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fatecantstopme · 1 year ago

Text

Spell Bound

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen...I couldn't help myself.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names. An excessive amount of heavy SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, oral (F receiving), multiple cream pies

"I freaking hate witches," Dean mumbled as he picked the lock on the apartment door.

You chuckled softly, very used to hearing him grumble every time you were hunting a witch.

He slowly walked into the apartment and you followed in after him.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" you asked quietly.

"Big scary magic book. Sam said it's probably on or near some kind of altar."

"Big scary magic book," you muttered under your breath. "Makes perfect sense."

You sighed as you walked into the living room and noticed several bookcases lined with large books. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Dean shot you a weary smile. "Guess it might take a little longer than I thought."

"You think?"

You took one side of the room and Dean took the other. Sam had described the look of the book to the both of you, but there was really no way to be 100% certain if you found it.

About 15 minutes into your perusal, you spotted a large leather-bound book tucked under what appeared to be an altar cloth. You slowly removed the cloth, wary of what you might uncover. The book was almost exactly as Sam had described, so you had a feeling it was the right one.

"I think I found it," you said aloud.

At almost the same exact moment, a crash sounded from behind you and Dean let out a string of curses.

You spun around to see the hunter brushing off some sort of florescent pink dust from his face. "What the hell did you do?"

"I was moving some of the books and this box fell out and some powder just kinda...sprayed my face."

"Seriously?"

He looked sheepish. "I didn't even see it."

You sighed. "Great. God only knows what the hell that was."

He looked at the box carefully, but there was nothing written on it to identify the powdery substance he had inhaled. He gave you another sheepish look and shrugged. "Maybe it's not harmful."

You shot him a stony look. "Dean...it's a witch. It's not gonna be fairy dust."

He sighed, knowing you were right. He started shifting his shoulders a bit as if he was uncomfortable.

"Let's get out of here. I'll call Sam on the way back to the motel and see if he has any idea what it could be."

Dean nodded and followed you out the door. By the time you got outside the building and to the car, he was twitching like an addict in need of a fix.

"Dean?" you asked tentatively.

"My skin feels like it's on fire and--and it's like--itchy. And there's a weird feeling inside that I can't describe, but it doesn't feel nice."

"Okay...how 'bout I drive?"

He looked up at you with concerned eyes, but he handed you the keys and got into the passenger seat. You knew he must really be feeling terrible if he was letting you drive Baby.

You started the car up and pulled out of the parking spot while simultaneously calling Sam on your cell. He answered on the third ring.

"Dean got some sort of witchy powder on his face and now he's...itchy?" you said quickly in lieu of a greeting.

Sam sighed. "What are his symptoms?"

You put the phone on speaker. "Dean, what are your symptoms?"

Dean couldn't look at you and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "I feel like crawling out of my own skin, everything aches, and I'm having a hard time breathing right. Oh and I can literally smell (Y/N)'s skin, which is totally not normal!"

"You can smell my skin?"

He grumbled under his breath. "I can smell your skin and your shampoo and your goddamn body wash, and I want--fuck. What the hell is wrong with me, Sam?"

"Uh, I honestly don't know. Let me call Bobby and see if he has any ideas."

You set the phone down on the seat beside you. "Maybe you're turning into some kind of animal?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean...you can smell me...which is weird and kind of--animalistic."

"I don't think that's it," he said harshly. "My body is aching in a way I can't even begin to describe to you, but I don't think I'm morphing into anything."

You eyed him carefully, worry etched into your face. He was your closest friend and trusted hunting partner, and you hated seeing him like this. Witches scared the shit out of you...you knew what they were capable of.

"Maybe drive a little faster," he hissed.

You pressed harder on the gas and the Impala shot down the road. When your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"So I think I might know what it is, but I have something I need to ask Dean first," Sam said.

"Okay." You looked at Dean. "Can you hold the phone? Sam wants to ask you something."

Dean took the phone from your hand, hissing as his skin made contact with yours. "What?" he grumbled.

"This is gonna be awkward, but I need to know, okay? Do you feel--umm--aroused at all?"

Dean was silent for a moment as he let his brother's question sink in. Ohhh fuuuuck, he thought to himself. He glanced down at his jeans and noticed the bulge straining against them. With the intense pain he was experiencing, he hadn't really noticed. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled. "Yeah."

"Okay, well the good news is, I know what it is. It's called sex pollen."

"It's called what?"

"Sex pollen. The name doesn't really matter, but you have all the symptoms. They're only going to get worse until--well until you die."

"Die? Is there a cure?"

You looked over at Dean in terror, your foot pressing down even further on the pedal. Dean's hand was shaking slightly as he put the phone on speaker so you could hear.

"You have to--uhh--well--shit. You have to umm...fuck it out."

"I have to what?"

"Dude, I know, okay? But you don't have a choice. If you don't you'll die a rather painful death."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "Can I, umm, take care of it myself?"

"According to what Bobby read, the only option is actual intercourse with another person."

"How long do I have?"

You were acutely aware of Dean's close proximity to you, and now you understood the nature of his pain. Your own breathing was more labored, but you desperately tried to maintain control of yourself. Don't make it weird, (Y/N), you thought to yourself.

"30 minutes from the time of contact until...until death," Sam answered.

"30 minutes?" you gasped. You started doing the math in your head as Dean continued talking to his brother. "We have maybe 10 more minutes until we get back to the motel and that leaves about 10 until..."

Dean looked over at you, his normally green eyes dark with need. "I'm so fucked," he muttered.

"That doesn't really leave us time to find someone for you to--you know," you said worriedly.

"Shit."

"Might wanna make it fast," Sam said.

"Obviously," Dean snapped. "How long will it take to...get out of my system?"

"That depends," Sam began. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

"Another story?"

"It could take a lot longer."

"Great," you mumbled.

"Sam, don't be there when we get there," Dean growled at his brother before hanging up the phone.

"Dean?" you questioned softly.

"Just drive, (Y/N)."

You continued driving, but your focus was most definitely not on the road. You could hear the heavy breathing and the soft pained sounds coming from the man beside you and it made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. It certainly didn't help that you had wanted him for years and seeing him like this was making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't be feeling.

Dean flirted with you regularly, but he flirted with almost every person he came into contact with. It's just a part of his personality, so you never read into it. While Dean quite obviously adored you (and you him), you were not his type. You were a good fighter, sure, but where you really excelled was research. You were brilliant--almost as knowledgable as Bobby, though you still had plenty to learn. You were also significantly more--voluptuous than the women Dean gravitated to. Soft, chubby, more to love--whatever you wanna call it. As such, you'd never made any sort of move to announce your feelings for him. You didn't want to face his rejection.

"Sweetheart, if you don't speed up, I'm liable to die before we make it there," Dean hissed.

You shot him a look. "We're less than two minutes away, so don't die on me yet, Winchester."

He exhaled sharply and nodded. "I'm not gonna make it either way, (Y/N). Like you said, we don't have enough time to find a, uh--partner."

You took a deep breath. "I can't let you die."

He looked over at you and you felt his gaze boring right into your soul. "I can't do that to you."

"I really don't see how we have much of a choice here."

You pulled into the motel parking lot before he could respond.

"Let's go," you said quickly as you got out of the car and made your way to your room.

Dean was right behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. As soon as the door was unlocked, Dean was pushing you through it and locking it behind you.

"Shit," he muttered. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"It's okay, Dean," you said softly. "I'm not afraid."

His eyes widened and he grabbed your chin. "You should be...I'm going to lose control."

"It's alright...use me."

He let out a low growl and squeezed your chin tighter. "I--I won't be able to make this good for you."

You pressed yourself against his body, feeling the hard ridges against you. "It's not about me. You need this."

That was all it took for Dean to let go. His lips attacked yours with a hunger you were not expecting despite the intensity of the situation. He was not at all gentle as he tore your clothes from your body, ripping his own off with equal force.

He tossed you down on the bed with shocking ease. He had absolutely no difficulty manhandling you. You weren't sure if it was the sex pollen or just him.

His lips and hands were everywhere, touching every inch of your soft skin he could possibly reach. He needed to be inside of you so badly it was almost impossible to breathe. His skin burned with each touch and his instincts screamed at him to just break you.

He moves his way down your body and you're surprised as he stops just above your core. "Dean, what are you doing?" You knew he needed a release--and soon--or he wasn't gonna make it.

A voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him this was (Y/N), his (Y/N). Even in his current state, he wanted to avoid hurting you if he could. "Need to get you ready," he grunted.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was devouring your pussy. The sounds he made were incredible, the feeling almost electrifying. He slid two fingers in and moved them in a scissoring motion to help loosen you up.

He was only down there for a 30 seconds before he came up and locked eyes with you. "I can't hold off anymore."

You nodded. "Just let go. I'll be okay."

He knew the moment he slid inside you, he'd be a goner. Whatever tiny amount of self control he'd managed to hang onto would disappear in an instant. But he could also feel the roaring agony inside him and he needed to feed it before it devoured him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear a split second before he sheathed himself fully inside you.

You cried out--pain mixing with pleasure as his large member stretched you in ways you'd never before experienced.

Dean couldn't give you time to adjust--he was too far gone. His hips began to move and his sole focus was on his own pleasure--his own release.

His thrusts were powerful and fast, so much so that your body started to scoot farther up the bed. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, pace never faltering. The sensations were almost painful given his size, but you wouldn't have stopped him even if you could have.

"Fuck, baby--you feel so good," he grunted.

You were more than a little surprised when he spoke--you hadn't pegged him as a dirty talker. Then again, it could very well have been the pollen. The same could be said of the sounds coming from his mouth. You'd never heard such sinful noises and you loved them.

"So tight--squeezing me so good. Feels like heaven."

You squeezed his cock purposefully, making him groan each time you clenched down. He needed his release and you were gonna make sure he got it. Your own enjoyment was far from your mind--this was essentially a transaction--a lifesaving measure. You had to view it that way to protect your heart...at least that's what you told yourself.

"Baby," he moaned. "Imma fill you up--so close."

Despite the voice in your head telling you this wasn't real--that you shouldn't have any emotional attachments--you reached up and touched his face, caressing it lovingly. "Cum for me, Dean," you whispered.

His eyes locked on yours and he bit his lip--hearing you say his name in the heat of the moment was a bigger turn on than he'd ever imagined. It pushed him right over the edge and he spilled inside of you with a grunt.

You lay beneath him, panting despite the minimal exertion on your part. He'd had his orgasm, but he was still moving, much to your surprise. "You're not done--?"

He shook his head. "Need more."

He pulled out and quickly flipped you over with no warning. You instinctively lifted your hips to allow him access, which he took without hesitation. His cock was still throbbing and the need still burned in his veins. His mind remained singularly focused on his relief--his pleasure.

He slammed into your pussy and set a brutal pace, earning a cry of pain from your lips. This new angle allowed him better access, sending his cock deeper inside of you. His head brushed against your cervix with each thrust, a stinging pain accompanying the pleasure.

Dean's large palm came down on your ass with a hard smack, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Your pussy clamped down on his cock as he landed another slap to your round cheek.

"Fuck baby, you like that don't you?" Smack. "You like it when I slap this sexy ass?" Smack. "Fuck--squeezing me so tight, sweetheart." Smack.

He was right though, you loved it. You always had, but there was something extra enjoyable about having your ass smacked by Dean Fucking Winchester. Even if you couldn't verbally express your pleasure to him, your pussy made it well-known.

Dean's right hand gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as he continued pumping. His left hand trailed up your back until he grabbed a fist full of hair at the base of your neck and pulled. Your head snapped back and you cried out, but you didn't fight him.

"Do you know how badly I've wanted to pull this hair, pretty girl? Fuck--I think about it all the time." His pace was relentless and his hand remained entangled in your hair.

You'd never really noticed him looking at your hair in any particular way, so you assumed once again the pollen was making him say such dirty little things.

After several more thrusts, Dean let go of your hair and pushed down on your upper back, forcing you to press your upper body into the mattress. Dean gripped your hips with both of his hands and slammed into you with an intensity that was unmatched by any of his previous actions.

You had a feeling he was close to another orgasm, at least if his grunts and curses were anything to go by. You clenched down around him again, intent on pushing him past the brink.

It worked like a charm. Dean came with a cry of your name, thrusts continuing as he emptied inside of you once again.

You were exhausted and you hadn't had a single orgasm. Part of you really hoped Dean had gotten it all out of his system, but another part of you didn't want this to end. Even if it wasn't real--even if he didn't actually want to be having sex with you, you liked pretending, if only for a little while.

Dean pulled out of you slowly and rolled you over with a surprising gentleness. You assumed that meant he was satiated and the pollen was out of his system.

When you met his eyes, you were surprised by how brilliantly green they were. You'd almost gotten used to the dark forest color that had taken over as a result of the pollen. He was looking at you with an odd expression you couldn't quite place, but for some reason it made you want to scurry away and hide.

"Better?" you whispered.

He cocked his head to the side and a small smirk played on his lips. "Not even close," he murmured.

His lips met yours in a fiery kiss before you had time to respond. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was more passionate, more intense. It made your body tingle all over and a warmth spread through your veins.

Dean's brain fog had finally cleared enough that he could actually slow down and focus on what was happening--on what he was doing, or rather who. He hated that he'd cum twice without even thinking about you, let alone making you orgasm. Dean prided himself on being an excellent lover and he wasn't about to let you leave this bed unsatisfied.

His cock brushed against your pussy as he shifted to hold you closer. You both inhaled sharply, enjoying the sensation. Dean's lips began to travel down your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses in his wake. He nipped at your pulse point, earning an excited moan from you. He liked hearing that sound, so he sucked on that spot until you were panting heavily beneath him.

His hands traveled over your soft curves, touching and squeezing all the parts of your body you were self-conscious about. Dean didn't seem to give a damn that your stomach wasn't flat, that your hips weren't narrow and your thighs weren't skinny--in fact, he seemed to be reveling in the feeling of softness.

His lips were so gentle as he continued his downward movements. He kissed and licked and sucked on each of your breasts, spending several minutes focusing on each one. "You have such perfect breasts," he murmured.

You were too surprised, and perhaps too lost in pleasure, to formulate any kind of response to his words. Luckily, he didn't seem to need one, and he refocused his attention on you.

Once he was satisfied your breasts had received enough love, he continued moving down your stomach, stopping to place soft kisses to every mark and scar he saw.

When he reached your sweet pussy, he spread your legs as wide as he could and settled down between them. You were surprised at his actions, especially since you knew he was still hard--that he still needed another release.

Dean was now singularly focused on one thing--and that was you. Now that his damn brain was working properly, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this--even if it was a one time thing because you didn't want him to die, he wasn't about to walk away from this without making you scream his name at least once.

He breathed in deeply, smelling your arousal mixed with his own spend, and he smirked. His eyes flicked up to yours and his mouth latched onto your clit, unleashing an overwhelming assault on your swollen mound.

You gasped as the sudden pleasure washed over you. You couldn't take your eyes off the man between your legs--nor did he take his eyes off you. Every time your hips bucked or you tried to move, his strong arms held you in place so he could continue to watch you.

You were writhing against the sheets in what felt like seconds--it was probably longer, but either way you felt embarrassed at how quickly you fell apart under his touch. Your orgasm tore through you like a hurricane, broken moans dripping from your lips.

To your shock, and perhaps concern, Dean didn't stop his assault on your pussy. Even as you tried to squirm away, he held you in place, desperate to give you another orgasm. You whimpered that it was too much, begged him to give you a break, but all of those words quickly morphed into pleas to keep going--don't stop.

"Dean," you gasped as your fingers slipped into his hair, grabbing hold of the short locks by the roots. Your nails scrapped lightly against his scalp and he let out a soft groan.

His tongue seemed to dance across your clit, creating beautiful designs and languages only he seemed to know. He paid attention to what motions made you quiver, which ones made you moan, and which ones had you tugging on his hair with an iron grip.

"Dean, please--I--so close," you moaned.

He smiled, enjoying the immense pleasure he was giving you just as much as you seemed to enjoy it. A few moments later, you were once again coming apart against his mouth and he eagerly lapped up everything you had to give him.

This time as you tugged on his hair and squirmed away, he obliged, lifting himself up from between your thighs. He licked his lips as he looked down at your blissed out face.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he murmured. "Wanna taste?"

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes widened and you nodded hesitantly. He smiled wolfishly as he leaned down to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly, allowing you to taste yourself.

You moaned into the kiss and he held you even more tightly, lips sealed to yours like he needed your air to breathe.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to control his urges long enough to coax two orgasms from you, but he could feel that control waning. "I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so badly."

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. You lifted your hips to brush against his cock and he groaned at the contact. You nipped at his jaw and pulled him back down to you. "Fuck me, Dean. Please."

He groaned. "Yes ma'am."

He didn't hesitate as he gripped his cock firmly and lined it up with your entrance. He slipped inside easily, having plenty of lubrication to assist him. Despite having been inside of you multiple times at this point, he was still taken aback by how fucking incredible you felt.

"God, I love this pussy," he murmured. "She was made for me."

You moaned softly at his words and the feeling of him inside you once again. As he started to move, he was much more gentle and you found yourself enjoying the sensations--perhaps more than you should.

"You're so good for me, (Y/N)," Dean mumbled, already lost in the feeling of you.

You would have given anything to hear him say that, but the words broke your heart a little. Had he had any other choice, he likely wouldn't be here right now--you wouldn't be the one he was fucking.

"Hey," he whispered, a rough, calloused hand running along your cheek as he looked at you. "Where's that pretty little head at?"

You smiled at him. "Right here, Dean."

Somewhere inside of him, he knew you were lying, but the damn pollen was still affecting his senses. He accepted your response and went back to his actions, focusing on the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock like a vise.

He wanted to feel you cum one more time...wanted to feel the way you'd squeeze his cock as you came. He wanted to watch you come undone beneath him, lost in pleasure he gave you.

He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your hips, sliding the pillow under them. This provided him a new, improved angle, allowing him to cage you beneath him and hit that sweet spot inside you.

"Dean!" you gasped as the first thrust hit your g-spot.

He grinned and picked up his pace, slamming into it repeatedly. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge of an orgasm you knew would ruin you. Dean Winchester already made you feel things no other man ever had and his ability in bed was no exception. Damn him.

His thrusts were firm and measured, each one sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body. The familiar tightening in your gut was so intense you thought you might actually explode.

Dean's strong arms were on either side of your head and he was looking down at you with that same strange expression from earlier. "You're so damn beautiful, baby. I wanna watch this pretty face as you cum for me."

You gasped, unprepared for the way his words made you feel. You felt emboldened, so you asked for what you needed. "I need more, Dean."

His hand slipped between your bodies, a single finger gently massaging your clit as he continued to fuck you. "That better, baby?"

You nodded rapidly, earning a soft chuckle from his sweet lips.

"You gonna cum for me beautiful?"

You nodded again.

"Yeah? I want you to keep those pretty eyes open when you cum, okay? Wanna see you fall apart."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I know, sweet girl. I've got you."

Your brain seemed to short-circuit in that moment. All you could feel was a blinding hot pressure immediately followed by an intense euphoria. You heard someone scream "Dean!" and you belatedly realized it had been your voice.

The intensity of your orgasm sent Dean spiraling over the edge of his own. He hadn't even been prepared for it--the mixture of you screaming his name and the sensations of you squeezing him so tightly and the gorgeous way your face contorted as you came was all he needed.

He emptied into you a third and final time, his cock finally beginning to soften as he helped you ride out your high.

He pulled out and flopped down beside you on the bed, his body aching from what had to be some of the best sex of his life--sex pollen or not.

You were just as sore as Dean--probably more so given you literally couldn't move. The two of you laid there in silence, slowly coming down from the electrical highs you'd experienced, both trying to catch your breath for the first time in what felt like hours.

Dean was the first to recover. "Did I hurt you?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

You turned your head to look at him and your heart clenched at the expression on his face. He was genuinely worried, brows furrowed in concern. You contemplated lying to him, but you knew he'd see right through you.

"A little," you said honestly.

He winced and his beautiful eyes closed. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)--I would never hurt you on purpose--ever."

You offered him a small smile he couldn't see, until your hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes again. "I know."

There were a thousand other things you wanted to say--a thousand words you wanted to string together into just the right sentences, but you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself through it.

"Shower?" he asked softly.

"I honestly don't think I can stand."

A smirk played on his lips. "That should not make me feel so damn good."

You laughed lightly, glad to hear the teasing tone in his voice that you loved so much.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position. "It's not ideal, but there is a bathtub..." he trailed off.

"I wouldn't mind a bath," you admitted.

He nodded and got to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but managed to make his way to the bathroom. You heard the water running as he filled up the tub.

You laid there thinking about everything that had just happened. This was a position you'd never imagined you'd be in--with anyone, let alone Dean Winchester.

You knew this wasn't something you were going to be able to forget about, but you hoped things would go back to normal between the two of you and eventually this would just be a funny story.

Suddenly, Sam's words from earlier snapped into your mind. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

One and done...one and done. This most definitely had not been a 'one and done' scenario. But didn't that mean...? No. No way. Impossible. Dean Winchester does NOT have feelings for you.

You began to rationalize your thought process. Maybe "care about" included a friendly relationship. Yeah...yeah that made the most sense. Of course Dean cares about you. You're his best friend. There couldn't possibly be anything more to it...right?

As if on cue, Dean stepped back into the room. "Bath's ready."

"Okay." You tried to pull yourself up, but you immediately fell back against the mattress, body too worn out to sustain any kind of movement.

Dean chuckled lightly and came up to the side of the bed. He pulled the pillow out from under your hips and slipped his arms under your body, hoisting you up bridal style.

"Jesus!" you yelled. "Put me down! I'm too heavy--you'll throw out your back."

Dean laughed. "Calm down, (Y/N). I just threw you around this bed repeatedly with zero issues. I promise I can carry you to the bathroom without dying."

"But--"

He glared at you and tightened his grip on you as if to prove his point. "Ain't a damn thing wrong with your body, so shut it."

Your mouth closed immediately. His words sent a jolt directly to your core and you were almost annoyed by it. As if three orgasms wasn't enough...

Dean very gently set you on your feet in the bathroom and slowly helped you into the tub. As soon as he got you into a seated position, he got into the tub as well, slipping in behind you.

"Umm...whatcha doing?"

"Taking a bath."

"Isn't the tub a bit small for both of us?"

You could feel him shrug behind you. "I think it's perfect size. Now come here." He grabbed your shoulders and gently pulled you back so you were laying against his chest. "That's better," he muttered.

Your mind began to race once again as you laid there, body tense and uncomfortable.

"Okay, (Y/N), I know you better than anyone, so don't you dare lie to me. Where's your head at?"

"I--" you sighed. "I'm not really sure how to feel."

He nodded. "I know you didn't want this--I feel like I had to literally force myself onto you and I hate that. I know you only agreed so I wouldn't die, but--"

"Woah--stop." You sat up and turned your head to face him. "That's not true at all. You didn't force me to do anything."

"Okay, maybe 'force' is the wrong word...but you did have sex with me to save my life. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I'm painfully aware," you muttered.

He ran his hand over his face. "I'm not saying any of this right."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

He bit his lip. "Remember what Sammy said? About...how long the effects would last?"

You nodded.

"Well in case you didn't notice, I had three orgasms."

"Both me and my very sore vagina noticed," you said lightly.

He sighed. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, (Y/N)?"

You turned a little more so you could see his face better. He had that same look he'd had when he was making you feel incredible. "I need to hear you say it..." you whispered.

He nodded and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from yours. "He didn't mean 'care' as in 'we're friends, so I care about you'...he meant 'care' as in 'love'."

Your lips parted and you inhaled sharply.

"So you see, I don't just care about you as a friend...and I don't just love you as a friend...I'm in love with you."

"You--you love me?"

"In love," he repeated. "For as long as I can remember."

"You're in love--with me?"

He chuckled softly. "Who else would I be talking to, baby? Yes, I'm in love with you."

"I--I don't know--" you stuttered.

"The only thing you need to know is how you feel. Do you know how you feel about me, (Y/N)?" he whispered.

You nodded slowly.

"And?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He grinned widely. "Yeah?"

You nodded, cheeks turning red.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against him. He looked down at you with that expression he'd been wearing and you suddenly realized what it was...it was love--real, true, beautiful, heart aching love.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips, which you returned in kind. He held you tightly, loving the feeling of your body in his arms.

"We better get cleaned up before this water gets cold," he said softly, lips pressing to your hair.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

He chuckled. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me, babe."

"But I'm comfortable," you whined.

He smiled against your cheek. "Give me five minutes to clean you up and then we can sleep, okay?"

You looked over at him and smiled. "Deal."

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nouearth · 11 months ago

Text

small things like these.

pairing. clark kent x male reader.

word count. 12.2k.

summary. a moment like having a cup of overly-sweet, sugary coffee spill all over you was one of the reasons why you'd been charmed by a clumsy man named clark kent.

content warning. fluff, eventual smut, corenswet!clark, top!clark, bottom!reader, strangers to lovers, brief lois lane mention, yearning!friends, clark has a sweet tooth, kissing, rimming, blowjobs, praising, sweet verbal, size difference, body worship, breeding, sweet and passionate love-making!

a/n. i recommend listening to the normal people soundtrack while reading!

I: MAY.

It all started with a crash.

The smell of gasoline was poisoning. Cars were lined up like dominos, passing gas from one engine to another, and the scent was festering in Clark’s nostrils, its rotting smell seemingly quadrupled by the summer heat. That was the charm of the city. The smell, and the constant scream of car horns as traffic began piling up. In the eyes of his folks, Clark can see his Ma and Pa doubting his sanity had they ever witnessed Metropolis. His Ma would shake her head in disapproval at the size of his apartment, and his Pa would be overstimulated into disbelief as the trio held hands and swam their way through the swarm of people who were simultaneously being chased in pursuit by one reminder:

FASTER! YOU’RE RUNNING LATE!

“Oh, crap—“ Hugging the coffee cup to his chest after switching arms, Clark rolled his sleeve up to check his watch. Quarter to nine. “Crap, crap, crap, crap!” Panic finally set in, charging Clark forward into the sunny abyss of office-workers.

This would be the last time he would grab coffee right before work. He’d paid for the consequences already by nearly missing his morning meeting multiple times. Heavy emphasis on nearly as his shoes would audibly skid from turning from one corner to another upon the race he had against the clock, as the slippery leather of his shoes would nearly make him take a tumble if he hadn’t corrected his footing once he began sprinting to his cubicle, and as he sat down in the uncomfortable seat of his chair, only to rise back up once Mr. White made his entrance, nearly missing roll-call. Out of relief, Clark would take a sip of his Frappuccino. The whipped cream deflated from the race, though its vanilla flavor was unaffected as the foam happily danced on his tongue, mixing deliciously with the sweetened coffee. he would feel himself replenished with energy the more sips he took. “Damn you…” He would gulp, licking the vanilla foam off his lips, repentant in his mutter, “Why do you taste so good? Right when I’m supposed to let you go, you reel me back in…”

Clark was a certified Metropolitan.

“Sorry—I’m sorry—‘Scuse me! Passing through—“

Nearly there. The man was a mountain of muscle, sturdy and well-knit upon first glance, but Clark used his muscles for good, to protect others in situations where they needed him for leverage, not to harm. Upon instinct, he turned a shoulder for a woman to pass through, sparing little contact, then another when a father chased after his kid. It was hectic, his cup of coffee almost losing his grasp in midst of the scuffle, but Clark managed to find a silver lining in the crowd in midst of the clock ticking: the revolving door to the Daily Planet, an entrance Clark has become irrevocably beholden to.

“S-sorry!”

A man yelled out, “Watch it, asshole!” In midst of bumping shoulders.Few met his height. Many would either desire to have his height, or to be in the arms of the man who towered over 6’4. Though, in the morning of Metropolis, most if not all deemed it a nuisance.

Breaking out of the herd of people, Clark felt liberated. His legs moved in larger steps, and his elbows spanned from his sides like how they normally should as he ran into the revolving door and pushed against the partition to turn. He checked his watch again. Three minutes left. “Come on, come on—“ One hand squeezed his cup of coffee, and the other clasped his ID badge. His fingers felt slippery from the condensation of his drink, so he squeezed harder, pacing forward to the elevator, then faster when the elevator opened with only a single patron, you, occupying the space.

Faster.

Clark’s thighs were on fire.

His watch, two minutes.

Faster. Almost there.

Clark let out one last breath as he was nearing, holding it out in preparation to stop the elevator door from closing. A relief of a smile came to spread across his face when it opened to accommodate his charging entrance from a few feet away. Usually, he was met by an expression of irritation by anybody who was occupying the elevator, but you looked bewildered, your eyes opening wide milliseconds later upon realization.

Fear, as your mouth opened to shout, “W-wait! S-slow down!”

It was all in slow motion, watching your face contort to a various of expressions, and then nothing, as Clark clenched the cup of his drink with the force akin to batter hitting a home-run, popping the lid off the cup in process, and spilling the Frappuccino onto the frightened man, with extra vanilla whipped cream and all. All you needed as a cherry on top of your head, and you were ready to be sold as a Monday lunch special.

Maybe his beginner’s luck was running out of flame.

II: MAY.

Luckily, not many people seemed to use the bathroom in the morning. They must’ve gotten it all out of their system before coming to work. You were bent over the sink, wiping your face with god-knows how many paper towels.

“Just my luck…” You grumbled, squinting at your reflection in the mirror as you wiped the corners of your eyes, then your forehead, and then your ears. No matter how many times you’d lave your face with water, you felt sticky, gross, and worst of all, you looked like a mess. You still had your hair and clothes to clean, the smell of vanilla syrup sickening to your nose. The latter was definitely going to require an insane amount of bleach and arm grease to get the coffee stain off.

The door swung open not too long after, and in came the culprit who’d painted your clothes in brown and white, wide-eyed and panicked like he was searching for a lost puppy, then apologetic and defenseless as if he was the puppy that ran away.

“Shoot, I’m so, so, so sorry—“ He brought his hands to his head, pulling at the messy dark curls of his hair. You side-eyed him, responding with nothing but silence, and then a crinkle of the paper towel as you squeezed out the water.

“Save it.” Your tone was pointed, though you didn’t necessarily mean for it to come across as aggressive as it did. It was already a bad start to your day. Your milk expired, you ran out of frozen breakfast food, and the bakery you liked to visit in the mornings temporarily closed for renovations. All forewarnings to this very moment, where you had been cleaning whipped cream out of your hair. You held out another damp paper towel towards the man, and then waved it when he simply stared, or rather embarrassingly gawked at the mess he had created. “Get my neck.”

“Y-yeah… Of course.”

Silence. You weren’t sure how long you two have been at it, but you’ve managed to fill the trash can half-way with the paper towels. In complete, utterly awkward silence. His touch was delicate, the paper towel gently cascading over your neck in small swipes, even though you’d shown him that you were more than capable to pierce through him with your glare alone. Laser beams would ricochet off your reflection, bounce off the tiled walls of the bathroom, and somehow strike him through the heart and tear that oversized vest right off of his large frame.

The anger only settled when the man repeated his nth apology, moving onto wipe your hair clean. You closed your eyes to calm yourself, breathing out a deep sigh, because it was a mistake. You were having a bad start to your day, and… so was he? Wouldn’t be a surprise. Mondays were notorious in fucking up the week.

“It’s… fine. Not like you meant to do that.” You looked at him through the reflection, his brows scrunched from hyper-fixating on every lock of hair that was blessed with his whipped cream. Was he always this handsome? And why is he towering over you? Why is he so close?

“Who gets a Frappe in the morning though?”

“I—Black coffee doesn’t really help me stay awake.” A nervous laughter now that you were making conversation with him. It was the complete opposite of how he physically looked. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. “Nor does it taste that good.” He muttered, cleaning the last lock of your hair.

“I would tell you to watch your sugar, but I’m guessing… you got that down?” You didn’t mean to make a comment on his broad body, but the difference in stature was laughable. “(M/N). You?”

“I-Uh, Clark. Clark Kent.” He washed his hands in the sink next to you, lips opening to what you could presume to be another apology. You’ve only met him for fifteen minutes, but you were beginning to catch his habits.

“Okay, Clark.” You stepped forward, crossing your arms, and you could feel the rattle of his gaze as he glanced at you from the reflection. “I work downstairs, at the gift shop. You can apologize by bringing me lunch for a month straight.”

“Wait—A month?! T-that’s kind of expensive, don’t you think—“

“Hey, you can make it yourself. Get it from the supermarket. Scraps from a restaurant’s garage bin nearby. I don’t really care.” You leaned against the counter, stifling a smile as Clark looked rather charming flustered like this. “If you were really sorry, you’d be committed to making up for it nonetheless.”

“That’s a little extreme for someone you don’t know…?”

You shrugged, then turned on your heel. “Spilling a drink on someone isn’t exactly an ideal way to introduce yourself, you know.” Dusting your fingers of water droplets, you began your exit. “Also, I need a new shirt.”

“W-wait—“

“See ya, Mark!”

“It’s Clark!”

Maybe his luck was just beginning.

III: JULY.

“So…? Ready to guess?” The smile on Clark’s face was filled with anticipation. He watched you chew the contents in your mouth in an obnoxiously poised manner, an inside joke between the two of you as you two had been binging on cooking competition shows. You tilted your head in thought like the pretentious judge on one of those shows, pausing mid-chew like something strange had collided with your tastebuds, then continued as if it had faded away. “Come on, I’m dying here.”

You swallowed, taking a sip of water to wash down the bread. “Hey, I need more than a bite to figure the ingredients out!”

“(M/N), you’ve practically eaten half of the sandwich already.” Clark took his half of the sandwich and sank his teeth into the pillowy bread.

“Look who’s talking.” You rolled a piece of white bread in between your thumb and index finger until it formed a ball, and playfully threw it at Clark’s shoulder. “I didn’t get to eat dinner last night.”

It was a strange feeling in Clark when you said that. His chest swelled a little, as if his heart kicked it from within. “Why’s that?” He slowed his chewing to clear his ears, putting aside his tastebuds for his attention.

“Well, they’re expanding the gift shop, so they’re asking me to work longer hours to help out. No one else said yes, and I need the money, so there was no question about it, you know?” He watched you dust off your fingers on a napkin. He knew of your habits now. Take a sip of your water, which you did, then fully settle your arms onto the table, unabashedly gazing into his eyes to give your tastebuds a break. His eyes altered to the tip of your tongue, peeking out to lick a crumb off your lip, and Clark mirrored onto himself.

It was a secret vaulted in the deep abyss of Clark’s stomach - well, not so much considering Jimmy liked to run his mouth - but your eyes were his favorite parts about you. Even when they were seemingly set aflame on the day he’d met you, your orbs have since had a way to reel him in like bait and never seemed to have let go. He would find himself free-falling into what soon felt closer to home with every second that would pass by.

“Doesn’t mean you have to skip dinner, though.”

There was a breeze. Gentle and swaying like the jazz music playing in the balcony of the café. It sifted through your hair like sugar would through fine mesh. One got caught on a few strands—wind— and it blew back to recognize your features with the sun, beaming on features that Clark would someday have the courage to say he adored.

“Why? You thinking about bringing me dinner too?” He doesn’t like that you tease him so effortlessly. Clark also doesn’t like how easily flustered he gets, which prompts the cycle of teasing to begin with.

With hesitation, he tried it himself once, saying something about how you looked good enough to eat or something when you styled your hair back for a change. Though, what came out was something along the lines of: “You look like you eat good enough,” and Clark would rather forget that interaction even happening.

“Haven’t stopped bringing you lunch, if you think about it.” The memory of his first meeting with you brought a smile to his lips, and yours as well, because you two tend to sync thoughts.

“Yeah, two months now… When’s that going to stop?”

“It’s a routine now. I don’t think I can find it in me to suddenly stop feeding you.”

“Hm, you’d make a good boyfriend, Clark.”

“Yeah…”

IV: AUGUST.

“Nervous?”

The powdery top note of your hairspray tickled your senses. You counted in your head, holding back a layer of Clark’s hair in your palm. One, two, three, four… Once you reached thirty, you released, sealing the pushed back fringe in place with another layer of the grooming product.

“How can you tell? Do I look nervous?!” He’d been chewing on his lip, playing with his fingers, moving in his seat. It was like a toddler, but unlike a toddler, Clark was an adult. An adult who had enough awareness to refrain from making any sudden movements while someone had a scalding hot styling iron in their hand.

“Clark, you haven’t stopped shaking your leg since you sat down—“ You delicately pulled a curly strand to the front of his forehead, and it was another reminder how easily Clark could pursue a career in Hollywood. If only journalism hadn’t been such a strong passion for him. Though, with the way his nerves had been electrifying his body—maybe he made the right call in the end.

“Oh—Sorry… I’m just—I don’t know. What if I mess up? I say the wrong thing to Lois, and then she hates me forever? Then what? She tells the entire office about what a terrible—”

“Whoa, I think you’re thinking way too far ahead here. What happened to you being Mister Optimistic all the time?” You ushered him to get up from the seat, and then handed Clark his dress shirt and tie. “Besides, I don’t think Lois would do that. If you like her, that must mean she has some type of soul.”

“I guess so.” Clark muttered, changing into his shirt. Perfectly tailored to his body contrary to the oversized button-downs he was used to wearing. “You wanna hang out after?”

“Uh… you sure you’re going to be free? And not… you know,” Your brows raised, giving Clark a knowing look, and it was that flush of skin that you secretly adored coming in hot, boiling on the apples of his cheeks as Clark quickly deciphered what you meant.

“I don’t sleep with people on the first date, (M/N).” It was priceless. The horror on Clark’s face upon the accusation, his orbs retracting like he’d seen a spaceship landing on earth for the first time. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his confession while tidying up his living room.

“I know a lot of people do! I just had to make sure.” You waited on the couch as Clark changed, replying to missed messages, scrolling through updates on multiple social media accounts, until you heard Clark approach from behind.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat, announcing his presence, and you turned upon the sound. “Looks okay?”

It was Clark.

It was Clark, but a more refined version of him. Not that he was sloppy in the first place, but simply… you could see him clearer, his own confidence radiating like it had finally discovered an escape to its freedom. His eyes, clear blues that sparkled even when the approaching night began casting shadows through his blinds and onto his glasses. It helped that you styled his hair back too, framing his face for the whole world to admire, and most importantly, for his date to as well. You reminded him to stand tall, and he took that into consideration through his posture straightening, and his chin raising.

“Y-yeah, you look… great.” It was infectious. His smile while he admired himself through his mirror. His dimples smiled back at him, and you felt your own lips curling on their own, like you’ve eaten a candy that was too sweet for its own good. “Lois is going to love it.”

Cavity-inducing.

“Yeah? Oh—I have to pick her up soon. So, you’ll be here, right?! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if it goes well—“ Clark let out one last breath, then a shake of his arms, and he found his nerves rattling up again despite as he approached the door.

Ten steps closer than before to Lois.

“It’ll go well, I promise!” It was his moment. Clark’s moment. Yet, you felt weird about it. You wanted to look at him for longer, a sudden greed to keep him in his apartment for longer.

“All right… wish me luck.” He turned to look back at you, appreciative in his smile, but his eyes looked guilty, meaningfully longing akin to the way he had looked when he spilled his drink on you.

That’s right.

“Good luck.” Apologetic, you remembered when he finally exited the room, and closed it shut.

Clark gave you cavities.

And like all cavities, you needed to get rid of them.

You needed to get rid of Clark.

V: DECEMBER.

It was partially his fault, wasn’t it?

There was no doubt in mind that you and Clark have been spending less time together. Clark was never a big texter, but he found himself messaging you a lot more often to make up for the fact that he had rarely seen you the past few weeks. Lunch was spent with Lois, dinner was with Lois, drinks were with Lois, binge-watching TV… with Lois.

“You’re always talking about Lois…”

It was why he preferred meeting up, because you never answered your phone, especially these days. If he was lucky, you’d spare him more than four messages a day before saying goodnight.

You never liked saying goodnight, and neither did Clark. By preference, Clark liked to fall asleep on the phone with you where he would catch your snores, and the embarrassment of it all would keep you awake for a little longer, at least until it was Clark’s turn to retiring for the night. It felt safe, knowing that he wasn’t - to some extent - alone in his bed. That he could mumble your name in his sleep, and you’d toss in bed, his voice ricocheting off into your own dreams.

It felt intimate.

“Hey, give me a call whenever you get back. Lois and I found this really cool aquarium you’d really like! I got a turtle keychain for you too.”

“(M/N)? Hey, I totally forgot about dinner last night! Work’s gotten so busy, and then Lois wanted to go out, and my parents were calling, so—Let me make it up to you? We can go to that diner you’ve been talking about.”

“Hey, (M/N)! Didn’t see you at the shop today… Doing okay? Not sure if you got the sandwich I left for you on the counter. Or maybe someone had stolen it. But text me? Let me know?”

“It’s Clark. Why am I telling you—I saw you the other day, but… you seemed like you were in a rush? I’m guessing renovation is taking a toll on you? Give me a call…”

“Hey, uh… Listen, If I did something… Will you let me know, please? I-I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening here, between us, but… I just. I miss—”

Clark didn’t want to seem obsessive. Absolutely not.

But this was getting out-of-hand. He was panicking. He’d been panicking for the past few weeks since this whole charade had started. It was only right for him to worry like this, about his best friend. To go from aligning his lunch breaks with yours to sitting stone-faced at his cubicle with a half-eaten sandwich in his Tupperware was a huge disruption to his routine. It was like the world had turned against him in solidarity. Knowing his own mind, Clark deserved it.

There had been a farrago of missteps, too many of them to count, for Clark to simply shrug it off and see the silver lining through them for the next day, for the next week, or for the next month. It wasn’t like before he’d met you, where he would simply get caught in a long line of office workers waiting for their coffee, and then received a free pastry because they had messed up his order twice. Or how he would sleep through his alarms, where his body clock fortunately alerted him awake before traffic would begin to dominate the streets.

No, this was different.

He’d earned a raise since then, for his great work on profiling the Superman, but it was all he did now. When it wasn’t Superman, it was being Superman, and Clark wished there was someone to talk to. To celebrate with, now that he can splurge a bit more on himself. To vent towards, about how it was obvious that he’d been holding Lois back since their relationship started. To shout with while he watched a movie because the killer had been in the main character’s house all along. To lament towards, because Lois had called it quits, yet in spite of that, it wasn’t as painful as the way you had been treating him. To scream out the month’s omen with, because maintaining this double-life of his was wearing him down.

Moments of happiness, catapulting his memories of you with laughter and warmth, had felt like a wound. A piece of him was broken. He felt hollowed out - a pineapple without its core - more so than ever, losing you as quickly as he had became friends with you, as quickly as he had fallen for you. Spineless, if he just watched you slip out his fingers and float away.

He needed to bring you back. He needed to tie you around his wrist like a balloon, like how his Ma and Pa would when they took him to the fair as a kid. At least if you float away again, he’d chase after you like he should’ve the first time.

If luck was on his side, you’d let him hold your hand and cruise the winter sky together. And if a miracle was in the palms of Clark Kent, he’d reckon voyaging the four seasons as one would turn over a new leaf.

VI: DECEMBER.

The air was frigid. The glass pane of your window shivered against the cold, frost webbing your reflection from corner to corner as you peered out into the city. Noses red and cheeks flushed, symptoms of the freezing cold as they endured the walk home. Careful steps across the sidewalk, into the street, as flakes of white fell to the earth.

For an alien, it would summon silence. Those sparkling crests that would melt upon contact—an invasion they would yell in terror as the flakes seeped into their skin like acid. But for humans, people like you, it brought laughter. Giggles pierced the air, couples holding each other close to gather heat, but to also keep each other from slipping, and the world had only felt warmer despite the snow’s best efforts.

Your smile reflected off the joy radiating off of multiple passersby. Kids with their guardians. Dogs with their owners. Parents with their own parents. The holiday was nearing, spirits ramping in midst. As the streets emptied, leaving you in nothing but the cruel howl of the wind, you couldn’t bring yourself to caring about your favorite celebration. There was little need for your participation if you didn’t have anyone to spend it with.

To be completely honest, it was your fault.

Clark was happy. He was happy to have someone who shared the same interest in him. He was happy that Lois could bring the best out of him, either out of his work or out of his personal ambitions. Lois would make Clark the man his parents would be proud to see after silently agonizing over months on whether the city would be good for him. He was happy to share this new chapter in his life with you, and you had little patience to see him blossom.

You couldn’t bear it, knowing that it could’ve been you.

God, you were being childish. This felt like high school all over again, except… not really considering you weren’t out in high school. You’ve watched enough coming-of-age films to know that the audience would’ve deemed you immature. Worst of all, you would’ve vented to Clark about how foolish the main character was being.

Your romantic experience had been limited to silently crushing on guys in your classes to hooking up with strangers through an app. Maybe that explained why you were acting out. Why you preferred isolating yourself from the root of your happiness instead of surrounding yourself with it. When was the last time you were ever in love? With the family dog? With her puppies? No, actually in love… with a person, with a man.

“Fuck.” The ice cream in your mouth suddenly stung the back of your jaw the longer the spoon sat in your mouth. You’ve been looping Clark’s voice messages, debating on whether it was too late to reconcile, whether he was too upset at you to even want to have you step a foot inside of his apartment.

“I miss you. I really miss you.”

You winced, groaning in discomfort, tensing your jaw as the voice message looped like some kind of hypnotic spell. “I miss you. I really miss you. Miss you. Miss. You. (M/N). I miss you.”

The sweetness bulldozed your molars. It was unbearable. You tended to your cheek, holding onto it as you hastily slipped on your coat and beanie.

Throbbing. Your gums.

Your hand yanked the door open, and you marched outside, into the blanket of snow.

Beating. Your heart.

The cavity was returning, and you needed Clark’s help.

VII: DECEMBER.

Clark had mixed feelings seeing you at his doorstep.

This was not how it was supposed to go. He was the one that was supposed to be drenched from the snow. Shivering like an unkempt toy, with severed electrical currents making him twitch at the modest breeze, at the welcoming warmth. He peered down at you, where you met his gaze. Clark registered a broken and a contrite heart, and he could only respond in complete silence. Frozen in place because the visit was unexpected, but also because you made his heart swell to the point of nearing combustion, and it took all his might to control himself from pulling you into a hug.

“Hi.” You sniffed, wiping your runny nose. There was a stark contrast between your body temperature and Clark’s, he could feel the frost biting his own skin.

“Hi…” Clark took a step closer, but he couldn’t cross the distance between you and him, halting as if there was an ice barrier. No, control yourself, Clark. “I—Come in.”

A wet layer of skin; narrow hills from your eye bags, past the apple of your cheeks, and down to your chin. Crystals would form along your tears if you hadn’t insistent on wiping them clean. You never liked being vulnerable with him. With anyone, for that matter.

Clark stepped aside to welcome you in. You passed one glance at him, hesitant and apprehensive, but the warmth reeled you in, one shoe at a time. He was so close to you. Your arm nearly brushed against his, close enough as if it had almost nudged his elbow.

“You’re freezing—I-I’ll make some coffee.” He headed towards his kitchen, then paused to glance back at you, resembling the skittish reporter you first met as his indecisiveness staggered his following steps. “No, Tea? Hot water? I don’t know—“

“Clark, that can wait… Uh, how about we talk… first?” Clark could see it. He could see how you felt like a stranger in his apartment, a place he’d nearly asked you to move in as his roommate considering you spent so much time here.

You carefully took off your coat, and Clark immediately went to your aide to gather it into his arms and put it on the coat rock. Though, not before letting the smell of your cologne linger in his nose, because god, he missed this.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s… talk.” He gestured towards his couch, tidying up the sweater that was beginning to feel constricting on his body.

Other than a tiny Christmas tree hiding in the corner of his living room, not much had changed. Everything was right where you’d last seen it, including a polaroid Clark took of you and taped to his ‘Wall of Memories.’

Out of instinct, you sat at your side of the couch, and Clark sat to the left, right beside you. Your palms ran over the cotton upholstery, then paused when your finger dipped into a ripped hole you had accidentally created when you two were watching a horror film.

“So… how are you?” Clark was staring. He didn’t mean to, but seeing you beside him felt… unreal. Maybe he was dreaming. The space next to your hand looked inviting, so his own hand naturally found its place, laying it there with his pinky finger barely grazing yours. You’re real. His pinky twitched when your finger brushed against the tip, and you pulled away. No, no. Come back.

“I’m good, well—long story, but…” You sighed, and Clark was patient as you took a moment to gather your thoughts. It was unlike you. Not that it was bad, but it was extremely attractive how outspoken you could be, especially regarding subjects you were passionate about. It was like you rode the ocean waves, swam with large strokes because you had a goal in mind, to convince Clark that mint chocolate chip was the best flavor of ice cream and whatnot.

“Before we catch up, I’m sorry… I don’t really know what I was doing, but it was my fault. I’m childish, I know that. I pushed you away because I was jealous… of Lois. And—please don’t hate me, but I hated how you looked at her. And how she looked at you.“ You breathed, your eyes casted downward like you were ashamed of being capable of human emotions. Then they clenched, because you heard how incredibly thoughtless you were being, yet that didn’t stop the tears from forming.

“And I was supposed to be happy for you, Clark. I mean, I knew I didn’t have a chance to be with you, but I somehow convinced myself that one day, you’d look at me with the same amount of affection you’d look at Lois. I would wait, and wait, and it was getting… painful. I mean, who am I kidding? I should’ve let you adjust first before growing impatient, but it felt like I was being replaced, and I was afraid of the inevitable, Clark—“

Now, you were floating. And out of fear, Clark felt his hand come alive, and spider close to your hand again. Tie him before it’s too late. It was up to Clark to change the trajectory of your descent. The pinkie that had lain next to your own crossed over and locked over yours. The barrier of ice that had been building between the two of you shattered into a million shard and he was frozen. A million of them pierced into Clark’s skin when he took your hand into his, and the clasp of your hand into his had bonded.

“Clark, what—“ Your eyes widened, letting in fragments of Christmas lights to highlight the glossy sheen of the tears welling in your sight.

Without questioning it, Clark pulled you into his chest and felt the crumbled wetness stain his sweater. One by one, his fingers loosened to let go of your hand to support your body with his arms. Strong, thick arms wrapped around your body, fitted snug against you like a vest. There wasn't any resistance from your end, so he held you longer, then tighter in case you’d let go of him.

It had never felt so good holding someone’s weight.

Two hearts pulsed against one another, and then as one as Clark buried his head into your neck in silence, while you rested your cheek against his shoulder. You clutched yearningly at his back, and Clark ran his palm over yours. Completely different motions, yet they told the same story, the same ending.

“I missed you.” In harmony, Clark’s voice mixed with yours. Clark often marveled at it, how often he came into sync with you as a pair. Another, when you mustered up the remaining energy to blindly breathe out a sweet laugh against his neck, and he followed, his soft lips inking your skin with a grin.

He didn’t want the hug to end, but it had to sooner or later. Clark needed to see you, as much as he needed to touch you. Releasing you from his hold, he settled for the middle. Large hands found their way back to the vacancy of your own pair and he leaned his forehead against yours, watching your eyes come back into focus as you gazed upwards, officially sharing his yearning.

“What are we doing, Clark?” It was dangerous. There was a heat to his cheeks that needed to connect with the one festering on your own. A dryness to your lips that needed a fresh paint of balm. Clark silently leaned closer, yet your gaze steadied, like you were silently anticipating something. “Lois…”

“We’re not together anymore.” He revealed once to his parents, and that was that. It was a strange feeling bringing up his relationship with Lois again, considering they’d both healed from it and moved on as friends. It was better that way, felt better too.

Your lips parted for another question, but Clark was quick to answer. “November...”

“I’m sorry—“ Undeniably, Clark’s patience had run its course. He didn’t spare a single second for you to catch your breath. Instead, letting gravity pull the weight of his head until his nose pressed against yours. Multiple forewarning bumps to your septum that made you crease your nostrils, a charming expression he’d later marvel over.

Clark allowed himself to sink further into you, applying all of his weight to push you back into the cushions of his couch to then finally capture your lips for one yearning kiss. It was cathartic. He’d wanted this for months. His mouth on yours, his hand into yours, and now that it was finally occurring, Clark wanted to savor the moment. Your body was reacting prosperously, opening your legs to close the distance between Clark’s body and yours. You wrapped them around his hips, condensing him groin to groin. Gentle tremors rattled down Clark’s spine as he pressed into you, mouth and hip, stirring wondrous feelings that ignited from the bonded bodies. First with the utmost uncertainty, then with a starry vehemence upon catching your delightful little sounds in his lips, in his mouth, on his tongue. He swallowed, releasing your hands to tuck his left beneath your head. A cushion, or a reminder to him, as his thumb carefully caressed your cheek, that this was real, that this was happening. You gasped, occupying your free hands around his neck because you felt yourself slipping. Whether it was off the couch, or from your original state of delusion, Clark was going to catch you no matter what.

“I love you.” Scratch that, he was never going to let you go. Not this time. You had no doubts about that as he repeated those three words into your mouth like you needed convincing, then kissed you again to lock his stubborn pleas in place. His glasses bumped against your face, but the feeling of his mouth on yours felt too good for you to complain.

A breather, you pulled away soon because Clark was stealing your oxygen, and you needed to tell him before you would embarrassingly faint from overdosing on the simplicity of his kisses. You took one look at him, gently pushing his head back before your hands had taken his cheeks hostage and cupped them, analyzing what made you fall for him in the first place. Thick dark curls that fell gently over his forehead. Clark’s eyes fluttered shut when your fingers ran through them, the pressure of his scalp gratifying like a long stretch in the morning. Wide frames that were too big for Clark’s face, but had he gone any smaller, they would’ve completely hid the beautiful blues of his eyes. You straightened the crook of his glasses, grinning because the bewildered look on his face resembled a puppy’s. His physical appearance made your heart skip more than a couple of beats, yes, but it wasn’t the main attribution to your attraction.

Your hand trailed from his neck, to his chest, then to his heart. Boiling, his heart was pulsating rapidly like yours, and you sighed.

Because it was here. This was why you fell in love with him.

“I love you.”

His heart was making popcorn, and the scorching heat was rising to Clark’s cheeks. “Thank, god.”

Clark pressed one kiss to each of your palm before leaning back into you, and continuing where he left off. Your laughter was eaten up by his mouth. Suddenly ticklish as Clark catapulted your lips with an uncontrollable laughter of his own. His body shook with yours, heart pounding at one’s chest to bond with the other as he held you close once again.

Nothing was funny. Just simply relieving.

Now tighter, drawing you into his arms when the collective laughter was enough for the couch to move a nudge and roll your intertwined bodies onto his floor. Clark could laugh all night long with you, something that could pull a world record if there was someone to verify the interaction, but something began aching inside of him when he was reminded of your hips against his, groins rubbing in simultaneous pleasure. He maintained his position on top of you, in between your legs, and seized the opportunity to press against you. When your laughter was interrupted with a stifled whimper, without a doubt, Clark was a goner.

“Can… I?” He leaned up, his curious palms on your inner thighs kept you spread on the floor. You watched inquisitively, anticipating, hardly masking it with a low-effort grin.

“Can you… what? Not sure what you’re asking, Clark.” Your elbows supported your body, leaning onto them as Clark bit his lips at your obvious teasing. You wiggled your hips while his hands did their best to avoid touching you there, anywhere but there, until you gave him permission. Chewing, because he was trying his best to control himself upon seeing your crotch twitch with agony.

“Come on…” His palms roamed the back of your thighs, then towards the front again, because he needed to occupy the anticipation of his sweaty hands. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m not a reporter like you, Clark. Unfortunately, I was never good at deciphering clues or hints. You pulled him down by the collar of his vest, wrapping your legs back around his hips because you loved making him flustered. “Give it to me straight.”

“I—“ Clark surrendered at the touch of your lips on his. Gentle and sweeping, you kissed him like fall of snow, and he melted, whispering into your mouth, “I… want to make love to you.”

His voice registered sweet, in both mind and body. Your tastebuds bloomed when he kissed you again and slipped a tongue in without much warning. Your pants felt tighter as Clark began his antics again and ground himself against you, eagerly rubbing his larger bulge over your own. Clark was a growing cavity, festering right down to the root, but it was no longer painful.

It was indisputably pleasure.

“I’m all yours.”

There was something hidden in Clark’s gaze, something that his glasses had been unfairly shielding from you. You reached up to put aside his glasses and felt your breath hike when the quick glimpse of his gaze matched the avidity of his mark to your neck.

He refused to part from you. Even with the eagerness of stripping you, he needed to be in close proximity. Knit vests off, Clark returned to mark at your neck. Sweaters tossed, he quickly studied your figure and where you were most sensitive with his tongue and palms Wet and warm, you whimpered. Pants kicked, he helped you out of them while he clumsily stumbled out of his. Slow down, you’d laugh with him, and Clark would find his balance with a hug from you before he could embarrassingly take a tumble. A trail of clothing led to his bedroom, where you laid on the bed while Clark sat on his knees, decorating your entire body with the tiniest, yet wettest kisses. He palmed himself to this, squeezing his erection to the restricted pulsation of your own. Every time he ran a marathon of licks up your leg, your briefs twitched. Clark neared closer to your thighs, then inner thighs, every lap, and the twitching doubled.

“Clark…” It accidentally came out as a whine, and you were grateful that it did because you’d been keeping an eye on his clothed erection, watching it unfurl from a stuffy mass to an intimidating thick shaft where it began outgrowing his original side tuck and throb against his left thigh. It would be more than a handful, two if you were being pessimistic.

“Baby, be patient… I missed you.” The pet name came out of nowhere. They didn’t have nicknames for each other, but Clark felt good calling you that, and seeing how your cock began pulsating rapidly at the sound of his voice, he’d reckon it felt just as good hearing it for the first time.

After teasing you with multiple sequences of nearly kissing your bulge, Clark finally caved in and pressed his mouth to where the tip of your erection was hidden. Its location marked with a tantalizing wet spot that made him moan when he could taste your salty leakage through your briefs. Mouthing it, licking it, you watched Clark with an open-mouth, finding yourself mimicking his licks to the open air as you imagined his own erection was in your mouth. You played with your nipples, and it was heaven. You could get off to this. Clark could too, as he began rutting into the mattress, laving the center of your briefs with his wet tongue.

“I wish you could see yourself right now. You look so sexy, so…” Clark never finished his slurry of a sentence, clearly high off of his desire to ruin you. Your lids felt heavy, pinching and twirling your nipples to his languid mouthing like it was your lullaby. His voice came to a complete halt, a beat of silence that you’d come to query, until your eyes immediately widened at the warmth of his mouth surrounding your cock, finding your unspoken question answered.

“O-oh, Clark.. .That’s—mmf!” One hand was fondling your balls, while Clark’s other was stroking himself through his briefs after tossing your underwear to the carpet. His mouth was full. Warm and breached with your stiff shaft. His cheeks hollowed, and your body arced toward the ceiling as a result of holding your moans back.

On the contrary, your body was trembling. Cold tremors electrified every bone in you as Clark explored your cock with his thick tongue, building your excitement to a rattle. He’d secure you in his mouth, sucking and refusing to let you go even when your fingers laced and pulled at his hair, a lazy attempt to push him off, but it only encouraged him to suck harder, lick at the underside of your cock, at your veins, swirling over the glossy tip, tasting the salt you’d produce solely for him, because of him. “S-stop, I’m going to come if you keep—“

“Sorry, you just taste so good…” Reluctantly, Clark pulled you out with a subtle pop, wiping his remaining saliva on the back of his hand. Your cock was twitching in a shiny coat of spit as you and him both watched his masterpiece of a tongue have its remaining effect on you.

“My turn…” It was a declaration. You crawled forward onto all fours while Clark watched in anticipation. He sat up on his knees upon you reaching for the waistband of his briefs. With a slow pull, his large erection sprang free with a heavy bounce, and your pupils dilated. “Jesus, Clark…” You removed his briefs, tossing it to join the floor, and he sat back on his knees while you marveled over his girth. Its size submitted you into silence. A tint of envy, but mainly of wonder as you couldn’t possibly imagine fitting him inside of you.

“Hey, you don’t have to…” Clark could see the fear in your eyes. The intimidation. Though, he would never admit that he was extremely turned on from watching your expression morph into utter astonishment. His cock, however, couldn’t care less. Thick and mighty veins blasted from the base of his raging hard-on to the very plump tip of the bulbous head. It was as equally as inviting as it was intimidating.

“I want to. I’m just… kind of jealous, that’s all.” You laughed to yourself, wrapping a firm grip around Clark’s shaft and watching in awe at how you couldn’t close your fingers around him, even when you had adjusted your hand. Clark’s cheeks were scalding. Was there an adjective to describe someone who was embarrassed, but extremely aroused right now? He’d have to look it up, but he was that. He watched how your mouth practically salivated for him, working him in slow strokes because you were careful not to anger this phenomenon of a creature.

“You’re perfect, wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Where would be the fun in all of this if we all looked the same?” You hummed at the comforting words, somewhat feeling guilty over your cock hardening over such a sweet consolation.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t something you were going to dwell on. You knew Clark loved your body, he would’ve inhaled you whole if he could. As a token of appreciation, you nuzzled over the underside of his cock, lining gentle kisses over the veins that made you the hungry, desperate man you were displaying for him. “I love you.”

Clark would burn this image of you, drooling over the sight of his cock, over the tense of his muscles as you licked his abdomen, sucked at a birthmark on his hip, then hollowed your mouth out to accommodate his erection. “I love you.” He exhaled from his gut, nearly seeing the whites of his eyes as you didn’t spare a second in warming him up to your throat.

“Baby, slow down… You’re going to choke—“

“Mmfggh—“ Sweet sounds. Delicious noises that made his spine tingle, that made his muscular chest puff up as it swelled with so much selfish pleasure. You looked up at him with such pureness, a determination that Clark was afraid to shatter if he made you stop, so he simply watched. Petting your head, brushing strands of your hair that threatened to obscure the parts he’d loved most about you. Your eyes sparked with glee as the salt of his cock watered your tastebuds. You let your hands roam free on his body. One palm admiring the toned muscles on his stomach, the other stroking the inches of flesh that haven’t been in your mouth yet.

Then, your eyes filled with tears, as you became overzealous from your mouth blooming with arousal and heat as you took more of Clark. Past the tip now, your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock to make room for his large shaft. Your cheeks hollowed while you sucked, and you could taste Clark leaking on your tongue again. Thick and salty pre-cum dancing over the bed of sprouts.

“Baby, careful…” Despite his warning, Clark couldn’t help but thrust every now and then into you.

It was difficult stuffing Clark inside of your mouth, but you proceeded. Further and further, you sank your head. Clark carefully held you while his gaze marveled at the warmth of your mouth. You’d splutter into a gag when you lodged him into the back of your throat, cramped and gratifying despite the tears in your eyes. Clark was quick to pull you back in case you choked on your own spit, and he knew you. He knew you were the type to take on a challenge. Before you could complain about him pulling you away, he brought you up for a kiss, meeting you half way as he bent forward. His hand was on your nape, tenderly massaging in case you pulled a muscle, and he smiled at your fluster when he pulled away. A thin line of spit connected the pair of lips, a display of devotion for one another. “You did so well.”

While Clark laid you on the bed once again and reached for lube out of his bedside drawer, you were kissing at the underside of his jaw. He’d left a mark on your neck, so it was only fair that you made your presence known as well. Your teeth nibbled on the stretch of skin as your lips wandered off to suck on a patch of skin on his neck. The smell of his body wash was strong in your nose when you buried your face into him, suckling until Clark’s neck had skipped the initial stage of turning pink, and instead, an ardent red. “Don’t finger me too much. I want to feel you.” Your cock throbbed in anticipation.

“No way, (M/N). I’m going to hurt you if I don’t.” He sealed off any potential retorts from you with a smooch to your lips, and then affectionately bumped his forehead to yours, sparing you a teasing smile. “And I promise you, you’d still feel me even if I spent an hour warming you up.”

Your heartbeat spiked.

You brought your knees up after he placed a pillow beneath your lower back. Clark took his sweet time lubing his fingers and erection. There was an obvious motive behind the gaze he’d spare you. A smugness in the curl of his calming smile. He made sure you were watching as he bucked his hips up when he slimed his cock with a glorious amount of lube. The remaining lubricant was used to lather your rim, and then the surface of your lips as he brought his hand up-close.

“It’s cake-flavored. Haven’t used it yet.“ Clark said with a laugh, pressing his lubed thumb to the center of your mouth.

“Of course it is. What’s with you and sweets?” Your lips parted to let your tongue peek out and take a swipe at the wet layer of his skin. Artificially sweet at first, but it wasn’t unpleasant enough to detract you away from it. After taking multiple samples of the lubricant, you closed your mouth around Clark’s thumb, and that was when the base notes hit your tongue. The scent of vanilla tingled your sinuses, as well as the artificial flavor of the sweet commodity spreading pleasantly on your tongue the more you sucked. It tasted more like marshmallows than a cake, but you weren’t complaining. You pushed his thumb out with your tongue and nodded in approval. “Tastes nice. Why do you need it to taste like cake though—“

“Because I like cake.” With a push of your thighs, Clark was back on his knees again. He haunched over to face your exposed entrance once you locked your arms around your legs, holding your knees to your chest. Then, he flattened his tongue over the smooth surface of your crack. One stripe to sample the quality of the flavor. Another to discover the depth of vanilla blossoming on his tongue. And then another few laps, because your bare flesh tasted infinitely better than whatever was mixed in that bottle of lube.

“Clark…” You wished you could properly watch him. For now, you had to settle on blindly watching the top of his head from the opening of your legs, dark curls bouncing as he eagerly devoured and lapped up the layer of lube that slicked up your opening. His tongue swirled over the rim of your hole, teasing at first, to sample you again, then he pressed his mouth to your entrance. The movement of his languid mouth nipping and mouthing made you pucker. It was an automatic reaction, you clenched, then opened, and Clark seized the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside of you, officially tasting you. “C-Clark! That’s—Mmf!”

Clark was under hypnosis. Everything that was said to him, that was plead towards him while he ate you out was drowned out by the sound of his slobbering. Two palms on your asscheeks stretched you out while Clark thrusted his tongue inside of you like daggers. When you clenched around his tongue, Clark pulled back to carefully push a lubed finger inside of you, spreading you back open. “I wish you could see this right now, (M/N). Your hole’s so pretty.” He looked up at you, lips beaten red and his fringe tousled, while he pumped two fingers inside of you now, smiling at the way your body had a mind of its own, floundering within your own hold, completely stripped of insanity and instead, disheveled over the smallest touch. “You look so pretty.” Your cock twitched in solidarity.

For someone who made it seem like he absolutely got no action, Clark was a natural talent in pleasing you. His fingers were thick and deep inside of you, curling at various spots you hadn’t even brushed once in your lifetime. You bit your lip, writhing in suppressed arousal, and Clark would watch in awe as he simultaneously licked around your rim and thrusted his fingers inside of you. Three now, spreading, twisting, and churning in and out of you smoothly with the help of a fresh paint of lubricant. His thick pecs bounced with every draw of his fingers, sweat beginning to form over his neck and shoulders as the heat between you and him only escalated. He broke out into cold sweats, watching you unravel your sanity before his very eyes, and Clark was eager to be the cause of your destruction, for you to equally ruin him.

You’d let your legs collapse onto the bed a while ago, but it was fine, because once you were properly warmed up, Clark took matters into his own hands and balanced your feet over his shoulders, pulling out and orienting his hips before you. He slicked his cock in another layer of lubricant, the smell of vanilla mixing pleasantly with his arousal, and he leaned for a sweet, but confirming, pushing your knees towards your chest in the process.

“I love you.” He softly whispered into your mouth, forehead to forehead. Words of affection that you couldn’t possibly imagine growing tired of. Your stomach was in knots, your heart tugging one way, and then another, as you two shared a gaze. A silent one, but surely meaningful because you felt close to tearing, looking into his sweet, adoring eyes. It nearly ripped when he repeated those three words again in your ear, gentle like the kisses he was adorning the shell of your ear, ticklish like the way he had been tracing your rim with the tip of his cock.

“I love you…” It came out as a purr, and you gave his shoulders a loving squeeze. I’m all set.

Upon the completion of your breath, Clark pushed his hips forth. Slowly, you felt your hole opening. Wider, as it took in Clark’s hot pulse. Gasping, as it was a struggle to fit the head of his cock inside of you. Your body naturally reacted in pushing back the intrusion out of your body, swelling around the plump glans and clenching to prevent him from moving any further. “C-Clark—“

“M-mm, relax—“ He grunted in the depth of your mouth, distracting you with another open-mouthed kiss. But Clark was persistent. He was nearly there. One more push, and he was in. He used the back of your thighs as leverage, pushed your legs further back, and pushed with careful might. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to break through the barrier that refused to let you two bond. Clark was pushing. You were pushing back. It was a battle for territory, a toll on your body as you broke into cold sweats. You inhaled at the increasing soreness, but nonetheless endured because you’d endured worse.

You’d lived through the loneliness that was your life without Clark, and that was absolutely unbearable compared to this. The thought of spending eternity with him reconciled you with near pleasure. You two would go on to do everything together. Holding hands with him in public would be a no-brainer as you helped him shop for a new suit. You’d celebrate his promotion over dinner, either homemade or a fancy restaurant, because Clark deserved the luxury of life. And if all things go well, he’d reward you for staying by his side and supporting him with a ring. Nothing too grand or magnificent, because you were never too keen for the lifestyle of the wealth. And knowing Clark, he’d ramble about how he could buy another engagement ring if you weren’t happy with it, completely forgetting to ask you about the inevitable: Will you marry me?

Exhaling once more, you brought a hand to his nape and gently pushed his forehead to yours. Then his nose squished with yours when you felt your body arched off the bed in response to Clark finally breaching inside of you with one tantalizing thrust, goosebumps fluttering over your skin and amplifying the soreness by tenfold. “H-hh! Clark!” You choked out, straining your neck as your body felt like it was burning. Scalding with pleasure and pain all at once.

“I got you. I got you, baby…” Clark slipped an arm beneath you, cushioning your body when gravity pushed you back onto the bed. He began lathering your neck in pacifying kisses, stilling his hips while doing so. “Doing so well, doing so good. You feel so good, you know that? You make me feel so good.” Clark was drunk on the grasp you had around his cock. So tight, you felt so tight, and he anticipated what you’d feel like beyond the first few inches of him.

“You’re okay?” For moments now, he’d been kissing you to divert your attention from the pain. Wiping beads of sweat off your face with the back of his hand. Massaging your chest and playing with your nipples. Anything to get your body to relax. Though, the most effective remedy was when he gazed into your eyes and rambled. Clark knew that. He felt your muscles loosen when he’d make a silly joke, or when he’d bring up a memory about losing his shoe at work. Touching was the easiest effort and you loved the weight of his palms on you, but you were most sentimental about Clark finding other ways to temporarily shift your mind to a sanctuary. All in all, the power of his humility was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m okay… Just been a while.” Your lips slurred against his, kissing Clark again, extremely appreciative of his patience. “Think I’m all good now. You can move.” You confirmed with a gentle pat to his cheek.

“I’ll make you feel good.” It was a promise.

Clark kissed at your ear. “I’ll make you feel like you won’t want to stop when we’re about to end.” A symptom.

His lips moved to your neck. You shivered at the ghosting of his mouth, of his tongue, before he’d rightfully claim another spot on your neck as his own.

Clark reeled his hips back until only the tip was left inside of you. You whimpered at the emerging heat, but it was beginning to become bearable.

“I’ll make you feel like you were made for me.” You felt yourself split into two when Clark brought himself forward. A gasp slipped when you felt your hole stretch. And then continued to push itself to its limits as he worked himself inside of you with gentle and subtle thrusts, until Clark was an inch deeper. The grasp you had on his shoulders was extreme, egg-shell white as the sweat in your palms threatened to loosen your grip. The husk in his voice trembled while you swelled around him. Rapid pulsations embraced the thick veins of his cock, seemingly massaging him out of appreciation, a token of your gratitude because pleasure had finally materialized in the loss of your agony.

The toned muscles of Clark’s thighs slapped into the back of your sweaty thighs with every thrust. A salacious sound that wouldn’t cease. Louder. Harder, when Clark was comfortable enough to properly move inside of you. “Because you are.”

Properly stir your insides. Your face said it all. Your sight blasted as you watched Clark with dilated pupils, mouth agape like you had better counter to the flattery of the man’s words. Instead, you found yourself choking back on them. Words. They would’ve been affectionate words. They came out as stifled moans because it was embarrassing for Clark to see you like this. Grunts when Clark lodged himself deeper inside of you. He was just as motivated by a challenge as you were. The challenge of making all sorts of delightful noises fall from your mouth out of your own will.

Sweat dripped off of him like he’d just returned from a blacksmith. A sweltering fire would heat him up. Not to burn him, but to make him pliable enough for the blacksmith to shape the perfect man out of Clark’s flesh and bone. A chisel to carve out the deep dips in his upper traps, where your palms loved occupying. Another at his waist, where you’d hold Clark to help him dig you deeper. Then a hammer, used to forge the sturdy muscles on his athletic body. Deep hills and valley, crafted over his pecs and abdomen to let his sweat drain onto your body.

“You’re made for me, as much as I’m made for you.” Clark murmured.

A vow.

With that, Clark mounted you, both of his palms grounded to the space by your shoulders to stabilize his catapulted position. He pushed his full weight on top of you. Your legs folded towards your chest, alongside the sink of his body, until your knees signaled the end of their mobility. A kiss to your left calf to keep you alert, a bite to the other to warn, and Clark propelled his hips forward without the intention to stop. Further and further, your mouth and eyes widening as he tunneled through your contraction, until his cock was deeply-rooted fully inside of your hole. Clark settled himself inside of you with a yearning groan, and you retaliated with staggered cry.

“C-Clark, I feel so… full. Honey, fuck—” Your skin prickled with goosebumps knowing that Clark had fully breached your hole. There was no doubt about that, yet your hand snuck down to blindly confirm the achievement, to see if you could slot your hand between his pelvis and your ass. But Clark was pressed flushed against you. No gaps. Only the thick hairs of his pubic region came into contact with your fingers, and your cock twitched.

You were completely and utterly full to overflowing.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. You feel so good. So warm. So… tight.” Clark huffed out a few breaths and slid his cock nearly out before slamming it back into you.

“U-uh-huh.” You panted at the sight of his arousal. How gratifying it was to Clark, being inside of you, to the point where his eyes would roll back, and then feel the need to slow his deep thrusts, because he was close. You could tell. You could feel his cock throbbing harder. Veins hotfooting a nearing high as you stimulated his aching muscle, and you were stroking your leaking dick to the feeling.

“I love this… I love you. I love making love to you.” His cock hammered your insides, the thick head of it raking past your sweet spot. It made your cock tremble, your glans crying out with thick, teary pre-cum. When your moans hiccuped a pitch, Clark realized he had mined gold.

“C-Clark, I love you—“ Your firm cock slid through your closed fist every time he moved, the creaking of bed springs following every motion of his thrust. It wouldn’t be long before you made a complete mess on your body. “Oh, god—“ Clark clasped his mouth around your tongue, greedy to feel your moans ricochet off the walls of his cheeks, and into the depth of his throat. Veins charged his arms as he pinned your hips to the bed. You were floating, higher and higher. The roam of your hands, over his sweaty pecs, his shoulders, his neck, his abdominal muscles, his arms—you were stimulating Clark’s body so he doesn’t stop. Motivating him to blind you with his devotion, starry skies and all.

“P-Please, Clark. God, that’s so good. You feel so—“ Forehead to forehead now, Clark was watching you passionately through heavy lids, alternating his gaze from the silent plea in your eyes, to the beaten and swollen muscle of cock in your jerking fist. All while he throbbed inside of you, overwhelming you with the pulsating of his thick cock veins, making love to your hole with the refusal to stretch his approaching climax.

So close, you were so close. You held Clark by his neck with one hand, and refused to let him pull away.

Faster and faster, his cock consistently drilled into your prostate, drumming against it with a deep swivel of his hips and more, until you couldn’t hold back your cries. Your pulse raced as your cock twitched with your heartbeat, speeding the flicks of your wrist to outpace Clark’s thrusts.

It was a tense battle to see who’d erupt first. Harder. Harder. Faster. You were a mess, and so was he. You made him a mess. A drunk intoxicated by carnal desire. Sweat clung onto his fringe, yet he had never looked so attractive, powering into you like a madman, impaling you with his love, with his devotion, with all of his might, brute force, through gritted teeth. You gripped him hard by his biceps, unsure of whether your cries of pleasure were heard between the thunderous sound of his thighs connecting to your asscheeks and the creaking of bed springs. You took a chance to cry out again, to warn him that you were close.

“C-Clark, I’m going to come…” The bubbling feeling had been too irresistible to delay any longer. Clark locked eyes with you upon your alert, and groaned. His tongue came out to skim the bottom of your lip, and you strained forward to cover his mouth with yours, sealing the pair of lips in a slow kiss, contrary to the rapid rhythm that had overtaken the rest of your body, and it stole your breath and made you all dizzy. Your cock only needed three more pumps.

Clark panted a few quick breaths, bracing his body in anticipation by clutching onto your hips until his fingers had turned white. “Want to see you come from my cock…” What you heard in his murmur was beyond want.

It was need.

Two.

You reminded Clark that you were going to come.

One.

His forehead pressed hard against yours, and he switched his gaze to your jerking fist.

“Clark—“

“Let it out. Show me how much you love me.”

You yanked your hand a millisecond before the inevitable, and Clark watched in pure bliss, maintaining his thrusts as your cock erupted with white. Thick shots of cum catapulted across your body with the aid of Clark’s thrusts drilling semen out of you. Layers of creamy ropes messily inked your body from abdomen to chest, and that was all it took for Clark to spill his load inside of you.

His hand like claws on your waist, he pummeled your insides for a few more seconds, delivering your ass with powerful thrusts, and you sobbed out in between breaths, clutching a bundle of his hair in both fists. Finally, Clark grunted, unloading himself inside of you with a scalding bite to your lips. You felt his cock pump, his balls jolting as it drained itself inside of your cavity, filling you up with an unspoken affirmation that you were his. He pushed his cum deep into your hole, powering through the cold tremors overhauling his body, and resumed thrusting inside of you.

Shallow and slow, but enough to spread himself all over your walls. Enough to remind you of the memory when you had been claimed as his, in case you’d ever forget.

You shuddered, dropping your legs to wrap them around his waist, because you could never forget. Couldn’t if you had tried. Not when he was milking his orgasm into you, dumping his warm seed into your hypersensitive hole until he filled you to the brim. Not when you prevented him from pulling out, because you pressed the heel of your feet into his lower back, and countered his thrusts with swivels of your pelvis, gluing him shut to you.

Until you were bonded to him.

“I love you…” Lethargy in his voice, his eyes closed. Clark worked so hard, and you immediately rewarded him with a slow kiss, embracing him close to you after.

“I love you.” He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, evidently gratified by your response as you felt the corners of his lips tug into a smile. You murmured sweet praises in his ear, petting the back of his head to calm the electrical currents stimulating his body.

“We… have a lot of catching up to do, by the way.” Clark suddenly spoke, and your eyes weakly opened, inquisitive over the strange tone in his voice.

It was also funny. How absolutely massive the man was, yet in your arms, he was cuddling up to you as if he wasn’t aware of his own weight plastering you.

“Yeah? Something on your mind, or you wanna save that for tomorrow?” You idly twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, windmilling it out of affection.

“I mean, I guess so? It’s been on my mind since we’ve met. And it’s been killing me on the inside.” The stubble on his chin tickled you when he lifted his head to look at you. The expression on his face suddenly made his warning seem all the more significant.

Concerning, as you propped yourself on your elbows and frowned. Despite your risen position, he was insistent on continuing to rest his weight atop of you, not that you had minded. “You’re kind of scaring me, Clark. What is it? Did you get fired or something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I—It’s just…” He stammered, then heavily exhaled. Thoughts of regrets plagued his mind at first, but he trusted you. You could see it in the light of his eyes. “Okay, here it goes. You know... how I’ve written multiple articles about Superman?”

“…Yeah? Got you on Perry’s radar, didn’t it? He seems to only like talking to you, which is impressive. Not surprising though—”

“Yeah, well… It’s just—there’s a reason why… he only sees me.”

“Why? Is it because he saved you or—”

“Clark, what are you doing with your eyes?—“

“Wait, holy crap—“

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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meganwritesfanfics · 2 months ago

Text

Highway Don't Care (Dr Jack Abbott x reader)

Dr. Jack Abbott x reader

Word Count: 4002

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of car wreck, discussion of injuries, angst. I know nothing about medicine.

Companion Story: As it Was

“Why are we not taking my truck again?” Jack yawned as he stretched out as much as he could in the cramped Prius.

“Because someone decided to work a shift the day before we left for vacation, and is currently running on 2 hours of sleep.” Y/N laughed. “And you know that I don’t like driving the truck.”

“You can put in a chest tube without blinking but you are still scared of driving a stick.” He laughed.

“Will you just sleep, you are too sassy when you are sleep deprived and we will not survive the 3 hour drive if you keep acting like this.”

“Fine! But I would be much more comfortable in my truck and not in your toy car.” He teased.

“Jack, you forget I can murder you and make it look like an accident.”

“You took an oath to do no harm Doctor.”

“I think they would understand.”

Jack smiled as he reached over and gently placed his hand on her check and she leaned into his touch.

“I love you so much.” He said and her heart swelled. She and Jack had been together for over five years, but everyday she still felt so lucky to have him in her life.

“I love you too you old grump.” She said as she turned to look at him taking him in. “Now sleep.”

“As you wish” He teased quoting her favorite movie as he closed his eyes.

Y/N giggled.

She barely had turned back to look at the road, when she felt the impact of the car, and everything went black

*******

Jack woke with a groan, every part of his body hurt. He had blood on the side of his head.

“Y/N,” He grumbled as he tried to get his eyes to focus. All he could see was the shattered glass of the windshield. “Y/N” he said again, hoping for a response. He could feel the ever familiar sense of dread washing over him. “Please,” He whispered as he slowly turned to look at Y/N.

His heart stopped as he saw her. Her side of the car was absolutely caved in there was shattered glass all over her lap and her face was covered in blood. And she didn’t look like she was moving or breathing.

“Y/N!” He screamed as he tried to reach over to her, but the seat belt locked him in place. “Fuck!” Quickly he reached down to his pants pocket to grab his pocket knife. Jack winched in pain as he could tell his wrist was fractured, but he pushed past the pain to cut through his seat belt and leaned over to check on Y/N. “Sweatheart, open your eyes for me.” He pleaded as he held out a shaking hand and felt for a pulse.

“No,” He gasped when he didn’t feel one. “Y/N, don’t do this.” And in that moment he fully kicked into doctor mode. He quickly reached over and sliced through her seat belt, one hand supporting her head. “Y/N, come on, I need you to wake up.” The minute she was free Jack started to pull her out of the car. His whole body screamed with pain but he pushed it down knowing that Y/N needed him.

The minute he got her out and laid down on the wet grass, he started compressions.

“Come on Y/N.” He kept repeating. His wrist felt like it was on fire as he put all of his body weight into his hands for the compressions.

“Is she alright?” A voice called. “I’ve called 911, they are on their way.”

Jack didn’t respond, his whole focus was on getting Y/N’s heart pumping again.

“The other driver barely has a scratch on him,” The bystander called. “He is loaded though, there are open cans of beer in his passenger seat.”

Rage rushed over Jack as he looked up from giving rescue breaths.

“What?” He growled. “He was drunk.”

“Yeah the car reaks. Who the hell is getting drunk at 10am in the morning?”

Jack’s whole body shook, and if the love of his life wasn’t hanging on by a thread, and his hands weren’t the only thing keeping her alive at that moment, he knew that he would be on top of that bastard ripping him to shreads.

It felt like hours before he finally heard the sound of the sirens growing louder as they headed his way.

“Do you hear that baby, the ambulance is on it’s way. We will be back to the Pitt soon, and Robby’s working today, he will fix everything.” He soothed mostly talking to himself trying to keep himself from spiraling.

“Dr Abbott?” A voice said and he turned to see that he recognized the paramedics.

“Y/N isn’t breathing and she currently doesn’t have a pulse, we need to keep going with compression and…” He started rambling a bit.

“Are you ok?”

“Don’t worry about me, we need to save her.” He snapped as one of them took over on compressions.

The exhaustion and pain was starting to catch up with him as they all loaded into the back of the ambulance.

As he watched the parametric work on Y/N, Jack could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t survive it.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, that miracuriously wasn’t damaged in the crash. He mindlessly called Robby his eyes never leaving Y/N’s pale form.

“Brother, you haven’t even been gone from this place for a full 4 hours, what are you doing calling. I thought you and Y/N were heading up to the cabin this weekend.” Robby teased

“Robby,” Jack started his voice cracking. But he could hear the sound of the intercom calling in the incoming ambulance.

“Listen I have to go we have…” Robby started.

“It’s me, I’m coming in the ambulance.” Jack snapped.

Robby froze. “What?”

“Y/N and I got in a car wreck. Some drunk bastard hit us.”

“Are you…”

“I’m fine, but Robby, Y/N she’s… God… I had to do compression until the ambulance showed up, and she still not… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“We will be ready when you get here. Jack. We are going to do all we can.” Robby said but he felt like he was going to lose it. Jack and Y/N were the closet thing he had to family. And he knew that Jack worshiped the ground that Y/N walked on. He had never seen someone more devoted to another person in his whole life. And he also knew that Y/N was incredibly good for Jack. The change that Robby had seen in his friend since the two had been together was amazing. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they lost Y/N.

It only took the ambulance around 10 minutes to get to Pittsburgh Truma Medical Center and as they rolled in Jack could see the entire team waiting for them.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are not ok.” Robby snapped watching as Jack limped in, covered in blood.

“Robby, she needs you, please don’t worry about me. Y/N needs you.” He pleaded and Robby had never heard his friend sound so broken before.

Robby nodded. “Dr Mohan will you take Dr Abbott to a room to check him over.”

“No Robby I need to be with her I need…”

“Jack you know you can’t. You are hurt. Please go with Samira.”

Jack looked over at Y/N who was in trauma one already and was surrounded by people working on her.

Jack just nodded as he limped behind Dr. Mohan following her as she brought him into room.

“I think I’ve got a fractured wrist.” He started as he hoisted himself onto the gurney wincing with pain.

“You are limping pretty bad, does your leg hurt?’ Mohan asked.

“My leg always hurts.” He snapped back, he know he shouldn’t take everything out on Mohan, she was just trying to help. But all he wanted was to be back next to Y/N. He needed to be useful in some capacity or he was going to lose his mind.

“Does it hurt more than usual?” Mohan continued. She had only worked with Dr. Abbott a handful of times, but she knew enough that he got defensive and standoffish when he was stressed. Not that he wasn’t always standoffish.

He sighed. “Yeah,” He reached down and started to take off his prosthetic. “I think my prosthetic pushed back into my leg in the crash.” When he pulled the prosthetic off he coud see that there was quite a bit of blood. “Fuck.”

While Mohan worked on Dr. Abbott, Robby was working on Y/N. She had broken ribs, and some internal bleeding from the wreck as well as a shattered femur.

“I think she has a collapsed lung.” Langdon said.

“Fuck,” Robby sighed. “Is Garcia on her way down?”

“She’s stuck in surgery, she said she will get down as soon as she can.”

“I don’t know how long Y/N has to wait.”

“I know boss, I’m going to put in a chest tube, give her the best chance. Have you checked in on Abbott?”

“Mohan is with him.” Robby said and he didn’t know if he could face his friend again without having any good news to share.

“He’s probably losing his mind, I know I would be if this was Abby.” Langdon said his voice cracking. Every doctor’s worst nightmare is their own loved ones coming in and their inability to help them.

“Robby,” Dana said popping into the room. “They just brought in the other driver. .350 blood alcohol, small lacerations on his arms from the air bag, but that’s it.”

“Fuck,” Robby sighed. “Do not let Abbott know he’s here, and we need to stick security outside his room, I’m sure the police will want to talk to him.”

“How is she?”

Robby just shook his head as he ran his hands over his face. “It’s touch and go, she needs surgery but everyone is tide up. I don’t know what he is going to do if we lose her.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, not yet. That girl is a fighter, lord knows she has to be in order to put up with Jack.” Dana said and Robby cracked a smile.

“Will you go check in on the other driver, if I go in there, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“And you don’t think I won’t smother him with a pillow. That’s our girl in there.” Dana said seriously tears in her eyes. “I’ll send one of the med students. I’ll make it Santos, Lord knows that girl could frighten a nun.”

“Robby!” Langdon yelled as he burst out of the trauma bay. “She’s coding.”

“Shit,” Robby ran in. “What happened!”

“We had her back and stable, but then she started seizing.”

“God call Nuro, she most likely had some severe head trauma. And where the fuck is Garcia!”

After being patched up and told that he needed to stay off his leg for a few days to allow it to heal, Abbott sat in his hospital room, running through scenerio after scenarios of all the injuries Y/N could have because of the crash. And he kept cursing himself for picking up a shift the day before. If he hadn’t he could have driven, and it would be him in that room not his girl. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Not after putting up with him for so long. He knew he could be an absolutely menace to live with. Some days he would come home from work and not want to utter a word to anyone. Other times, he needed to hold her as close to him as possible. She was he anchor. She kept him going.

“Jack,” A voice said and his head snapped up to see Dana making her way in.

“How is she, is she ok?” He rambled his eyes wild.

“Robby is still working on her, so is Langdon.” She sighed as she walked up to his placing her hand on his back, as she rubbed circles. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve got a fracture wrist, but Dr Mohan’s got this temporary brace on, so it feels better, and my prosthetic cut into my leg, but she’s got that wrapped up as well. She wants me to get a head CT but I…”

“I read your chart Jack, but how are you doing?” She asked looking into his eyes.

“I…” And finally the flood gates broke. “I can’t lose her Dana.” He sobbed.

“Oh darlin’” Dana wrapped her arms around him.

“She’s my whole world, and I know I don’t deserve her, hell she deserves far better than me, but I can’t lose her not like this. It’s my fault. I took the shift last night, and Y/N didn’t want me to drive because I didn’t get much sleep. And she won’t drive the truck so we had to take her stupid fucking prius. It should be me Dana.”

“Jack Abbott, don’t you dare talk like that.” Dana scolded. “That girl loves you so much. She would be so angry at you talking like this. And you know that the only person whose fault this is, is that drunk bastard who hit you.”

Jack’s head snapped up and his eyes were filled with rage.

“Is he here, did they bring that fucker here.”

“Jack, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“Y/N could die, and that fucker doesn’t even have a scratch on him.”

“Jack,” Robby said as he walked in the room.

“Michael, how is she?”

Robby’s jaw clenched as he pulled a chair closer so he could sit in front of his friend.

“No, don’t do that. Just tell me.” Jack snapped. “Is she alive?”

“She’s alive, but it’s not looking good Jack. She came in with a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, her left femur is shattered and we think she has a brain bleed.”

Jack let out a shaking breath. He knew he should ask more questions, but he couldn’t form words.

“She is going to head up to surgery, did you want to see her before she heads up.” Robby asked.

“Yes.” He said as he reached for his prosthetic.

“Jack, let me get you a wheel chair. Dr. Mohan said…” Dana started.

“I’ll be fine.” He snapped as he stood up wincing slightly from the pain but he limped his way out into the hall and to trauma one.

The minute he laid eyes on her, the seasoned trauma doctor froze. He had seen so many horrific injuries in his time both in the service and as a trauma doctor, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing Y/N lying there looking lifeless. Tubes running all around her and the intubation tube running down her throat. She was still covered in blood and bruises but Jack couldn’t help but think that she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Are you ok?” Robby said laying his hand on Abbott’s back.

“No. I won’t be until I know she’s going to survive this.” Jack sighed as he walked into room and in just a few strides was by Y/N’s side her cold hand tightly in his grasp.

“Y/N, I’m here.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You are going to be just fine. You have to be. You cannot leave me. What happened to you taking care of me when I turn senile.” He tried to laugh but it sounded more like a sob. Behind him he could feel the eyes of all the med students and nurses staring at him. But he didn’t care. “You have to pull through. You fight, you fight harder than you have ever fought before. You are so fucking strong. You can beat this. Just come back to me.”

“We are ready for her.” Garcia said quietly.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you so god damn much.” He kissed her forehead again.

The minute Y/N was wheeled out of the room, Jack felt his knees buckle and he collapsed. Luckily Robby was waiting behind with a wheelchair.

“Thank you for all you have done for her Robby. You gave her a fighting chance.” Jack said.

“Don’t thank me, it was your quick work after the wreck that really saved her.” Robby said as he started to wheel Jack out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore… I want to go home. Why won’t you let me leave.” A voice yelled across the Pitt.

Jack looked up to see what was clearly a very drunk man argueing with Ahmad.

“That’s him.” Jack growled and he was up before Robby even had a chance to stop him.

“Jack don’t!” Robby screamed. “Ahmad stop him!”

Ahmad quickly turned just in time to catch Jack as he he lunged for the guy.

“It should be you up there getting surgery. You hear me you piece of shit! How is it that you walked away with a few scratches, and the greatest woman I have ever known might die!” He screamed. “I should kill you.”

“Jack stop.” Robby said as he finally reached him grabbing him and pulling him back.

“He did this Robby. He’s the reason Y/N could die.”

“I know, I know Jack. The police are on their way.”

“It’s not enough, it won’t be enough if she dies.”

“I don’t even know who you are man.” The guy slurred and for a moment Robby thought about letting Jack have at him. But just in that moment two officers came in, ushering the drunk man back into his room to ask him questions.

“If she dies Robby, I swear to God I will kill him.” Jack said as he started to stagger. Robby quickly ushered Dana to bring the wheelchair back over.

“You will have to get in line. Everyone in this hospital has already called first dibs,” Robby said trying to lighten the mood. “Now, we need to get you up for a head CT.”

“I do not need a CT, my head is fine I…”

“At the very least humor me, I would like to know if your ego shows up on that CT since you got such a big head.” Robby teased and for the first time all morning, Jack cracked a small smile.

***********

It was hours before any new came about Y/N. Everyone kept checking in on Jack, trying to make sure he was staying preoccupied. They found on head CT that he has a slight concussion, but nothing that was concerning. Robby would pop in and run through all the patients they had so far, he knew that Jack needed to work in some capacity other wise it would drive him insane. Dana popped by while things were slow and the two of them watched their favorite cooking show, the one they used to watched together when Abbott used to work day shift. Even Langdon popped by a few times.

Jack had just closed his eyes to get some rest when Dana rushed in.

“Jack,” She said tears in her eyes.

His heart stopped. “Did I lose her.” He gasped.

“No they said everything went really well, and she is showing improvement. They are relatively confident she is going to pull through.”

His head slumped forward and he sobbed. It felt like the weight of the world he had been holding in, waiting for it to fully crush him was finally lifted off.

“Oh Jack,” Dana said as she ran to him pulling him into her arms.

“She’s ok,” He sobbed. “She’s going to be ok.”

“They said you can come up and see her, they have moved her into a private room.”

In an instant Jack was reaching for his prosthetic.

“No, hey, listen here mister.” Dana snapped. “Robby has insisted the only way you are getting out of this ER is if you use the wheelchair. He told me I had permission to use the soft restraints if you refused.”

“Who knew you were so kinky Dana.” Jack laughed.

Dana let out a loud laugh, there is the pain in the ass Dr. Abbott I know.” She smiled as she helped him into the chair. As they headed out Dana called out. “Princess your in charge until I get back.”

Jack felt like his whole body was vibrating. All he wanted to do was see her.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Dana rolled him into her room and he laid eyes on her again, and he let out a loud sigh.

She still was covered in wires and tubes and she still had the intubation tube down her throat, but her color was so much better. When he reached out for her hand it didn’t feel nearly as cold.

“Hi baby,” He breathed and he pulled himself up so he could lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I’m here baby, you pulled through. I’m so proud of you.”

Against all of the hospital prodocals, Robby pulled some strings and had another hospital bed added to Y/N’s room. He knew there was no way Jack was going to leave that hospital without Y/N by his side, and although Jack swore up and down he could just sleep on the couch, Robby wasn’t about to let one of the best Trauma Doctors throw his back out.

He never left Y/N’s side the whole time she was out. And every day the doctors came back with good news. By day 3 they were able to pull the intubation tube out, just leaving her with cannula.

Jack was doing laps around the room, trying to get the strength back to his leg after being off it for a few days, when he noticed Y/N shift. Instantly he was by her side again holder her hand tightly.

“Baby, Y/N, can you hear me.” He pleaded desperate to see her eyes open.

Slowly Y/N’s eyes cracked open and she winced from the pain of the bright lights. She could feel the pressure of someone holding her hand as she looked to see it was Jack. The minute she saw him and saw the stitches on his head, she remember the car wreck.

“Are you ok?” She asked looking him up and down. Her voice was rough and horse, and it hurt to talk.

Jack smiled sadly tears in his eyes. “Sweetheart, you are the one laid up in a hospital bed, you shouldn’t be asking me if I’m alright.”

“Car crash I…” She said trying to remember anything, but all she remember was Jack telling her he loved her and then the loud crash and darkenss.

“Some drunk asshole hit us, don’t worry I have already talked to the police, that fucker is going to do some hard time.” Jack said and she could see the rage in his eyes. Carefully she lifted her hand up to place it on his cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you Y/N. You weren’t breathing when I pulled you out of the car. I couldn’t find a pulse. I… I have never been more terrified in my entire life.” He said as he leaned forward placing his forehead on hers. “You can’t ever leave me baby. I need you more than I could possible explain.”

They stayed like this for a while, Jack finding comfort in the sound of her labored breathing.

“Well, I don’t have a ride anymore, so I wouldn’t be able to leave even if I wanted to.” She teased. “Guess you are going to have to teach me how to drive the truck.”

Jack laughed as he leaned down to kiss her.

I'm thinking about writing a second part about the readers' recovery. Let me know if you would be interested in reading it.

#dr abbot x reader #jack abbott #the pitt hbo #dr michael robinavitch

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elihermit · 8 months ago

Note

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Can you do a fic based off of 911 5x13 Fear-O-Phobia where Eddie destroys his room with a baseball bat but instead of Eddie destroying it Y/n does.

my tears ricochet

pairing: Eddie Diaz x fem!reader

summary: you work in a call center, answering emergency calls and you thought that no call would break you anymore, but today you have reached your breaking point

this fic is based on season 5 episode 13 “Fear-o-Phobia”

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: this fic contains references to child abuse and self-harm, please read with caution!

You're on shift again today and you're pretty tired at the end of it. You had an hour left before the end of the day and you really couldn't wait to get home to Chris and Eddie, even though you knew Eddie would be back a little later than you.

“Long day, huh?” — you break out of your thoughts and see Josh in front of you. You had a fifteen-minute break and decided to have coffee.

“Don’t even start, it’s like this full moon curse decided to show up earlier.”

“I feel you, but guess what? You will be free soon and my night will be long.” — Josh sighed and went to pour himself a cup of coffee too.

“Lucky me, I guess.” — you got up to go to your desk and continue taking calls. “Back to service.”

You sat down at the table and gave yourself a couple more minutes to get ready for the last hour of work. This job was difficult, sometimes your emotions could take over, but you thought you had already learned to control them. And even if you thought about quitting, those thoughts went away after a minute, because you knew that you were the first person people counted on when they were in danger and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

You put on your ear piece and come back to help people.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Please, my dad is going to kill me.”

You hear a child's trembling voice and your heart turns over.

“Sweetie, tell me what’s going on? Are you in danger?”

“My dad gets aggressive when he drinks, he took his gun.”

“Is he threatening you with a gun? Are you in any pain?”

“He pointed it on me, but I ran to my room. Daddy hit me in the head, I feel dizzy.”

“Open the fucking door!” — you hear a drunken male voice and banging on the door. You need to be fast.

“Okay, honey, help is coming. Tell me your name and address.”

“I’m Audrey, 354 N Spring Street.”

“All units, 354 N Spring Street, the man is intoxicated, he is armed and threatens his daughter. Possible child abuse and injuries.”

You quickly notify units about this and it takes your breath away. You need to save the girl, no one will get hurt today.

“Okay, Audrey, help is on the way, I will stay on the line, until they arrive. Is there anyone else at home?”

“No, it’s just the two of us. Please hurry, he’s going to break the door!”

You feel a tear rolling down your cheek, but you quickly brush it away.

“Help will be with you in 5 minutes. In the meantime, I want you to listen to me, okay? Hide under the bed or in the closet and try to be quiet, sweetie.”

You can hear the movement on the other end of the phone. Your palms are sweating and you're breathing fast. Your whole focus is on this girl.

“Okay, I'm under the bed.”

“Good job. Help is almost there, Audrey.”

The next thing you hear is a broken door and a little girl screaming. You hear a man swearing and a loud bang. You can't control the tears.

“Audrey, are you there?”

But there is silence in response. All you can hear is Audrey's screams and pleading for dad not to hit her anymore. Your hands start shaking and you feel like you're suffocating, everything is in a blur and slow motion.

“LAPD! Raise your hands and move away from the girl by 3 meters.”

You hear the voices of the police, but it's too soon to exhale, you don't know if it was too late. You feel Josh's hand on your shoulder and only now realize how much you're crying.

“Dispatcher, this is 134, the girl is unconscious, but stable, got here on time. We’re heading to the hospital.”

It should be a moment where you exhale, because the girl is alive and she will be fine, but you can't shake the feeling that you could have done more. This is not the first call from a child in your career, but it was the first call where you heard everything in "action" and it broke you.

You open the front door to the house and walk inside on weak legs. God only knows how you got home, because everything seemed to stop and you were alone in this trap. The girl's scream is still in your ears, and burning cheeks remind you of tears that you couldn't control. All you wanted right now was to be alone.

“Hey mommy.”

You hear Chris's voice from the living room and go there. He started calling you mom not so long ago and you loved it. You accepted him as your own child and Eddie always made sure to thank you for that.

“Hey, baby. Is dad home yet?”

You wanted Eddie to be at home, he was your safe place, who always dispersed the clouds when they appeared over your head. But another part of you wanted him to still be at work because you didn't want to explain what happened.

“No, but he should be in an hour.”

“Okay. How about I make you dinner and turn on cartoons while you eat? Mommy is not feeling well and I would like to lay down for a bit. Are you going to be fine on your own?”

“Sure, I wanted to watch cartoons all day!”

Chris smiled broadly and it melted your heart. He's so cheerful and positive that sometimes you thought you needed to learn from him. You loved him with all your heart and if something had happened to him, you would have died. But one question haunted you - how can you protect him if you couldn't protect the child at work?

You put a sandwich in front of Chris and turned on his favorite cartoons. He thanked you, you kissed him on the forehead and went into the bedroom. After closing the door, you sat down on the bed and finally let out all your emotions. You were angry, sad and crushed. You were angry at yourself for not being able to do more, you were angry at this worthless father who allowed himself to treat his own daughter like that, and you were angry that now you weren't sure you could save Chris if it was necessary.

Tears were pouring from your eyes, this cutting pain in your chest, which was growing with every second and this feeling of utter helplessness drove you crazy.

You didn't know what was driving you, but the next thing you knew it was the bat in your hands and the first blow to the wall. You never thought you had that kind of strength because that punch left a hole in the wall. You scream, this scream is more like a plea and each blow gets stronger. You don't hear anything that's going on around you, you just hit the bat against the wall and scream, thinking that it will make your pain less real.

Tears are still pouring out of your eyes, you can feel the salty taste in your mouth. You throw the bat on the floor and it falls with a loud bang. Now your hands are hitting the wall and you feel your knuckles getting scratched, but you didn't care. Now the most horrifying screams are coming out of your throat.

“Hey, buddy. I’m on my way, do you want anything?”

“Dad, please hurry up! Mommy is not well.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

Eddie's body immediately tensed up and he accelerated the car to get home faster.

“I don’t know, I keep calling her, but she won’t answer.” — Eddie heard heavy thuds and screams in the background.

“Okay, Chris, don’t worry, I’m almost here.”

Eddie ran to the house and opened the door. During those minutes while he was driving in the car, he wanted only one thing - for both of you to be okay.

He saw Chris near your shared bedroom and immediately ran up to him.

“Chris, are you okay? Where’s mom?”

“She locked herself in the bedroom. I tried to call her, but she was screaming really hard.”

“Okay, buddy. Sit in the living room, please, I’m gonna go get her, okay?”

“Okay.” — Eddie watched Chris go.

“Hey baby, it’s me. Can I come in?”

He didn't hear anything. Just the silence that didn't give him any peace of mind.

“Okay, I’m going to come in, (Y/N). Stay away from the door.”

Eddie kicked down the door and was finally able to enter the bedroom. The first thing he saw were holes in the wall. He took two steps and saw you sitting on the floor with your back leaning on the bed frame. Your legs were pressed against your chest and your head was in your lap. Eddie saw your shoulders shaking and heard you sobbing.

He immediately knelt down and cupped your face in his hands so that you could look at him.

“Hey. Hey, hey, I’m here, baby. What’s wrong? Please talk to me.” — he saw your red eyes and wet face from crying.

When you finally looked at him, you saw his frightened eyes. He was looking for an answer in your eyes and patiently waited for you to explain everything to him.

“He almost killed her, Eddie. I should have done more. I heard everything.” — the tears started to flow with renewed vigor and a sound more like a whine came out of your mouth.

“Shh, mi amor. I’m here.” — Eddie wrapped you in his arms and you cried into his shoulder. He stroked your hair soothingly and said sweet nothings in your ear. “Let it out, baby. I’m right here.”

He hated seeing you like this. He knew that his job was difficult and that he was risking his life, but he knew that your job is 100 times more difficult emotionally because you hear every pain, fear and suffering of other people when you get a call.

“We’re right out here, Chris, don’t worry.”

You are now in the kitchen and Eddie has left Chris's room. You were sitting at the table and looking at your hands. Your knuckles are red and swollen from the blows and your head has so many regrets. You scared Chris.

“Is he okay?” — you asked in a whisper and didn't want to think about hurting Chris. That's your biggest fear.

“He’s still scared. Makes two of us.”

Eddie sat down across from you and you looked up. You were so upset for what you had done and it was eating you up.

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted was for Chris to be scared of me.”

“Hey.” — Eddie took your hand. “He’s not scared of you, he was scared for you.”

“Did he call you?”

“He did. I got here as fast as I could.”

You chuckled. This scenario is ironically similar. A call from a child who asks to be saved from a parent. Only his call was to save you. And it hit you with an epiphany. You wanted so badly to never put Chris in danger that you unwittingly reproduced it into reality.

“I got a call today.” — you finally started explaining. “It was a little girl and she asked for help, because her dad was abusing her. A-and…” — your voice faltered, but you continued. “Then he beat her up and I heard her screaming.”

“Oh, mi amor. I’m so sorry.” — Eddie squeezed your hand, but you got up and walked over to him. He immediately realized that you wanted to sit on his lap and gave you this opportunity.

“I still can’t shake the feeling that I should have done more. And now I doubt that I can protect Chris. I can’t even do it at work.”

“Look at me, (Y/N).” — he put his hand on your face and looked into your eyes. “Do you know why Chris started calling you Mom? Because he feels safe with you. You make him feel loved and protected. And that's all we can both ask for. You are enough.”

He kissed your cheek and continued.

“I’m sorry you had that call and you had to hear all of that. But you did everything and even more, I’m sure of it. You saved that little girl. Who knows what would have happened if help had arrived 2 minutes later. But YOU did everything in time.”

And you realized that your job does not consist of personally being at the scene of accidents. Your job is to make sure that help arrives at the right time and you did a damn good job.

You smiled and felt relieved. You didn't look at this situation from Eddie's point of view and that's what got you. You wrapped your arms around Eddie's neck and buried your fingers in his hair.

He pressed you closer and kissed you on the shoulder. Every bad thought disappeared when he was around. And his arms always caught you when you started to fall to the bottom.

You heard the notification sound on your phone and pulled it out of your pocket. It was a message from Josh:

“Audrey is alive and stable. They say it was perfect timing.”

“Always on time, huh?” — Eddie saw the message and smiled at you.

“I like to be punctual.”

He pressed his lips to yours and kissed you gently. He's always here to rescue you, and you're always here to answer quickly.

#911 abc #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 imagine #911 x reader #911 x you #911 fox #eddie diaz #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x y/n #imagine

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danikamariewrites · 10 months ago

Note

First wanted to say I love your stories they are amazing! If possible, I have a request for a xaden x reader that’s preferably fluff. The reader is in the same quadrant as xaden but they aren’t super close. The reader gets hurt and Xaden takes them to the infirmary but the reader starts to freak out because of fears of needles/blood (maybe an anxiety attack?) reader tries to hide it because they are embarrassed but Xaden notices anyway and tries to comfort them. :)

Squeeze My Hand

Xaden x reader

Notes: thank you for requesting this anon bc I’ve been struggling for weeks to write and this gave me my spark back. this was the first thing I’ve finished (happily) in weeks💕

Warnings: blood, stitches, injury, and needles

You couldn’t look down. You’d pass out which would make everything worse. It’s bad enough you can feel the blood seeping down your thigh. The last thing you needed was to see the liquid along with the gash.

Taking deep breaths you laid at the bottom of the Gauntlet, thinking about where you misstepped.

A pair of strong arms scooped you up, helping you to stand. Looking up you see Xaden Riorson’s dark eyes roaming your face. Worry set in on his features, wondering how you’re staying so calm in a situation that would have anyone else writhing on the ground.

“I’ll take her!” Xaden calls out to the Leader. You hadn’t heard a word anyone said in the last five minutes with the adrenaline and blood rushing in your ears.

“Can you walk?” He asked softly, taking you by surprise. “Kind of,” you mutter as you study the color of his eyes. The darkness of them holds the littlest flecks of hazel and gold, making them look kinder up close.

Getting to the stone stairs leading up to school you let out a huff. Without hesitation Xaden picked you up bridal style, careful of the still bleeding gash on your thigh. You suck in a harsh breath at the stinging sensation running up your limb.

“Sorry,” Xaden murmured.

He slowed his pace to not jostle you around as much. Even when you got to the top of the stairs Xaden kept you in his arms. He was warm and gentle with you. The initial shock of your injury had you too occupied to wonder why Xaden was helping you.

Even though you’re in the same Quadrant you rarely talk with Xaden. Like every other girl with eyes at Basgiath, you found Xaden attractive.

As he gets closer to the infirmary you subconsciously grip Xaden’s shirt. Your fist begins to shake, knuckles turning white.

Xaden looks down at you, noticing how bad you’re trembling. The color drained from your face as he pushed through the infirmary doors. Your eyes watch the move of every healer as Xaden places you on an empty bed.

You keep your gaze from the wound, knowing the sight of blood makes you nauseous.

One of the senior Healers comes to inspect your cut, gently moving your leathers to get the full scope of your injury. “You are going to need stitches. I’m going to cut your pants and then clean you up.”

You nod wordlessly at her, your eyes screwed shut. You had hoped that you would not need stitches. Needles are a big fear of yours. You never wanted one near you whether it was to help or harm you. A wild fear to have as a dragon rider, honestly.

Xaden’s hand covers yours, now fisting the sheets. You jump as he softly squeezes your fingers. “What’s wrong?” You open your eyes for the first time since the healer looked at you.

Taking a deep breath you give Xaden a reluctant look. Your cheeks flush bright red in embarrassment. Good Gods, how do you confess your stupid fear of needles to one of the toughest people you know. “Y/n, it’s ok. You can tell me.” Xaden reassures.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me.” You say sternly. Xaden holds out his pinky, “I swear I won’t.”

You give him a small nod. “I don’t like needles. I’ve never had stitches before and I’m terrified.” You hold Xaden’s stare for a long moment. Xaden gives your hand another reassuring squeeze, folding between both of his hands. The roughness of his palms rubbing against the smoothness of the back of your hand felt comforting.

“The Healer will put some numbing salve on your skin. It takes a few minutes for it to work, then you’ll barely feel it. And if you can, squeeze my hand if it hurts.” You blink at Xaden, surprised he is being supportive.

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking down at your lap. The Healer comes back with the supplies and starts applying the salve, just like Xaden said. When you saw the needle you tensed up, your eyes as wide as saucers.

“Relax,” Xaden whispers. Your eyes water as you look at him again. Xaden sits next to you, wrapping his arm around you, letting your head rest on his shoulder. The needle pricks your skin, the Healer working quickly.

You feel the needle every few passes. You squeeze Xaden’s hand, praying this ends soon.

“All done.” The Healer says, covering the stitches with a bandage.

Xaden gently kisses the top of your head. “Good job, y/n/n.” He whispers sweetly. A furious blush rising to your cheeks.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fic #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing x you #fourth wing xaden #xaden fourth wing #xaden riorson #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson fic #xaden riorson x you #xaden fanfic #xaden x reader #xaden x you #xaden fluff

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gotham-daydreams · 7 months ago

Text

Falling into Place

Day 2 {Challenge Masterlist}

It was a simple question, a simple conversation. However, this is obviously bigger than they think.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide, cults, occult like activities, death, blood, poisoning, violence, brief descriptions of fighting, descriptions of suicide.] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Sorry for the huge delay! Got hit with a bit of burnout at the worst moment... whoops!

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

It was well into the morning when Bruce was just about finishing up whatever personal research he could gather. By the time Duke was heading out, Bruce was still by the batcomputer, trying to gather all he could on his own - and though he didn’t learn as much as he’d like, he knew enough to tell Duke to keep him posted on any activity he ran into during the day.

Again, Bruce wasn’t able to gather much, especially since the group themselves didn’t seem to have an official name, but based on what he was told the previous night, he had just enough to find what he could with a group that supposedly had no name. One thing he gathered is that they were more active in the day, but even then, they weren’t exactly known for grand or flashy displays - working and tampering in more odd and underground areas, which explains how they managed to slip past him for a while. Though, what he still couldn’t get was when, exactly, they arrived in Gotham, and when they seemed to leave Metropolis. That was one of the more important questions Bruce had wanted to answer, but, again, no luck.

It was then that Bruce had a choice. He could either keep going at this by himself, and risk spending more time than necessary on just trying to gather information when this cult was out there, doing god knows what in his city, and striving to achieve… well, whatever their end goal is - or he could ask for help, and potentially get things moving along faster so he can handle this quicker and much more efficiently.

There are countless reasons why Bruce didn’t want to make that call, a big one was that he didn’t want to involve more people into what was clearly a Gotham problem. These were people he was dealing with, humans, he’s supposed to be able to handle it on his own. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Yet, if those in the manor with him now couldn’t sense anything… not even Cassandra and Damian… something was wrong. Not to mention that there was just a weird feeling Bruce was getting from all this. It all felt off in a way he didn’t know how to explain.

So, reluctantly, Bruce makes the call - but not after a few minutes of staring at his phone, and brooding.

In his defense, it was too early for something like this… for him, anyway, seeing as it was only ten o’clock.

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

When Clark came over, it was Alfred who greeted him, and let him in. The butler swiftly led the super to the batcave, and offered tea along with some biscuits and other things Alfred had prepared that morning as they walked. Of course, Clark took Alfred up on his offers, and when he reached the batcave, he had finished his tea, and had a few crackers in hand.

There, as usual, Bruce didn’t bother with greetings or formalities, and instead got straight to business.

“Tell me everything you know about this cult.”

Clark had to take a small moment to swallow down the cracker he had been chewing on just as he walked in, “Which one?”

Bruce exhaled heavily, “The one that came from your city, to mine.”

Now, that made Clark pause in his movements. Taking a breath, he took a few steps forward, and got more situated within the confines of the cave. “They came here? I mean- I heard them start to move, but I didn’t think they’d settle in Gotham too,” Clark admits, looking at Bruce, clearly concerned.

Bruce furrows his brows at the response, “‘too’? They went to other areas-?”

Just before the question could fully escape the detective, Duke’s commlink buzzes to life.

[“Uh, Signal, reporting in.”] Bruce looks over to the computer, shooting a glance at Clark before bringing his full attention to Duke.

“Anything come up?” He asks, hearing a short huff on the other end.

[Collecting his thoughts, Duke takes a moment before saying, “Beside the usual small fry, there’s nothing to report. Some guys just tried to vandalize the library and wreck the place, buuuuuut I don’t think that there’s much else-”]

“Have any bakeries or floral shops been attacked or stolen from? Maybe a grocery store, or something like that?” Clark suddenly chips in, now paying more attention to the screens too, “Something like a large pot, a whole shopping cart or basket of food items?”

[“Oh- okay, um, another flower shop was stolen from, and some guy was trying to steal another pot of, uh, what did the guy call them- irises? And someone was trying to break into the greenhouse- but even if I was able to stop them, someone must’ve snuck in during the night or earlier this morning before my patrol, since whatever virus that other place had got there too. And y’know how things are taken care of in the greenhouse, there’s no way something like that got there naturally and got so bad-”]

Clark’s brows furrowed, and he caressed his chin, deep in thought, but a strange detail was evident - he was nervous.

Noticing a change in the super’s demeanor quickly, Bruce asks, “What’s wrong, Clark?”

Not getting a response right away was suspicious enough, and the longer Clark took to say anything, the worse Bruce felt. Narrowing his eyes, the vigilante continues to inspect his friend - as if he could catch what was wrong before Clark could put it to words.

The super was tense and on edge, that much was obvious. Looking noticeably disturbed, almost pale - Bruce knew that whatever Clark was thinking about, obviously wasn’t helping - but that was the thing. Was Clark thinking about something, or did Duke’s response spark a memory of some kind? After all, from what Bruce could gather, he’s been dealing with this group for much longer, and if the earliest, possible headline he could find was anything to go off of - the super has been dealing with this group for a couple of months at the very least. About five if he had to give a specific number. It wasn’t a long time, but it was more time than Bruce, and that was the biggest difference. Clark knew the group, Bruce didn’t. Not yet.

Yet whatever the super was recalling now clearly disturbed him, and Clark was getting worse by the minute.

“Clark, talk to me-”

[“OH! Uh, Hi? [Last Name], right? What’re you doing here-?”]

That seemed to snap Clark out of whatever trance he was in, and draw Bruce’s focus away from Clark for the time being. The single mention of that name caught both of their attention - but for two different reasons. One out of familiarity, and the other out of slight suspicion.

“They’re awake at this time-?”

“Officer [Last Name] is with you, Signal?” Clark asks, tone a touch lighter now, his complexion becoming a bit better - and Bruce had to wonder if it was because Clark knew the officer, or something else was going on between the two for the super to act in such a way. Was it a matter of a simple, brief distraction? Or was there some history here that Bruce didn’t know about?

Something bubbled in Bruce’s gut, and he looked back to the screen once again. Nothing about this felt particularly good, and there was that sense again, of convenience. He wouldn’t call it easy per say, no, it just all felt too… simple. Like they were being led down some kind of path. Like he was being guided down a certain train of thought, or being purposefully put on some kind of path. By who, or why, Bruce doesn’t know yet, but he will. He always finds out.

Regardless, just sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to do him any favors, and frankly, he was wasting time - everyone was, and you seemed to be conveniently tied to this case too, so he might as well take this opportunity while it’s given to him. If this turned out to be some kind of play, or was another means to set him on a certain path… well, he has a few cards to play too. The house always wins, and Bruce practically owns this place. This is his territory, and no one can trick him while on his playing field. No one.

“Bring [Last Name] to the manor.” Bruce says, suddenly cutting into the conversation Clark and Duke were having.

[Duke is shocked into silence for a second, before he quickly recovers and utters a small, “Are you sure?” Which, yeah. While Bruce always seems to know what he’s doing, the young vigilante couldn’t help but hesitate and feel unsure. Was that the best idea? And even then, why did Bruce want to see you? Duke feels like he’s missing something here.]

“Yes, now, send them over, Duke.” After getting a reluctant ‘alright,’ in response, the connection is cut, and Bruce turns to look at the super standing beside him - who looks at him curiously and a bit confused.

Straightening out his posture, Bruce only says, “Clark, meet me out in front, and leave the glasses here.”

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

Arriving at Wayne Manor felt strange enough, but being guided there and given a ride by one of Bruce Wayne’s supposed adopted children felt weirder. The building practically loomed over you, and sure, you were used to the feeling since you came from the city, but something felt different about it now as compared to every other instance before. Like even the shadow it casted over you held a deep secret.

Honestly, something like this was bound to happen, but to be here now, and actually at the foot of the door leading into the manor? Well, you could certainly understand why so many people feared the Waynes just as much as others respected them. The building certainly reflected the people it housed incredibly well, almost unnervingly so.

Regardless, just as you didn’t think the situation could get any stranger, just as you were about to knock on the door, a gust of wind blew behind you, and you felt an all too familiar presence as the wind settled. It was only then that you decided to ring the doorbell instead, and straightened yourself out as you made small fixes to your attire and appearance.

“Didn’t expect to be seeing you here, Superman,” You greet, glancing over you shoulder to look at the superhero, who floated in the air beside you before deciding he had enough of the air, and touched the ground with practiced ease. One can’t help but wonder just how long it took him to land in such a way that didn’t shatter the earth beneath his feet upon impact, but, ah, those were questions for another day, perhaps.

Giving you that bright, charming smile he was known for, the hero nods, “Mr. Wayne gave me a call too, but honestly I’m a little surprised!” He chuckles casually, the gesture just as broad as his frame and smile, “It’s good to see you though, [Last Name], some of the officers miss you back in Metropolis - and some other folks too. You must be incredibly social to have so many friends!”

At that, you give a small shrug that matches the hero’s tone, “I have a big family, y’know? And it never hurts to be friendly, especially with so much trouble around, y’know?” You give a chuckle of your own, though it’s more light, and kept a touch low, “Though, it’s a little funny, honestly.”

Superman gives you a curious look, “What is?”

You give a smile of your own to the hero, “The fact that a man like him, can get someone like you to call him ‘Mr.Wayne’ instead of just ‘Bruce’.”

He raises his brows, and snickers a little himself, “Really? Well… I guess it is a little funny when you put it that way, but what makes you say that?”

“Hm, let’s just say I had the impression you two would be closer than that.”

Before Superman could ask you any more questions, the door is finally answered, and you’re greeted with the sight of a butler. Your attention immediately shifts to the older man, who you greet with a simple smile as you look away from the hero. ‘This must be Alfred Pennyworth. Honestly, he looks better than I thought - much healthier too.’ You think to yourself, and are subsequently proven right when he speaks.

“Sorry for the delay, Master Bruce is ready for you two now. Please, come in,” the words fell out of his mouth with a certain grace that couldn’t be ignored, and the voice he had just naturally commanded attention - holding elegance, authority, and yet in a way that none of it felt impolite or rude. All things that you didn’t see very often, and suddenly, you found yourself liking this ‘Alfred’ character more and more by the second, even if you had only met him today.

Still, you wave off his words, “Please, there’s no need to apologize, the wait wasn’t long at all,” and step inside while half way through your sentence. Superman follows in right after you, agreeing and saying something similar. It was small, subtle, but you could help but sense a feeling of familiarity between the two interacting, but brushed it off. Now wasn’t the time to focus on such things, and besides, you couldn’t waste this opportunity, could you? After all, it’s not every day someone is given the chance to just waltz into Wayne Manor - and you were lucky enough to be given such a chance. Really, you almost felt honored.

Moving on, Alfred led both you and the hero through the gigantic building, and eventually stopped just before a room. Once Alfred opened the door, you took a brief look around, and hummed, a bit impressed. For something that you assumed to be akin to a common room, or sitting room of sorts, it still looked very well furnished and taken care of - but having a lot of money certainly help with that, even if you’ve heard that Alfred is the only servant at the manor. He must be a very skilled and particular man, but still, it seems odd to see only one butler no matter how capable he is - that couldn’t be very efficient, could it? Hm.

Nevertheless, it took little effort at all to spot Bruce Wayne in all of his glory, and to your slight surprise, he didn’t look like he had just rolled out of bed - though, even for small, sudden invites like this, a celebrity must keep appearances, you suppose.

He gestures for you and Superman to take a seat, saying to “Make yourselves at home,” to which, you both promptly do so and take a seat to the couch opposite to Bruce with a comfortable amount of distance between the three of you.

You let Superman ask, “So, what did you need us for, Mr. Wayne?” since it seemed to make the most sense to have him ask instead of yourself. While he does so, you take the time to get a bit comfortable. Leaning back against the cushions, crossing one leg over the other, and taking the cup of tea that’s offered to you when Alfred comes up next to you with the tray.

As you take a sip of the tea while it’s still hot, Bruce simply replies, “Ah, I guess I should’ve offered some kind of explanation beforehand, my apologies .” Offering a carefree smile, and you had to give him some credit, for someone with a reputation like his, he does little to disprove any of the rumors you’ve heard. Though, maybe that’s a little rude - seeing as he’s only just spoken. “I’m also sorry for the short notice, but- you see, I’ve heard that something is going on in Gotham, and I’d like to hear all about it from those that seem to know the most about it!... From what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Now that makes you raise a brow, hm.

You’re plenty aware that Bruce Wayne may as well own the city, and it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest he likes to keep up to date on what’s going on, more so than him knowing to reach out to you and Superman. The group has been careful, and yes, while it makes sense for Bruce to have connections to people who could inform him of anything going on anywhere - and he certainly has the wealth to manage such a system - you still can’t help but be curious as to why he asked for you. Did he know the group came from Metropolis? That explains why you and Superman are here, but how did Bruce know that? How?

You pull the porcelain cup away from your lips. Now he’s really got your attention.

The most obvious question comes to mind first, “Where you’d hear that from, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Wayne?”

The wealthy man chuckles, a sort of naturally charming smirk growing on his face, “I have my ways,” of course someone like him would say that, “and, please, call me Bruce- ‘Mr. Wayne’ was my father.” With that, he took a sip of… what you assumed to be coffee by the faint smell. Curious.

“It’s fine, I insist,” your smile grows a bit before you move the conversation along, already getting a feel what was at play here, “anyway, what would you like to know, and about what, Mr. Wayne?” The huff that escapes him at your ‘insistence’ is incredibly amusing to hear, but you see he just brushes it off, and also decides to leave it be.

“Very well then, I’m sure you’ve seen it- or at least heard of it, officer, but…” Bruce goes onto explain the little he can, and though he is only able to vaguely describe what he means, you know what he’s talking about, and Superman seems to as well. Though, curiously enough, he asks you for details first.

Of course, you insist that Superman is more than suitable to give basic details, but when the hero himself insists, well, it doesn’t take much for you to relent.

When told to start from the beginning, you just say how originally there was a call about some loud and strange noises coming from someone’s neighbor, so, being the officer closest to the building, naturally you were put to the task to deal with the problem. The only thing was that, when you got there, well, the sight was gruesome, and when you finally got the door open thanks to a stray shot someone had taken - well, they were just about finishing up. You stated how originally you thought you had walked in a group suicide, and didn’t think anything else was going on until a similar instance popped up, and then another, and another. How, before you knew it, you were following a loose, bread crumb trail of similar situations that had the same outcome once an outsider arrived at the scene.

“Really, no one knows what it was, at first,” you try to explain, “but, again, before you know it, we’re trying to catch these guys before they even know we’re there, and find them doing these weird meetings, chanting, doing all sorts of rituals, and the like. They wouldn’t wear robes and do all of that cliche stuff- but they did all have some kind of marking somewhere on their person, nothing really seemed to connect the deaths besides the marking, and the most we could gather is that the place of the mark on a person’s body was symbolic to them. Though, that’s just a running theory. We haven’t had anyone able to actually confirm that yet.”

Bruce raises a brow, “Like… a similar injury or something? A symbol?”

You make a so-so gesture with your hand, “Yes, but it can differ from each person. It’s odd, but it’s like their way of showing some kind of connection, without making it too obvious that they’re all connected. Though, there are some similarities, like how the marking is carved into the skin, and represents a star or circle or eclipse of some kind.”

Superman agrees, adding, “I haven’t seen many of the symbols myself, but those I have did seem to show the sun in some way, but more often than not, it’s like they were trying to imply a blocked out sun.”

“Like a solar eclipse?” Bruce tries to confirm, brows furrowing.

“Yes,” Superman nods, though you notice how he starts to pale slightly. Hm.

From there, you go on and explain what you can - not going into full detail, but seemingly giving all the information you could provide, and to a civilian at that. With Superman chipping in every now and again, including some of what he’s seen and experienced on his own as well, which was… enlightening. More so than you thought when you originally saw him, but interesting all the same. Though, you do take note of just how little he’s giving as well. Most of his powers are no secret if you know who to ask, and just from that alone, you knew he wasn’t saying as much as he could, but didn’t press or even try to push. After all, you were just a police officer, weren’t you?

Regardless, the conversation goes on for a little longer. With you even mentioning how the group is normally separated, and each subdivision acts as their own entity despite reacting the same to being ‘caught’ and having very similar practices. Some will try to spread what they preach through acting as a church, and only letting in their most devout followers, to more lowkey approaches such as hiding what they’re really doing through parties, or college club activities, and so on. No official name is known about the group, and aside from the markings, similarities in practices, and whatever it is they preach, there is another thing that ties them together - and it’s arguably the biggest tie all the groups have to one another.

“It’s an event they keep mentioning, but no one knows what it really is. Considering their other… practices, everyones a little concerned to find out what it entails, but if you ask me, it could also be something they use to scare new followers- even if it sounds… well, for lack of a better term, ‘edgy’.” Bruce raises a brow at your words, and gestures for you to continue.

“Well… don’t leave me hanging, what’s the event called?”

“The Red Dawn.”

“... Do you have any idea what they even mean by that?”

“Not a clue, sorry, Mr. Wayne. Though, I doubt it’s anything to worry about. The only ones these people seem to be hurting is themselves, after all, and while I do intend to stop them and put an end to this, I doubt they’ll hurt anyone outside of their little ‘circle’.”

“Oh… alrighty, then.” Taking a sip of his cup, Bruce lets the information settle in before deciding to ask, “Do you think that could be the name of their group? Especially if they care about that ‘event’ so much, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that, right? Not the most creative thing to do… but it makes some kind of sense, no?”

You offer a small smile, as if trying to reassure the man, “I highly doubt it. If that was their name, we would’ve known by now with the months that have passed, and besides, while that does seem to be an event they are focused on- I think it's only that. Just another small thing that just so happens to connect all the groups together or a name they go by as a collective, and even then it would suggest a kind of unity that we just don’t see in the group. As similar as they are, they are still divided. Well, from what we could gather, anyway.”

Bruce only gives a nod, “I see…”

With that, after a bit longer of conversing, you’re essentially let go. Bruce thanks you for the information, and sends you on your way, but not before mentioning a party he plans to host on Halloween with one last flash of a smile despite the conversation you just had, and Superman gives you a wave, saying he hopes to see you back in Metropolis soon, and to keep up the good work - but only when he’s essentially made to stay when Bruce says he has more questions to ask the hero. You don’t bother to question it, and just let Alfred lead you to the door - who wishes you the best of luck on the case, and to have a good day. Bruce Wayne was rich, you wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he had some special relationship with half the heroes on Earth, but that wasn’t worth thinking about now.

Especially not when you noticed someone at the door.

“... Should I ask why a kid like you is trying to hide in his own bushes, or is it just some ‘teenager thing’ I don’t understand, Thomas?” At the sound of your voice, and the sudden call out, Duke tenses and practically springs to life all over again as he jumps and practically scrambles to keep himself straight. You raise a brow at the defensive stance he initially takes, but upon noticing you, the teenager eases, and lets out a sigh of relief.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, hi, officer [Last Name]! I… didn’t realize it would be over so soon! Haha!” His nervous response gets a snicker out of you, which only seems to further his own embarrassment, and thus, makes you more amused.

Though, you spare him some of the torment and don’t openly laugh at him, and instead just ask, “What’re you doing out here, kid? Can’t you just head inside? Since, y’know, you live here?” You tease a little, resting your hands on your hips, “Or am I mistaken?”

Duke chuckles awkwardly at your words, straightening himself out, shifting in place a bit, “No- no, I just… wanted some air?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself, but you let the teenager be, and just gave a nod.

“Right. Well, enjoy the outdoors in the bushes, Thomas, I’ll see you soon.” With one last amused grin, you take your leave, and once again wave behind you.

Honestly, you thought you’d just walk off silently once again, but this time, a yell is heard from behind you after you hear some shuffling around and the sound of rustling leaves.

“Wait-! Uh- Thanks for the muffin and small snacks from yesterday! They were really good!” You hear Duke shout, “Have a good day!” He seems to mumble something under his breath, but you’re too far away to hear it.

Regardless, you just continue to walk, and soon shove both your hands in your pockets.

You walk away with a smile.

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

Back in the Manor, Bruce takes a long sip of his coffee, and looks over to Clark - who looks down at the cup of tea in his hands.

“So?”

The super runs a hand through his hair, taking a moment to respond, but even then he seems confused, almost distressed, “It lines up, but I’ll be honest, Bruce. I don’t remember half of what they mentioned. Even the half I did remember… some of it I could barely recall.”

The vigilante stops, becoming too still to pause, and yet not stiff enough to freeze as he just stares at Clark. It’s only after a few beats of silence, and setting his cup to the side that he’s able to ask the only sensible question to a response like that, “What do you mean?”

Clark takes another second, running his hand down from his hair, to his neck and rubbing the muscle there, as if trying to soothe himself before taking in a deep breath, “Y’know that church [Last Name] mentioned? Yeah, I tried to do some research of my own, and went in as a curious journalist who was just trying to see what the church was like, and so on- you know how it is. I got there for the first sermon, bright and early, but when the pastor started to talk… well, the next thing I know is that I’m outside of the church, the service ended, and it’s now night. I was there all day, but didn’t remember any of it. I even checked my notes and everything- nothing. Like all I did was just… sit there, and then leave after everything was done.” It’s then that he looks at Bruce, distress a little clearer now.

“Of course, I tried a few more times, but the same thing kept happening, and the only thing that changed was that I started to feel sick- just really… gross and horrible all over, like going to each service was literally draining the energy out of me- and I noticed it wasn’t just the church either. I’d try to help out with bigger cases that dealt with the group and sometimes I’d just suddenly end up somewhere totally different, with no memory of how I got there, or what I did during that time.” He takes a breath, caressing the fragile china in his hands, and he raises the cup to his lips, but doesn’t take a sip right away. Instead, he lets it sit there, barely an inch in front of his face. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a few seconds or minutes lost with nothing really being done- it was harmless, just a little disorientating at times, but nothing to really worry about. But then… then it got longer the more I tried to help and involved myself with solving the problem. I lost countless minutes, even hours, and ended up in areas with little to no memory of how I got there, and decided it was best to pull away when an entire week had passed, with me having no memory of what happened, what I did, or where I even was- which was hundreds of miles away from Metropolis.”

It’s only as Clark takes another sip of his tea, which is a little cold by now, does Bruce use that opportunity to speak. Not only to get to the bottom of this, but to help his friend with this as well - since it’s clearly distressing the super one way or another.

“Do you think it’s some form of mind control?” When Clark shakes his head, Bruce gives him time to gather his thoughts and explain.

“I’m… not sure. Naturally, I tried to not get as involved, but couldn’t let the group spread or- or let them do whatever they wanted freely, so I asked for some help and it had… varying results.” He takes a moment to sigh, finishing the tea as he sets it to the side, and tries to find a way to say what he was thinking, “Some of those who are nonhuman were like me- they’d start to feel horribly sick after a few days, and lose track of time, starting out in small amounts, and eventually jumping to days and weeks, the others… well, they were like our human allies.”

The vigilante’s brows crease at that, “... Which means?”

Clark scratches the back of his neck, looking away as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I don’t know how exactly to explain it- but after some time, they’d become… too interested in the case. Trying to get more involved with things then they needed to be, and basically became… well, I don’t know if there’s a better term to use, but they almost seemed obsessed with the group, Bruce. It was.. horrible to watch, and I guess I just want to say…” he drags on, not sure if he should add more or not, but his heart gets the best of him, and he sighs heavily. Looking back at Bruce, he continues, “Please, be careful with this. You and your family. I really mean it, please.”

Bruce takes a moment to look at his friend, and take in the concerned look on his face. This wasn’t the first time the super had expressed his concerns, but if there was ever a moment that felt like Clark would genuinely do something if Bruce didn’t listen, or really wanted him to take what he was saying seriously, since Clark himself knew how Bruce is and could be - this would be one of them. The super was always openly and naturally caring, even if he worried too much at times, but something felt different this time around, and that was saying something.

Still, Bruce could only nod after a sigh of his own, “We’ll try our best,” is the best he could give.

… A moment of silence passes. With Alfred taking the opportunity to refill Clark’s cup, and allowing Bruce to finish his. It’s a gesture, in a way, to let the super relax, and to remind him that if he needed a small break, then he was more than welcome to take it here - and Clark seemed to realize that as he let himself ease slightly. This whole thing had taken its toll on the super, that was obvious from how he’s been acting all day thus far, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t even over. However, there also wasn’t an immediate need to acknowledge that right now, and so, both men took in this little breather, knowing they’d have to get back to work once it ended - and when that happens, who knows when they’ll get a chance to breathe like this again?

It’s that very thought that makes it stretch on for just a little longer, lasting until Bruce is on his second cup, and Clark is nearly on his third - and only then is it broken when Bruce asks, “What were you talking about before, when you said you didn’t think they’d ‘settle’ in Gotham too?”

With one last small sip, Clark says, “A while ago, I heard some of the voices I recognized as members of the group were getting further away, almost spreading out. I couldn’t tell where they were headed exactly, but they just seemed to… disburse. Go their separate ways,” a brow of his furrows again as he adds, “I don’t know if anything caused them to move, or if the directions they went in and the cities they possibly went to, was some calculated move- but I do suspect it was an organized effort. For what? I couldn’t say, but more mentions of that ‘Red Dawn’ [Last Name] talked about earlier did pop up around the city for a day or two before anyone went anywhere.”

Bruce hums at the information, taking mental notes before asking, “Is it possible that some members might still be in Metropolis and other cities near there?”

The super thinks for a moment, but eventually nods, “I wouldn’t see why not, and I could check to find out as many groups as I can, and try to keep you updated on that end.”

“That’d be a big help, Clark. Thanks,” Bruce gives a nod of his own, and Clark smiles.

“Of course! Anything to help, Bruce.”

———————————————

Despite the morning that had transpired, the night was relatively normal - it was for Jason, anyway. If anything, it seemed to lack a little more action than it usually did, but hey, the night was still young, and in Gotham it was always too early to make that kind of call.

Regardless, Jason just went about his night. Taking out a few criminals he ran into here and there, staying out of sight of his old man and Cass, the usual. Nothing stood out, and honestly Jason was starting to think that nothing outside of the ordinary would actually happen. Though, that is until he notices some shady looking people sneak their way behind a building, and hears a garage door open from where he was standing. Now, what was going on there…?

“BOO!”

Just as Jason took a step forward, about to tail the shady figures, he felt a sudden weight on his head, shoulders - which caused him to stumble on his footing, and though he barely caught himself, the vigilante found himself irritated as he yelped out a, “WHAT THE HELL-?!”

Giggling could be heard above him, “Did I scare ya? Admit it! I got you that time!” The grin was even evident in her voice, and Jason didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Get the hell off of me, Steph!” Jason hissed out instead, completely ignoring the fact he had ‘caught’ her on instinct, not wanting her to fall off and risk hurting herself with her reckless behavior.

“Aw, c’mon! I totally got you!” Stephanie said loudly with a laugh, only to yelp when she was practically thrown off of Jason’s shoulders, and even if she swiftly caught herself she still looked at Jason and huffs, crossing her arms, “Why can’t you just admit it? There’s no need to be so rude about it, y’know!”

Jason just scoffs, “You didn’t get me, okay? Just leave me alone, squirt.”

Stephanie, of course, doesn’t and sticks around - and as annoyed as Jason acts, he does little to actually push her away. The banter continues, and for a moment they are more than just two vigilantes, but instead, family in their own simple yet messy way. Both of their definitions of such a thing skewed, warped, and changed as they’ve grown up and lived through their lives, along with their definition of love, but now, something like that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t, and even as they went after the shady figures Jason had seen earlier, it only seemed to matter less as the banter continued.

Dealing with crime in Gotham was always the same, and growing up on the streets made it easier to adapt to the different locations criminals liked to tuck themselves into - so much so that each location almost felt the same. The routine was familiar, sneak into the place, try to pick up on whatever was going on, and put a stop to it. Smugglers were common, nothing new, but what was curious was seeing how much of their supplies they had - guys must’ve been stacking up for weeks, maybe longer, but that didn’t matter. A trade of some kind was clearly going on, and as always, it was their job to figure out what was going on and to stop it.

Sticking to the shadows was second nature for numerous reasons, and the conversation they overheard sounded like the same one they’ve heard time and time again - seriously, did anyone ever think of something new to say? Or any other way to say things?

“You’ve got it?” “The load of it that was designated to us, yes.” “Is it ready?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “You know we can’t stall. Just take the load, and take it to the next destination.”

“Right.”

Just as the other spokes person made a gesture for the people behind them to gather the goods, that’s when the first strike was dealt. Stephanie had snuck up on a guy, and got things started, and as usual, the people pulled their guns - so Jason got to work.

Yet, just as he fired the first shot at someone’s shoulder, and they fired their own, did the vigilantes realize where the guns were actually pointed.

The criminals had their guns pointed at one another.

The shot Jason fired hit its mark, but so did the other as in one instance, Stephanie had someone in a chokehold, and in the next - there was no brain to send air too anymore. No eyes to roll back, and while the body went limp, what remained of the head was splattered on the young vigilante, and the space behind her.

More went off, and it took Jason a second too late to spring into action, and Stephanie a few more as the gunshots kept going off - and yet not a single bullet got close to her direction, unlike that first one. There was always a body in the way, and god, all she felt was sick. Though, when practically shoved to the side by Jason did she snap out of it a little, and try to save whoever was left.

They worked in a frenzy, trying to do what they could - even if Jason found out very quickly that just getting them out of the way wasn’t enough, as he heard a weird crunch come from the mouth of the woman he just saved, only for her to give a twisted smile before she started to seize, foam at the mouth, and he could do nothing as he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head but curse.

“DON’T LET THEM CLOSE THEIR MOUTHS! THEY’RE POISONING THEMSELVES!”

Oh, but Jason said it too late, as Stephanie also had the vial pleasure of watching the body seize and subsequently die in her arms despite her own attempts. They still tried, of course, because what else could they really do? Yet, the result was the same. It was like watching a massacre, except… well, the very people who died caused it.

All wasn’t lost as they were able to save two people out of the handful they had run into in the storage space, but at least it was something, right?

One of the criminals didn’t speak, and only glared at the vigilantes, while the other laughed suddenly as the two tried to catch their breaths. The man’s gruff laugh cutting through the deafening silence, blood now coating the walls, bodies lying about… how could anyone laugh at a time like this? Especially when his supposed comrades have just died right in front of him?... Not that the person glaring at them looks any more distraught or distressed at all by this turn of events.

When the man starts to speak, that sickened feeling Stephanie felt before grows, and a similar seed is planted in Jason’s gut - and that really said something, since they’ve heard maniacs go on all kinds of long winded rants unprompted… but this felt different. It lacked the sick humor of Joker explaining his schemes, or the thought and linguists put behind Riddler’s verbal puzzles, and just felt misplaced. As a pair, as vigilantes they’ve heard plenty of talks just like this, and yet… something about it stopped Jason from pulling the trigger early, or from either of them doing something to stop the man, and to just shut him up. Perhaps the sight they just witnessed was taking its toll on them now, but that coupled with this? This wasn’t just some run of the mill thing. This was deliberate, but wasn’t a trap either.

Still, the man goes on, even when his voice becomes hoarse as his vocals fight against the restraint put in between his teeth - just enough space to make him unable to not poison himself with… whatever chemical he had that’d do him in like the others who still had their heads intact. They strain as he wheezes out a laugh, actions rough for someone tied down, and left sitting on his ass. Just as his nails bloody as he scratches at his restraints, his own words scratch at his throat the more he speaks. So much so that instead of spit, blood flies out as he continues, going on about some higher being, how they’ve helped him see the light, and how just their presence alone has made him understand what ‘needs to be done’. How he knows they will guide him to a better end, because he can feel it when he’s close, that he is doing the right thing, and that they have become so connected with… whoever he’s describing, that even being in the city now satisfies him enough, and makes him see sense even in the most vial of situations.

It’s all nonsense, it has to be, of course it is - yet they listen anyway, unwillingly, unable to move, and he doesn’t stop. Will he ever?

“This world will experience a new beginning! A chance to be reborn anew, to be remade! And only by the best, as they are the only one who can be trusted with such a task!” The man’s laugh almost sounds like a bowl coupled with a growl at this point, “The skies will turn red, the night will vanish and be replaced with a light never seen before as we are all accepted into paradise! The sun will encapsulate the sky in a way it never has before, and reveal the true colors that the world has kept away from us! It will be one! We will be one! It was always meant to be one!”

Red runs down from his lips, and yet he continues despite the strain in his voice as his shouts become louder, practically booming in the small space, “The waters will churn like acid in the stomach, eyes will be drawn to the vessel who will bring upon the awakening of the world, and everyone’s hearts will be taken ahold of as they all come to realize that we are in good hands! Everyone should just accept the end for it is already upon us!” A wheeze escaped instead of a chuckle, but what it is intended to be is not lost on anyone.

“Just a few more measly days remain! Just a little longer and we will all be blessed with the sight of a new day! A new life! A new purpose! The Red Dawn w-”

Finally, it all comes to an abrupt end with one last gun shot. A shot, which goes through the man’s head, and pierces through it so cleanly, that it goes into the other person who was beside him, and drills a similar hole in their head - only stopping when it digs enough to crawl out of that second head, and land on the ground. The gleam of its shine almost innocent, as if it hadn’t killed the last two people who remained of the self-massacre - and now, it is only that. A complete, and utter massacre.

The shot brought both Stephanie and Jason out of the strange trance they found themselves under and tried to recover as quickly as they could. Jason sprung to action and tried to rush out and find whoever killed the people they tried to save- with Stephanie reporting to Bruce.

She tried to explain everything that had happened as hurriedly as she could, feeling sicker than ever and having to force herself to look away from the bodies, along the two new additions to the pile. Honestly, she didn’t even realize she had been hyperventilating until Bruce had her try to calm down, and take deep breaths - and yet every breath she took, she could only smell blood, earth, and an odd hint of something sweet that settled on the back of her tongue. Everything about it made her want to throw up, but she managed and tried to compose herself as much as she could.

When asked what was being smuggled, Stephanie looked over to the sacks stacked on top of each other neatly against the wall. Stepping over a few of the bodies, and trying to not look down more than she needed to - she took down one of the sacks and… what?

“It’s- it’s soil?” Why had these people killed themselves over this? There’s no way that this dirt could be worth dying over, right? Maybe it was a cover up. It has to be. It has to.

So, she cuts the bag open and soil spills out, except it looks… weird, “It- it’s either dirt or some weird moss, because there is no way this stuff is supposed to look this red.”

That does it for Bruce, and on his end, he quietly glances at Cassandra before looking out to the city once again, “Bring some of it in if you can, and bring Jason with you.” His voice is firm, and leaves no room for argument… as always.

[“Right, talk to you in a bit, B.”] With that, the connection is temporarily disconnected, and Bruce switches the lines, and immediately talks to Barbara again. Something about how while Superman is doing his search, they have to cover their own bases, and Barbara offers to call Dick to see if he’s run into something similar, and if he’s willing to help out here so they can get everything figured out faster, and Bruce lets her get to it would a simple thanks.

Cassandra can’t help but simply observe, curious as to what’s really going on, but getting a feeling that it’s nothing good. She can see that in the posture of Bruce, but it’s not just him - it’s the commissioner, the officers at the station, and so on. Yet kept so underwraps, that only does actively searching for it can feel it, as the civilians remain unaware, and go on with their lives. Though, something does bother her a little.

She didn’t see you much tonight, but when she did, you seemed just as tired and drained as you did the other night, and yet, there was no evidence of distress. Yes, there was some form of stress there, but you weren’t overly tense or even panicked, and while Cassandra didn’t know much, she could gather enough that something big could be happening. So why weren’t you more concerned? More… paranoid and just generally showed more signs of some inner turmoil like her father? You’ve been involved in this case for longer than he has, and yet… you’re the calmest one compared to everyone else. Cassandra can’t help but wonder why.

… Perhaps it’s about time she helped out in whatever was going on.

#yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere duke thomas #the red dawn

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writingsbytee · 6 months ago

Text

SEXUAL HEALING

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNING / TRIGGERS: Reader is DEPRESSED, no thoughts of self harm or un-aliving herself. Babygirl is just having a depressive episode. Depressed themes, Sexual themes, explicit sexual content; dirty talk; soft Dom,

SUMMARY: Reader is depressed and Terry fucks her out of it

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minora please don’t interact!*

*Also, this is complete fiction. I'm writing about the reader’s depression simply based on my experiences and knowledge of depression. I’m in NO WAY saying that this is what depression is for every individual. This is a safe space. If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health please reach out to your local crisis center so that they can provide resources. Read with care. Love you guys <3*

This hasn’t been proofread

You groaned as your phone rang yet again, reaching out from under your blankets, your hand blindly slapping your bedside table in search of the device. Checking to see who called, a pained sigh leaves your lips. Terry, your boyfriend called you 4 times in the past hour. Deciding to put him out of his misery you answer the call.

“Hello?”, you say, not even bothering to hide the quiver in your voice.

“Babygirl? What’s wrong?,” Terry asked, his voice sounding frantic.

A watery sigh leaves your lips, “I’m having a moment Terry, I’ll be ok. It’s just taking a little bit longer for me to come out of it.”

I hear Terry’s door shut on the other line, “I’m on my way sweet girl, Daddy’s coming”

A muffled sob leaves your mouth at Terry’s words. Always willing to stop whatever he’s doing to help you fight the demons constantly plaguing your mind. Religious therapy and an antidepressant regimen seemed to keep the dark thoughts at bay. Every now and then the debilitating thoughts would come back rendering you useless. Your apartment desperately needed a deep clean as well as your room. Your bed becoming a cesspool, you slept, ate, and cried in the same spot for a little over a week now.

Rolling onto your back you let out a deep sigh, wanting to be normal and not a basket case full of emotions.

45 MINUTES LATER

You could hear your front door open and close, signaling that Terry arrived. You heard him set bags down in your kitchen before his light footfalls made his way to your room. He knocked twice before peeking his head in. Terry’s small smile dropped when he saw the state of you and your room. It broke his heart to see you this way.

“Aww honey, I’m here,” Terry said walking toward you. Tear tracks making their way down your face and silent sobs wracked your body.

“I’m so sorry, Terry. I didn’t mean to make you come all the way down here,” You said, covering your face with your hands. Terry gently grabbed your hands, removing them from your face.

“Sweet girl, never apologize because the air gets a little too heavy for you. That’s why I’m here to take some of the load off,” Terry said with a small smile. Your gentle green-eyed giant, you grabbed your glasses, putting them on.

You brought a hand up to his cheek, “You’re too good for this world Terry Richmond. Thank you, for being what I never knew I needed,” you say with all the sincerity you can muster.

Terry’s eyes shine with unshed tears, “you’ll never have to go through these feelings alone again. Baby when I said I wasn’t going anywhere I meant that. You’re stuck with me sweetheart,” Terry finishes, with a watery smile of his own. He gently raises me into a sitting position.

“Here’s what I want you to do. I brought you your favorite body wash shampoo, conditioner and those wax things you like so much. Go take a shower, wash your hair,pamper yourself. I’m going to get started on your sheets. Okay babygirl?”, he asked. Your eyes practically turned into hearts looking at Terry.

A small smile formed on your lips as you said a gentle, “Okay, Daddy.”

His smile widened, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “There’s my girl. Now go get cleaned up, I’ll take care of everything else.” You nodded, rising slowly, and made your way into the bathroom. You didn’t dare glance at yourself in the mirror. Not in the mood for the thoughts to take hold again. Turning on the shower as hot as it would get you stepped in, ready to wash the bad thoughts away.

Meanwhile, Terry was in your room replacing your dirty sheets, putting them in the wash, and tidying up around your apartment. He hated that he couldn’t save you from your thoughts, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. He understood that everyone’s trauma affected them differently. His put him in attack mode, while yours forced you to shut down.

As you washed your hair, you could feel your sense of self slowly returning. You found peace in taking care of yourself. Detangling your curls felt as if you were brushing away all the bad thoughts. Exfoliating was like scrubbing away your impurities, leaving you shiny and new. You don’t know why you couldn’t muster up the strength to take the 15 foot walk to your bathroom. But that’s depression in a nutshell, making the most mundane tasks feel like climbing mount everest. You spent at least an hour in the bathroom, when you emerged you felt like a different person. Your heart warmed at the sight of your room, new sheets adorned your bed with a new hello kitty plushie and pajama set.

Exiting your room, you start searching for your boyfriend. Finding him in your living room playing your favorite vinyl and watering your plants. You will yourself not to cry at Terry’s selflessness, you just run up behind him wrapping his torso in a hug.

“Hey, baby. Feeling better?”he asks, turning to face you. You place a kiss right above his heart, looking up at him you nod.

“Yeah honey, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you” you say, staring up at him adoringly.

Terry pet your head lovingly, “Let’s hope you never have to find out. Now go make yourself comfortable, I ordered your favorite vietnamese take-out and I’m going to rub your feet until it gets here.”

A warm gooey feeling spreads from your head to your toes. A slow grin taking over your face at your adonis of a boyfriend takes care of your body, mind, and soul. Settling into your sectional, you wiggle your toes playfully urging him closer. Terry chuckles through his nose, making his way toward you. Sliding down beside you , he grabbed both of your legs, placing them on his lap.

“Relax baby, Daddy’s here now and I’m going to take care of you,” Terry said, running his hands up your bare calves. His touch warms your skin instantly. A content sigh leaves your lips as you rest your head on the arm of your sofa.

“Good girl,” Terry said, grabbing your right foot. He began slowly, just caressing your feet adding a tickle here and there pulling small giggles from your lips. Terry started to work on your foot starting slowly on your instep, applying light pressure. Then he moved to your arch applying pressure that was almost painful, causing a gasp to leave your lips.

“You’ve got a knot here, be patient I’ll work it out,” Terry said, digging in deeper. An involuntary moan leaves your lips, the release of the tenson expelling through your lips. Terry smirked, his plan was working. This kept going for a while, Terry expertly massaging your feet, and you moaning like he was massaging somewhere else. You're getting wetter by the minute.

The doorbell interrupts your massage as a groan leaves your lips, “I was just starting to relax,” you whined. Terry lets out a chuckle before getting up. Leaning to kiss your forehead, “You’ll have plenty of time to relax later, trust me.” And with that, he heads toward the door to grab the food. Terry doesn’t let you lift a finger while he plates the food for you two. Just advising you to find something “good to watch.” With a smirk, you put on your favorite show at the moment, ‘True Blood.’ Terry liked the show surprisingly, being the first of your boyfriends to take an interest in YOUR interests. What he didn’t like was how googly-eyed you got over Alcide. As trivial as it was, he wasn't going to sit and watch you drool over another man.

Plating your food,

Terry brought it to you. Plopping down next to you on the couch with a plan in mind, Terry just sat back and watched you enjoy your food. A small satisfied sigh leaves your lips at the first bite.

“Mmm, it’s so good! Thank you baby” you say, leaning in to kiss Terry’s cheek. He could feel his cheeks warm at your gratitude, placing a hand on your thigh and squeezing. Your breath hitched when Terry’s hand refused to leave your thigh. Instead tracing small circles while you ate.

After finishing your food you and Terry cuddled up on your sofa with a blanket. Rubbing his chest you say, “Thank you for everything Terry, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Terry looks down at you grasping your chin forcing your brown eyes to meet his mossy green ones. “I’m just doing my job baby. What kind of man would I be if I let my woman suffer alone? I’m here for you, I love you, and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of.” Terry’s hand migrated to the back of your neck, pulling you in excruciatingly slow. He watched your face change. Eyes become low, lips parting, and your breathing turns shallow.

Terry inches impossibly closer, your lips a hair’s width apart, “What do you want, pretty girl?”

“Kiss me, please?” you ask, fingers coming up to grip his t-shirt. A small devious smirk makes its way onto Terry’s face as he leans down, lips brushing against yours. The anticipation is killing you. You two were practically sharing the same breath, yet Terry wouldn’t close the gap and lay one on you.

“Please, Daddy? Let me thank you, I’ve been good haven't I?” you ask, looking up at Terry with the doe eyes that he loves so much.

A groan leaves his lips as Terry places your bowl on the coffee table “You know what that look does to me, baby. C’mere,” and then his lips are on you. A surprised moan leaves your lips as you pull Terry closer, sucking his lips between yours. He grabs your hips positioning you on his lap, right atop his growing bulge.

“How are you feeling honey, still sad? What can Daddy do?” Terry asks, his hand grasping and pulling at the fat of your ass. Grinding you against thick dick.

“Touch me, please Daddy”, you whine. You could feel yourself soaking through the seat of your sleep shorts, having forgone underwear. Terry smiles against your lips, “I am touching you pretty girl”. Pulling back for air, you move your attention to his thick neck. Placing wet open mouthed kisses there migrating up to his ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe. You hear Terry’s breath stutter drawing a smile from your lips. Terry pulls back in time to see the bright dopey smile on your face and he places a kiss on your nose.

Pulling your shirt over your head, Terry's eyes lock on plump mahogany breasts and chocolate nipples.

“Fuck, pretty girl. You’re not playing fair,” Terry says, head dropping onto the back of the sofa. A soft giggle leaves your lips. You slither up Terry’s body like a cat in heat, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“C’mon Daddy don’t you wanna feel how wet I am for you? Just for you,” you whisper into Terry’s ear, finishing with a lick. A small ‘fuck’ leaves Terry’s lips as his hand comes cracking down on your ass forcing a small yelp to leave your lips.

“Keep that up baby and I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for,” Terry said, playing with your shorts. Pulling them halfway down to jiggle your ass or tugging them high up your ass giving your clit the much needed friction you craved. You two were making out like porn stars, sloppily, lips glistening with spit. You pulled back to look at Terry, his eyes half mast filled with need and desire for you. You’re positive your face looks the same. Terry picks you up off his lap, setting you next to him on the sofa as he gets up. Turning on your sunset lamp and turning off the lights to create an ethereal glow around your living room. Then he moves pieces of your sectional together making it a day bed of some sort.

“Strip babygirl, I want you naked by the time I get back,” Terry commands, then picks up your leftovers, and heads back to the kitchen. It was embarrassing how fast you threw the sticky shorts off. Your pussy was talking and Terry hadn’t even touched you yet. As you wait for Terry, you start massaging your tits. Nipples forming tight peaks, tugging and pulling creates a throb you feel straight down to your clit. Small moans started leaving your lips. The ache between your thighs growing almost painful as you whined, waiting for your man to return and fuck you stupid. After five minutes you almost debate finding him.

“Terrrrryyyy,” you cry out. When you get no response you peek over your shoulder, when you don’t see him you decide to start on your own. Sliding your hands down your body, you’re about to reach your pussy when Terry’s hand grabs yours, pulling a gasp from you.

“I said strip, when did I tell you to touch my pussy?”Terry's looking down his nose at you.

“I’m sorry, Daddy I need you please!” You whine, sitting up. Terry makes his way around the sofa looking like a lion stalking his prey. He stands in front of you crossing his arms, a cup in one hand.

“Spread those legs for me mama,let me see my pussy,” Terry said. Your legs fell open immediately the quiet ‘schlick’ heard between the two of you. Terry’s eyes darken, the color of a stormy sea and he takes a step toward you.

“Hands behind your back sweetheart, you know the drill,” Terry purrs, crawling on the sofa. Taking a long sip from his cup before setting it down. Like an obedient little slut you put your hands behind your back with a small smile on your face, “Like this papa?” you asked.

Terry dropped his head and groaned, “I’m trying to make you wait babygirl, I’m two seconds away from burying my face in that sweet pussy,” Terry said, his voice sounding like he was in pain.

“C’mon papa look at how ready she is for you, she couldn’t wait for you to get your hands on her,” you scooched your ass further down the sofa, practically planting your pussy on his chin. With a growl, Terry was on top of you, hand clutching your cunt.

Terry started massaging your clit with his fingers releasing a relieved moan from your lips.

“Unh Terry, it feels good!” you said, head thrown back, and your back arched.

A devilish smile formed on Terry’s lips. He loved the sounds you made when he played with you.

“Make that sound again baby,” Terry said, tonguing your nipple.

“Unh! Daddy!Take your pants off please. I want to feel you” you moan, gripping Terry’s neck. Pulling him down to lock your lips. Terry explored your pussy like it was his first time. Experimenting with how wet he could make you. Sliding his pants and boxers down he freed his monster of a dick.

“I’m going to fuck you baby,but first tell me how bad you want it” Terry said, his finger picking up the pace on your clit.

“I want you so bad Terry,” you say leaning up to peck his lips over and over.

A small chuckle leaves his lips, “Yeah? How bad? Let Daddy know sweetheart.” Terry’s working your clit between his fingers, the slick sounds permeating through your home.

“Fuck Daddy I want you to take care of me like you always do . You’re such a good provider, always making sure I have what I need! Ouuu! Baby, right there! Yes! You’re going to make me cum, fuck!,” You moan out, your voice rising in pitch letting Terry know you were close.

“Then come on my tongue sweet girl,” Terry leans down and takes your clit in his mouth. Your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your breath staccatos

“You look so pretty, baby. I love how wet this pussy gets for me. You ganna let Daddy fuck the bad thoughts away. Want me to make it feel better sweetie. Because I can, you know Daddy can help,” Terry slips two fingers into, causing your soul to leave your body.

Combined with his suction on your clit, you stood no chance against the orgasm that rocked your body. “Oouuu Terry! Yesssss!”, you moaned as Terry worked your orgasm out of you.

“That’s right pretty girl, give me that orgasm,” Terry said, adding another finger. You were beyond seeing stars at this point. There was a full milky way galaxy dancing behind your eyes. Terry had a dark smirk on his face, loving the effect he had on you. He loved making you come, how you gave yourself over to him completely. He was surprised when you forced his fingers out of your pussy, a harsh stream of liquid following. A high pitched moan left your lips as your body shook.

“Yes Honey! That’s it!” Terry moaned, slapping your clit a few times. Your body shook and shuddered in the aftermath of your orgasm. Vision hazy as you tried to center yourself. Terry stripped off the rest of his clothes and hovered over you, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“Hey, look at me baby,”Terry brought his finger to your face caressing you. Your eyes refocused on Terry’s soft ones, a small smile forming on your lips. Terry mirrored your expression, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a passionate sloppy kiss. Teeth and tongues clashing in a frantic meet of mouths. Both of you are trying to convey your love for one another.

“Papa, I need you inside me” you wine against Terry’s lips. Terry doesn’t need to be told twice, he positions himself at your entrance and eases in. Both your lips part, needy moans releasing from your lips.

“Terry, Terry, Terry! Oh my god!” You moan as he sets a punishing rhythm. Punching your cervix with the fat mushroom head of his dick. You lose yourself in the feeling of being fucked by him.

“How’s that feel baby, can you feel how much Daddy loves his sweet girl?” Terry asked. How he could ask you questions while digging your shit out like this is beyond you. You just moan and nod, his thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Words baby. I need to hear you say it. You’ll do that for daddy won’t you?” Terry asks, bringing his hand up to your throat applying slight pressure. The delicious feeling pulling a needy whine from your lips. Terry was hitting all your spots and you couldn’t think.

“Yes daddy, I feel it. I love it. I love you,” you moan your eyes slowly making their descent to the back of your skull. Terry loved when you started babbling on his dick, saying any and everything to please him. And please him it did.

Terry felt like a man possessed, your pleasure the only thing on his mind determined to coax as many orgasms out of you as possible. He was going at you like a man on a mission. The push and pull, the slick sounds of him going in and out of your pussy driving him insane.

“I love you more baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you with the dark thoughts, but I’m here now Daddy’s ganna fuck the depression out of you,” Terry said raising one of your knees so he could hit you even deeper.

You bring your hands up, grabbing Terry’s ass pulling him deeper inside you. “Baby you’re going to make me cummm!,” you moan out. Terry moans in your ear, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss. Terry releases your lips, leaning back to look at you.

“Open your eyes pretty girl, I love the way you look when you come for me,” Terry was long past close. He wanted to cum so bad, but he wouldn’t, not until he felt your velvet walls pulse around his thick dick.

“Cum with me Daddy! I need to feel you fill me up!,” You say reaching for Terry’s ears, rubbing them softly. Terry’s eyes start to roll in the back of his head. He loves it when you play with his ears.

“You’re so good to me Daddy, always taking care of me. You’re making me feel so good, thank you Daddy! Thank you for fucking the depression out of…” you never got to finnish your sentence. Orgasm hitting you like a bus. Terry was ejected from your pussy with the force, you squirted so hard your vision went white as a high pitched moan left your lips. Terry started in awe. He stood above you jerking his dick.

“Fuck that was so sexy baby I’m about to come,” Terry said. That all too familiar ache forming in his abdomen. Balls heavy and tight with the need to release. Your eyes regained their focus in just enough time to watch Terry erupt all over you. Painting you with his cum, a small smile formed on your face as his warm release landed on your breasts, tummy and legs.

“Mm that was a big one daddy, thank you,” you moan, collecting his essence to taste. A moan leaves your lips as the salty, earthy musk hits your taste buds. Terry leans down, placing another kiss to your lips.

“How do you feel now babygirl?” Terry asks, using the spare napkins to clean you up.

You place a kiss on Terry’s cheek, “Much better Daddy, but I think I’m still a little sad” you said, smirking up at him. Terry shakes his head at you with a playful smile on his lips.

“Well you better go grab us some waters babygirl, I’m not done with you yet,” Terry said before lifting you over his shoulders to carry you to your room.

THE END <3

I think this might be the fastest I’ve ever written anything. I just really wanted to create a vulnerable piece, and I LOVE how this piece turned out. This is supposed to be a one shot but that’s TBD as of now. As always constructive criticism is encouraged but please take it easy on me, I’m sensitive.

TAGLIST:

@blackgurlnhermoods @megamindsecretlair @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @pinkkycherrish @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @kianaleani @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @shallipii @greatpandagladiator @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @pocketsizedpanther @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @nayaesworld @earthchica @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @diaries-of-me @simplyzeeka @kumkaniudaku

#rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black reader #black!fem!reader #terry richmond x black! fem plus size reader #black fem reader

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saeun · 2 years ago

Text

"suguru, shoko... it's been nice knowing you guys. i always loved you both. please, tell y/n i loved her too, yeah?"

it's a tense moment. after satoru received your social medias, he did some snooping around and found the harsh truth — or so he calls it. comparing himself to what he found did nothing but install a depressing, hallow sadness into his system.

"satoru, get the fuck down from that chair," shoko's having none of it. the moment she glimpsed group-chat's notification she practically teleported to satoru's. her heart dropped, palms got sweaty, throat dry at the thought of satoru ending his life. when she arrived, suguru was already there, weeping for his dear friend's life.

it must've been serious, right? it wasn't.

what came into her vision was a grown, silver-headed man standing on his desk chair. around his neck held one of his ties. now, this is where it got unserious. everything seemed true until shoko's eyes traveled to satoru's neck. his tie was wrapped around it with his very own hand holding the longer piece of the tie.

in short, he's fucking dramatic. suguru doesn't fall far, too. it must be hard on shoko for being the only one with a decent brain... kind of.

"shoko, how can you be so... so mean?! he's dying over there! your own friend!" suguru wipes his tears, furious at his other friend's own indifference to such a sight.

"don't," she begins, walking to satoru's position to kick him off the chair. "don't piss me off."

satoru's now on the floor; laying on his back, body straight, arms clasped on top his stomach. this must signal his final moments. it's peaceful in his mind.

"satoru, i swear to god. get the fuck off that floor." she nudges his body with the front of her shoes, eyes twitching at the foolishness.

it takes a mere minute before satoru's tired of ignoring the obnoxious foot harming his body. so he sits up, hanging his head low.

"i just can't, y'know? it hurts," his voice cracks, radiating sadness throughout the room. his words receive two varying responses.

from suguru: "it's okay, satoru. there are many other fishes in the sea."

from shoko: "this is why you mind your business sometimes."

at shoko's response, he sighs loudly, "it won't kill you to be nice, shoko ieiri."

she sits on his bed, placing a pillow on her lap, fixing her posture, and re-positioning her imaginary glasses. "well then, satoru. tell me what you felt, what you saw, and what you think. you can let it all out to doctor shoko."

suguru stifles a laugh, eyes switching between shoko's new persona and satoru's defeated expression.

"okay, doctor shoko. i felt horrible — no, nauseous. i went through her followings and saw that she follows other men. she knows other men. i'm sick to my stomach," his rant begins. it all started when he decided to go through your profile. this meant snooping through followers, followings, tagged photos, and even comments. you both are in — what the youngsters call it — a talking stage.

there are no labels within this relationship, nor are there any confirmed feelings but this? this betrayal? what do you mean he's not the first man on your profile? this is devilish. all went well until he saw one specific comment that said: "baby you're so sexy ily," to which you replied: "i love you more."

the fiend ( as he calls them ) had the profile photo of a man. when he did the internal math, the unbearable truth was found. he is not the only one you're talking to. he feels hurt.

suguru, too, shares his friend's pain. shoko, however, doesn't. why? it's because the commenter was in fact not a man. had satoru did deeper research, he'd have known that the profile photo is the famous singer the weeknd, and the profile belongs to one of your girls who's a diehard fan of him. well, who's shoko to tell the truth? she'll wait for satoru to come to a realization.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #this is so stupid but i love it #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru drabbles #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you

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miley1442111 · 1 year ago

Note

hi!!! can you do something with aaron, like a continuation of unfair with the other episode? like reader's drives the ambulance instead of Derek and reader and Aaron have a moment in the hospital?

love your writing, thank youuuuu!!!!

i love these two episodes, yes! thank u for requesting <3

unfair part 2- a.hotchner

a/n: this wasn't intended for a fem or male reader so imagine what you like :)))))))))))))) this is major spoilers for season 3 episode 20 and season 4 episode 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

summary: the bombs started and you need to do something about it.

pairings: aaronhotchner x reader, platonic!BAUteam x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, descriptions of harm to reader, harm to others, descriptions of bombings, descriptions of pain, mentions of guns and knives, descriptions of wounds, mentions of hospitals, mentions of scars, mentions of insecurity around scars, mentions of death + more

Part 1

The blast was loud. So fucking loud. You were shot back at least 10 feet? You couldn’t tell. You couldn’t see Aaron, nor could you see Kate. It all happened so quickly. You stood up, looking around for him, for anyone. You stared at the burning car, seeing a figure, when your ears finally focused in.

“Y/n?! Y/n?!” Aaron screamed. “Kate?! Y/n?!”

“Aaron?!” You shouted back, limping towards him. His head was cut and he was limping too.

“Oh god,” he sighed, breath laboured. “You’re alive.” He pulled you close and a piercing pain in your shoulder made you scream and push him off you. “Y/N?!”

“M-my shoulder,” you whimpered, turning to let him look.

“Oh god,” he breathed out, low enough that if he wasn’t right behind you, you wouldn’t have heard.

“Is it- I don’t want to know. Where’s Kate?” you decided.

“I thought she’d be with you?”

You stared at each other then started frantically looking around, finally spotting her up the road.

“Kate!” You screamed. She was awake, bleeding out, but awake. You rushed to her side. “Kate!”

“Y/n, where’s Aaron?”

“He’s over there, w-with someone, we’re going to get you help-”

“Why are you bleeding?”

“We got hit, the blast from the car, we’re getting you help don’t worry- stay with me,” you explained. “Aaron!” you screamed. “We need to find the bleeding!”

Aaron came running over, a boy beside him. “Flip her on her side!”

You did as he asked and found her back a bloody mess. You found the bleed and plugged it with your finger.

“No one’s coming,” Kate muttered. “Orders. 1st responders are the second wave, remember?”

“Aaron go get someone from that front line now,” you ordered.

“I can’t leave you here-”

“Now!” You shouted. “Go Aaron!” He ran off, towards the frontline. Derek came back, ready to help.

“What’s going on?” he asked, a hand on your arm.

“We’ll need to move her if Aaron can’t get anyone over, Derek, she’ll die if we don't do something.”

You felt helpless, and trapped. Derek got a phone call and picked up. “What?”

You quirked an eyebrow up, a look of startled confusion gracing your face.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “The kid’s our bomber.”

You wave him off and he starts chasing him down the block. After what felt like hours, someone finally came to help, an ambulance from behind you. The paramedic patched her up with your help, and you opened the ambulance, ready to get the gurney and help Kate. You sat in the back, Kate awake as the paramedic drove.

“Where are we going?” You shouted.

“Nearest hospital, don’t worry we’ll get to her in time.”

You started looking around the back as Kate groaned in pain.

“W-what should I give her? I’ve done courses in administering medication, I-I’m certified,” you assured him.

“Wait ‘till the hospital,” he said calmly. “We’re two minutes out.”

You nodded, then started looking around for something, for anything. And that's when you saw it. The bomb under the bed. You stifled your gasp as you met a secret service checkpoint. You grabbed a piece of paper from your pocket and a pen and started writing.

“This hospital is closed, go to Lincoln instead,” the Secret Service Agent explained.

“I’m SSA Y/l/n, please, she won’t make it to the next hospital!”

"Credentials?" He asked and you pulled it out of your pocket and he waved you on. You opened the door just enough to shove your note out and you dropped it, praying someone would find it. You stayed with Kate as they brought her into surgery and a nurse came up to you.

“You need to lie down, follow me-”

“There’s a bomb in this building,” you whispered and she almost screamed but you put a hand against her mouth to stop her. “Start evac,” you flashed your badge and she nodded, you grabbed your gun from your holster and started to try and find the paramedic. Your adrenaline was wearing off and you could feel all of the pain in your shoulder. You looked as much as you could and saw a large piece of shrapnel in your shoulder, you let out a gasp but persevered. You caught sight of him in a long corridor, going towards the elevators. You followed him down to the ambulance, pointing the gun at his head. “Stop what you’re doing.” But the bomb was already online. You pulled the trigger, aiming at his shoulder, immobilising him, then searched him, finding the phone.You pulled out your own phone and tried multiple people on the team, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss, hell, even Hotch despite knowing he wouldn’t answer. The paramedic gained back enough strength to stab you in the leg and make you drop the phone. He grabbed it and started running.

You called Spencer on your phone, praying he would pick up.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” he asked, frantic.

“I had the bomer, I shot him in the shoulder but he got away. The bombs online and he has the phone, get Garcia to block the signals for as long as she can.”

You hung up and mustered all the strength you still had in you and got up, you ripped your shirt and wrapped it around the wound in your leg, adrenaline kicking in once again. You got in the driver’s seat, thankfully the keys were in the ignition and you started the ambulance, then called Garcia.

“Hey, what can I do?” she asked.

“Garcia I need you to track the ambulance I’m in,” you said, out of breath. “Then tell me where I can drive where there’s no civilians around.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, terror clear in her tone.

“My job, now do yours,” you ordered and started driving.

“Head north, floor it, I’ll tell you when to turn,” she sighed.

As you drove you thought about your life. Living with your family as a child, moving to college, finding your life-long friends, meeting exes, all of your firsts in life, joining the FBI, joining the BAU, meeting all the amazing team, meeting Aaron, meeting Jack just a few months ago, looking at houses with Aaron.

All of it was so special.

“How long is left on the signal blocking?” You asked, driving through traffic at dangerous speeds.

“35 seconds,” Garcia said. “Turn left now!”

You obliged and saw the open green up ahead. You floored it, jumping out the second you drove over grass. The ambulance continued on, exploding around 20 metres away.

“Y/n?!” Garcia screamed down the line. “Y/n?!”

“Call an ambulance to where I am please, blast happened, I wasn’t in it, I just have fucking shrapnle in my shoulder that I would really like to get out and a stab wound in my thigh that’s being held together with a scrap of my shirt.”

“Ok, headed your way now,” she sighed in relief.

“I love you Pen,” you sighed, relieved that all this was over, as you sat down on the grass.

“I’m mad at you,” she sighed and ended the call. You chuckled to yourself as you heard the sirens, then finally allowed yourself to pass out.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up in a hospital bed, alone. You pressed the red call button, from the closed window you assumed it was the middle of night.

“Good morning, or should I say good evening?” she smiled as she walked in. “You have some people to see you, am I allowed to let them in?” You nodded. “No hugs or anything strenuous, you’ll rip your stitches.” You nodded again, showing her you understood. You left and behind her, Aaron, Spencer, Derek, Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Rossi came in. Derek was first to try to hug you but the nurse scolded him.

“How long was I asleep for?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“A day,” Spencer answered.

“Oh. Was Kate ok?”

“She didn’t make it,” Derek sighed.

“Shit,” you stated.

“What you did was really brave,” Jj smiled. “We’re all really proud of you.”

You smiled at her comment but started tearing up. It was an awful experience. You didn’t feel like a hero. You felt like shit. Your body and mind hurt. “Can you… do you guys mind if it’s just me and Aaron for a bit? It’s just a bit much,” you explained and they nodded and left.

“Honey, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he sighed, pulling a chair up beside you and holding your hand as you started to cry. Every breath brought another wave of pain from your shoulder. He moved to hold you and leaned into his touch, sobbing into his chest. You sat there like that for at least an hour, sobbing until you couldn’t anymore.

“I fucking hate this job,” you sighed after a long silence.

“I understand,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head. “Promise me you’ll never do something like this again?”

“I promise to never be in the fucking field again,” you sighed and he pulled back.

“You mean that?”

“Maybe in a while, but I’ll need some time just in the office. I have a psychology degree and 2 phDs I’m sure a department will want me. This job… it takes too much.”

“Ok honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you had to do this.”

“I’m sorry I did this,” you sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap. The wounds and stuff… I’ll be covered in scars,” you mumbled. “You won’t want me then,” you joked, trying to hide the genuine fear you had about this.

“I’ll always want you,” he smiled, his true genuine answer.

“You’re just saying that,” you pushed, holding his hand.

“No I’m not,” he said, seriously. “I love you, all of you. All of you, forever.”

“Promise?” You said.

“Promise,” he kissed you tentatively, careful of your pain and fragility.

"I just want to get home. Have you called Jack yet?"

"He knows you won't be able for playing for a while. He said he wants to give you a hug."

You chuckled and leaned into Aaron again. You knew that despite the pain, scars, and anything else on the horizon, you’d be ok, you’d be with Aaron, the team, and Jack.

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #bau imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfic

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babextoken · 8 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡ —I am desperate to know—⟡˙⋆

Part 2 of Show Me What You Are (sub!vessel x f!reader) ⟡ wc: 4.5k

summary: change is scary. you and your enemy-turned-plaything, Vessel, come to terms with what it means to share your dirty little secret and let your relationship and feelings evolve.

CW: straight up porn with plot (18+ MDNI), hurt with lots of comfort, jealousy that gets resolved quickly and respectfully, "mommy," "puppy," "good boy"

a/n: reworked and expanded :) this was inspired by the wretched conversations I have with @wolftoken and @adenobabe.

Ves: What we do is for us and us alone. You: just because they saw us doesn’t mean we can’t do this anymore. We just need to be more discreet. Ves: It’s fucking embarrassing. You: I know it is. I’m embarrassed too Ves: you weren’t on your knees acting stupid and pathetic for just a crumb of attention. You: oh. A crumb? That’s what you call my affection?

Crickets. Fucking. Crickets.

You were busy doing damage control over text—a fool’s errand. A week ago you found yourself at a party with Vessel. It was a surprise actually, but you held your tongue when you greeted him at first in front of everyone. The urge to talk down to him in that gentle domme cadence was strong, but your pride was stronger. You hadn’t seen each other in a month or so after several blissful weeks of seeing one another to turn your brains off. To pretend for a second that things weren’t so shitty that you resorted to sleeping with someone you disliked.

After a few sneaky glances and texts, you beckoned him to follow you through the hallways of your friend’s house. In the empty den, you sat in the leather loveseat and asked him to sit by you…but he wanted to kneel. He had his arms wrapped around your bare calves, his face nuzzling your thighs, trying to push up your mini dress. As your hands lightly scratched his scalp, he moaned softly. You two couldn’t do anything sexual right now, but that didn’t stop the growing tension and arousal. “Look at you,” you whisper, “you’re an angel, aren’t you?”

He hummed contently and gazed up at you. “Then you’re a goddess. Regardless of what I am…you’re my goddess…” He groaned, placing little kisses and bites on your thighs. Your hand tangled in his hair as his breath grew hot and heavy. “Ffffuck. Mommy, please. You’re wet for me, I can tell.”

You gently lifted his head and caressed his cheeks. “I know baby, I know. It’s been too long. Such a busy boy. Tsk. You’ve been working so hard, hm?”

“Mhm. I have. I’ve been so good, too.”

The sweet little blush that covered his cheeks was irresistible. You wanted to kiss it right off of him. And you almost did before the light of the hallway assaulted your eyes as a mutual friend opened the lounge’s door. They excused themselves and shut the door softly. No harm done. Or so you thought.

“Hey…it’s ok,” you said softly as Ves pushed away from you and sulked.

“You should leave first.” His face was red from anger and embarrassment now. The moment was gone as soon as it started.

“What?”

“You go out there first. Save face for us both. You’re better at all that then me.”

You could feel the frown pulling at your mouth almost into a pout. “They left us alone, we don’t have to sto-“

You didn’t get to finish. Vessel stormed out of the lounge. And the house. Later, the friend who had seen you two was a little drunk, asking a bit too loudly if you two were a thing…which led to more friends coming up, mouth agape all “I thought you hated each other!” But your facade dropped the minute someone said, “you could do so much better than him.” Fuck them. Fuck this party. Fuck this house.

And that’s how you found yourself trying to get Vessel to come over but instead you found yourself regressing. It was too easy to bicker. That last message he sent stung. You weren’t denying him anything and he had the audacity to say it was merely a crumb. It makes you wonder if he’s just embarrassed or if you’re not doing enough for him. Wait a minute…no no no. You weren’t going to let him get to you like this. He was barely a fuck buddy. A toy! Let him pout and think that allowing him to rub his face all over you is the bare minimum. That little shit. You’d show him. You could find anoth-*ding ding*

Ves: I’m sorry. I was just mad. Ves: did that upset you? That I responded like an asshole? You: yeah it did. You can’t treat me like a stress ball and take it out on me. Ves: you’re right. I am really sorry Ves: but…you’d be make a good little stress toy You: watch it, puppy Ves: make me 🐶

Ok. That does it. You get to his place way too quickly, but you don’t care if you look eager. He answers the door with a playful scowl. “Ugh,” he exaggerates. “Come to put me in my place?”

You walk in and let your eyes graze up and over him. Those slutty sweatpants and his black tight muscle tank. You could just swallow him up. “Oh, shut up, Ves. You practically told me to come over.” You step to him and gaze up…waiting. “No hug?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

There’s that awkward “hug-it-out” embrace again. You try to get him to hug you back as you curl into him, but he’s a bit limp. “Do you want me here or not,” you ask, sighing and feeling dejected.

Vessel rolls his eyes and tries to pop his neck. “Obviously I want you here. Just…do whatever. You have my consent.”

You pull away from the hug and look up at him with some concern. “You’re really fucked up about this, aren’t you?”

Vessel looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “Put yourself in my position. This whole time I’ve known you,” he steps closer to you, his jaw clenched, “I have made an effort to not get close. To learn to dislike you. And people noticed and I liked that. Helped me feel like I could keep from getting too close. And now, perhaps I’ve gotten soft. Folded…whipped…all those weeks ago when I asked you to do this fucked up thing with me. But now someone has seen it. Someone saw me clinging to you.”

You have a hard time keeping his gaze. You feel a little nervous because he is genuinely upset. Maybe you were the one not taking this as seriously. “Ves…I…I get it now. Ok? I do.” How easy it would be to lay into him. To tell him he’s stuck up his own ass about this, but…that’s not so much your nature with him anymore. “But remember…it wasn’t just you who was caught. I was right there with you.” You caress his cheek, and he instantly rests his face in your palm. “I’m not doing anything to you. And…you’re not forcing me into this. And I’m sorry it happened. We had no idea. So you’re right…when you were texting me. What we do is for us.” You look down and have a silly thought. “Do you think you’d be as embarrassed if they found as fucking?”

He pauses for a moment and considers your question. He takes a deep breath. “No. That would be easier to explain even if we hate each other. People just..heh…they hate-fuck, right?”

You smile a bit shyly. AGAIN with that chuckle. You are so taken with this weirdo. “Do you still hate me?”

He takes a heavy breath. The silence and tension is so thick, but not uncomfortable. It’s needed. You both need to choose your words correctly or else someone will get offended. Or feel awkward. “Not even close.”

You and Vessel lean in instinctively and meet each other in a soft, deep kiss. This kiss is different but there’s no time to think about it. He’s already pulling you to his couch where he sits you down. It’s a reenactment of the other night. You with your thighs just barely grazing each other, and Vessel sitting before you on the ground. “May I get between your legs,” he asks softly as he rubs his face against your knee. Without a word, you part your legs for him. That’s nothing new. But you also don’t make a show of it. No “ooh thank you for asking…such a polite boy.” No cheek pinches. Just granting him heaven. “Thank you,” he whispers as he nuzzles into your inner thigh. Soft lips part and trail up your skin as he relishes in this moment. Finally turning his brain off. He’d never tell you how much he had missed you since the last time you properly got together. How he ached whenever he tried to think of someone or something else while he got off. How he even felt the urge to text you when he saw or heard something that reminded him of you. But there were boundaries. Only texting to plan a hook-up or to play long distance. So now that he had his mouth and hands on your soft thighs, he felt at peace. Much softer than he had in awhile. Safe. You wouldn’t be mean. You two wouldn’t fight. He moans softly as your hand goes into his hair to gently scratch his scalp.

You’re caught off guard when he buries his face in your right thigh and chuckles softly. “What is it, angel?”

He chuckles and blushes again, leaving a little bite as he pulls away. “This is my happy place.”

“Between my legs or…”

His hazy, dreamy expression tells you everything you need to know. He’s drifting between sub-space and being absolutely lovesick. You feel his knuckles gently nudge against your clothed heat. Vessel whimpers softly. A plea. He wants to be good and ask permission first, but damn it he wants to just feel you whenever he wants. All it takes is a nod from you to encourage him to remove your shorts. He bites his lip and groans as he exposes your pussy. “Hmm,” he says with a little laugh, “I’m being blessed.”

You laugh and blush a little, letting out little moans as he trails your wetness up and down your slit. “Mmm, good boy… is that how you feel? Blessed?” You brush his hair out of his eyes as you continue, gasping softly as he kisses your pubic mound. “An angel at the foot of his goddess? Lost lamb finally found in the pasture?”

His lips ghost up your clit and make your whole body shudder. “Perhaps a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You’re pulled down roughly as he makes out with your clit, groaning softly as it throbs against his pursed lips. You can’t even find your voice…the room is filled with ragged breaths and gasps. You sound almost terrified, and maybe you are. Terrified of how hard you’ll cum and how overstimulated you’ll be. Terrified that the hungry look in his eyes isn’t just for your orgasm, but everything you could give him. For a moment you become aware that he’s probably so hard he can barely see or think straight. You gently pull him up by his shirt collar and lick his lips. Of course, that leads to a kiss, which leads to his question going unanswered for a moment. The taste of you mixed with him…just everything about him, makes your head spin. You’re losing control of the situation. You look up at him with your mouth slightly agape…you know you look like a slut. And he thinks so too. Ves stands up, leaning his left hand against the back of the couch. You can see his hard-on straining against his underwear and joggers.

“Let me see, angel,” you whisper. He grins shyly and slips out of his lower garments. Fuck you missed that cock. You place your hand out, palm up, and he immediately mimes you, putting his right hand on yours. “Good boy.” He groans with pleasure as you let a string of spit pool in his palm. He knows what to do.

As Vessel strokes his cock, you bite your lip and feel your eyes roll back. He’s watching you…drinking you in and loving every second of it. “Lift your shirt, babe.”

No one bats an eye when he calls you “babe.” You simply do as you’ve been told. He gasps softly, finally seeing your tits in the flesh after too long. He needs them in his hands, in his face. The way he looks at you makes you feel divine…like the goddess he says you are. He nods and sucks in his lower lip as your fingers circle your clit. His speed picks up with yours…you were already close when before he stopped eating you out but you didn’t realize he was so close just from tasting you. “Are you close?”

Vessel groans and nods. “Cuz of you…Such a fucking goddess…”

“Stop, stop, stop,” you choke out.

He complies, resting both hands on the back of the couch. His eyes shine and his precious grin makes your heart race. You’re edging him, and he fucking loves it. He missed this. He missed you. This happens two more times before he becomes a shuddering mess. “Mommy…please…not…going to be able to stand much more.”

“Switch places with me, puppy.” As he helps you up and sits on his couch, he gives your ass a reverent squeeze. You chuckle as you lower yourself on his cock. “You’re so sexed up and brainless right now, aren’t you?”

“How could you tell,” he jokes even though his voice is weak. This feels so natural. He rubs the head of his cock against your slit, whimpering and whining as he bites his lip. “Let me in…please. May I?”

“You need it, don’t you?”

“More than fucking air. You’re my goddess…aren’t you? You’ll provide for me…I know you will…you’re so good to me…ffffffuuuckkk.”

Oh his sweet little whines. You lower yourself on him and bottom out as he’s talking and being so submissive. So needy for you as your hips grind against him. “Such a good boy…you take my pussy so well…you were made to fuck me, weren’t you?”

Ves nods grabs your hand, placing it on his neck. His wide hand dwarves your wrist but he’s completely at your mercy, letting his touch drift up and down your forearm. “Mmm ffuuuccckkk please please…just..squeeze a little.”

“Ves, I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper. How many times have you thought about throttling him? Now you just want to baby him. Your hand flexes a little, and he nods, encouraging you to sustain that pressure.

“Relax, babe, you’re doing..sssoooo good. I like it. I like it a lot….love it…I…fucking…I fucking love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Something snaps in your mind. Record scratch. You stop fucking him get in his face to hold his jaw, but he’s not scared. He’s giggling. He’s giddy and euphoric. “Say that again, puppy.”

He leans forward and grabs your ass…hard. “I said…I fucking love you.” You stare at each other for a bit. Wild eyed. The realization hitting you both. Your hand drops from his neck to pull off his shirt, but he’s beat you to it. You take off yours instead and let his hands smooth over your sides and back. “Seriously. I mean it.” He looks at you like he needs your guidance. Your gentle hand. “Say it back?”

You hold his face, suddenly feeling as fuzzy and lovesick as Vessel looks you dead in the eyes. “Yeah. Yeah…I love you, angel.”

“Come here…” He cradles you close and raises his hips to fuck into you. You pant and moan against his neck. “Do you like this, mommy?” You kiss and suck at his neck, unable to speak except little whines. Nothing needs to be said. You’re not even chasing an orgasm at this point. This is merely for pleasure and whatever else comes. “Can I cum for you? Please,” Ves whispers.

You nod dumbly and hold onto him as you gush around his girth. He holds your hips still and finishes with a strangled moan. You both grind against each other, extending each other's climax. Vessel clearly can’t handle fucking you anymore, but you don’t stop. Eventually he buries his face in your chest, letting out a loud, pathetic moan. Your chest is wet from his tears. You stop and pull his head back to look at him.

“Ves?”

“I’m ok,” he sniffles. “That was a lot,” he says with a little laugh and sniffle. “You’re a lot.”

You wipe his tears and smile softly. He’s crying from overstimulation, you know that, but you still feel bad. You both lean in. You’ve never kissed after sex. Even during the aftercare. But like you reminded yourself months ago, there would be a lot of firsts with Vessel. Maybe some awkward ones. But that kiss wasn’t awkward. And neither was the first time you said you loved each other when you weren’t having sex. Or your first actual date. Or the first time a friend saw you two together and said, “I didn’t know you two liked each other.” Vessel just smiled, squeezed you into his side and said, “I think it’s a little more than that.” But what was awkward was figuring out how to act. Sure you were reverse engineering it. Enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers to friends-who-were-also-lovers. What could go wrong in the coming months?

A lot actually, especially when you’re at a friend’s housewarming party on a Friday night that could have been spent watching TV and not wearing pants. But Vessel huffed in the corner. Why were you still talking to that guy? Who was this guy? Chad? His is name was probably Chad. Vessel knows you love him but the way you laugh when this man says something makes Ves’s blood boil. He’s never heard that laugh before. How come he’s never made you laugh like that? But his ears perk up when he hears you say his name. You’re actually calling him over. God he wants to still be fussy because you’re talking to what’s-his-name but you’re smiling, and you look so pretty in your skinny jeans and cropped sweater that maybe he can overlook all this. You do a little grabby hand in his direction, and he cannot resist that. But even when he slots beside you in your embrace, he still feels a little uneasy. He computes that you’re telling this guy about Ves and his work and gushing over him, but he feels like he’s outside his body. You two had finally gotten over yourselves adequately to be more than your dynamic but he still worried you had lingering resentment. He hoped you hadn’t. He didn’t feel that way about you. But he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious and stupid about the whole evening.

“Hey, talk to me,” you say later in the drive back to his, reaching over to caress the side of his head. “Those wheels are turning.”

Vessel shakes his head “no,” and keeps his eyes on the road. “I’m alright, babe.”

“Ves.”

As he pulls into the driveway he lets out a deep breath. Jealousy was something he never liked to fuel, but you bring out something in him. And he knew he needed to work on it. Like that time before you two started dating when he interrupted you talking to that guy at the metal bar. Yeah sure it all worked out in his favor eventually but it didn’t feel good. He should really just say something. Anything. Rip the bandage off. “Seemed like you fancied him.”

You let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Are you kidding?” He can’t meet your gaze. His fingers delicately trace the stitching of the steering wheel cover as he weighs his words.

“Never heard you laugh like that.” He shrugs. “Seemed like he was doing something right.”

“And did you like how that laugh sounded?”

Vessel’s cheeks turn pink, but not like you could see that in the dark. He knows he’s in the wrong but his ego is still bruised. “I always like the sound of your laugh. What kind of question is that?” Uh oh. He feels your eyes pierce through him.

“That was a fake laugh. I hate that guy. He’s an old coworker but I have to play nice. I called you over because I missed you and needed you.” You look straight ahead and sigh heavily. “It’s still hard to admit…but you’re…my person. I like keeping you close.”

There’s a long pause. Ves clears his throat and rubs his hand over his face. “I…sorry. It was very convincing, your little…‘act.’ I shouldn’t have…yeah…yeah I’m sorry. I’m still…learning to let myself be loved. You know?”

You take your seatbelt off and lean over the middle console to kiss his cheek. His face warms again as your lips touch his skin and he leans into you. “Ves,” you whisper, “baby, he’s got nothing on you. Ok? And you know I’m still learning too.”

“Hmmm.”

“Don’t believe me?”

Ves chuckles and shakes his head. “Just in my head, gorgeous. Don’t worry about it.”

As you get ready for bed you notice he’s quieter than usual. You almost wondered if you should just go home for the night, but if Vessel was really as down as he seemed…it would be cruel to leave him alone tonight. He’s sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, long legs crossed at the ankle. Without saying anything, you straddle his lap, and in an instant his face changes. Gone is the sullen little boy…he’s been replaced with your eager, reverent puppy. He doesn’t touch you immediately—he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. But god he wants to. You look perfect. He notices you hadn’t washed off your make up yet, and, even more exciting, you only had on your boyshorts.

“What’s in your hand, mommy? Cheeky thing.”

You give a coy grin and hold your hand out. Lipstick. He remembered you debated on wearing it tonight…he said you should. It would look sexy. But you decided not to in the end. Ves wondered what you were up to now. His eyes rolled back and closed as you cupped his face with your free hand and whispered to him. “Well…” your hand trails down his bare chest, “it seems I need to remind you who my puppy-boy is.”

Vessel is intrigued but grimaces. “Going to write something obscene on me?”

“On the contrary.” You open the lipstick and start applying it. And really well without a mirror. Ves raises an eyebrow, getting ready to ask if you want a mirror or something, but you stop him cold by placing a long, tender kiss on his left cheek. You lean back and look at your handiwork, turning his face to admire the fresh lip print on him. “Mm that looks so pretty on you, good boy.” With his chin still in your grasp you kiss his cheek again, but a bit harder. He responds with little giggles and starts squirming the more you kiss. “You’re being so good not trying to touch me, puppy, but you have to sit still for me.” You apply more lipstick and turn his face to kiss the other cheek. “Does it feel good?”

“Mmmph…” Even though you were basically naked on his lap, Ves felt more safe and comfy than anything when you first started kissing him. But now that he has at least 5 kiss marks on both cheeks, he was getting worked up. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, feeling his boxer briefs stretch with his growing cock. “It feels…really…really good, mommy.”

This continues until his face and neck are adorned with the memories of your kisses in burgundy. He’s panting when you finally stop, his knuckles white from wanting to feel you or to stroke his throbbing cock. His mind is blank and fuzzy as he focuses on the smudged lipstick on your own pretty mouth. Vessel loved kissing, although he could have gone either way before you two started playing. Now he lived for it. On the days he didn’t see you, he found himself mindlessly touching his own lips. Caressing them. Gently tugging at them. He needed you now. But you were currently pulling him to the edge of the bed and facing his mirror.

“Ok, puppy. Look in the mirror. Do you see that?”

Goddamn it he was horny out of his mind like you have laced your lipstick with some kind of aphrodisiac, but it was all just the sweet affection that pushed him to this point. “Y-y-yeah.”

“Who’s my good boy?” You whisper, looking at him in the mirror. He points at himself a bit dumbly, blushing from feeling good but also humiliation. He knew he didn’t need to get jealous of that guy earlier…but fuck it felt good to reduced to a hard, whiny mess for you. He turns to look back at you with watery puppy eyes.

“I’m yours. I’m your good boy, mommy…and…fuck…fuck I need you.”

It wouldn’t be right to say Vessel was putty in your hands. He was deep, deep in his subspace but he was present and very much an active participant. He knew he’d be praised for moving your hand where he wanted it or for not holding back his moans and whimpers. Tonight you’re telling him how pretty he looks with your lipstick all over him. That he’s all yours. Vessel’s eyes are glued to the reflection in the mirror of you holding him by the neck and cock as. “Do you think anyone else could be such a perfect little slutty boy for me? Hm?”

—

The next morning you’re both in the shower. Groggy. Kissy. Giggly. Vessel keeps washing his face trying to get the lipstick marks off of him, and you do your best to help…well.

“Hey at least it’s the weekend. No one has to see you…just me.”

“Shut up,” he says with a dry laugh. “Moral support isn’t helpful. Is it off or not?”

“Yes! For the 1,000th time, V.” After you lean over to turn off the water, he pulls you toward him and kisses you gently…so, so gently. Despite being wet and warm from the shower, it gives you goosebumps. When you pull away, he’s not looking at you with lust. It’s love. Warmth. Being in his good graces is still weird.

“I love you.” The way your name falls from his lips makes you actually want to hear your name. You almost can’t respond.

“I love you, too.” You look down, suddenly feeling very shy. He holds your face in his soft, wide hands and makes you look back up at him. This feels like a high school crush.

“Such a little doll. Aren’t you? Hm?”

“Ves…” you blush and try to look away but he pulls you into his chest.

“Why’ve you gone shy on me?” It was a rhetorical question. For the first time, Vessel felt empowered to push a little. To see if maybe you could be shy…and maybe a little pathetic. Was his goddess capable of letting go for him? Just for a bit? And not like when you two are just having plain, lovey, vanilla sex. Not like when you’re sitting on the couch and chaste kissing turns into him fucking you gently as whatever shit movie you had on plays in the background. No. He has something more specific in mind. Could he help you go a bit deeper? Because you were making him feel something. Something he never thought he could. Something he never felt worthy of feeling. He felt dominant.

#sleep token fanfiction #sleep token smut #sleep token vessel #vessel fanfic #vessel smut #vessel x you #vessel sleep token x reader #sleep token x reader #woofie's situations

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killsaki · 1 year ago

Text

aspirations ☆ your boss doesn’t understand why you let unimportant things hold you back when you can do better.

prohero!bakugou katsuki x f!sidekick!reader

3.8k words | old commission <3 | minors dni

cw / tw : cheating (not on reader), toxic relationship dynamics (not w/ bkg), fingering, blackmail, power dynamics.

this is… awkward.

bakugou katsuki feels awkward.

even in his pro-hero status, even with his usual lack of care for others and their affairs, standing at the door of his office, hearing you cry just outside of it... it’s the first time in a long time that he’s been made so… uncomfortable.

you’d come halfway across the country to work as a sidekick at the agency he ran with his old classmate, you were a promising upcoming hero who would surely do numbers once you got the right exposure and the right training. that’s the reason you picked up and moved so damn far from your hometown, from your life, from your boyfriend. at least that’s what you’ve babbled on about to bakugou while the two of you were on patrols.

you were under the impression you’d be working under deku at first and when you’d found out you were going to be working alongside dynamight you’d nearly pissed yourself and gone home, you admitted while slapping his shoulder with a laugh. something which you instantly apologized for and smoothed a hand over where you’d hit as if you’d caused the tank of a man any harm and needed to soothe the pain. you’d admit that he was far from the personality he portrayed for the media and that you’d come to enjoy being around him.

that’s why this was so weird for him. you were always so positive, a clumsy sort of happy. you were always shining, continuing conversations with him even as he shrugged you off, always laughing and tossing some kind of witty remark after he’d tell you to shut up. you were annoying at some point, but you’d pulled your weight during missions and you were a shoulder for him to lean on when he got injuries too severe to keep himself upright. you made the halls of the agency a friendlier place than they’d ever been, even with the kind and smiling hero working just on the other side of the building.

so, who could make someone like you weep like a child?

“you know i get paid in a few days, i can send it back to you.” you speak through a shaky breath and bakugou can’t help but lean closer to the thin wood that separates the two of you. “it’s not like that!” you hiccup, “you’re the one who asked if you could keep my car until i can help you get yours fixed.” the white in front of him blurs as he sorts through his thoughts, who could you possibly be having to explain yourself to? “toru, please. i just want to go to sleep, today was hard enough already.” the boyfriend. “so you really won’t pay for my uber because you’re mad about a picture of me and my boss? a picture of us doing our–”

bakugou doesn’t know why he does it, why he swings the door open and stares at you with such an annoyed expression. but he’s already doing it before he realizes and he regrets it when you jump, cutting yourself short.

“sorry,” you stare at him for a moment, taking in short breaths before you quickly wipe your face, and turn away from him. sniffling as the voice over the other end starts to become intelligible to the hero. “i just wanna get home, i’m just.. i’m sorry.”

there’s a short reply given and then, silence. it takes you a minute, and bakugou stands there waiting the entire time before you pull your phone away from your ear. the screen displaying your wallpaper, signaling that the other person had ended the call.

“i didn’t know you were still here.” you look up at one of the only fluorescent lights left on, blinking away the remnants of water in your eyes.

he sighs, checking the time on his watch before looking back up at you who has yet to spare him another glance. the trains had stopped running long ago, he didn’t need to check the time to tell him that. no, he was just checking to see how fucked up your boyfriend had to be to leave you walking on the streets at the hour, or in the hands of a stranger to get home. and it’s not that you weren’t capable on your own, more so that the guy didn’t understand how much danger it’d be if someone picked up on that pattern and took advantage of you being so tired from a full day's work. he wonders if even you have thought about that. or if that’s what you were thinking about now, as you stand in silence in a way that he’s never witnessed you do before

“i can give you a ride.” he offers and your eyes fall shut, a deep breath making your chest puff slightly and the blonde can’t help but pick up on your relief.

“i’d appreciate that.”

it’s a long, awkward walk out of the agency’s building to where he’s parked his car nearly a block away. the wind is blowing and he couldn’t imagine having to walk home himself like this.

“why don’t you park at the agency’s lot?” you ask arms wrapped around yourself. your voice is still soft but he doesn’t comment on it.

“safer for me not to, i change parking spots every few weeks.” he shrugs.

“you sure do think about everything, don't you, dynamight?” you tease, and it’s like you’re recovering bits of yourself that he can recognize.

“guess so.” he shrugs instead of lecturing you about how you should do the same, another thought too busy working it’s way from his mind to his mouth. “so why are you paying to fix his car while he uses yours?” bakugou lets his thoughts fall off his tongue, and answers your wandering mind that he did overhear most of your conversation.

“i have the job that pays more.” you reach for the seatbelt, buckling it before looking over the console and catching the red eyes that watch you so intently. “why? you looking for a cause to donate to?”

he sucks his teeth and buckles himself in, instructing you to put in your address on the car’s screen. you say something that makes yourself laugh as you lean in to do it, but it goes in one of his ears and out the other. it didn’t make any sense for you to be with someone who didn’t support you fully, someone who didn’t trust you. sure bakugou didn’t know all the details of your relationship– maybe you’d offered it up to him one day when he was too focused on how your eyes lit up to pay attention to what you'd been saying to him. but he wouldn’t know that now.

why would you of all people put up with that?

“are you gonna take me home or should i be fearing for my safety?” you raise your eyebrows to exaggerate a skeptical look, something that the blonde’s face twists up and makes you laugh. but the thought of your tears streaked face earlier appears back in his mind and he decides to let you off without a remark of his own.

“you could’ve just asked for a ride.” he glances over at you once he rolls up to a stop light and his heart feels like, just for a moment, that it stops. the sight of you under such soft red light, lips still swollen from the way you’d bitten them as you calmed yourself from crying, it does more to him than he’d like to admit. it takes everything in him to tear his gaze back to the road once the traffic signal turns green.

“if toru found out i was alone with you outside of work, let alone in your car,” you huff out an unamused laugh and it sounds awful in comparison to the sweet, hearty one he’s grown used to. “he would have a fit.”

“sounds like a real perfect guy.” bakugou doesn’t look at you as he follows the gps and turns the next corner, but he can feel your eyes on him. how they trace from the neons shining off his wristwatch up his toned arms that are littered in pink scars, can feel the heat of your stare when it’s guided to his chin where he wonders if you can see the stubble he didn’t care enough to shave away this morning.

“he’s alright.” you finally respond and it makes the prohero next to you feel ill. “my high school sweetheart and all… i’m sure it’s just a rough patch.”

“right.” it wasn’t his place to meddle into whatever you have going on in your personal life. but you were one to look at the brighter side of things, he wonders if that was something you’d always done or something you forced yourself into. “a rough patch.”

the time of arrival for the destination keeps creeping closer and bakugou doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so badly.

“thanks for the ride home, mr dynamight, sir.” you salute him and he just blinks, making you giggle as you gather your things from his car.

“bakugou,” he takes your cup from his console, despite the passing thought that the colors look nice against the ones of his car’s interior. “calling me bakugou outside the workplace is fine.”

you hesitate before taking the cup, and he hates the smile that creeps up on your face when you finally do grab it from him. why the hell would he say something unprofessional like that?

you skip off with a “goodnight, mr. bakugou, sir.” and head up to your front door without catching the sight of how dramatically he rolls his eyes, or the slight lift of his lips when he thinks about how your voice sounds addressing him as something other than his trademarked name.

and from there, it’s a slippery slope, he comes to realize.

one ride turns into twenty and soon enough he’s sitting in his office chair every night waiting for you to come to tell him that you’re ready to go home.

he finds the same kind of habit forms around your shared lunch break when the two of you are working in the office rather than on the field. you’d always walked past his office, but after a comment on one of those drives to your place, you’d started to welcome yourself into his office to compare lunches. and now he can't seem to bring himself to take a bite until you’ve wandered in and finished your bit.

like now, he sits with the same lunch he’s been eating since monday because he meal prepped this week, and he needs you to come in and tell him how boring it must be eating the same thing over and over. his fingertips pad impatiently at the wood of his desk, you're always in here by now.. now that he thinks about it, you hadn’t come to ask if his coffee was bitter after getting it for him this morning.

his phone buzzing in his slacks pulls him from the thought and throws him into another one.

deku: hey, i know you’re being kind to the sidekick and all… but didn’t you say her boyfriend would be mad if he knew you were giving her rides? you should think about how that would affect her working here.

the blonde sighs and he doesn’t even want to respond to the message. he’s already on edge after starving off his lunch, plus the fact you’re not being normal today, why is midoriya suddenly interested in how your professional relationship affects your at home life?

bakugou: would you rather some villain stalk her schedule and kidnap the sidekick that you requested to come out here?

he types out, and he’s right. he knows he’s right, he’s keeping you safe by picking you up and dropping you off from his car's undisclosed location.

deku: that’s not what i meant

bakugou taps the side of his phone as the three dots come and go as midoriya no doubt types up a paragraph that bakugou will most likely not read. where the hell are you?

bakugou: i’m just making sure she gets home alright.

he sends, hoping it’ll be enough to end the conversation. he locks his phone and places it on the table next to his meal, the meal that, after eyeing the door once more, he starts to dig into. it’s a few minutes before he gets the next notification, but when he reads it, he’s stuck staring at the chair you’re supposed to be in while he finishes eating.

deku: are you sure that’s all it is?

—

the two of you have grown close. that much is obvious to everyone who witnesses you by his side. he wouldn’t call himself fond of you, but he knows it’d be a lie to say he hates your presence, or that he doesn’t mind the absence of it. what he doesn’t understand is why the feeling in his chest is so intense when you walk in for your routine ride home with a blank expression and a single piece of paper in your hand.

“what is this?” he accepts it as you offer, and he’s half expecting it to be some stupid printed-out meme, or maybe even you showing off an email about a magazine cover that you landed. but instead, it’s formally addressed to him as–

“my letter of resignation.”

to say bakugou is confused is an understatement.

“i enjoyed working by your side. it was an experience i am sure will forever remain unmatched in my career.” your voice is shaking. the blonde tries to focus on the words in ink in front of him but nothing seems to register even as he eyes them over and over. “i’m very thankful for the time i was allowed to spend here, please don’t think otherwise. i’ll be sure to thank mr. deku as well for giving me the opportunity since–”

“why are you leaving?” his words come harsh, his face twisted up in a way he’s never shown to you and he’s not surprised when even then you don’t finch much.

“i need to go back home.” is all you let out, looking everywhere but at him.

he sits on it for a moment, that feeling in his chest starts to swell as he realizes the motives behind your actions today, behind this damn resignation letter.

“don’t you wanna be a big name pro?” he discard the paper on his desk as he pushes himself out of his chair to approach you. “so why are you throwing away your best chance— your only real chance at that for some small-town boyfriend?”

your eyes go wide as they tear from the back of his computer monitor to look into his own. the look of offense on your face is prominent but it’s nothing in comparison to the offense bakugou feels.

“it’s so much more than just my boyfriend.” you scoff, eyebrows knitting together. “what would you know?! you’re just my boss, you have no idea what my relationship is like.”

he’s never seen you mad before, you look… good.

“i know you’re sending money back home to cover his expenses. i know you’re paying for everything you have here all on your own.” he steps towards you with each sentence, making you take a step back in time with his strides. “i know he doesn’t check to see if you make it home safe, i know you’ve slept on the floor because you can’t afford furniture and food.”

you might not have told him much about your boyfriend, but he does know that he doesn’t deserve you... not the way that bakugou does.

“i never told you any of that..” your hand feels for the arm of the couch you’ve been backed into.

“you’re obvious.” he shrugs and it’s now that you start to breathe in short pants, your eyes dart to the door— unlocked but closed. then to his chest— he’s big, much bigger than you, stronger than you. “the last thing i would do is hurt you.” he tilts his head and your breathing clams, if only a little.

“sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking.” you whisper, you bring a hand to your forehead as you fall to sit on the arm of the couch. “today has just been... it’s been too much.”

bakugou nods. he hasn’t seen you cry since the first time he cared to listen to you speak. he doesn’t want to see that again, but he’d be bitter if the chance of it was taken away from him altogether.

“but you’ll stay.”

“i– i can’t stay. i’ll lose toru, i’ll lose the house,” you start gesturing around at nothing, voice sounding hollow. “i can’t stay bakugou.”

“if you go there’ll be nothing waiting for you.” he shrugs, grabbing your hands when they freeze. “i have toru’s information already. i’ll send him one of the many pictures you’d decided to take on my phone, while you were in my car.” the words taste awful off bakugou’s tongue but he doesn’t stop speaking them.

“why would you?” he can’t bring himself to look at your expression anymore.

“i wouldn’t even need to say anything then, i think that’d be enough.” you make a choked sound and he’s sure there are tears in your eyes. “so you’ll stay here.”

“that’s not fair.” your hands fall limp in his hold and he finally looks at you, the tears stream down your face and bakugou doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore.

“your boyfriend’s in the way of your dream.” he swallows, convincing both you and himself but his sure tone never falters. “you can’t do anything for yourself if you go back to him. you can’t accomplish anything unless you’re here,” you blink away the tears, big eyes staring up at him. “unless you’re with me.”

you take in a shaky breath through trembling lips but nod all the same. you lean forward to rest against bakugou’s hard abdomen, your hands falling from his hold as you move. he has to stop himself from letting out a smug chuckle at the way you instantly come to him for comfort, to think you’d almost slipped through his hands.

“i’m tired of thinking about this.” you hiccup and throw yourself back on the cushions with one arm thrown over your eyes. parts of yourself that bakugou could recognize returning once again, only the way your head rolls to your shoulder and the look in your eyes as you peek up at him is something he’s never seen from you before. “help me?”

what you’d been alluding to is made clear when you reach out a hand for him, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take. he doesn’t even bother to speak any other word before he’s pressing his lips into your own, strong arms maneuvering you on the uncomfortable faux leather so quick it makes a loud noise as your skin rubs against it. he nearly moans at the way your arms wrap around his neck, the way they tangle into and tug at his hair while he slots himself between your legs.

the instant you press your hips up against him, he realizes how wrong he’s been. bakugou does favor you, he favors everything about you. he favors the way you talk shit to him, the way you laugh, the way you roll your eyes, how differently you act in interviews versus in his office, and he favors more than anything how you feel pressed up against him.

he all but tears your shirt off of you, and then your pants, both thrown to a grave somewhere on the rugged floor. his hands are rough as they glide down your body. his pads press in between your collarbones down between your breast, round your ribs, and down to squeeze at your hips.

“hurry up,” you whine, bringing your heel up to push at the waistband of his pants.

“always rushin’ me.” he sucks his teeth, but his voice is soft as he speaks.

he shivers at the sounds you make from his fingers gliding along the seat of your panties, barely damp, likely from your nerves— but bakugou can fix that. kisses are pressed to your neck, something much sweeter than anyone would expect, aside from of course you. you, the sweet little thing who saw past the hard shell everyone else encased him in, though he didn’t do much to prevent it.

his thumb finds its way to your clit, pressing circles on it through the fabric and your head falls back against the cushions, small gasps and whines following his every movement. it’s not until you start to push against him that he finally pulls your underwear to the side.

your sounds easily double in volume when he finally makes contact with your heat directly, a few more wet shapes rubbed into your clit before his fingers trail down to your entrance and you pull him by his hair from your neck, forcing him into a kiss while he presses a single thick digit into you. he rolls his wrist, hoping to stretch you a bit more before adding another, but your desperate hands wind into his shirt and he can’t help but give in.

he adds another and scissors them inside you, prodding to find that spot that had your lips parting, mind and body have given up on being able to kiss him as the pleasure takes over you. you’re dripping down his hand by the time you start babbling nonsense, and it’s all he can do to fuck his fingers into you despite the way you claw at his back, how your legs squeeze around him, and your pussy clamps down on him.

and when his name tumbles out somewhere along your nonsense as you cream down into his palm, for the first time in a long time, bakugou feels warm inside, something beyond the heat between his legs.

he lets you hold him while your breathing settles, even keeps his fingers inside you as you come back down to earth. he wants so bad to fuck you right now, to have you cry his name again and again as you make a mess on his cock this time... but he also wants to never let you move from under him, to keep himself wrapped around you at all times.

“i don’t wanna sleep on the floor anymore,” you whisper, and the blonde wonders how your boyfriend would feel if he knew that forcing you to turn in a resignation would lead to you being putty in his hands.

“come sleep at my place.”

you nod against him and, slowly, he helps to clean and dress you before you let him drag you off the couch.

“you’re always so helpful, baku’.” you rub your eyes as you lean against him, mindlessly following him to the car you’d been mistaken to get months ago.

but bakugou will later reiterate his intention were just truly just to help. just like when it came to officially end your relationship with toru, which would happen tonight after bakugou sends the loser a picture of you fast asleep in the same bed as pro hero dynamight—right where you should be.

#bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #my hero x reader #my hero smut #boku no hero smut #boku no hero x reader

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ahqkas · 1 year ago

Note

I have like a supernatural request and I’m obsessed with mermaids…LIKE 😕 but I would like to request something where mattheo is by a lake. He heard a lot about how there’s a Hogwarts mermaid by this lake. But she only comes out at night. Reader’s scales are so beautiful and it makes him memorized and he starts to sneak out a lot to see her.

-🦋anon

PRECIOUS LIKE THOSE PEARLS ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

THE BLACK LAKE WAS CALM AND STILL UNDER THE PALE LIGHT OF THE CRESCENT MOON. Mattheo Riddle stood at the water's edge, his eyes scanning the dark surface, hoping for a glimpse of the creature he'd heard whispers about. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. He'd been coming here every night for the past week, driven by curiosity and a strange, unexplainable pull. Something must be in this lake.

Tonight, however, felt different. The usual silence of the lake seemed charged with an interesting energy. As he stood there, he noticed a faint shimmer beneath the water, a glimmer that was neither a reflection of the moon nor a trick of the light. His heart quickened as he took a step closer.

Suddenly, the water's surface broke, and a figure emerged. You were breathtaking, with scales that glimmered like precious jewels in the moonlight. They ranged from deep emerald green to a soft, iridescent blue, shifting and sparkling with her every movement. Your eyes, perhaps shining even more than the scales, locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"You're the mermaid," Mattheo exclaimed softly, more to himself than to you. His breath hitched in the back of his throat.

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. "And you must be the boy who has been watching me."

Your voice was melodic, carrying a soothing quality that matched your ethereal appearance. Mattheo felt his breath hitch for the second time in a minute, captivated by the sight before him. He nodded slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The shock of your appearance resided in his system.

"Call me [Name]," you replied, eyes twinkling with curiosity as you swam closer, examining his human features. "And you are?"

The boy appeared almost like from another realm. He was beautiful. His features, so distinctly human, seemed strange to you. The round curve of his ear, the redness of his cheeks. Only the look in his eyes matched yours. Wild curiosity for the other world.

"Mattheo," he answered, taking another cautious step closer. "I've heard stories about you. They say you only come out at night."

A chuckle escaped past your lips, a sound that reminded Mattheo of the tinkling of small bells. "The night is my comfort, where I feel most at home. It's safer, too. Humans can be . . . unpredictable."

"I suppose we can be. But I'm not here to harm you. I just wanted to see if the stories were true."

"And now that you've seen me?" you asked him the question, your gaze never really leaving his.

"I'm more mesmerized than I ever thought I would be," he admitted. "Your scales . . . they're beautiful." You are beautiful.

"Thank you," your smile widened upon hearing his words. "It's rare for someone to see me like this. Most are too afraid or simply don't believe."

"Well, I'm not most people," Mattheo said with a hint of pride. "I've always been drawn to the mysterious, the things others overlook or dismiss." And it was the truth. Mattheo had always been curious, his caretakers used to say.

Your eyes softened, and you swam a little closer to the shore, towards him. "Why do you come here, Mattheo? What is it that you seek?"

He thought for a moment, considering your question. "I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I'm looking for something beyond the ordinary. Something that makes me feel alive."

"You find that in me?" you asked, a touch of vulnerability in your voice. No one has ever treated you with such kindness. No one from the human world, that’s it.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "There's something about you, [Name]. Something magical." And it wasn’t the Hogwarts.

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the silence between you filled with an unspoken understanding. Then, you broke the spell.

"Would you like to come closer?" asking, you extended a palm toward him.

Mattheo hesitated for only a second before he knelt by the water's edge, reaching out to take your hand. Your touch was cool and soft, sending a shiver up his spine. You gently pulled him closer, and he found himself sitting on the damp ground, his feet almost touching the water, knees soaking the dampness in.

"Tell me about your world," you proposed, eyes wide with interest. "What's it like above the surface?"

Mattheo smiled, realizing he had so much to share. "It's . . . chaotic and beautiful all at once. There are mountains and forests, bustling cities and quiet villages. People can be wonderful, but also terribly complicated. It's a world full of contradictions."

"That sounds fascinating," your voice was full of wonder. "I wish I could see it for myself."

"Maybe one day," Mattheo said, his tone hopeful. "But for now, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

You spent hours like that, talking and sharing stories. Mattheo told you all about Hogwarts, the magical creatures, and the adventures he'd had. You, in turn, shared tales of the lake, its hidden depths, and the creatures that dwelled within. With every word, the two of you grew closer, the bond between you strengthening.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you let out a sigh. "I have to go. The sun is rising."

"Will I see you again?" Mattheo asked, not wanting your time together to end. He has never felt more connected with someone.

"Yes," you promised. "Come back tomorrow night. I'll be here."

With one last, lingering look, your figure slipped beneath the water, disappearing from sight. Mattheo stood up, his heart full of a strange mix of emotions. He knew he would return, drawn back to the lake by the pull of the mysterious mermaid who had captured his heart. As he walked back to the castle, he couldn't stop thinking about you, the night you had shared, and the promise of more to come.

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 9 months ago

Text

When You Need Me Most| Pt2

Jeongin x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Cheating, Mentions of Physical Violence, Cursing, Talks of Death

Pt1 Pt3

MASTERLIST

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

The clock clicked tirelessly, making you even more tired than you already were.

You were back home at your apartment after two days at the dorm, even if Chris had insisted you could stay as long as you needed. But you didn't want to seem a burden.

You were close with Chris, but you were closer with Hannah to begin with. So regardless of how much Chan assured you, you felt as if you were loading on problems to him, and he was helping you with them in respects of his sisters close confidant.

It was only 8 a.m. You had called off of work for the next two weeks, deciding that even though now was not the time to give yourself even more time to sit home alone; you didn't think you would be able to focus much at work which in the end would jeopardize your job. So, you found the rest of your shifts to be covered for the past five days you had been on the couch and submitted your vacation time for the weeks following.

You hadn't gotten much sleep considering how uncomfortably shaped your couch was -but refusing to sleep on the bed - and you hadn't eaten much. Overall you felt absolutely shitty.

Every hour or so your phone buzzed with a notification. Hannah had been informed of what had happened, and for the past few days was texting ever hour or so to make sure that your were getting up and eating. She knew you weren't the fondest of constant check ins during your darkest time, but she wanted to make sure her friend was okay.

Although you found it rather annoying that she kept texting even though you hadn't responded. Deep down you knew that you would look back and be appreciative of it, but right now in this moment it just seemed cumbersome to even acknowledge how great of a support you had.

So when she called, you answered in hopes to quell her worries long enough for you to just let go.

Let go.

"Hey, I know you probably don't feel like talking right now, but maybe it'll be good to get your mind off of things. I wanted to gauge your interest in a idea I had for my Blues."

You closed your eyes and listened to Hannah talk about everything under the sun minus the state of your distress.

And for a while it worked.

All throughout you last few of your high school years a first year of college, Hannah did this. She knew that the way you dealt with things was with distraction rather than direction.

She could give you the clinical ways of getting through and past things; but she knew you preferred to just have your mind preoccupied with other things while you worked on what you needed to work on by yourself.

If you needed help you'd ask for it. Thats how it had always been.

While Hannah was in the middle of talking about a slightly Adventure Time themed music video you spoke.

"I feel like dying Hannah."

The line went quiet on the other end and Hannah's voice came through softly.

"I don't blame you. This was your first big relationship. And by that I mean you truly loved him. Everything else you had before was puppy love, so I can understand why this breakup is the most difficult- especially considering it wasn't a clean one or for a neutral reason."

You heard her shift and her voice changed slightly, the clarity lessening and the echo and reverb growing slightly.

"But are you safe now Y/N. While I can validate your feelings, I don't want you to harm yourself in any way shape or form."

"I'm not going to do anything Hannah." You groan. "It slipped out I didn't mean it." You mumbled.

"Regardless Y/N-ie."

"I'm not. So please, stop worrying." You rubbed the patch of skin between your brows. You were starting to get a headache from this. "I'm gonna go now-"

"Ah! Wait Y/N my mom wants to talk to you! MOTHER!" You heard Hannah wail across her home. You mentally face palmed. It had been a minute since you talked to Mrs. Bahng and she was sure to use up that minute and double.

And you just weren't in the mood. But it's not like you had much choice because after a muffled conversation between Hannah and her mom you were subject to listening to her rant about something that had happened to her recently.

You zoned out slightly while she was talking, wanting to get back to your sulking. But you didn't have the heart to tell her that so you just listened.

You were praying for her rant to end just minutes after it started when you heard a loud knocking at your door.

"Oh! Mrs. Bahng, I am so sorry but someone is knocking at my door! I'll make sure to call you back! Much love!" You hung up and went to the door, not thinking much of anything other than going back to your couch, when you opened the door to a smiling Chris.

"Alright! Up, up, up!" He said flicking on the lights in every room while clapping loudly and picking up stray things off the floor. "Get up, get showered, get dressed, you're coming to work with me!"

You looked at Chris as if he had four heads and a tail.

"Chris I don't-"

"Ahhh tatatatata tsk tsk tsk. Don't wanna hear it. Hurry up since Jeongin is waiting. We have to be at the studio for 9:45. It is 9:04. 41 minutes get to it!" He said pushing you towards your bathroom.

"But what about makeup and-"

"Nope! No time!" He said closing the door. You groaned, and got in the shower, thankful that you had a spare change of clothes laying around, or else you would have had to ask Chan to grab them for you, and although you loved and trusted him you didn't really feel like letting him rifle through your drawers.

Soon enough you were outside, letting your body consume it's vitamin d.

Jeongin was standing outside of Chan's car, having walked from the dorm since Chan had left in a rush.

"Is everything okay, you rushed out quickly-" Jeongin said scrolling through his phone but pausing when he looked up and saw you.

"Hi, Y/N how are you?" He asked politely, looking at Chan.

"Y/N's coming with us to work." He said ruffling your hair.

"You can get front." Jeongin says almost immediately, but Bangchan shakes his head.

"I actually have a bunch of crap thrown up front- do you guys' mind sitting in the back?"

You shook your head, although you were quite irritated about having to get up and out of the house.

The ride to the company was quiet but Jeongin's mind was loud.

Chris's car seemed even smaller when sitting in the back, the taller boy struggling to fit nicely in the space- resulting in him having to sit in the middle seat for the slightest bit more leg room. Which meant he was squished up next to you.

You smelled like green apple shampoo and cucumbers, with the slightest hint of sea salt. He credited that to the exfoliating soap you had once mentioned you used when Hyunjin had commented on your fresh scent.

Your hair was slightly wet, and it made him shiver slightly when it fanned against him on a sharp turn.

Keep it together.

He thought to himself.

Multiple times by the end of the day.

Because everything you did- the way you smiled at Felix regardless of your mental state, the way you chewed thoughtfully on your kimbap, down to the way your tongue poked out slightly when you tied your shoes- made his heart do aerials.

Jeongin had been made aware of the situation as did the other boys.

And unbeknownst to you Chan was slowly building your ex's demise brick by brick along with his new interest.

You had been with the rest of the guys when the trainee girl's group had met with 3Racha for some production help.

And needless to say the boys treated the group with respect minus the trainee who had messed around with your boyfriend. The passiveness aggressiveness from Jisung and Chan and the complete lack off attention Changbin gave the specfic girl didn't go unnoticed by her, nor the group. But as her group had no clue of her actions, nor did the girl have a clue of Chris' relation to you; they were all at a loss.

As the girls had settled into the studio, Chan greeted them with his usual warm demeanor, but when his gaze landed on the trainee who had been involved with your ex, his expression subtly tightened.

"Let’s hear what you’ve got," Chan said, gesturing for the group to play their track. His voice was friendly as he addressed the other trainees, and they beamed at his encouragement.

The song began to play, and the first few verses flowed smoothly. Chan nodded along, occasionally glancing at the screen in front of him to follow the track. When it was time for the problematic trainee’s verse, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Chan’s expression grew hard as her part filled the studio.

As soon as her verse ended, Chan paused the track abruptly. The room went silent, the sudden stop causing the girls to exchange nervous glances.

"That part right there," Chan said, his voice calm but laced with an unmistakable edge, "is a complete mess. The flow is all over the place, and it’s missing any sort of cohesion with the rest of the song. It’s like it doesn’t even belong there."

The trainee's face paled, but before she could respond, Jisung chimed in. "Honestly, it’s pretty horrendous. It feels like you’re trying too hard to stand out, but instead, you’re just not fitting in." His words were blunt, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Changbin, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "There’s no emotion behind your rap. It’s flat, lifeless. If you can’t bring some genuine feeling into your performance, it’s going to drag the whole group down." He didn’t bother to look at her as he delivered his critique, his attention already shifting back to the other trainees.

The other girls sat in stunned silence, clearly uncomfortable with the harshness of the feedback directed at their group mate. But Chan, Jisung, and Changbin seemed entirely unfazed, moving on as if the criticism they’d just given was nothing out of the ordinary.

As they continued reviewing the track, Chan made sure to lavish praise on the other members of the group. "Great job with that harmony, really tight," he said to one of the other trainees, his smile genuine and encouraging. "And your timing is spot on," Jisung added to another, his voice warm and approving.

But when it came to the problematic trainee, it was like she wasn’t even in the room. The boys would skip over her entirely, asking the other members about their parts or offering advice, all while completely ignoring her presence.

At one point, the girl tried to ask a question, her voice small and hesitant. "Chan-oppa, do you think if I adjusted the rhythm a bit here, it would—"

Chan cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Honestly, there’s not much you can do to fix it," he said, not even bothering to look up from the console. "It’s not about tweaking one part. The whole thing just… doesn’t work. Also it isn't Chan-oppa to you, I would suggest you learn to rrspect your superiors or you'll make a bad image for JYPE. Although it seems like you might have already..." Changbin and Jisung gave sarcastic faces and chuckles as Chan turned back to the soundboard, leaving, the girls confused as to how one of their members had already been completely iced out by three of the best producers in the industry.

And it wasn't much better in the upcoming days, your ex boyfriend feeling the wrath of Lee Minho as he demeaned the leader's dancing ability and took his ego down a couple of notches.

"Your dancing is immaculate...for someone who is destined to be a backup dancer for JYP." When the boy stuttered, asking for help Lee Know just gave him a cold shoulder and turned his focus to the other members of the group, praising them for their skills.

And to top it off they were both met with swayed public opinion after Seungmin decided to make a few passive aggressive comments in one of his lives.

"Yeah, I've talked to all the new trainee groups. But the boy group? They're good but if I had a bias it wouldn't be their leader. And I like the new girl group, they remind me of a group like Blackpink, but their rapping isn't like Blackpink. The only similarity they have is they're both maknaes." He pinched his fingers gently. "Maybe this much progress. Being an idol is hard." He dismissed the skill of the rapper; that woman so easily and said it all so quickly fans were confused.

seungmins.untied.left.shoe: Why does Seungmin seem mad?

big.binn3e_jiddie.tiddi3s: What did he say someone translate?

lalalalalisa143: BLACKPINK MENTIONED RAHHHHHH

You spent your time off going to work with Chan. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, and not going to do anything to hurt yourself. And being around the boys did help you feel better.

But strangely it was Jeongin who helped the most.

Chris had yet to clean his front seat oddly, so every morning you were in the back with Jeongin. It was odd that something so simple brought you so much comfort. He had noticed you were skipping breakfast, so every morning he brought you a homemade yogurt and fresh fruit drink.

"Mmm! This is really sweet! You must have gotten fresh fruit!" You sipped happily, blissfully unaware that Jeongin would add in two extra scoops of sugar, and taste it every time to make sure it was sweet enough, even if it made his jaw hurt slightly.

Or how he would make sure to ask the staff to order you food at 3:45, since you were always hungry.

Or how he would purposefully leave out his jacket in the sound room, since he knew you always got cold in there.

Or most importantly how he made sure you would never have to run into either of the two people you diliked, by figuring out their schedules, and making sure you were no where near where they would be.

He was quietly loving a supporting you from afar, and while you may have been oblivious to the action, you weren't oblivious to the feeling; even if you hadn't pinpointed just where it was coming from.

But as your vacation time was winding down, Jeongin decided to treat you.

"Y/N, Channie-Hyung is working with the others right now, but I've already recorded my part. He gave us his card." He waved it and grew a mischievous grin. "Want to go get strawberry cheesecake?"

"I love strawberry cheesecake!" You exclaimed, jumping up on your toes twice.***

"I know that's why I suggested it pabo!" He laughed as you made your way to the cafe near the building.

Soon enough you were standing in line, waiting to order. Jeongin was behind you, wearing a mask and beanie that covered all of his hair minus the small tuffs of black hair at the nape of his neck.

He had an odd feeling, as if someone was watching him and you. But he shrugged it off, since he doubted anyone would recognize him. With what he was wearing. He looked like any normal person on a date.

Date...this couldn't be considered a date could it? He smiled under his mask as he moved forward in the line absentmindedly. Well, maybe it isn't a date but it sure does look like one to outsiders. Ha, they're probably so jealous that I'm with someone as beautiful as Y/n-

"Hey do you-" You let out a small "oop" since you hadn't realized how closely Jeongin was standing behind you, which in turn allowed you to fling your hair at him, getting a large strand tangles in a button miraculously.

"Ah.." You groaned, your ear to his chest slightly. You tried to pull away but the cashier called "next" and Jeongin moved up not realizing your hair was stuck and accidentally letting it get tangled more. He winced when he noticed but saw the growing population in the cafe and just moved his large hand up to cup your head gently.

"Sorry, Nabi." He whispered quietly, not even realizing the pet name slipped out. Your eyes widened and you stayed with your ear pressed against his chest, hearing the rumbles as he ordered for both of you.

His heart thumped with a steady rhythm, and you were more than sure that your heartbeat was far from that.

Rather it was erratic and loud and wild.

Nabi. He had called you so sweetly, so purely. With the gentleness of what he called you. Butterfly.

After he finished ordering and paid, he stepped aside with you to help get your hair unstuck.

His long and slender fingers worked as quickly and as gently as they could. He released the top button so he could get to the root of the problem.

"Almost...tell me if I'm pulling too hard, m'kay?" Only his eyes were visible above his mask, but they harbored something you couldn't pinpoint, something you weren't used to.

After the last piece of hair was untangled his eyes narrowed in happiness.

"All free!" The way his voice sounded made your stomach twirl in a good and warm way. But you didn't think much of it.

It must be since he's being kind...

After your order number was called out Jeongin and you chose a two-person table away from the people, so he could take of his mask and enjoy his dessert.

He set your cheesecake in front of you, and his pastry in front of himself, handing you a fork.

The moment he pulled down his mask he had an odd feeling once more. But ignored it once more in favor of watching your immense joy as you devoured your treat.

"Thank you." You said in between a bite. "It's been rought the past few weeks...but...I've found comfort in being around all of you guys. To be honest I kind of relied on Chris and my ex to be the closest to me but...we're really close too."

Your smile warmed his heart, and he opened his mouth to speak. "Y/N I have some-"

"It's nice to be able to go out to a cafe and not feel scared. There was always this one sasaeng who followed my ex around..." You hummed thoughtfully. "It's nice not to be on edge."

Jeongin paused. "Sasaeng?" He said quietly.

You nodded. "She was obsessed with him. I got a threat from her once...I didn't take anything from it because I knew she wouldn't act on it but still was a little nerve racking." You looked up and saw a worried expression on the boys face. "Inni-"

His eyes had connected with a phone that was sticking out of purse in a discreet manner.

"Y/N what did she look like."

Your eyes widened and trailed to where Jeongin was looking. She wasn't facing in your direction but you knew.

"We gotta go." He said pulling his mask up. "Don't move to quickly though just act normal." You got up and made you way out.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry I didn't think she would follow me if I wasn't with him-"

"You're fine Nabi, it isn't your fault." He said as you made your way back through a back way.

He instinctively grabbed you your wrist to lead you, his grasp gentle but firm, his hand sliding down into yours as he pulled you along.

By the time you made it back to the building there was a slight buzz and while Jeongin immediately went to look for his Hyung, you went to go with Felix.

There was definitely and underlying issue going on, and you wondered if the sasaeng had already leaked photos or videos to the press.

Felix tried his best to quell your worries but nothing would do. You felt as if you just caused an issue that would ruin Stray Kid's reputation Jeongin's reputation.

You left Felix to go pace around, which proved to be the wrong idea. The minute you turned the corner you ran into the one man you didn't want to see, the one who has sparked a chain reaction of issues.

He sneered at you, getting close to you, causing you to flinch slightly.

"You happy Y/N, huh? You happy that you're going to ruin my fucking career?!" His voice rose and you slunk back even more. His hand immediately went to your chin and pushed your face up harshly.

He was angrier than on the night you caught him, and it scared you.

"You're trying to throw away my life's work!" He steeped even closer, his grip tightening. "I'm not going to let that happen you hear me?" He shoved you as you were stepping back, causing you to lose your balance completely and fall backwards, landing on the ground, your ankle twisting in an uncomfortable - but not entirely odd - fashion.

Before you could even look up you heard a sickening crunch and your ex stumbled back. Within seconds he was up again lunging at whoever punched him but just as quickly as all this happened you were be scooped up and Jeongin and your ex were both being restrained. Two of the Day6 members held back your ex while three NEXZ members held back Jeongin as he was yelling profanities at the one who had shoved you. Their arguing voices were loud enough to have those in the surrounding halls come rushing in and security on site. Both boys were trying to get at each other, and security had to break it up, the anger of your friend making it extremely hard for them to restrain him.

"YOU FUCKING COWARD! FIGHT ME LIKE A REAL MAN INSTEAD OF PUTTING YOUR HANDS ON A GIRL!" He shouted. You saw Chan, Minho and Changbin rushing over. Jeongin was still yelling insults, getting out of the grips of those pushing him back. So Changbin instead pushed through to wrap his arms around the baby of their group, easily lifting him as he flailed.

"Let me at him Hyung! Let me at him!" He reminded you of an angry chihuahua. But on a larger scale. He wasn't a fighter, but he had immediately turned to violence when you got involved.

The lobby area was filled with people now and Jeongin was crying inpure anger and overwhelming emotions.

"Let me at him!"

Changbin stood in front of the door of the room they brought Jeongin and and Christopher went to go scold him for his actions. Gentle but firm nonetheless.

"You can't hit people Jeongin, regardless of how much you want to. Trust me I want to hit that bastard everytime I see him."

"He hit Y/N! I'm tired of him. I'm tired of hearing talk shit about someone I love! I wasn't going to let him hit someone I love!"

Bangchan stiffened when Jeongin mentioned the word hit.

His jaw clenched and he wiped a few tears off of Jeongin's cheek before stepping out of the room. Minho sat next to Jeongin and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

Your mind was racing at a million thought a minute, but they were all tracing back to what Jeongin had said.

Love. Love. Love.

You sat down alongside the wall until staff came in and whisked Jeongin away, without as much as a word. You stood up abd tried to follow but Minho stopped you.

Love. Love. Love.

"Will he be fired?" You heard yourself ask. You didn't hear Minho's response as your mind became loud again.

If he gets fired...it's because he defended me. Out of love. Love.

You swallowed and followed Minho back to his and Jisung's dorm the latter asking questions about the situation he missed.

If he's fired its because of love. Love will ruin his career. It's my fault. What a stupid thing that makes people do stupid shit. Irrational.

Love.

What a horrendous thing.

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