes on.

"So beautiful baby boy, your body is a work of art." You breathe under your breath. Spencer blushes even deeper then he was before as he nervously fidgets underneath. You swing your legs on either side of his waist, your palms on the bed next to his head. "Your punishment, precious boy," your hands drift to his that are resting on your hips, "is that you can't touch me." You finish, moving his hands to the bed.

Spencer's eyes widen as his head drops back. A whine escapes his lips, but like a good boy, he grasps tightly at the sheets. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock, pressing the head against your entrance before you teasingly lower onto him. Spencer's eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of your velvety walls around him- it's almost too much for the poor boy. It doesn't help that it's been a few weeks since you two last had sex, meaning you're tighter then you normally are. In fact you're so tight that Spencer can't even breathe properly while he's stretching you open.

"Oh baby boy, you feel absolutely wonderful. Your cock stretches me open so good." You purr, your hands landing on his chest for leverage so you can bounce on him faster. Spencer whimpers softly, the feeling is overwhelming, you can tell he's struggling to contain himself. Your hair drifts down your back when you throw your head back, his cock hitting places deep inside you.

"Getting close," You moan and Spencer knows that's his cue to reach down and begin rubbing circles over your clit. As soon as his thumb makes contact you're moaning loudly, your free hand digging into his hair to hold onto tightly. "Yes Spencer, yes." The phrase becomes a chant you repeat in your head over and over again. Spencer continues to rub you, desperate to help you find your release. When you slam down on him again, his cock hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl. You cum instantaneously, your body nearly falling top of Spencer's from the sheer force of it. Spencer's arms come up to steady you, offering shallow thrusts into you to chase his own release.

"Y/N...c-can I?" His voice is wrought, and you smile weakly.

"Yes precious, you can cum." As soon as you give him permission, he's cumming in hot gushes into you, his face buried in your neck. You run your hand down his back as his heart rate slows back to normal, and Spencer's arms stay curled around your waist.

"Spence?"

"Hm?" You can hear the lazy drawl in his voice that lets you know he's getting very sleepy.

"Don't ever break my rules again, or your punishment will be much worse."

"Yes ma'am." You press a kiss to his lips before pulling off him, and curling yourself into his side.

[datawyrms]

Ectober Day 3: Mutant

heads up for some mild body horror today. And AO3 crosspostin!

Phantom was a constant, frustrating presence. Sam could feel the demon when it chose to lurk closer to her instead of keeping after Tucker, a low whining sound that settled at the back of her jaw and refused to leave. It made it hard to focus on schoolwork, let alone figuring out how to deal with the monster that literally stole half of her soul. She might have enjoyed strange tomes and tales of demons, but she never really thought they actually existed. Half remembered facts and possibilities could make things worse, and the awful hum had her doubting a large portion of what she remembered.

It might be less annoying if Tucker had to suffer this toothache in her brain too, but apparently he didn’t hear the creature that had wrapped itself around them- to them, really. Not unless it spoke. Well, it was more her fault than his. Maybe it was just punishing her for trying a silly prank on her friend that ended up being more real than it should have.

“Hey. You really don’t like that blonde guy in the jacket, huh.”

Great. Think of the devil and it pipes up. “I thought I told you not to talk to me”

“You might have. You don’t like em though, right? How he shoves the smaller kids around and no one cares. Or is it the girl you don’t like, since he’s showing off for her? While she doesn’t even tell him off for picking on weaklings?” The demon’s words invaded her skull, effectively drowning out anything her teacher was saying, barely able to keep a grip on her own train of thought.

Just ignore the thing talking right in your head. Was the class over yet? Tucker being around felt like it helped, a little. Distracted the presence that she couldn’t completely ignore. Her notebook remains completely blank, unable to even distractedly doodle in the margins with the combined forces of the headache and demonic chattering.

“I could give him that telling off, you know. Just a little thing. They’ll never know it was you. It wouldn’t even hurt him.”

The only upside was no matter how quietly she muttered, she had a feeling Phantom could hear just fine. “I’m not setting a demon on Dash. Just give up already.”

“So letting him keep hurting others is better? It could just be an illusion, a temporary little chastising! It’s what I’m good at.”

Sam did not appreciate the fact Phantom apparently was getting better at the whole goading thing, even if it had not even been a full day. She had seen how her and Tucker’s shadow would sometimes linger, but she hadn’t really considered why the demon had been doing that. To watch people? To learn about targets it wanted to attack? She might not be a huge fan of Paulina and her clique, but she didn’t want some monster devouring them. Or whatever Phantom wanted to do to them, it was frustratingly vague about what it even did. All she knew is it could look like a shadow, make things cold, and mimic a human before pulling out too long claws. She just needed time to actually look at the book they used, learn what a demon actually was, seeing as Phantom would keep existing no matter how much she used to believe they didn’t. Was messing with her head something it could do to other people too? Or was that just a special ‘gift’ for herself and Tucker?

“Or maybe you do like watching the others suffer, at least you aren’t the target anymore, right?”

Clutching at her hair did nothing but wrinkle her brow at the slight pain, the voice as loud and insidious as ever. “I don’t care, just be quiet.”

“I can do quiet.” It was snickering again as the pain in her jaw eased, her shadow looking less ominous when caught out of the corner of her eye.

Shit. A demon would be all over word semantics, wouldn’t it. Was that close enough to a ‘yes’ for it to go after Dash? Lousy cheating demon-cat-thing. She didn’t care that it looked strange to sprint out of class the moment the bell rang, she had to find Tucker and track down the demon before it did something.

Phantom moved quickly. Too quickly. Intentionally getting clear before she could call him off. Stupid of her to say anything, she warned Tucker and then just did it herself.

“Sam? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Tucker stopped looking at his PDA as his friend ran up, adjusting his glasses to look over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Opposite problem, I don’t know where it’s gotten off to.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? He’s decided to just go back where he came from for a bit?”

“Not if I might have accidentally set it on Dash.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Still not seeing the problem here.”

“Tucker!”

“What? He’s a jerk! Phantom was entertained by erasers, I don’t think he’s gonna do much to Dash.”

“Or it’s just been playing you and might kill him? It’s a demon Tucker!”

“Still kinda think he’s a cat.”

The goth groaned, grabbing her friend by the wrist as she set off down the fall. “Well then we’re herding cats.”

“Okay, okay um. If he’s after Dash I think they have practice today” he struggled to navigate his PDA with only his thumb, eyes darting to the clock and back. “They’re probably on the field by now?”

Sam picked up speed, ignoring Tucker’s cry to slow down. He could have time to collapse after there wasn’t a demon problem.

The football team was scattered on the grassy field, loud discussions just a reminder of how much the sports teams could get away with thanks to earning awards for the school. She wouldn’t dream of going near such a cringe worthy testosterone zone, certainly not without gagging, but gleaming green eyes lurking under bleachers forced her to ignore her preferences.

“See. A cat.” Tucker commented with a wheeze, pointing out the same eyes Sam had noticed. “Just get him a box or something. Probably...behave…”

Maybe they’d been fast enough? Dash didn’t look too bothered, running down the pitch. The buzzing wasn’t back, and much as she hated it, the fact it wasn’t gave her the unpleasant suspicion the demon was still busy imposing on someone else. “Try calling it back or something if you think that’ll work.”

“Don’t have to bite my head off.” Tucker rolled his eyes, trying to edge closer without attracting too much attention, apparently more wary of jocks than actual hellspawn.

Then Dash failed a catch, earning jeers and other comments. Normal, everyday macho bull. The stumbling after a heavy shoulder check was not.

“Woah! I get you too hard there Dash?” Kwan had his head half down in apology, reaching out to steady their star quarterback.

“Just tripped over a stupid rock or something, forget it.” Dash seemed to shrug it off, unaware of how his shadow twisted, ankles at a horrid misshapen angle. He went down hard after taking a step, yelping from apparently nothing but his own careless step.

“He didn’t actually break his ankles, did he?” Tucker said with a dry swallow, caution thrown to the wind.

“He looks okay?” Not that it meant much. “Phantom’s just a shadow right now, isn’t he?”

“W-What’s going on?” Dash sounded wrong, sputtering and afraid instead of the cocky confidence he normally had.

Kwan was already bending down to help him out, but jerked back. “Dash, what happened to your hand?”

“I don’t know!”

He took another step back, half covering his face. “It looks contagious man- hey coach!”

Sam couldn’t blame him- Dash’s hand looked twisted and grey even from this distance, and it only seemed to get worse, more withered and ashen every time he moved, a foul pallor crawling up his skin in a grotesque creeping advance. He was just wasting away while his friends watched, as he teared up in panic but seemed unable to get back to his feet- not that he would be able to get away from his own body weakening and fading.

“Phantom, get over here and stop that, now.” The words felt heavy in her mouth, admitting that any of this was her fault triggered an awful pain in her heart. “Stop tormenting him.”

“Holy shit.” Tucker moved closer to Sam, looking away from the mess of terror unfolding. Not that it could keep the terrified cries from reaching his ears.

“He’s not even bone yet, such a baby.” His voice came from behind them, the teenager-looking monster taking half a step back as Sam tried to slug him. “Hey, I just did what you wanted!” His green eyes were almost as mocking as the hint of fangs showing in his grin. “Thanks for letting me have my own body though.”

“Nuh uh, Sam wouldn’t want you to kill someone! Not even Dash.” Tucker tried to come to her defense. “You did that on your own.”

“I didn’t kill him. It’s illusion. A fake. Just an hour feeling like his helpless victims.” Phantom snorted, pushing some of his white hair clear of his face. “It’s like that ‘karma’ stuff you guys like so much, but actually effective. Mutate his worldview a little.”

It took a moment to realize the demon was speaking out loud, and not in her head now that he was masquerading as an incredibly weird looking human again. “I don’t care, stop it now.”

“Okay, okay. You’re such a killjoy Sam.” He cracked his knuckles. “One boring big guy back to seeing reality. Happy?”

The panicked chatter had fewer screams, but still plenty of confusion. She only lingered a moment to make sure Dash wasn’t a mockery of a slowly decaying corpse before dragging Tucker and the monster away before there could be any new trouble.

[ragingbookdragon]

We Are Better Than Those Who Created Us

Guy Gardner x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I like the OG Guy Gardner storyline, where he becomes more than what he was destined to be, working with special needs kids and being so good with them. GG is a good man with a heart of gold and this is the hill I'll die on goddammit. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was accident. The car had come out of nowhere, speeding down the rainy street like they were living life in the fast lane. And Guy did the only thing his instincts had screamed at him—protect. He’d threw his arms out, wrapping them around her waist, yanking her back and down towards the ground, effectively out of the way of the car. Her cry of pain had gotten lost in the screeching of tires, but the driver hadn’t stopped, merely kept going down the road and half of Guy wanted to get up and yell his lungs out at them, but the other half was concerned about her.

He bent down. “Babe, are you okay?”

She cradled her left ankle. “I think you landed on my ankle when we fell.”

“What?” Guy’s eyes went wide, and he immediately looked down at her leg, shock coursing through him at how it had already begun to swell. “Oh Christ,” he breathed. “I—oh crap.” He met her gaze. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

She shook her head. “It’s okay…but I don’t think I can stand.” (Y/N) reached out and took his hand. “Can you carry me back to your apartment? I saw you had ACE wraps under the bathroom sink.”

“Yeah,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper and he leaned forward, pitching one arm underneath her legs, left one out, and the other arm wrapped around her back; he lifted her with ease, and she tucked her head underneath his chin, resting her ear to his chest.

“Thank you, Guy,” she murmured over the rain, and he nodded, hurrying towards the apartment that was only another block away.

***

He kicked the door closed and moved to the couch, gently setting her down before he quickly looked around like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Guy,” she said. “The wraps under the sink.”

Guy nodded, snapping from his thoughts. “Right. The wraps.” He motioned to her. “I’ll be right back.” He ran off into the apartment and came back a moment later with an ACE wrap in one hand and a pair of basketball shorts in the other.

“It’ll be easier to wrap your ankle if your pants are loose,” he said and she nodded, unbuttoning her jeans.

(Y/N) started tugging them down and when she shifted her foot, she let out a gasp, tears coming to her eyes as the pain in her ankle shot up her leg.

“Are you okay?” he worried, and she shook her head.

“No, I can’t get my pants off without moving my leg.” (Y/N) looked at him. “You’ll need to cut them off.”

Guy blinked. “What?”

“Guy, my pants are too tight, and it’ll hurt too much to get them off.” She shot him a look that said, ‘get busy’. “Find some scissors and get cutting.”

A flash of green appeared before them and he grabbed the construct scissors, going down to the cuff of her injured leg, though he paused and met her eyes once more. “You sure?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah.”

He shook his head before carefully slicing through the denim, up her shin and thigh, all the way to where the fabric stopped at her waist. With part of her body free, he let the construct fade and gently grabbed the right cuff, slowly pulling it off until she was left in her underwear.

Guy grasped her left calf and lifted carefully as to not nudge her ankle, then he slipped the silky fabric under her leg before doing the same to her right leg. He let (Y/N) pull them up her legs and on, then she relaxed against the couch.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and stood. “Let me get some ice to wrap in it.” Guy was only gone a moment and came back with a plastic bag full of ice. “I’ll wrap the first few times, then set the bag between it and the final few, yeah?”

She bit her lip, knowing it was going to hurt horribly, and lifted her leg, letting him work. Every few moments, she let out a quiet whimper and Guy’s hands would still as his face darkened, and when he finally finished, he gently lowered her leg into his lap, simply staring at it.

(Y/N) was going to ask what was wrong when something dropped from his face onto the wrap. “Guy?” (Y/N) questioned worriedly and reached for hm. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at her, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

She was baffled. “What?” trying to shimmy down, she got closer. “Guy, what are you sorry for?”

Finally, he turned his face to her, and her eyes widened when she saw the flood of tears in his green eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and rested a hand on the one that was resting on her calf. “Guy, it was an accident. I’m not angry.”

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, then his voice turned downright loathing. “Like my dad used to do.” Guy reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes. “My old man was getting his belt one night to punish me, and mom tried to stop him.” his jaw went taut. “She grabbed onto him and begged him not to but…he didn’t even look at her when he slung her into the wall and left her there.”

Another tear fell despite how he’d rubbed them away. “She dislocated her shoulder when she hit the wall and fell.” He seemed so angry with himself. “And now I hurt you like my old mad did.” Guy lowered his head. “I…I hurt you, (Y/N).”

She reached up and took his chin, yanking his head up and facing her; he was surprised to see tears in her own eyes as she declared, “Guy Gardner, you are nothing like your father.” His eyes went wide but she continued, “You are an amazing man who has been nothing but good to me. Can you be an ass sometimes? Absolutely. But I have never once, in all the time I’ve been around you, been scared for my safety because of you.”

(Y/N) swallowed, her jaw tightening as she affirmed, “I love you. And I will not sit here and let you believe that you accidentally landing on my ankle after you saved me from being run over by a car, is somehow equivalating you to being the man who abused you day in and day out when you were a boy.”

She stared into his eyes and leaned close. “You are a wonderful man. A wonderful, caring man whose heart is golden.” (Y/N) took his hand with her free on and pressed her lips to his knuckles. “These hands have held me when I have felt broken and worn down and have done nothing but put every piece of me back together better than before.”

Dropping his hand, she shifted and took his face in her hands. “You are not Roland, Guy Gardner. You are more. You are a better man.” (Y/N) gazed at him. “You are mine. And I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

Guy could only gape at the woman in his arms and before he knew what he was doing, he was shifting, avoiding her leg, to press her into the couch, his body resting atop hers as he buried his face in her blouse, arms winding around her waist.

(Y/N) smiled tearfully and threaded her fingers in his short, cropped hair, scratching soothingly as she whispered, “I love you” over and over again as he shook against her. And she didn’t mind the dampness growing in her shirt.

At some point his tears had subsided and he’d gone still against her chest, but she merely smiled and shut her eyes, falling asleep in his arms.

[rowyn-writes]

Inner Demons (Jack Kline x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, violence, self-loathing, mentions of death, smidge of fluff, small spoilers for 13x23

Pairings: Jack Kline x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jack, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Mary, Bobby.

Word Count: 2k

AU: Soulmates

Summary: When Jack runs away after accidentally hurting you, you run after him.

Requested by: @ivyyie

You sat in the bunker, chatting happily with the survivors of apocalypse world. You loved meeting new people, and this was no exception.

You were 22, and had been hunting since you were little. Your parents had known Sam and Dean, two of the greatest hunters of all time. So when they passed away, the Winchester's swore to look after you. Although, you had said repeatedly that you didn't need their help. That was a lie, of course; you loved living with them. They were like the older brothers you never had.

Dean came up to you, a grim look on his face. "C'mon, kiddo. We need your help with something."

· · ·

You stood underneath Mary's umbrella as you looked at the dead body of Maggie. You felt your heart break at the sight. She had been an awfully sweet girl, and you knew that Jack had been close friends with her. You squeezed his hand gently, trying to give him a little bit of comfort.

"I - I-" Jack mumbled, shaking his head. I said I'd protect her, and, Sam. . ."

"Stop, Jack." Sam interjected. "This isn't your fault.'

"Sammy's right." You agreed gently. "There's no way you could have stopped this."

"What happened to her?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know." Mary said with furrowed eyebrows. "Doesn't look supernatural"

"Looks like some son of a bitch beat on her until. . ." Bobby broke off, not being able to finish his sentence. You looked away from Maggie, seeing her like this was too hard for you.

"Who would do something like this?" Castiel growled

On the way back to the bunker, Jack was silent. You could tell he was blaming himself for what happened to Maggie. He was so angry.

"Jack." You whispered. "You can't blame yourself. There's sick people out in the world that aim to hurt people. Not just monsters are capable of killing someone like that."

"I promised that I would protect her." Jack insisted. "I promised that I would protect all of them. That they wouldn't have to worry about Michael and his army. And they come back here just to be killed? How is that fair, Y/n?"

"I never said it was fair, Jack. Nothing's fair. Good people die all the time, and the worst ones stick around for the longest time. It's infuriating, but that's just how it is."

"But why? I don't understand. Bad people are supposed to be punished." Jack's voice shook in anger.

"I used to say that when I was younger. I would ask my mom why that would happen, and she would say, 'When you're picking a flower, do you pick the beautiful one, or the one that's wilted?' Of course I would say the beautiful one. And she would reply with, 'That's how God works. He picks to most beautiful ones for his garden.'"

"Your mother sounds like a good woman." Jack noted.

"Yeah, she was." You nodded. "We're going to find out who did this to Maggie and make sure she finds justice." You assured Jack.

You decided to help Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack interview people who were close with Maggie.

"Word is, you're friends with Maggie." Dean inquired as he entered the library.

"Um, yeah, since we came over." The girl said. You didn't have a chance to speak with her prior to this, so you had no clue what her name was. "Me and her, we didn't have anybody else, so we kinda stuck together."

"So I'm sure you know she went out last night." Sam raised an eyebrow at the girl. She nodded. "Well, she didn't come home."

"Um. . . Is Maggie in trouble?"

You looked down at your hands, not sure how to tell her what happened. Although, Cas seemed to be prepared.

"She's dead." He spoke up, rather nonchalantly. You smacked your palm against your forehead. Castiel could be really insensitive at times.

"She. . . No, that's not. . ." The girl was obviously in shock. Her only friend was dead. "We were supposed to be safe here."

"We need to know where Maggie went," Sam pushed. "Who she was talking to."

The girl shook her head. "I don't. . . There was a boy."

"What boy?" Jack demanded, looking up.

"Nate." She informed him. "He works at that store out on Route 281. Maggie, she had a crush. That's why she snuck out last night. She was going to meet him."

"All right." Dean grumbled, running a hand over his face. "Well, let's go talk to this boy, Jack-"

You all turned to see that Jack was now gone. "Shit." You mumbled, grabbing your jacket and bolting out the door.

You knew how Jack could get when he was upset or when someone he cared about was hurt. It never ended well.

You, Cas, Sam and Dean hopped into the Impala, driving like mad to the store that Nate worked at.

You were worried, not only for Nate, but for Jack as well. If this kid didn't murder Maggie, and Jack hurt him, it would kill Jack. Hurting innocent people was one of Jack's worst fears.

You were the first one out of the car, bolting inside the store. To your horror, Jack was holding Nate against the wall by his throat.

"Jack!" You exclaimed, running up to him. "Jack! Stop!" You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to leave Nate alone.

Jack whipped around, his eyes glowing orange. The next thing you knew, you were sent flying back into a shelf.

You gave out a grown, holding your injured arm. "Y/n!" Dean called, running up to you. "Are you okay?" You nodded, very visibly in pain.

Jack continued his assault on Nate, refusing to let up.

"Jack?" Sam pleaded. "Let him go!"

"Alright," Dean muttered, pulling his gun out of his waistband. "Jack!" Three loud shots rang out, making you flinch. You slowly got to your feet with the help of Cas. The Nephilim dropped Nate and turned around, and as he did so,

Jack had a look of surprise on his face as he gazed at the four of you. "You. . . Shot me?"

"To get your attention!" Dean yelled. "You're acting like a psychopath!"

"Jack," You said, limping to him.

"He killed Maggie!" He growled.

"Maggie? Maggie's dead?" Nate whimpered.

"Jack, Nate didn't do it. Look at him." You whispered. "He's destroyed. He would have never hurt Maggie. Not in a million years."

"Y-you're hurt." Jack noted, looking at you. "I did that. I made you bleed."

"Jack, it's okay, you didn't kn-"

"I'm so sorry." He cried, running out the door.

"Jack!" Castiel called out.

Dean put a hand on his chest, stopping him from following after Jack. "No, hey, just – let him go."

"Yeah," You huffed. "Fat chance." You pushed past Dean and ran after the Nephilim.

You looked around, not seeing him anywhere. "C'mon, Jack." You mumbled. "Where are you?" You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You knew you could find him, you just had to use the bond that you shared.

You figured out a long time ago that Jack Kline was your soulmate. You felt what he was feeling, whether it be sad, happy, angry or confused. And all you could feel right now was self loathing. If you could just get a feel of where he is right now, then you would be able to find him.

There were trees surrounding him, and it all seemed oddly familiar. You knew the forests of Kansas like the back of your hand. You would often go exploring around there whenever you were bored and Sam and Dean were off on a hunt. You recognized the large oak tree that sat in the middle of a clearing. You knew exactly where Jack was.

You ran as fast as your hurt ankle would let you. It was probably just sprained, but it was going to hurt a hell of a lot worse when all of this was over.

As you approached the clearing, you could hear Jack talking to himself. He kept hitting his chest, as a way of hurting himself. Your heart broke as he continued talking.

"You keep hurting people!" He yelled. "You keep. . ." His voice cracked as he cried. "Hurting. . . Why do you keep hurting people?!"

"Jack?" You said timidly.

Jack turned around, clearly horrified to see that you followed him. "Y/n! D-don't come any closer. I don't want to hurt you!"

"You're not going to hurt me, Jack." You held your hands out, trying to show that you wouldn't harm him.

"I already have!" He pointed out, seeing your limp, your bruising wrist and your cut cheek. "I did that to you. You're in pain because of me."

"Jack, I'm a hunter. I've felt things ten times worse than this. I'm not in pain. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, you were just startled is all."

"But I almost killed Nate!" He yelled. "He was innocent. He never murdered Maggie and I almost -" He broke off into sobs. You came closer to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. He refused to look up. "I'm a monster. I'm just like him."

"Jack Kline." You said sternly, drawing his attention up to your face. "You are not a monster. Do you hear me?" He stayed silent. "And you aren't like Lucifer either."

"You don't know that." He whispered.

"Yes, I do. I've met Lucifer, and I've met you. Jack, you are the most compassionate person I know. You feel everyone's pain and you feel emotion on a completely different scale than other people. You brought those people from Apocalypse World here and gave them another chance. Lucifer wouldn't have done that. But you cared enough to do that." You cupped Jack's face in your hands. "You are good, Jack. Something that Lucifer's not. He will never have your compassion, and he will never know what it feels like to love and be loved."

You felt Jack's tears hit your fingers. You gently brushed them away. "It's okay." You assured him.

"But it's not." He insisted quietly. "I've hurt people, Y/n. People are dead because of me. What I've done is unforgivable."

"Jack, we've all made mistakes. And yes, some are worse than others, but we've all been where you are. Me, Sam, Dean, Cas, we all know what it's like. We are here for you, because we are your family."

"You haven't made a mistake where someone's gotten killed though." Jack took a hold of your hands and lowered them to your sides.

You swallowed hard. You had to tell him. That was the only way to get through to him. "Jack, when I was younger, I made a mistake. A mistake that got two people killed." Jack looked at you in surprised. "I was on a hunt with them, and I was supposed to be a lookout. I had been awake for days because I had been having nightmares and refused to sleep. So while I was supposed to warn them if I saw anything, I fell asleep and they were both killed by vampires." He stayed silent as you continued to talk. "They were my parents. I'm the reason they're dead." You were now crying. "We make mistakes Jack, and some of them get people killed. It's a fact of life and it's what happens when you're a hunter. I've made peace with my inner demons, and I can help you do that too. Just let me help, Jack."

"I'm sorry." Jack whimpered as you both continued to cry. "I'm so sorry."

You shook your head as you brought him in for a hug. "It's okay. It's all gonna be okay, I promise." You buried your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. "I love you."

Jack shifted slightly, making you look up at him. "You. . . Love me?" He questioned.

"Yes. I love you, Jack." You repeated yourself. "I love you like Dean loves Cas. I love you like you like Sam loved Eileen. I love you, Jack Kline."

Jack gave you a weak smile as he looked down at you. He hesitantly pressed his lips to yours, obviously unsure if what he was doing was right. Your mouth moved against his, your tears mingling together.

"I love you, Y/n Y/l/n." He mumbled against your mouth.

The two of you stood there, holding each other, completely content.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Smart Mouth

Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)

Part 2

Read Part 1 here

Summary: You accidentally invoke the wrath of Bo Sinclair. You pay dearly, but it’s all in good fun. This is just porn. Plot? I don’t know her.

Warnings: Dubcon, bondage, oral, slapping, daddy kink, degradation, spanking, choking

~~

            Living with three men was miserable on a good day, infuriating on a bad day. Today is a bad day. You’d just cleaned and already the main level is a mess.

             You grumble, picking up a dirty shirt here, a candy wrapper there, kicking a pair of muddy boots toward the door where they should go, rather than in the middle of the living room. You spot one of Bo’s many hats perched on top of the television. You plunk it on your head, freeing up your hand so you can pick up a plate sitting on the coffee table.

             Stomping up the stairs, you head to the overflowing laundry basket, adding to the teetering pile until it threatens to topple over. You toss a few things into Lester’s room, a few more into Vincent’s before heading to Bo’s room at the end of the hall. The door is closed and you are just about to knock when it’s thrown open.

             A surprised “Oh!” leaves you with a little gasp. A crooked grin creeps across his face and he flicks the brim of the hat on your head. Oh, right. The hat. Here comes the teasing. 

             “Stealin’ my shirts and hats. I oughta be flattered.”

             “You ‘oughta’ not leave all your shit laying around,” you snark, forgetting, for a moment, to whom you speak. Bo chuckles darkly and bites his lip, smirk growing. You balk. You sassed the wrong Sinclair.

             “You got a smart mouth today, sweetheart,” he comments, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, blue eyes full of dark promise. Instantly, you turn on your heel, making a break for your room but Bo is faster, gripping you around the waist and tossing you over his shoulder.

             His hat tumbles off your head, forgotten in the hallway when he slams his door shut. You shriek when he tosses you onto his bed, crawling over you to pin your arms above your head. He sits squarely on your knees when you start to kick and uses his free hand to tear your shirt open.

            You buck your hips to little effect. Bo laughs, cruel sneer still plastered to his face. He wants you to fight, wants to feel your writhing body underneath him, so you do. You twist and kick, trying and failing to wrench your wrists out of his grasp.

            He keeps a roll of duct tape on the nightstand for this exact purpose. Bo tears off a long strip with his teeth, quickly winding it around your wrists. He does the same with your ankles.

           “I’d cover that bratty mouth too but I think we can put it to better use,” he says, out of breath but grinning. He’s already hard, the outline of his cock clearly visible through his jeans.

           Bo grips the tape around your bound wrists and hauls you to a sitting position before fisting a hand in your hair and shoving your face into his crotch. You pretend to be horrified, turning your face away so he has to force you back by your hair. Internally, you’re burning, drenched and aching between the thighs.

           He pops the button on his jeans, leisurely dragging the zipper down before reaching into his briefs to free his cock, swollen and leaking. Your mouth waters but you snap it shut, shaking your head when he teases your lips with the drooling head.

          “Open up, baby girl. Play nice and I’ll go easy on ya’.” You try and twist away but the grip on your hair tightens until your eyes water.

           You gasp when Bo slaps you across the face, open palm, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to leave a mark. He slaps you twice more and your mouth falls open in a cry. He grips your jaw, squeezing until you open wider. Hastily, he shoves his cock past your lips, groaning when he hits the back of your throat.

           You gag and Bo groans low in his chest, “Yeah, good girl, take daddy’s cock.” You fight your gag reflex, inhaling through your nose and swallowing him into your throat, taking every inch until your nose meets the dark curls at the base.  

            “Ohh, fuck yeah, yeah, just like that….” Filthy praise meets your ears when you back off, hollowing out your cheeks and bobbing your head. Bo pushes back into your throat, bucking his hips as spit drips from your chin and tears stream down your cheeks.

           You look up at him through your wet eyelashes and he quickly pulls you off his cock, chest heaving. “Tryin’ to make me cum? You want it that bad, slut?”

           You shake your head, trying to jerk your head out of his punishing grip. Bo shoves you back on the bed, holding you down while he unbuttons your jeans, tugging them down your hips to your knees. He throws your legs over his shoulder and runs his thumb along your slit, chuckling darkly when the digit comes back coated in shiny slick.  

           “Fuckin’ lyin’ to me again, baby. It’s like you want me to hurt ya’.”

           SLAP

           The sound reverberates around the room when Bo brings his hand down, hard, against your ass. You yelp and try to scoot away but he holds tight to the tape securing your ankles. He spanks you again, and again, switching sides until your flesh is a stinging pink and you’re fighting for real.

           His calloused palm smooths over your angry skin and he coos in mock sympathy. Tears drip down your cheeks just as your neglected cunt drips onto the sheets. Bo leans over you, teasing your slippery entrance with the head of cock.

           “You want it, baby girl? Tell me, go on.”

           “Please, Bo,” you beg, pushing your hips against him as much as your bonds will allow. Just that little bit of friction makes you moan pathetically.

           “What’s that? I didn’t catch that, sweetheart. Maybe ask a lil’ nicer.”

           “Daddy, please, p-please, I want your cock, please daddy—

           When Bo slams his hips forward, impaling you, you’re sure the strangled shout that rips from your throat is heard at the other end of town. He slaps a hand over your mouth, chuckling. His other hand snakes around your throat, squeezing and using the leverage to pull you down onto his cock as he furiously bucks his hips.

           You scream into his hand as he pounds you into the mattress. Sweat beads along your forehead as that wonderful tension curls in your belly, growing tighter and tighter with every snap of his hips. You screw your eyes shut, the sensation quickly becoming too much, too fast.

           “Uh uh, look at me baby, I want ya’ lookin’ at me when you cum.” You force your eyes open, meeting Bo’s heated stare. He’s close too, you can feel it in the way his hands quiver against your skin.

           “Come on, give it to me, baby girl, cum on daddy’s cock.” That does it. A wanton moan spills into the palm of Bo’s hand as hot, sticky pleasure grips you from the inside. Your twitching cunt clenches down around the cock battering your insides and Bo utters a hasty “fuck”, quickly pulling from your warmth and spilling on your lower belly, a noisy groan bubbling up from his throat.  

            “Jesus Christ, baby. Fuck,” he gasps, sated grin curling at the corners of his mouth, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. You release a breathy laugh, falling still when he leans low to press his lips to yours.

             It’s surprisingly tender, the kiss, Bo’s lips caressing yours for a few sweet moments before pulling away. He immediately ruins the moment with a, “God damn, that’s some good pussy.” You roll your eyes, holding out your hands in a silent request to be released.

             What did you expect, really?

[professional-idiocy]

On Thin Ice - Pt 5

Soo yeah. Wrote this in 2 hours and pt 6 is actually a tomorrow thingy cause I wrote it before this. And 7-1 is also written so wow productivity.

Pt. 1 - Masterlist - Next

Taglist: @whoopsalittlewhumpy, @cupcakes-and-pain, @uncooly-supreme-whump, @thegreathowdini

CW: negative thoughts, burns, past mentions of abuse and torture. We mostly have some hurt and then small comfort while Colby does the Colby thing of being terrified of everything and anything.

Colby sat on the couch. He could not stay still anymore. He needed to repay Kevin, but whenever he’d tried to do anything useful. He’d been told no. Everything felt wrong when he wasn’t doing anything. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He was really grateful for everything Kevin had done!

Colby sniffed wiping away tears. He didn’t know what Kevin wanted from him. He was just resting all day trying to heal but it was boring and he needed to be useful!

He smiled as soon Kevin walked into the living room. He could ask if there was any way to help him, but it was always “It’s fine just rest” and he didn’t like that. It made him feel useless.

“Is there something I could do to help?” He asked hopefully, but Kevin just smiled softly petting his hair. Again, with the hair. He enjoyed it but it was frustrating. He wanted to be useful! he didn’t want— okay he wanted both.

“It’s fine you don’t have to worry. Just focus on recovery” Kevin said softly always doing the same. He didn’t like this. He wanted to do something useful! He didn’t want to rest! He wanted to somehow repay Kevin and he didn’t like it. Besides he had recovered enough, he could walk around but it was just hard, and hurt a lot.

“I’m going to pick up some work-related stuff, so I’ll be gone until five” He said softly before grabbing the coat from the hanger. Colby nodded in understanding.

Kevin would be away for a while. Which meant he could help but Kevin could just abandon him here and never come back. No- he still had everything here, he wouldn’t leave, yet. If he were to be abandoned Kevin would most likely throw him on the streets.

He quickly got on his feet ready to be useful before whining softly as his ankle tried to betray him. He pushed himself to move wincing at every step. He couldn’t stop now. He needed to repay Kevin.

He slowly dragged himself to the kitchen wincing in pain with every breath. It hurt so much but he could tolerate it. He opened the fridge picking out a bunch of ingredients, he had an hour to make them food. The ingredients looked fine and weren’t actually that old, despite Kevin ordering takeout all the time.

He hummed softly while making pasta for them. He was doing good! He smiled carefully cutting the onions, before putting them on the pan as they slowly turned a pretty golden brown. He smiled adding the garlic and tomatoes as the pasta cooked happily. He was doing good.

He was nearly done and it was good since he needed to get it ready soon. He turned to side borrowing one of the chairs from the table using it to try and reach the cupboard. He needed to get some spices for the sauce. Only for the front door to open as Kevin came in with a warm “I’m back”

Colby flinched putting too much pressure on his ankle that betrayed him, he tried to grab onto anything, only for him to snatch the handle of the pan. He landed with a thud as a small whine escaped him while the pasta sauce flew all over him.

He whimpered as the hot pasta sauce burned before it hit him.

He’d dirtied the kitchen.

Colby quickly got on his knees as his breath caught in his throat. He felt the tears fall as he watched Kevin come closer, his fear numbing the pain.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll clean it up. Please don’t be mad at me. I know you told me to wait but I wanted to be useful. I’m sorry- I’ll clean it up immediately. You don’t have to worry” He said as tears fell freely. He was so going to be punished for this but maybe Kevin would be happier if he cleaned the mess up.

“Colby…” Kevin said sadly as he flinched. Kevin would soon turn angry, but it was fine. He deserved it. Kevin turned the stove off before crouching in front of Colby. Who immediately looked at the floor visibly trembling, squeezing his eyes close. Colby was waiting for Kevin to hit him. He frowned picking up the trembling ball of nerves that was Colby.

Colby didn’t even flinch as he was lifted, he just stayed there listless, hoping compliance would make whatever was coming easier. Maybe Kevin would be nice enough to hold him afterwards, but he was always left alone to pull himself together.

He was placed, not dropped, in the bathtub before Kevin spoke up, without a hint of anger in his voice, it felt off. Too off. There would be something worse.

“Colby, can you take your clothes off? You’re covered in pasta sauce and I need to wash it off” Colby nodded doing as told. He needed to clean the mess up as soon as Kevin was done. He was being oddly careful with, like shouldn’t he be thrown around? He had messed up big time. It was natural, right?

“There, good job. I’m gonna run some water and wash the leftover sauce away. Are you fine with that?” Kevin asked, he asked him. It was weird but Colby nodded anyway, knowing it wasn’t smart to refuse.

He closed his eyes as the cold water washed over the burns feeling so nice. It was way too relaxing to be a punishment, especially when Kevin began washing his hair.

He felt like he was melting away at the softness how Kevin just massaged his scalp. It was pure bliss as the water just ran through his hair before after a while it stopped.

“There, all done” he said handing him a towel “Dry yourself while I go grab the burn cream and a change of clothes”

Colby nodded not really understanding what it meant. It was confusing. He wasn’t hurt at all which was weird since he messed up. He’d made a terrible mistake while disobeying Kevin.

He trembled not liking what was to come. It must be something horrible, but he was prepared for that. He deserved it for even thinking he wouldn’t be hurt. He quickly dried himself off before getting out of the tub. Then sat there wrapped in the towel, waiting for Kevin to come.

It didn’t take long before Kevin opened the door smiling, warmly. It wasn’t the sadistic smile Miss Rosa used to have before he hurt him. He just sat down in front of him showing him the burn cream he’d gotten. It was a very fancy looking bottle. So, why was he wasting it on him?

“Can I put it on your burns?” Kevin asked as Colby began to cry. He looked startled before smiling petting Colby’s hair as he just cried clinging to him.

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be yelling at me or hitting me. That’s what happens when you mess up. That’s normal. So why-” He said looking up at Kevin tears in his eyes, so scared and lost.

“Why aren’t your actions making sense?” He asked sounding even more desperate. Kevin pulled Colby close as he tensed worrying about something before silently crying.

“It’s alright. I won’t ever hurt you. You aren’t even in trouble and you tried your best to help. You did good” Colby looked up in surprise, silently asking if it really was true.

“I was just worried that you’d accidentally injure yourself like just now. Next time if you want to help, let’s do it together” Colby nodded softly wiping away the tears as Kevin reassuringly pet his hair.

It was too good to be real, wasn’t it? There’s no way Kevin actually felt like that, but he was fine with it. He could help Kevin in other ways.

They sat there as Kevin began to apply the burn cream on the burns, softly praising him, like every time Kevin took care of his injuries. Kevin showed such kindness to him even after he’d caused a mess and been a nuisance. Kevin was just so nice. He really didn’t deserve any of this, but Kevin seemed to believe that.

He quickly got dressed after Kevin was done. He didn’t need to bother Kevin any further, before rushing to the kitchen to clean up his mess, he was halfway through the living room before his traitorous ankle gave up crashing him to the ground.

Kevin rushed over to help him up and he had no choice but to accept it. He was picked up and sat on the couch. Kevin ruffled his hair gently before wrapping a blanket around him.

“It’s fine. You can just rest” Kevin said as Colby smiled in return. Kevin liked it when he smiled. In reality, he was a useless waste of space. He wasted Kevin’s money, resources and everything without giving anything back.

As much as he liked Kevin, he should return to Alaric as to not bother him or worse, endanger Kevin, Rosa might not do anything to his brother, but her sidekick was another matter entirely. He was the dangerous one.

He should leave, but maybe spending a bit longer wouldn’t hurt...

[alakema]

ds Dreammare :Calm

Dreamswap belongs to onebizarrekai

Pre-apple incident, trans male Nightmare that didn’t come out yet.

Dream’s point of view:

It is way too calm to be normal. It’s already noon, and at this time of day, my little sister should be awake by now, causing a monstruous ruckus for everyone to hear. Only silence greets me. I frown, concern growing steadily inside of me. I go to her room, to see if she needs anything. She’s not there… Did she leave before I came back? But she is trustworthy enough to stick a message on the table. She knows I would worry about her otherwise. Maybe I accidentally overlooked it? As I step out of her room, I notice mine’s door is slightly ajar. Weird, I’m certain I closed it this morning. Cautious, I open the door completely. To see Nightmare in my bed, asleep. Okay, that was unexpected. Annoyed, I’m about to start a lecture about her laziness, about how she has her own bed, when a whimper stops me. ‘She’s having a nightmare.’

My sister toss and turn a few time, whimpering and shivering, and I don’t know how to feel about that; she never showed me this side of her. She hates showing weakness. I shake her a bit, hoping it will be enough. It isn’t: she still won’t wake up. My next attempt is a bit more forceful.

“AAAH!”

Is the only sound my little sibling can make before she falls to the floor. Satisfied with the result, I wait for her to notice me. When our eyes meet, she duck her head, before returning her sight on me and exclaiming :

“Yo! What are you doing here? -… What am I doing in my own room? - Fair point… The sunlight blinded me, so I decided your room was better.”

That’s an utter lie, my room has its shutter wide-open, and the sun is hitting full force. I make my disappointment over her lie clear. I try to pry the answer out of her, but she won’t budge and manage to weasel out of this. I’d like to know what happened to her, but I know forcing her to anything will only result in us fighting.

“*sigh*. I’ll prepare you a breakfast, get ready for the day.”

Or what’s left of it, I precise silently. Guess I won’t be back to the tree as soon as I wanted. The shelves are full, I wonder what I could make for her? An omelet, maybe. And bacon, too would be good for her health.

**

I tried to subtly ask again what the bad dream was about. She wouldn’t budge. As much as it is frustrating, it worries me she can’t find it in herself to tell me what’s wrong. Maybe something happened with the villagers. Again. No, the villagers would have told me if she did a prank or had done things she shouldn’t have. And Nighty is not as sneaky as she thinks she is; I would have noticed all the materials she would have tried to gather under my nose (and GOD can she be creative about that). Maybe they did something to her in retaliation?... No, that’s stupid, they might get angry at her, but they aren’t cruel. They would never get physical at her. Nightmare even admitted that she mistook her fall for a shove.

I just have to stay calm and be there for her when she’s ready. I’ll support her the best I can. After all, despite her pranks and her mischievous attitude, she’s my precious baby sister, and I’ll always be her big brother.

 Nightmare’s point of view:

Great. Just perfect. Dream found me during one of… Those times. I didn’t meant to worry him, honest ! I just… I didn’t think he would come home so soon: he has his ‘obligations’ to look after, and he’s so rigorous to be perfect to them that he would take his sweet ass time… I shouldn’t be in the way, or the villagers will make me pay. With how my body is healing right now, I can’t have a repeat of yesterday. It wouldn’t bode well for me. Especially if I have to keep that from my overbearing mother-hen of a brother. He may think he had been tactful, but trustfully, he can’t hide the pain in his eyes each time I stay silent about what the nightmare was about. It’s horrible what I’m doing to him, but he wouldn’t believe me if I said what happened. He never did before. If he were to discover I got hurt, he would force me to tell the ‘truth’, and I would be forced to lie because ‘the villagers didn’t do it Nightmare, you’re just trying to make them look bad in my eyes. You don’t know how utterly disappointed I am in you right now. Now, if you tell what really happened, you won’t be punished as much.’ Moron. What do I find in you, sometime I wonder.

We are back to the tree, together, but I can’t find it in myself to talk a mountain like I’m used to, or be annoying. I didn’t even climb the tree (Dream doesn’t need to know I actually can’t. My ankle is swollen and it’s a miracle I have hidden it this far). My older brother steals glances here and now. ‘Good luck buddy, I ain’t revealin’ anythin’.’ I love him, I really do. But I’m not blind to the favoritism he has toward the villagers over me. Toward anything over me.

“ Nightmare, I wanted to kno- - Please don’t. - What? - Please don’t talk. I just… Want to embrace this moment, just you and me.”

… Okay, what?! Why did I say that ? This doesn’t sound like me at all. Fuck. Oh shit. What do I do now? He’s gonna think I’m weird, and with what happened this morning -afternoon…whatever!- he’s not letting this go for a while. Great… Oh fuck my life. I turn my head away so that he won’t see my embarrassment.

“Is tha-… Are you sure? You can always go home if you don’t feel well. - I feel fantastic, thank you very much!”

**

We spend the rest of the day in quiet and calm. It’s been so long since the last time we were together for that much period of time. I can’t stop the smile on my face, and looking at Dream, he can’t either. I look at my room and my grin wither. Of course, my sibling noticed:

“Nightmare, is everything okay?”

I don’t say anything for a while, debating the best course of action.

“Dreamy, can I… No, it’s stupid, forget it. Good night!”

But before I can escape, he takes a hold of my wrist and turn me around. His eyes shine in the dark, and give a kind warm to our surrounding. He doesn’t speak, gathers me in his arms like a kitten before entering his room. He places me on the bed.

“Stay here, I’ll go get your pajamas. I’ll help with the nightmares, I promise.”

Once we are both ready for the night, he takes me in his arms again, before shielding us with a thick cover. My blush glows in the dark, and I’m thankful he closed his eyes. I never thought I would get to sleep next to my crush. He falls asleep before I do. My heart is racing against my ribcage, I don’t know how to make it silent. I look Dream inhaling slowly, not sure if I should go back to my room or not. But soon, I drift comfortably into a deep slumber.

After that, everything is peaceful, quiet and calm.

--

Next chapter : https://alakema.tumblr.com/post/646041076608729088/ds-dreammare-burn

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 19

[ i promised a listen closer update and by god i will give y'all a listen closer update ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It was the next week that all the final touches on the big game were complete, and John was ready to let himself inevitably die at the end. Amanda was out collecting Dr. Denlon, having already moved Matthews into the room for his trap. Garrett had already retrieved Jeff Denlon, the doctor’s husband, and had him set up in the crate he would have to escape to get started.

Mark was heading out to get the players in Rigg’s game at the same time Garrett was leaving to get the other parts of Jeff Denlon’s game. Theoretically, that meant they would be back at the same time, despite two of Mark’s players not needing to be brought in. He still had to set up the trap that would start off Rigg’s game, after knocking Rigg himself out.

If all went accordingly, that meant Garrett would be there to help Mark get set up for his role in the game. Mark really didn’t want Amanda to do it, and neither did Garrett.

Garrett probably had it the easiest out of the two of them. He could get all his players at once, since his car was large enough for all three of them and none of them really had a fighting chance against them.

He got the most difficult one first, the one that would be going on the rack. He put up a fight, but Garrett was faster. The second one he grabbed was the Judge, who was actually asleep when he came in. Last, but not least, the witness that did nothing.

Honestly, he didn’t think any of these people needed to be trapped. The crash was an accident, the judge was just doing his job- it’s not like the accident was murder- and the witness was probably just scared.

Denlon, however, deserved this and they, unfortunately, were part of it.

As expected, despite the planning, Garrett got back before Mark. This wasn’t ideal, but it was preferred over Mark getting back first. He was likely still setting up Rigg’s apartment and trap. He doubted it would take much longer, it had been several hours since they first left.

He took the chance to hang the witness up in the freezer room (he felt bad stripping her naked, but he knew it had to be done), chain the judge up in the meat vat (he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch this one), and set the second most important player up in the rack.

John watched him do this, apparently wanting to ensure that he did it right. Amanda stood behind him, her eyes never once leaving Garrett.

Really? She didn’t trust him?

Maybe she should change her mind on killing Lynn Denlon before deciding to be pissy with him.

He glared at her, the sight of his wide eyes narrowing making her visibly uncomfortable. He turned back to the trap, using his shoulder to hold him up as he strapped him in by the ankles. Once that part was done, a hand on his chest held him upright as Garrett strapped in his wrists. Last was his head.

Once that was done, Garrett sent one last glance at John and Amanda, debating saying something to them but being cut off before he got the chance by his phone beeping with a text.

Mark was back, and it was time to set him up.

---

“You know, you look awfully pretty tied down like this,” Garrett teased, tightening the straps on Mark’s wrists a little bit. He’d already gotten the ankle straps done, he was just making sure the wrist ones were secure.

Mark rolled his eyes at the statement. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Oh, he definitely was going to.

Garrett was, rather unfortunately, the only apprentice not participating in the game. John had made it clear that he wanted someone to watch the whole thing at once, in order to make sure that all of the rules were followed. He was not, however, allowed to intervene.

Once Mark was strapped in, he moved on to Detective Matthews. Admittedly, it was rather difficult to get him onto the ice block and not accidentally hang him, but he worked it out.

After finishing up with the wires meant to be tripped and giving the lever that would activate the trap, he took one last glance at Mark, offered him a smile, and shut off the lights.

Art Blank would be arriving soon, and Rigg would be waking up in no time. It was time for him to get to his viewing room.

The door unlocked with a click, and relocked with a higher pitched one. He couldn’t have anyone getting in here- the operation surviving relied on Mark and Garrett keeping up the lie. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t get captured, he needed to put Strahm in his trap.

He sat down at the desk and turned on all of the monitors, not entirely sure how well he’ll be able to focus on all of them at once. If all else fails, he will probably just focus on Mark’s.

Though, he did want to make sure he watched the trap he built for Ivan. He was very invested in how it turned out since it was so much trouble to build.

He hummed a soft tune as he got set up, keeping a weapon close by in case someone did get into the room. He quieted down when Lynn woke up, and sat down to watch the game unfold.

It was going to be an interesting one, that’s for sure.

---

Amanda was starting to lose her cool, even Garrett could see that.

He’d chosen to turn his attention for the time being to John’s part of the game, while Jeff dealt with the Judge. He just couldn’t watch that trap- it was sickening, and that had to mean something when it came from someone like him.

Rigg was definitely taking his time as he went through his own part of the game, which was curious considering how desperate he was to get out of there. He’d only just put Ivan in the trap when Jeff freed the judge, staring at him for a moment before running out of there.

Next was the teacher and his wife, a trap Garrett wished he’d had the pleasure of putting together.

Obviously, he was fond of killing abusers. He had a plan for a game he would put together later with a similar premise of killing an abusive lover that the player just couldn’t leave. It wasn’t a punishment for staying- it was a key to freedom.

He watched as Rigg found the woman and her husband, flinching when she suddenly woke up. His attention turned back to Jeff, who was now entering the room with the Rack.

Amanda had decided to take a break from John’s game, storming out of the room and disappearing from the sight of the cameras. If Garrett had to guess, he’d say that she was probably cutting herself again.

She’d made him swear not to tell John, but even that precaution wasn’t needed because at this point, he wanted her out of the way. She killed with no remorse, and he couldn’t keep her in check like he could with Mark. Unfortunately, she had to go.

Garrett hummed as he turned to Mark’s game, Art Blank just now handing the gun over to Matthews. He watched as Matthews considered killing himself, loading the single bullet into the gun and pressing it against the underside of his jaw.

But, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Garrett wasn’t sure if he was weak willed, or if he cared enough about Mark to not kill him.

Possibly both.

Rigg was helping the woman down now, putting his coat over her to keep her warm after the blood loss.

As he did that, Strahm and Perez entered the motel room where Ivan’s body lay. Through one of the cameras, Garrett had seen the addict that grabbed him last time he was there pull Strahm to the side, likely telling him in a frantic voice about the man with the wide eyes.

Knowing Strahm, he was going to ignore this completely.

In fact, he probably thought Rigg was the apprentice he was hunting, which was exactly what he was supposed to think.

Of course Strahm seemed angry while talking to Perez about the trap, but then she said something and he shut up. It seemed like it was a suggestion, because after a second, he pulled out his phone and typed something in.

Garrett didn’t realize he was making a call until his own phone started ringing.

“Shit-!” he hissed, not having accounted for the fact that of course Strahm would try to call the only Jigsaw specialist in. But he couldn’t leave, and none of them had time for this. He debated just letting it go to voicemail, but that would be suspicious, so he finally picked up.

“It’s my off day Strahm, I don’t care what kind of trap you’ve just run into, I’m not leaving my damn apartment,” he started immediately, cutting Strahm’s greeting off. There was silence for a moment, before Strahm spoke up again.

“I know, but this is the second trap we’ve come across. It’s a multistage game and-” Garrett cut him off once again, not willing to sit through the explanation of a game he was facilitating.

“All the more reason for me to not come in right now,” he said, glancing at Jeff’s game in time to watch the driver’s head get twisted all the way around, killing him instantly. “If it’s a multistage game, the likelihood of me walking into something I can’t defend myself from is too high. Contractually I can’t go.”

That was actually the truth. Part of the contract he signed when he was hired on was that if a trap was found and the game was still active, he couldn’t look at it. There was far too high of a chance that he could get hurt, and the police couldn’t handle that liability.

Strahm’s end of the phone was quiet, probably pressed against his chest as he spoke to Perez about something. Finally, he broke it. “Fine. I’m not getting fired over you.”

“Oh, don’t be so bitter,” Garrett all but hissed, watching Jeff try to find a way out as Rigg ran through the halls in search of his coworkers. “I have to go. Good luck.”

He hung up, and watched as Strahm got another location and rushed out of there.

Now his focus was solely on Amanda and Lynn. Amanda had a gun with her, apparently, and Garrett could tell that she was close to snapping. Hopefully she’d hold out long enough for Strahm to arrive.

---

Strahm was alone when he entered the building, blood spattered on his shirt and his gun drawn. Garrett watched as he and Jeff both headed for the same room, turning to one of the other monitors and watching Art get shot by Rigg.

He’d enjoyed watching Matthews die, his head crushed by the giant ice blocks suspended above him. Though, he was a bit surprised that Mark managed to avoid any of the chunks that went flying.

He heard gunshots, and watched Strahm kill Jeff. He grabbed his pig mask, and ran from the room, pulling it on as he went. He hid in the next room that Strahm was supposed to find, hidden by the shadows and pressed against the back of a pillar.

Strahm didn’t take long to get into the room, slowly making his way to one of the gurneys. He ran a hand over it, and Garrett rushed out at him, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into the gurney before jabbing the needle into his neck.

The liquid went in, and Strahm went limp in his grasp. Garrett took the chance to look him over when he wasn’t hopped up on pain meds, humming softly as his thumb brushed over the agent’s cheek.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he hoisted Strahm onto his shoulder and made his way to the water box room.

It wasn’t long before Strahm was set up in his trap, everything he’d been carrying on him laid out on a small table in front of him. Originally, Garrett was going to plant the pen on him before he woke up, but now… now he wanted him to know that the only reason he survived was that someone acting as Jigsaw spared him.

It’d be quite the ego killer.

Garrett stood in the darkness of the room as he waited for Strahm to wake, giving him a significantly watered down dose of the sedative they used so he would wake up sooner. The longer it took, the more he fidgeted, needing to get outside so he could have an alibi.

Finally, he woke up… and immediately started banging at the glass and yelling for help. Garrett tilted his head at him, watching him thrash until he pressed a button on a remote kept in his pocket, getting the water to flow.

He’d blocked out Strahm’s yelling at this point, waiting until the water was close to his mouth before slowly making his way over to him, the pen hidden in his hand by the sleeve of the jacket he wore.

Strahm froze for half a second before thrashing even harder the closer he got. Garrett pressed his gloved index finger to the mouth of the pig mask, before leaning close to Strahm and slipping the pen into his pocket.

They made eye contact for a few seconds, before Garrett was pulling away and leaving the building. He heard Strahm yell out to him, just barely hearing him beg for him to come back before the door was closed and he was removing anything that would make it seem like he was Jigsaw.

His mask, jacket, and gloves went in the back of his car. He also changed his general clothes at his car, making it seem more like he had just thrown some clothes on in a rush. Then he went around the building, slipping into the crowd at the front.

Once he saw Mark, he started to act panicked, just like he was supposed to. He shoved his way through the people, yelling out for his boyfriend when one of the cops keeping the crowd back grabbed him, saying something about civilians not being allowed past the tape.

“I’m the fucking specialist you ass!” Garrett spat, forcing his way out of their grasp and ducking under the tape and making a beeline for Mark.

He hit his lover’s chest hard, making him stumble back a little, but he immediately felt Mark’s arms around him. “Is everyone dead?” he whispered, looking up at the detective.

Mark just nodded. Of course, he didn’t know that Strahm was still alive, and he’d probably never know that that was because of Garrett. “It’s just us now.”

Garrett pulled him into a kiss to hide his grin from the cameras, one that Mark quickly returned. They both immediately pulled back when they heard someone say that they had a live one, finding Strahm laid out on a different gurney and being pulled into an ambulance.

“Shit,” Garrett hissed, glancing up at Mark, whose jaw had tightened at the sight of the agent. He looked down at Garrett, not angry with him but clearly angry at Strahm’s survival.

“I hope you have a plan to fix this…” he practically growled, his features softening when his boyfriend looked uncomfortable.

Garrett sighed softly, resting his forehead on Mark’s chest. “I always do. It’s gonna take time though.”

“Better than nothing.”

Hopefully, the questioning wouldn’t last too long.

[bts-roses]

Spilling Coffee | 1

➼ summary: You’ve always prided yourself in being a naturally graceful and reliable person. So an internship at BigHit seemed like a walk in the park. That is, until a certain goof slide-kicks you off your feet and makes your life a whole lot harder.

/

Namjoon is a misunderstood klutz and y/n thinks too much.

➼ pairing: idol!namjoon x intern!reader

➼ genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), idolverse

➼ word count: 3,700

| next

‣

You have always been proud of your natural grace. Throughout your life, it’s granted you the title of being the responsible and reliable one. The one to do the important jobs. You were always the child the teacher would pick to fill a glass of water up for the paintbrushes during art class. You would do that with a smug grin on your face, holding a big ass jar of water with both of your tiny hands. You would hand it to the teacher, whip your pigtails as you turn around and walk back to your seat looking at your jealous classmates like hell yeah I just did that, you bitches could never.

So naturally, finding out you were about to intern in a big entertainment company, you just knew you were going to unquestionably nail it. Being responsible for mundane tasks like going on coffee runs or carrying boxes to different places? Uhh, you lived for that shit.

Obviously, these weren’t the only tasks and they were definitely not going to help you in the long run of your dream profession. But being able to put down that you received work experience from Big Hit Entertainment sure was. And there was an opportunity to get a job there after your internship! And the internship pays really well! And apparently the food in their canteen was pretty good! In conclusion, it was a win-win situation all around. And how hard could it be?

The answer to that was hard. Very fucking hard.

‣

Namjoon has always been in awe of how clumsy he actually was. Even his bandmates wonder how such an intelligent, grown man can be such a dumbass. Whenever he tried to fix something? Boom, it instantly got 10x worse. His fans even call him the God of Destruction. He would be offended by the nickname, but he can’t hate the truth. And the title is pretty badass if you think about it.

He was more of the kid in art class who was always given small jobs like making sure the aprons weren’t tangled up when it was time to put them away. Even though he wanted cooler jobs like holding those cool big ass glass jars, he understood that sometimes it’s just best to mind his own business and do his own designated jobs. You know, for world peace.

But today. Wow. It’s like the gods above are punishing him or something.

He actually woke up feeling pretty good. Today was going to be his day. Or so he thought. His clumsiness, once again, ruins it for him.

Long story short: he accidentally broke a bit of the toilet seat off. In his defence, he really needed a shit and someone left the toilet seat up again. He was definitely not going to fall into the toilet bowl this time. So Namjoon did the only thing a human could do in such a limited space of time: he slam-dunked that toilet seat down as hard as he could. Not his smartest idea. To his dismay, he spent his morning poo hovering over the toilet, with a piece of the seat held in his left hand. Let’s just say the other members were not thrilled when he walked out to the kitchen holding the piece of the smashed toilet seat from one of the most used bathrooms in the house.

After sitting through another one of Seokjin's speeches about the importance of handling things with a bit more caution, Namjoon decided it would be best to go to the company a bit earlier than the others today. Especially when the younger ones wouldn’t stop roasting the shit out of him. It was when he tripped over walking into the company building he thought to himself.

Maybe today wasn’t his day.

‣

This was the tenth day of your internship. And you don’t like to boast but you think you’re owning this shit. Sure, your boss is scary and likes giving you lots of monotonous tasks. But she’s not that bad. Besides, this is what you signed up for! And you’re having fun. Kinda.

“Intern.” You look up from your desk to see a smiling Joowon, one of your coworkers, “Lee is asking for you.”

Giving him a nod, you swiftly get up from your desk. You knock on your boss’ door and walk in when she acknowledges your presence.

“Yes, Mrs Lee?” you say, beaming brightly.

“I need you to go on a coffee run for the marketing team. We have an important meeting regarding TXT’s comeback and I do not want to see anyone slacking. If I do, I will kill someone,” she says looking up from the screen, giving you a small vacant smile. See? She’s warming up to you!

“Of course! Do you want me to buy you a knife while I’m out? Just in case?” You joke while giggling lightly.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” She asks, with no amusement in her face.

You immediately stop laughing. Fuck. Maybe she’s just a tad bit scary. You stiffen a bit and nod ashamed.

“Yeah. I don’t need any of that here” she glances at you up and down and then looks back at her computer, “you should leave now.”

You bow and basically run out of her office. Okay. Fine. She’s fucking terrifying.

You knew working in a big establishment like BigHit was going to be intimidating but not this intimidating. It didn’t help that you had a subliminal fear of attractive people. Of course, you liked looking at them but talking to them made you so nervous. Maybe you should've taken that into account before working in a fucking entertainment company. They were everywhere. At least you were working in the marketing team, where your interactions with the idols were very limited. However, you still would have the odd occurrence with one. On your second day, TXT's Soobin asked you for Mrs Lee's whereabouts. You nearly cried... But let’s not think about that.

Thankfully, your department is quite small and you only had to go get nine iced americanos. The lady at the counter also gave you two paper bags that held eight of them which made your life easier. Since you were feeling fancy and had the room, you got yourself an iced latte. Realising you were a bit short on time, you quickly dashed back to the company.

Entering the building, you check the clock on the lobby wall: fifteen minutes until the meeting starts. Cool. That's fine. You can totally get there before it starts. Totally. Deep breath. You'll be fine. After violently stabbing the elevator button multiple times, you hastily enter and press the floor you needed. Seeing no one was going to get on with you, you push the button to close the doors. Just once. Maybe a few times for good measure. Before the doors shut, you catch a glimpse of the clock again. Thirteen minutes. More than enough time.

When you reach your floor, you check inside the bags to make sure nothing has spilt. You can't help but smile. Look at you. Two coffees in each hand? Not a spill. Holding two bags of coffee? Not a single drop. You really did that. You were that bitch. I am the elite intern. You think to yourself with a chuckle. Then you stop yourself and wince. Jesus Christ. You really needed to get a life.

Remembering your task, you carefully pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time; ten minutes. Just to be safe (and to beat your previous coffee run score of having eight minutes to spare), you speed down the hallway.

You can literally see the glass walls of the meeting room. Not even half of the team is there yet. You were that early. On the opposite side of the corridor, you see your boss, who is facing away from you, and Joowon talking to each other. He glances at you and smiles. You quicken your pace, about to return the smile.

Suddenly, you're seeing him horizontally.

What the fuck? Why the fuck? Oh my God. You're too busy soaking up the mess in front of you that you don’t feel the searing pain on your left ankle. You blink hard and freeze on the floor.

The coffee is spilt. Everywhere.

Shit. You’re gonna get killed. You're gonna get fired. Before you start crying on the ground, the floor starts moving... Wait. Floors don't move. Uuugh. And floors sure as hell don't groan.

You look sideways to realise you're on top of someone's chest. That said someone looks down at you.

Your heart drops.

You jump up to stand and you instantly feel the sting on your ankle. You look at the scene in front of you. You feel like sobbing again. You just spilt your drink all over RM. Fucking Kim Namjoon. You know, the leader of the biggest fucking boy group on the planet? That's the one. You aren’t just going to be fired. You're gonna be banished from Korea. Burned at the stake. Mauled to death.

"I'm so fucking sorry." You burst out, desperately getting back down on the floor to clean up the liquid with your clothes, "I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to."

You warily look at him. He's just lying there in this weird, starfish-like position. Not really moving. Oh my God, you think to yourself. You fucking broke him. Did you kill him?

You stop helplessly scrubbing the floor with your jumper sleeve and shakily ask him, "are you alive?"

Abruptly, pulls himself up in a seated position. You flinch. Fuck. He's gorgeous. Great, now you’re nervous. He stares at you blankly and you wince a bit. You mentally prepare yourself to get screamed at and you feel a sting in your eyes. God, you're about to cry. You’re gonna lose your internship. You’re gonna have no future. You're so fucking terri-

All you hear is a deep chuckle.

"Shit. You've done it again Namjoon" he mutters to himself in disbelief, "Did I hurt you?"

He looks at you in concern and shuffles closer. Carefully, he puts a hand on your shoulder. Well, he’s never seen you before. He glances down at the ID card hanging from your neck. There’s a picture of you grinning cheerfully and your name: Y/n L/n. An intern? He also notices that you don’t have the same red lanyard as the other staff here; you switched yours to an Animal Crossing themed ribbon. Cute. He looks back up and his brows furrow when he sees a tear run down your cheek.

“U-uh. I-I’m fine.” you stutter, not really paying attention and avoiding eye contact. You feel yourself shaking.

“Are you sure? I just completely wiped you out with a sliding kick.” He jokes to try to ease the situation, offering a kind smile. Fuck, he has dimples, you think to yourself. You feel him brush his thumb over your cheek to wipe the stray tear.

“Oh my God. Namjoon-ah are you okay?” your boss asks, pushing past you to check on the man, “What is with this mess? What on earth did you do, intern?”

You stumble upwards, preparing for your death. You close your eyes in anticipation. Here it is. Your life was fun while it laste-

“It wasn’t her fault. And I’m fine. Just a bit of liquid.” You hear him say.

You open your eyes and face them. The idol makes eye contact with you and you quickly divert your eyes down. You feel your face heat up from the sudden attention.

“Namjoon-ah, it’s okay. You don’t need to cover up for her. She’s just an intern.” your boss says, impressed with his supposed kindness.

Excuse me? You look up at her disbelief. He was the one who caused you to fall. Before you’re about to defend yourself, you glance at him again and stop yourself. Oh, what the hell? Fine.

“I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up straight away!” You shout and bow deeply, accepting the fault. It was just going to be easier this way, you’re just a disposable intern anyways.

Namjoon watches you bow deeply towards them. What? This was his fault.

“Wait, no this was my doin-” He started.

“I really expected better than this, intern.” Mrs Lee sighs in disappointment, not wanting to waste time, “Clean this mess up.”

You bow at both of them again as she walks past you, heading for the meeting room. Well that went better than expected. At least you’re still alive. You sigh weakly and started your hunt for something to help clean the mess up.

Before he could intervene again to clear things up, his phone rings.

“Hyung! Where are you? We need you now, the business call is just about to start.” Jimin shouts down the phone.

Namjoon curses himself. He takes a quick look at your back before running to where he was needed. So much for first impressions. Throughout the call, all he could focus on was the cute intern he wiped out and his coffee-stained hoodie sticking to his chest.

Yup. Today was definitely not his day.

‣

After two weeks of whatever that was, you’ve been trying really hard to redeem yourself. Just a few examples: you started colour coding the meeting notes to make it easier to read; you call the coffee shop ahead of time so your coffee runs take no longer than seven minutes; you bring running shoes to work so for any errands you need to run, you literally run. Oh, and most importantly, you steer the fuck out of Kim Namjoon’s way. This step has been proven difficult because you now see him everywhere. (Apparently, their group is heading into more product deals with different companies so your department is becoming a regular for them).

You tell yourself you aren’t trying to avoid the man because that would be stupid. But you know deep inside you’re just really fucking scared of him. Here are some reasons for your new founded fear:

1. He drop-kicked you down to the floor and you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt like a bitch. You walked with a limp for a whole week. You’re pretty sure you could’ve sued him.

2. He’s the reason Mrs Lee now hates you with a burning passion. (Bit of an overstatement but since when did your mind not blow things out of proportion?)

3. He’s too tall. His mere size towers over you. It’s petrifying.

4. He’s so fucking attractive? Like? Who allowed him to look that good daily? And when he smiles, his dimples show? The thought of them breaks you out in cold sweat.

5. He smells too nice.

6. And oh yeah. Whenever you see each other, he tries to walk up and talk to you.

It scares the living daylights out of you.

‣

Namjoon has never experienced this before.

It’s like he’s the bloody plague. The guilt was eating him alive. For two weeks now he’s been trying to come up and talk to you. And for two weeks you have been running away from him like your life depended on it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Surely you knew it was an honest mistake and he did try to defend you against Mrs Lee. He even apologised, right? Did he apologise? Oh God, he didn’t apologise. He needs to apologise.

“Hyung!” Jungkook pushes him, “Were you even listening?”

Namjoon looks up at the youngest in confusion, “What?”

“He’s too busy thinking about his latest victim.” Jimin teases.

Jungkook laughs with him, “It’s not like she hates you or anything. If you feel so bad about it then just go talk to her and sort it out. You said she was on the marketing floor right? So just go find-”

His words get cut off by his hyung groaning and banging his head down to his table, watching the surrounding objects jump up from the force.

“You think I haven’t tried that?” He mumbles sadly into the wood, “She runs away from me.”

The two younger men look at each other.

“Hyung, you’re totally just overthinking this. She doesn’t run away from you.” Jungkook chuckles, offering a supporting hand on Namjoon’s back.

After a few hours of trying to work on some songs, Namjoon yawns loudly and stretches out his long limbs. From behind him, he hears the two yawn straight after and they all let out a small laugh.

“I think we should call it a day,” Jimin stands up, starting to pack his things, “Yoongi hyung said we were gonna have dinner tonight so we should get going.”

Moving towards the elevator, Namjoon sees you, holding a big stack of papers, from the corner. Shit. Instantly, he pulls the two members in front of him.

“Oh my God, it’s her.” He hides and whispers, even though you are out of ear reach.

Jungkook and Jimin look at the small moving figure, who is currently trying to move hair out of her face with her mouth. So that’s the girl who is clouding their leader’s mind. They watch you a few feet away from the elevator. As if they knew what the other was thinking, they exchange a mischievous look. Without warning, they forcefully drag their hyung forwards before he could process their actions.

Jesus. You whine to yourself. These papers are so fucking heavy. When you hear the ding of lift, you walk in and stretch your pinky to the ground floor button. You move to the back of the elevator, resting your back on the railing. You only have this job to do and you can finally go home. Smiling at the thought, you mindlessly look at your feet, oh and the large feet in front of you. Wait, what?

You look up in shock and meet eyes with your greatest fear. He gives you a nervous smile and you notice the two other attractive people on either side of him. Another fear of yours. (Not the biggest fear at hand but albeit still a fear). God. It’s like you were in a horror movie, where the ghosts were unfairly good looking. You feel your heart speeding. You scream inwardly when you see the idol opening his mouth.

Namjoon stutters and starts when he feels Jungkook hit his back, “Hello aga-”

He feels a gust of wind run past him.

You just sprinted out of the elevator.

As the doors close, the three turn around and watch you racing away. Gobsmacked. Before the doors fully shut, Namjoon is the only one that sees you trip, papers flying everywhere. He lets out a quiet gasp. The small room is silent.

“Well,” Jungkook quietly coughs out, “Maybe she does hate you...”

“You think she hates me?” The oldest pitifully questions and watches Jimin hit the youngest.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Jimin weakly persuades and gives an insincere smile, “She might just be nervous or something.”

Namjoon instantly frowns. She hates me.

‣

You lay face down on the floor, soaking up all the embarrassment of what just happened. Did you just fall? You? Over nothing? What in God’s name is happening to you? You look up and instantly wince. All the documents you organised, sorted and colour-coded are all messed up. There goes your early night.

Picking up the stray papers, you think to yourself: what the fuck is wrong with you? If you weren’t such a big pussy, your life would have been so much easier. You think about all of the time you would have saved if you just walked the quicker route, regardless of whether or not he was in the way. You think about all the plants you wouldn’t have hid behind to prevent his attention. You think about all the information you could’ve learned about your dream job if you didn’t reject the offers just because there was a slim chance of running into him.

At the end of the night, you have one question burning into your mind: why were you so scared of him?

‣

“You like him.” Daeun proclaims. You just told her about your most recent encounter with him.

You stare at the fellow intern in confusion, “What?”

“You have a big fat crush on him.” She repeats, taking a bite out of her lunch, “Just think about it, you said it yourself, your heart races when you see him... So you like him.”

“My heart races because I’m scared of him” You point out.

“No. You dumb bitch. Your heart races because you are nervous.”

Oh. Well, this was not what you were expecting when you asked your friend for advice. You have a crush on Namjoon?

“B-but I don’t know anything about him.” You argue, shaking your head.

“You don’t necessarily have to personally know him to crush on him,” she continues, “You find him attractive right?”

“W-well, yeah I guess so-”

“There you go. We’ve cracked it. You’re just horny for him.”

“The fuck? No, I’m not.” you push her and she laughs.

“I don’t blame you, he walks like he’s got a massive cock.”

You shriek and whack her in detest. She screams jokingly at the pain. When you two look around and notice people staring, you both can’t help but laugh hard.

At 9PM, you were laying in bed, thinking about your friend’s words and you couldn’t help but to be curious about him. Sure, you liked his music as much as the next person but you didn’t know much about Namjoon as a person. Since you just graduated from college, you didn’t have much time to spend on immersing yourself in the world of the BTS. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you start doing research, telling yourself it’ll only take a few minutes.

After watching countless interviews and videos, you wonder how such a person could exist. He’s intelligent, loving, kind, gentle, passionate and- well you just go on for hours. You laugh a bit when you realise his only fault: he’s the biggest fucking klutz.

It hit you at 3AM when you finished watching his UNICEF speech with a big ass smile on your face.

Fuck, you totally have a crush on Namjoon.

a/n: hello! thank you for reading + i hope you’ve enjoyed. i’m also already in the process of writing the second part, if that is something you would like to see!