#this is one of those ‘if the system didn’t suck ass maybe things would be better’ posts

[mischiefmanifold]

I’m all for the idea that quite a few diagnoses are given in bad faith and/or are disproportionately given to people of certain groups, however I think that these diagnoses do have validity when looked at objectively.

[zweiginator]

need to be long term with frat art… like maybe it’s the most brutal situationship known to man maybe y’all are actually in secure love but either way you definitely act like you’re in love and you’re fucking like you are and you’re always together bc neither of you can function without the other. it’s obsessive

need it to be one of those heart-wrenching loves that always feels unrequited—at least by one party. you’re both so young and immature and scared of commitment and as soon as one of you gets fed up with the other and moves on, maybe finds someone else to hang out with and date—the other gets obsessive and it’s always a push and pull, cat and mouse chase. always a game, and never an easy one.

even the beginning of your situationship with him was messy; art had been going on dates with a girl in the sorority paired with his frat. she was cute and sweet but art was drunk one friday at a party and there you were sucking a lime and downing bitter tequila shots. your face winced, and excess alcohol dripped down the valley of your tits and art was just drawn to you. he slurred in your ear about how fucking hot you looked and how he believed in love at first sight now and the alcohol in your system had made a bee-line to your libido. you were horny and art had heart-eyes and you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard against the wall. and the girl he promised would be his girlfriend within the next month watched with tears in her eyes.

every part of your relationship with art was fueled by passion, lust, instant gratification. it was easy to stop by art’s apartment and ride him in a frenzy to blow off steam before a big test. and art, needing to rid himself of excess energy after a big tennis match could text you that he was coming over, fuck you from behind and leave without overflowing expectations or an excess of emotions. just a peck on the cheek and a see ya later would suffice.

and it did suffice, until you broke things off with him one saturday morning in early spring. it was still cold outside, and art saw his breath as he tried to steady his breathing. he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. like his fucking chest was constricting as you explained to him that you met somebody. that you were going to be with him and you couldn’t talk to him anymore.

“sorry artie.” you said. you rubbed his shoulder and gave him a hug and you swore you heard a sniffle but art swallowed the lump in his throat and left. why would you say sorry?

you did date that guy for a few months. and art even found a girl to go out with for awhile. she was sweet, and looked a tad like you.

but it just didn’t feel right. it was secure and happy. safe, healthy, committed. but it didn’t fuel a fire. it didn’t leave scratches on art’s back and burning handprints on the fat of your ass. it didn’t excite either of you. and you both bit your cheeks and feigned smiles. pushed the food around your plates for a few months. and then tennis season was in full swing and you went to a match with your boyfriend.

art looked up at the two of you from the court. he stopped practicing, stopped serving, stopped functioning. he just stared and bit his lip so hard it turned white and simultaneously drew blood. how fucking could you.

because there his own girlfriend was, swinging her legs in the front row. confused about what had just shifted the mood.

you pretended to get sick and art feigned a fever when he should’ve been celebrating his win. all excuses to get away from your significant others—well, that wasn’t a good term for them.

but art found himself in your driveway and he didn’t even have to knock on the door before you were outside on the porch. and then you were in his arms, backed against the front door. there wasn’t time to go inside. there was never enough time. art kissed you like it would be his last chance to—because maybe it would be. and you returned the sentiment. you both felt horrible. unfaithful and disgusting and selfish. but that wasn’t enough to make either of you stop because neither of you had felt that forest fire in your stomachs when you kissed your respective partners. but here it was, blazing up your throats as you yanked art impossibly closer. you saw your boyfriend’s car pull up next to art’s. you saw his silhouette in your peripheral vision, and art felt his phone vibrating with a call from his girlfriend. but neither of you stopped.

you both got dumped that night. the same night that art fucked you like he loved you. he even said he did.

but next week you saw him on a coffee date with a girl on the track team and you gave him a tight smile. of course that would’ve been too easy. you needed to stop being so naive.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 32

MASTAPOST

Samson S. Skulker. Wealthy real estate owner, noted trophy hunter.  Been on safaris in Botswana, Indonesia, India, and other countries taking big game. Guy hunted just about everything. Elephants, rhinos, tigers, elk, only to come to Elmerton Bay, just an hour away by boat from Amity Island.

It didn’t take two brain cells to figure out why. The better question was why Phantom tried to point webbed fingers at him as to the whereabouts of Danny Fenton, a move that was transparently (goddammit Dick and your puns) a lie, according to Bruce. Tim Drake slipped into the man’s more private records without even trying.

Of course, getting the data out and parsing what it meant were two very different things. But he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. Skulker did make cursory attempts at hiding his electronic paper trail, but cursory was absolutely not enough to keep 13-year-old Tim out, let alone his current self.

Firstly, the man absolutely hunted more exotic, more illegal creatures. That much was clear. Borrowing some of Barbara’s programmes, Tim found the man travelling to much more remote countries. His little vacations coincided with missing persons reports around the same time.

Missing metas, to be exact. Each person with a power set dangerous to themselves and others. Each person having disappeared without a trace and then never to be found again. The picture Tim was building was getting grimmer.

Secondly, the man was buying parts. Robotics parts, to be exact. Engines, weapons systems, hydraulics. Many of them sourced from Vladco, the company founded by Vlad Masters, an old college friend of Jack and Maddie Fenton, who were the parents to the missing teenager of Tim’s current case.

But Danny Fenton did not have the meta-gene, a fact Tim confirmed after yet another concerning breach of privacy. He filed that detail away for later investigating.

Tim pressed a key, letting his programmes run while he got a coffee. Oh sweet delicious coffee. He had once distilled almost pure caffeine into a syrup. It was the most horrible thing he’d tasted in his life, but the buzz kept him up all night, that was until his heart started giving out. That was less enjoyable.

What was also less enjoyable was the revving motorcycle heading into the Batcave. Two motorcycles, in fact. Just as Tim’s afternoon was looking to be peaceful and quiet.

“Don’t fucking give me that, Dickwing!” Jason called out.

“I’m fine, Jay, maybe you need to stop hovering over me like some mama bear.” Dick put down his helmet with maybe a little too much force.

Jason hopped off his own bike. “That’s bullshit and even Timbit knows it.”

Tim shrunk into the Batcomputer’s chair. He so did not want to be a part of this. He just waited for his older brothers to carry their argument out of earshot, like they had been doing regularly now. The men traded strong words with every footstep across the cave.

“Maybe I’m just a little high strung. It’s honestly nothing.”

“You literally cannot fucking say that when I saw you going full-ass Punisher five minutes ago. Like the traffickers yesterday were one thing. Those guys suck. This dude was literally just a mugger. Are you going out of your fucking mind?”

“Jason, I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s all for going full Punisher style?”

Jason groaned loudly, and then transitioned into a frustrated scream. “Do you even hear yourself?!”

The changing room door slammed shut.

That was the second argument in the last two days. If you told Tim that Mr Heads-in-a-Duffle would be lecturing the Golden Child over excessive force, he’d start working on a machine to send you back to the topsy-turvy alternate dimension you’d come from, but apparently his dimension was the topsy-turvy one the whole time. And he hated it.

Turns out Dick inherited more from Bruce than he liked to admit, including his awful coping mechanisms. And to be honest, he was way too tired to even begin to breach this subject.

He should be happy that his literal attempted murderer was going to be out of his hair for a good while, maybe even forever. But even entertaining the thought made him sick enough to avoid the topic in his head for hours, only to think about it again, and get himself sick again.

So back to Skulker it was. Joy.

It turned out his new friend Skulker had made himself a fucking Iron Man rip-off suit, capable of flight, diving, and packed to the gills with fuck-you bazookas, machine guns, and hydroplasm weapons. Hydroplasm guns that he’d sourced from the Fentons themselves, through a long and complicated chain of buyoffs.

And happy day, the man was kind enough to install cameras and microphones, and kept logs from both.

In a surprising twist, it was fiendishly difficult to hack into those logs. Tim was honestly beginning to sweat. He suspected Skulker’s friends at Vladco (namely Vlad Masters, the sleezeball. Tim never liked him at galas and this only cemented his low opinion) had some secrets that they didn’t want out.

No matter, it was only a matter of time. Tim continued typing.

And typing.

And typing.

What the hell was this firewall?! Tim pinched his arm just to make sure this wasn’t a sleep-deprivation hallucination. He could’ve sworn he’d gotten through that layer of security. It was like it was shifting itself to cover up his progress and force him to start over. Almost like it was alive.

Against the thunderous backdrop of his brothers’ clashing voices, Tim set himself on overdrive. If he could just act faster than it could correct itself, then maybe, maybe.

A plain error message informed him of the results long after he’d already seen them. Tim kicked the table for good measure. The only thing he could extract was two frames of video footage. They showed, respectively, a T-shirt and pair of sneakers that matched what one of the missing metas was wearing when they were last seen.

Was it damning evidence? Absolutely. But it also proved to him absolutely nothing that he wasn’t already suspecting, nothing that could point him in a new direction. Still, it made his stomach churn. He hoped those people would get a better second chance beyond the grave.

Maybe the fact that the data was this well-hidden at all proved something.

The locker room door swung open, his brothers in civvies and glaring at each other, trying to appear civil in front of (right behind) Tim, even though they’d literally just been shouting at each other ten minutes ago.

“Timmy!” Dick called out. “How long have you been awake?”

Tim gestured offhanded to his pile of only two used mugs. “Not long enough. I’m still working. Can you take it upstairs please?”

Jason huffed, and stalked off upstairs without a word, probably too disgusted to be in his and Dick’s presence much longer.

Dick clasped his hands. “It’s fine, Tim. Honestly. Jason and I are just having a little, err, disagreement, is all.”

“Hm.” Tim inputted another set of commands. He was starting to see why Bruce liked to say that now. Avoiding painful emotions felt so good. Dick made a pained noise.

“Well, ok. I’m just gonna head back to Bludhaven now. Say hi to Alfred for me! And contact me if you need anything!” And then he sped off.

Tim shook off the awkwardness like old clothes. Thank goodness for some peace and quiet again. Maybe that was why he was working so hard to help Bruce get the demon child back, so he could return to the status quo, and not this. This hell reality where Dick was as emotionally constipated as Bruce and Jason was the one acting as the voice of reason.

The first night when Bruce called home, the entire family was in an uproar. Dick got a pale look on his face, and was halfway about to take the Batplane and go searching for Damian himself, only for Bruce to remind him that they were all still needed in Gotham and Bludhaven, and whatever few leads there were, Bruce would pursue. It was effortlessly logical, but it was clear Dick hated it. He stormed off in a rage that Tim had only seen when Ethiopia was fresh, when he and Bruce were at their lowest.

And Jason? He got this look on his face that he’d never, ever seen before. Tim had laid awake one night just contemplating it for ages.

Actually, no. He had seen it once before. It was Tim caught Jason looking into what Bruce was doing in the months after Ethiopia. Tim had subtly hacked the phone camera, and the look Jason had then was the same as how he looked when Damian was declared missing.

Tim shook his head. It was a gruesome image, what Bruce had sent them. Damian’s clothes ripped to shreds. The ground stained with his blood. No body in sight.

A little brother who may or may not be dead, something he may or may not be glad or sick to his stomach about. Brothers who were acting like completely different people, and a monster of a man who had to be connected somehow.

A ping appeared in the corner of the screen. The government siren hunting branch appearing in Panama?

Sam Manson sat up in her bed, her body finding some way to release the dread and tension. She looked on at her phone in horror and macabre fascination in equal parts.

This had Danny written all over it. She didn’t even need to hear the anchor confirming it to know.

On the one hand, she really wanted to applaud him for fucking them up this bad. The comment section was ripping into the GiW for their actions in Panama, treating the country like it was some vassal state they could romp around in. She personally screenshotted the fucking beautiful mass car crash the GiW had gotten into trying to catch him, and saved it into her favourites folder.

On the other hand, she really wanted to slap him for fucking up this bad. This could’ve easily gone wrong. Danny what were you thinking?! They could’ve got him that time!

And finally, she wanted to yell in frustration, because they had a radio communicator there. Goddammit! If only Tucker had known, they he could’ve hacked in and they could’ve talked to their best friend and actually got an update on what the fuck was going on.

And finally, finally for real, she was so glad, because the GiW would’ve announced it on every news channel if they’d actually managed to catch him. Thank fucking goodness.

Ugh, this headache. She really needed to lie down again.

Knock, knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

Dread pooled in her stomach. “Come in,” she said, resigned to her fate.

Grandma Ida, the person she least wanted to see right now, opened the door. She was the kind of woman who never carried herself very seriously, except for in matters of sorcery, and especially when warning Sam on the dangers of her craft. Dangers that Sam had ignored in order to go all out. Now she marched into Sam’s bedroom like an executioner.

Grandma stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, scanning her closely. “I knew I smelled tinged blood.” She went up to the side, and palmed Sam’s forehead. Her hand was freezing cold to the touch. “You should’ve called me immediately.”

Sam averted her eyes. She should’ve, but she didn’t.

Her parents never failed to get a rise out of her; she rejected their notions of female beauty and social etiquette in every way, their attempts to hook her up with Tim Drake-Wayne, then Damian Wayne, and she hadn’t cowed to them or submitted since she was ten. But with Grandma’s withering disapproval, she couldn’t feel more like a child if she tried.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I warned you many times of the risks, Sammy. You’re lucky to be here, and not in the hospital or worse.”

“I know.”

Sam moved to lie on her side, facing away from Granny. Granny had questioned her decision to fight alongside Danny, but allowed it under the condition that she did so safely, and turning your body into a popping water balloon, but with blood, was so not the definition of safe.

And Danny’s fate was still in question regardless. He wasn’t able to cross Panama, and who knows what Damian was doing. What if it was all for naught?

A hand was put on her shoulder. “Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth it?” Yes. Absolutely yes. Danny bled every day for this god-forsaken town of ingrates. He’d bled for her mistake six months ago.

Granny seemed to understand her feelings. She nodded, and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away.

“Then I trust your judgement. Can you sit up? I’ve brought some more medicine for you.”

Sam pushed herself against the bunched-up pillows at the headboard. Her head spun from the motion, but she was never one to let her body’s limits confine her. “Thank you, Bubbe. I love you.”

Granny passed her a brew of herbal medicine, dozens of dried spices and mushrooms brewed together into a blackened sludge that felt like knives into your tongue, but which never failed to get her feeling better. It was a leg up from what big pharma tried to pedal for ten-fold the price.

Sam lifted up the mug to her face. And, oh yeah. Nothing like bitter liquid pain to help with a migraine. She let the hot tea flow over her taste buds, pathing them in cinnamon, star anise and a million other things.

She finished her tea in one satisfying gulp, running her tongue over her teeth and scratching out the lingering aftertaste. As she put the mug down, it revealed Grandma’s face hovering right in front of her. Sam yelped in shock. “Bubbe! You gave me a heart attack!”

Bubbe smiled devilishly. “So what did you do?”

Sam’s mouth gaped open. Leave it to her Grandma to almost kill her from emotional whiplash.

“Now come on, this is a monumental moment for a budding young sorceress like yourself. Why, when I was twenty-two, I used to run with some heroic types myself. We had all sorts of hijinks together.” Bubbe cackled and clasped her hands, eyes going wispy. “My friends got a heart attack when I pulled off my own hare-brained scheme to topple the evil overlord of the week’s central command. Hah!”

“What?!” Then Sam coughed, and lowered her volume. “What do you mean ‘heroic types.’ You just told me you went to some stuffy academy and eloped.”

Bubbe shrugged. “I did do that. Must have forgotten the extra stuff.”

Sam blinked.

She moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. “We got up to a lot of fun back in the day, and a lot of pain too. I did what I did to protect those I cared for. Did you, bubbeleh?”

She held Sam’s hand with a look that reminded her just how many years Grandma had lived, and how many adventures or stories she had yet to tell, how much heartache she’d had to endure to become the woman she was now. “I projected an illusion all the way off the coast of Panama. It hurt like nothing else in my entire life, but…” She paused. “We got Phantom out. He’s safe now, I think.”

Grandma Ida nodded solemnly, the kind of understanding that Sam craved from her parents every waking moment of her teenage career.

“I don’t want this to be a regular occurrence, ok?”

“Yes, I promise. This was an extreme circumstance.”

“Good. Now, are you well enough for some meditation? It would do well to keep your soul energy flowing.”

Ok, but you have to tell me what you got up to back in the day.”

Granny chuckled, and agreed to it. Sam kicked off her covers, letting her legs get some fresh air. She was probably pushing it, but she needed to recover as quickly as possible. Who knew when she would be needed again?

Maddie Fenton kneeled in the sand. Her hands clamped down on her gun. Her knees shook. Tears prickled in her goggles.

Her baby was right there. He was so close. So fucking close. She could almost touch him, even now.

And he ran away from her. And at first her heart shattered into a million pieces, just like it had when he’d come home after his first disappearance and flinched when she hugged him.

Then she realised. He was protecting her. Some metal menace was shooting at her defenseless son like it was some kind of sick game. The monster of a man had laid fucking landmines on a public beach.

It should’ve been her protecting him.

Bruce Wayne returned to her side, empty handed. They’d scoured this entire beach. Danny couldn’t have gone far, she had thought, only for their search to turn up with nothing.

That left only one option. That her enemy doubled back after fleeing, and snatched Danny up without either her or Bruce noticing. Maddie’s heart sank. She should’ve aimed for the head.

A name pinged in her mind. Phantom had whispered it to her. Skulker.

With nary but nod, she and Bruce mounted their jet skis again.

[wonderlandoffanfics]

Emotions suck, let’s drink instead

CW: alcohol and drug use (THC), Kid and reader suck at feels, Killer being the bestest (trying these characters for the first time!), mentions of not feeling comfortable as self or with own biological gender (fem) - kinda hints at being non-binary but no pronouns used at all.

WC: 5415

Nearly ten drinks in; it’s been a handful of hours at the bar and no one wants to go back yet. You are celebrating your first year with the crew and Heat insisted that you all go out to party since you docked yesterday to reset the log pose. Well, most everyone except Kid and Killer were there. You weren’t sure of their exact reasons but they said they were going to meet up with everyone later and just haven’t showed up yet. Probably enjoying the peace on the ship so Killer can organize the kitchen or sharpen his blades and Kid can work on his newest project in his workroom. You know there are times that they prefer to be alone and they most likely took advantage of the crew being gone.

Though, Kid has been acting weird lately, for at least a few months now. You asked Heat about it but he just shrugged and said he hadn’t noticed much of anything. Maybe you were just reading into things but it seemed like he was avoiding you most days. Unless you went into towns, visiting brothels with the guys and drinking too much, then when you got back in his gaze you would feel like he was burning holes through you. Still, he never said anything to you, just stared with his alluring albeit piercing eyes.

When you first joined the crew he seemed to treat you like everyone else, like one of the guys, which is how you liked it. You’ve never really felt like much of a stereotypical woman, regardless of what you had under your clothes. Being with the men just felt right, and being with women outside of physical relations just got difficult, as if you weren’t speaking the same language more than half the time, it made you recognize you hate being one of them. You felt mentally alien with your own gender. It hurt to spend more than a few hours with anyone not on the crew any more, since they all seemed to understand this about you and treat you the way you appreciated being treated.

You thought you had gotten closer to everyone, including the Captain and first mate, but clearly they didn’t care as much as you wanted them to. They should be here too, you wanted them here. It’s hard to not want to be around them, but especially when you feel the most like yourself. However, drink after drink you started feeling more like you shouldn’t be celebrating. You laughed with the crew but felt hollow inside. You shouldn’t desire the validation of those two this much but something was clawing at you on the inside of your skull, driving you to wish for their presence every moment that passed.

Hitting the 15th drink and barely being able to stand (seeing as you mixed hard liquor and beer all night) Heat sidles next to you at the bar and quietly asks if you’d like to go back and go to bed. You nod and he helps you stand, trying to appear as stable as possible while saying goodnight to everyone left over. Some decided to go back to the brothels about town since you were departing, and others went to stay at inns after the bar closed.

Walking back with Heat got you slurring your words about Kid to him, but he’s used to this from you. You had a tendency to focus on the captain, and ask Heat if he had any new info about what was going on. He always shrugs it off, no news to tell, but states you should just talk to him and ask yourself. Like you’d be able to do that after he makes you feel like you’re made of glass and he can see everything inside you and beyond. Even this intoxicated you wonder if you’d just make a complete ass of yourself trying to talk to him, though it would make it easier, you’d prefer to just slur your words at him and hope he doesn’t understand. At least you would get it out of your system and say you tried.

By the time you reach the Victoria Punk you feel a bit better on your own two feet. You thank Heat as he walks you up the gang plank but urge him to go enjoy the rest of the night; he does, after triple checking with you, leaving you to the cool night air on deck.

The stars are shining, no moon to speak of, and it’s cloudless with the slightest of breezes coming off the sea. You can taste the salt in the air; it’s quiet and tranquil, only insects and waves to be heard as the noises of the town are far from the docks. Before you realize it, you’re lying on your back, staring up at the night sky, just breathing in the harmonious evening.

Now that you’re home, and just slightly more sober than you were a bit ago, you pull a flask from your pocket and drink more. Time to encourage sleep to come; you’re certain no one will be back tonight anyway, so sleeping outside on the deck shouldn’t be a problem. Plus without the booze, your mind would just continue to race about everything and nothing. It never shuts off without help, it’s been like this since you can remember and thank the gods for drugs and booze because without them, you may not sleep until your body forces it.

With your eyes closed you take another swig of liquor from the flask and sigh.

“Hey.” Startled, you tilt your head up against the wood of the deck to see Killer standing near you, mask turned towards the rolling waves over the rails. You can only hum in response now, a bit too drunk for proper words. “Need help getting to your cabin?” You close your eyes and tried to speak, “ ‘mmkay ‘ere fo mow” Killer sighs, “clearly.”

“wewerer y’two?” you hiccup to him, “miss’dcha” He sits next to you, “Sorry.” You hum again and go back to listening to the nature around you. Without warning you feel your head being lifted up and gently put back down on something firm but soft. Looking up, you see Killer much closer now, torso right next to your face, “drink this, please.” He holds water in front of you, now lying against his lap, giving you better angle to drink from. You do as he says then lean back on him, cuddling up to his warmth instinctively after chugging a good portion of water from the canister.

“You should really go to bed, sleeping out here will get you sick in this state. Kid would be upset…” You jump in your skin when you hear Kid’s name and stare at Killer, stopping him mid-sentence with your reaction. “Regardless, we can’t have you getting ill from your own celebration.” He finishes.

“He rare’y s’eaks ta me…” you mutter and look away, towards Killer’s feet and across the deck. You lift your flask to take another shot but Killer stops you, “He will. In the meantime, let’s give up the flask and get you to bed, okay?” you just nod and attempt to sit up a bit, arms bent under you only able to lift you slightly from Killer until the deck is spinning, you close your eyes again and breathe deep. Killer picks you up and rubs your back as you curl comfortably into his chest, holding tight around his neck for stability; he walks you slowly to your cabin, leaving a bucket near your bed just in case you need it. Making sure you are on your side and comfortable, he tucks the blanket around you and pats your head gently. You fall fast asleep.

---

Forever the insomniac, you wake a few hours later, still kind of drunk, to the sounds of birds chirping and metal clanking. The world looks blurry but you manage to get up and go to the kitchen for coffee, maybe a little hair of the dog will help your morning. You find a pot already made, and Killer working on a small pile of breakfast. Clearly not enough for the crew, you bet most are still out in town sleeping off their evening escapades.

A cup in hand, you sit at the counter and take out your flask to empty the end of its contents into the dark liquid. “Really?” you hear Killer ask. You lightly shush him and bring the mixture to your lips, breathing in the aroma of your medicine and taking a long drink. “I need this for reasons.” You finally breathe out. “Sure. Do you want any food in your stomach or just alcohol and caffeine?” you look at him and shake your head with a sour face, “food doesn’t sound like a plan right now, but thank you.”

Slamming back the rest of your drink, you stand to clean your cup and leave when Kid walks in. You can feel his eyes on you but you dare not look at him, still unsure of how to be around him, or why he’s been acting the way he has. Maybe you did something to warrant the silence. Maybe you should just go drink in the shower and hide away until the crew comes back and you can mix in with the group. You clutch your flask in one hand and begin to fast walk to the door but it’s pulled from your grasp.

“Confiscated until further notice. Go take a shower and sober up.” Your captain says sternly, the flask flying into his hand as he sits down to eat. You turn abruptly and briefly look at him with a pout you couldn’t control. He had been looking at you until your eyes met, but he quickly turned his attention to his food and slid the container into his pocket. You let out a childish huff and made your way to do as your captain said.

 You’d be lying if you didn’t think about taking your stashed bottle of rum with you into the shower. Just because he had your flask doesn’t mean he has all the liquor locked up too, but you thought better of going against his word. The last thing you want is to make him any more upset than he probably already is. Without the alcohol though, your head is throbbing with anxious energy, you can’t stop thinking of your captain and what you may have done to make him basically ignore you all these months.

The last real interaction you recall was at a brothel; you had just finished with one of the courtesans and another patron who had flirted with you earlier in the evening at a bar down the road. You and the random guy were coming down the stairs, laughing about something stupid, and your captain was in the bar area when he spotted you coming towards him. You waved at the guy as he was leaving and hopped on a seat next to Kid.

“Did he pay to watch?” he snickered while taking a chug of his glass. “Nope, but I got him to pay for her services to the group, so free three-way!” you laughed and waved the bartender down for a mug. Kid coughed like he breathed in some of his drink, “I didn’t realize you…were into guys too.” He looked down at the bar. “Oh yeah, I’m pretty fluid for whoever. So long as I like the person, I don’t care what they’re packing.” A drink was sat in front of you and you promptly began chugging it like it was water.

Kid slams the rest of his drink back and proceeds to pay for you both before walking away. “Thanks! I’ll see you back on the ship in a bit!” you shout after him and he waves behind himself as his long strides take him out the door.

Now you were thinking back on it, maybe you shouldn’t have told him about the three-way? But what was wrong with that? You knew the crew was filled with raunchy stories like that all the time, it’s not like you were the first. You try to shake the thoughts from your head as you feel the water running cold. “Fuck.” You didn’t comprehend how long you were standing there, just lost in yourself.

---

By the evening the crew had come and gone again, knowing the ship was set to leave tomorrow; they had one more night in town to do whatever they wanted. Heat asked if you wanted to come to the brothel tonight and you said you would meet him there, just have to try to get your comfort flask back from the captain before you head out. He wished you a sincere good luck before catching up to Wire on the docks.

Kid had just finished delegating some instructions to a few final crew members who were tasked with watching the ship tonight when you eyed him across the deck. As they dispersed you meandered your way towards him, attempting to hide your awkwardness. You had hopes you wouldn’t even have to say anything and he would just toss it to you and let you go about your evening, but why would he make anything easy on you?

He watched as you neared him, “Need something?” he asked, patting his pocket where he had the flask. “I do…. A great need, actually, if you don’t mind.” Smiling back at him with a hand out, anticipating the ease you dreamed of. “Too damn bad for you. I’ll be joining tonight: this, and you, will remain with me.” Your mouth went agape at his words and it forced a taken-aback chuckle to emerge from your throat. “If you don’t like that, you can stay here and remain sober, with Killer.” Killer passes behind you and hears this, whispering, “Why am I being punished too?” Kid must have heard that because he flipped Killer off quickly before beginning to walk off the ship.

Clearly you wanted this to go another way and he knew that but your desire to be intoxicated was stronger than your fear of whatever has been going on with your captain lately so you tag along behind him, Killer also in tow. You both stay behind Kid as he walks toward the nearest brothel, “I told you he would say something to you.” Killer quietly says to you. “Yeah, but this was not on my list of conversation ideas…” you push out of the side of your mouth at him.

Once inside the brothel, the three of you sat at the bar, Killer on your right, and Kid on your left; sandwiched between the ones you desperately wanted around you last night. You had the bartender make you two drinks; slammed one and began lifting the other when Kid looked at you with side eye, “what you’ve never watched me at a bar before? Oh wait, I’m certain you have.” You torment as you turn on your stool to check out tonight’s line up of ladies.

Kid used his power on the metal rim of your stool to turn you back around, “If you want your flask back, at all, you’ll stay right by me tonight.” His eyes lock onto yours and you squirm in your seat.

“I’m not the only one who drinks a lot, you know, I don’t see why I’m being punished.” You frown and cross your arms in another childish display of irritation.

“I’m not punishing you for drinking, but I should for your attitude today, brat.” You both take a drink to settle the wave of tension. “I just thought we should celebrate with you tonight… since we didn’t join yesterday, and I took your flask to keep you from running off. And also so you wouldn’t drink in the shower again.”

You looked at him as he stared at his mug, “how do you know I do that sometimes?”

His face was turning pink, “I can sense the metal in the pile of clothes you take in there, it’s not like I’m watching you.”

“No, not watching, just taking notes.” You giggle then think to yourself about other things he could be using his power for. You are now very aware of your nipple piercings basically being on display under your clothes to him as your own face turns pink and you cover yourself with your left arm.

Killer nudges your right arm and just places his hands on the bar, holding his mug, indicating you should do the same; as if he could read your mind and shouldn’t make it more obvious what you were thinking.

 “Anyways!” you start, “Thanks for taking care of me last night, Killer.” He stiffens, “ I can only imagine how much worse off I would have been this morning if I had slept on deck, though those stars were sorely missed, and we could have cuddled a bit more; next time though” you wink at him and see his neck turn a bit red.

“Ah so you weren’t too drunk to remember.” He says. “And it wasn’t really cuddling.” Unsure why he was trying to clarify you lean on his shoulder for a moment, “than neither is this, I guess you’re just my shoulder to lean on.” A prompt pull from your left had you off Killer’s shoulder before you could make a cute face at him to tease him even more; however you were now leaning on the man that pulled you. Adjusting immediately back to sitting straight, you turn your attention back to your mug and chug your second drink, calling the bartender for more already.

“What, are you afraid of me or something?” Kid asks angrily, hand gripping his drink, reshaping the metal mug. Killer excuses himself quietly, brushing your shoulder with his hand; only a mild comfort seeing as your support is running away.

“No… but also… I don’t know.” You can’t look him in the eyes as you finally succumb to your fear of sharing these thoughts. “Maybe we could drink a bit more…” you trail off, proceeding with your feelings makes your mouth dry, every instinct is telling you to get belligerently intoxicated. You just want to turn everything off; your face is betraying you, grimacing at each lost syllable dying to spill from your guts.

Kid slams your flask onto the bar, finishes his drink in one gulp and gets up as well. “You come find me when you do know then; I’ll be in my workshop.” Your head drops to the bar, agony seeping from your pores. You turn your face to the door only to see his broad shoulders turning the corner and walking outside.

“I literally walked away for less than a minute, what happened?” Killer comes back and blocks your view of the empty doorway. “I just…. Can’t bring myself to talk about things, at least not unless I’m super fucked up.” You tilt your head back so your forehead is flat on the bar top, unable to look Killer in his mask right now. He pats your back, “you talk to Heat just fine, drunk and sober.” Hearing this makes you sit up right, “what did he tell you?” you glare, half looking around to see where that idiot was, as if you could see through the walls and locate his position.

“Nothing specific, but I’m also not as oblivious as you and Kid are.” Killer admits and lets out a big sigh. “If you need to drink more to get this over with, than do it; I’ll help you back to the ship.” You just stare at him for a second, taking that in. “If this is truly what we’re doing tonight, then it would be cheaper if we drank on deck… and I also know something extra that gets me to talk, but you can’t get pissy about it.” You hold your finger to his chest, praying he won’t confiscate the only other thing you hold dear. “I wasn’t the one who took your stuff to begin with.” If he ever laughed out loud now would be the moment you suspect he would.

----

Back on the deck of the Victoria Punk, you had your flask full and a little metal case in hand with it. “You wanna share with the group what you have?” Killer motions to your stashed items. A smirk grows on your face as you open the case and show him a couple rows of pre-rolled joints. “Ah, of course.” As you light one up and take a couple hits, you offer to Killer and he surprisingly accepts; being able to smoke through his mask was a fun thing to see as you began your crossfade.

“So, tell me about what you’ve noticed, as a third party observer. Since you aren’t as oblivious as some of us.” You send Killer a glance and a giggle as you continue to pass the joint back and forth.

“I won’t say everything, seeing as you both need to talk about things, but since you’re also both really bad at emotions…. I’ll hint you this; eye contact and honesty would be best from both of you if you can just buck up and bear it for like 5 minutes. I see you being able to get him to crack, if you just let go first.” He passes the joint and motions for you to finish it.

“If I can actually get the words out without vomiting with them, will it be worth it? Or will I find out something I don’t want to know?” you stare into the sea, hoping for the peace you felt the night before to overtake you again.

“It’s in everyone’s best interest if you at least try.” He rubs your back again and just like last night you feel more at ease, “Just know, he doesn’t invite anyone to disturb him in his workroom, but he angrily told you that is where to find him.”

Finishing your toke, you put out the embers and hide the roach back in the case, taking a big swig of rum from your flask and shaking out your nerves you prep yourself for what may come. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I gotta just grow a pair and get in there and… UGH. FINE! Emotions suck.”

----

Standing outside the workshop door has your stomach in knots. There’s a heavy feeling in the air, consuming your movements, keeping you from knocking, barely allowing you to breathe. Killer clears his throat down the hall, watching you stiff as a board and staring at the intimidating door, the noise jostles you from your trance slightly and you sigh deeply. One last shot from your flask for courage, keeping your crossfade mildly intact.

Knock, knock, knock…. You gently rap against the wood and metal. A stern and loud “What!?” pierces your ears and you see a crack appear, allowing you to come in with a simple nudge. You knew he must have sensed you, must have known who it was the whole time you traced the details of the door with your eyes, waiting for the muscles in your body to allow you to proceed and alert him you were ready to talk.

“Hi” you exhaled out as you slipped through the door and it closed behind you, now trapped in a room with the one person who made your whole body feel like jelly. Anticipation making your heart thud in your chest. Your mind is in overdrive as you watch him turn around and stand to face you completely. How do you start this, how will it end, what of this feeling in your gut, in your chest? How long has this tightness been growing in response to his presence? 

You are much more in tune with your emotions when drunk and/or high and right now, you were feeling something that was buried deep, deep, down before. A desire for your captain; his intimidating aura, the way his muscles dance when he moves even so slightly, the smell of metal that lingers in the air around him, and the sound of his heavy steps as he makes his way towards you. Everything he did was enticing. You may have lost grip of these feelings while he had avoided you, lacking his presence like this was like being in a sensory deprivation tank, floating in silence and nothingness, or maybe they are just now surfacing because you’ve never been in his personal space like this before. This room was meant for privacy; an intimate space that you were allowed to enter for a conversation just as sacred as the walls around you. You were being rapidly pulled from the sense deprived stupor you had yourself in for months and flung into an overwhelming situation.

He was inches from you now, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, trying hard to recall that Killer made it clear to speak honestly and keep eye contact. His beautiful, fierce, and captivating eyes; how could you look away now that he has you here, in his special hideaway, far from anything else that could interfere with what may occur. As if this room was the entire world.

“What?” He repeats himself in a quieter and softer tone, speaking directly to you but still demanding you release the words so anxiously cradled in your throat. You swallow what little saliva was being created in your mouth; you go to drink from your flask again when his hand covers the top of it, holding your motion still in front of your heaving chest.

“You need the booze just to talk to me? Just spit it out dammit!” a relentless tremble came over you, Kid’s words filling you with apprehension that would either shut you down or let the flood gates open. The latter became true when his muscles twitched, almost turning away from you until you finally began to speak.

“I do. I really fucking do need the booze. For so many reasons, but honestly right now, just to get these words out without throwing up from fear, not of you, but of myself. Of the emotions I feel. Of the fear I have that you aren’t even interested in being around me anymore. It’s been months since we have had this much interaction and I don’t know what I did to encourage this…. this…. abandonment I’ve felt from you. I see you constantly but I notice you turn away like you can’t even look at me. I started doing the same because I figured you hated me for something I did or said or…” every word came rushing from you, some slurring together and sounding like they were one, combined into strung sentences of panic that you may not be able to complete the thoughts swirling in your mind, you were just hoping to sound a bit coherent and convey how you need him. You need him to be what he was, at the very least; months ago when you felt he was more than your captain, like he was a friend.

As you tried to continue your quick rant, tears threatening to fall from your grimaced face, you were stopped by a force against your body. Your captain had you wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, muscles tight enough around you to feel comfort and safety rather than a need to struggle free and hide. You heard his breath caught in his throat like he was going to speak, just as nervous as you were moments ago, now in a gentle but firm embrace you decide to wrap your arms around him as well, allowing the same comfort to wash over his body, feeling your reciprocation.

“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry you’ve felt abandoned. I just… well I guess we’re much alike in the way we don’t handle emotions well, or at all. I told myself if I stopped trying to get close to you that I could move past what was dwelling in me, something I haven’t felt in a long time and never knew I would be able to feel again…” He stops and you feel his head rest against yours, arms dropping from around your shoulders to your waist. His flesh hand begins to slowly stroke up and down your spine, leaving you tingling at the light touch over your shirt.

“Every time we would dock and I would see you at the brothels, having a good time drinking and…. Doing whatever else… I had this pit open inside me. It was hard to not watch you, but when you would catch me I felt a burning that caused to me turn from your gaze. I didn’t want you see what I’m sure was written all over my face.” You stood stunned in his embrace and pulled back slightly to look at him again. Eye contact; now you needed it.

“Were you… jealous? I’ve been told I was oblivious but am I really that blind?” he dropped his forehead to yours, “I was. And I’m glad that you were.” He let out, eyes just far enough that you could see the need in them; a need for you, a need that you wanted to return. 

Bringing your arms to his chest, you caress his pecs, gliding one up further to his neck pressing and inviting him to come closer as you ready yourself to give in to desire. His body responds and you sense his metal arm lower to your thighs, easing you into a hold, lifted from the ground ever so gently. A more level playing field envelopes you both as your lips finally meet.

Gentle and hesitant for only a moment, the amount of time it took for your eyes to flutter shut. A mutual hunger overtook you both as an impatient tongue pushed its way to your own, you rolled yours against his and openly accepted the unyielding invasion. The hand you had on his neck slid into his hair, grabbing and twirling your fingers in the soft red locks, tormenting a groan from deep within him. The aggressive passion kept you locked to each other until your lungs forced you to inhale. His heartbeat was running wild under your touch, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

You were pressed against the door at this point; his hand moved to cup your face after parting for air, thumb brushing your cheek while strong fingers wrapped your jaw and graced your ear with a feather light tickle. His metal arm under you is barely holding you up now that your legs are wrapped around his hips, squeezing him between your thighs.

Leaning into his hand, you release a content sigh and smile. Your breathing has calmed and you only focus on the heat being exchanged between skin and clothes, and heart beats that are louder than any storm you’ve ever heard; as if at any second the thunderous roar will lull you to a sweet dream.

Your adrenaline from the moment begins to dissipate and the crossfade creeps back in, causing you to lower your feet to the floor for more stability. “You okay?” Still resting your face in his hand, eyes closed with a grin, you bring your own hand to his and nuzzle the warmth he emanated. “The okayest I’ve been in a long time.” You feel him kiss your forehead, “Yeah? You feeling tired?” you nod in response, “I don’t wanna but I think I should go to bed soon… best to sleep when I can since it often eludes me…”

Already drifting off, you hear him hum and soon you are being lifted through the hallway, cuddled against the broad chest of your captain. You hear a door open and close before being gently placed onto a bed. Something feels off as you finally open your eyes and realize you are not in your own bedroom. Kid takes off his boots and coat before taking off yours as well, covering you up under the blankets and crawling in next to you.

You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable as you curl up against Kid in his bed. This would be the best night of sleep, and first of many to come, that you’ve ever had.

[lilac-hecox]

Omg so excited ur writing prompts again I literally love everything you write ❤️

I’d love a fluffy ass one of Ian and Anthony where Ian gets sick and clingy. Just love sick fics.

Ian/Anthony - Sick Fic

--

Ian sniffles and tugs the blanket further up his body, leaving it just under his chin. He’s alternating between too hot and too cold, but right now he’s cold, his body shivering on his couch even with the cozy blanket.

He’d caught a stupid cold and usually his immune system is a little stronger, but this one is kicking Ian’s ass to the point that he stayed home from the office today. There’s a history documentary playing on YouTube and Ian has his eyes closed as he half-heartedly listens to the video, it’s just background noise at this point, something to try and help to lull him to sleep. 

Ian might doze off. He’s not sure for how long, but he rouses when he hears the jangle of keys turning in the front door of his home. The list of people who have a spare key to his place is small and so Ian has a feeling he knows exactly who it is. 

There are footsteps and the rustling of a paper bag, and Ian can hear those footsteps getting closer and closer to where he’s resting. Then they stop and there is a quiet stillness before Ian hears a familiar voice. 

“Ian? You awake, buddy?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says from his spot on the couch. His throat feels sore even with the one word he spoke. 

Then Anthony rounds the back of the couch and comes into focus. He’s got a mask on - probably because they can’t afford for him to get sick as well and Ale and Kiana would kill them- but his eyes are the same warm and affectionate brown that Ian’s always known. 

He’s sick and maybe that’s the reason that Ian feels extra happy to see Anthony. 

“How you feeling?” Anthony asks, leaning in and pressing the back of his hand to Ian’s damp forehead. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” Ian says, “you’ll get sick.” and if he sounds just a tad more pathetic than he might otherwise, well, that’s his business. 

“I assumed the risks the moment I stepped in the door,” Anthony says. “Are you hungry? I brought you soup.” 

Ian opens his mouth but Anthony must sense the question because he barrels on. 

“It’s that good kind you like, the fancy one.” 

Ian smiles despite feeling so ill. God, he’s happy to see Anthony. 

“I got you popsicles too. I remember you used to eat them when you didn’t feel good as a kid.” 

Damn Anthony and his steel-trap memory. 

Ian sits himself up, tugging his blanket to wrap around his shoulders like a makeshift cape. 

“A popsicle sounds good.” 

Anthony nods and pads into the kitchen, Ian trailing along. 

Anthony digs into the freezer and produces the bright yellow popsicle box, popping open the sealed edge. 

Ian doesn’t have to tell him which color he wants. He watches as Anthony digs around for a red popsicle and hands it over to Ian. 

Ian takes the popsicle and sits at the stool at the island of his kitchen. Anthony turns to the paper bag and starts putting the cans of soup he bought away. 

“How was the office?” Ian asks, wrapped in his blanket and sucking at his popsicle. 

“Fine, everyone says hi,” Anthony says as he closes the cupboard and turns to face Ian. He smiles, which Ian can manage to see through the mask. “If I’m honest. It was boring as hell without you.” 

Ian smiles and he feels a little blip of affection pulse through him. 

“I’ll be back soon.” 

“I know,” Anthony says. “It’s just weird without you.” 

“Your turn to be a single parent,” Ian teases. 

Anthony laughs, “Okay, fair.” 

Anthony turns back to the bag and pulls out some medicine, setting it on the island in front of Ian. 

“I got you a couple different things. A syrup and a pill form, and some cough drops.” 

“Thanks,” Ian says. 

He pictures Anthony at the grocery store close to the office, walking through the aisles and picking out what he thought Ian might want or need. It makes his chest feel warm. That Anthony thought about him. That Anthony cares about him enough to come over, to bring soup, to bring medicine. 

“Of course,” Anthony says, “you’re my best friend, Ian.” 

Ian is quickly realizing he’s a sap when he’s sick and the words hit him harder than they might have otherwise. Anthony is his best friend. Anthony cares about him. Ian is glad for that. 

“For real,” Ian says again, “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

Ian knows he sound sickeningly sincere and if he weren’t sick he might be blushing. 

Anthony, he smiles, and Ian can see where the edges of his eyes get all misty. 

“Now I know you’re sick because you’re being really sweet.” 

“Shut up,” Ian whines. He has a tendency to be ‘baby girl’ as Erin likes to put it, around Anthony, and being sick only makes Ian want to slide into that role even further. 

He likes Anthony taking care of him, bringing him soup, smiling at him. 

“So,” Anthony says, “what were you watching?” 

Ian shrugs as he finishes off his popsicle, his mouth tasting of artificial cherries and childhood. 

“Just some history thing.” 

Ian slides off his stool and uses his foot to press down on the lever of his trash can, opening the lid up and tossing the stick inside. 

Anthony stretches and Ian thinks maybe he’ll decide to leave. After all, his job here is done for the most part. Ian is surprised at himself that he doesn’t want Anthony to go. 

“Sounds cool, let’s go watch it.” 

Then Anthony leads Ian into the living room and Ian settles on the couch, tugging his blanket back over him. Anthony sits in a recliner off to the side, a safe distance from Ian. 

Ian is comfortable, happy, as he chooses a brand new documentary to watch so Anthony can get the gist from the beginning. Anthony happily interjects his thoughts as they watch. Ian still feels like crap, but with Anthony over, the illness is a little more manageable.

[chevelleneech]

Episode two, there is a wide shot of the boat they’re one and we can see the entire crew sitting in front of them. Maybe some are staff from the boating company, but that isn’t relevant.

What’s relevant, is Jimin and Jungkook start play fighting in front of cameras and what appears to be 8 to 12 people, yet it comes across on screen as if it’s just the two of them enjoying each others company, and that to me is so interesting.

We know they’re comfortable in front of cameras, but for some reason it put into perspective just how little we see of their interactions off screen, when they are peak touchy-feely. Because Jimin giving Jungkook a hickey off camera was such a crazy thing to learn, but seeing how they act in Are You Sure makes it easy to see how it happened. But what makes it extra crazy, is the fact that how they are in the show is the ultimate baseline for how they’ve interacted over the years.

They play fight and flirt a lot, and they like being near each other. Yet had JK’s ear suck never made it to the big screen at the concert or if JK chose to cover up his bite mark from Jimin, we would only know them to be as close as what’s shown in AYS.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, if play fighting and hanging out for hours on end doing nothing and drinking has always been their dynamic… it really and truly is the presence of cameras that stops them getting physical. Because the ear suck has not been mentioned by a single person within their camp, and if it was meant to be a dare or prank, they’d have said it. I think JK was caught up in the moment and possibly didn’t realize the audience could even see Jimin’s ear in his mouth.

The bite mark is different, because they didn’t have to own up to that. They could have hid it and never spoke of it, but they didn’t. Much like their vibes in AYS concerning JM’s bubble guts, they were upfront about it. It is what it is, but like… why make it our business, you know?

I don’t know. I just feel like I’m realizing that what we know of their past and present actions, coupled with what we’re seeing during a time where they were reconnecting essentially, builds an even bigger, “not just friends” picture. Because when cameras are rolling and they’re giving us what loser ass people like to call “forced fan service” we see them touching all over one another and giggling and showing concern and having fun. When cameras aren’t rolling or when we they are in a moment where they may have acted first and thought second, mouths come in to play.

Yes, those moments are years old now and there’s no way to know if it’ll happen again, but one does not go from “We haven’t seen each other in a while, and if not for this show it would be longer.” to buddy system enlistment with someone whose mouth has been on intimate places on their body. That’s just not a thing that happens, I’m sorry.

So I really am starting to think they aren’t friends, because they crossed that boundary. And I think early 2023 showed them why doing that maybe wasn’t the best idea, and AYS probably was a bad idea (Jimin’s gut was trying to tell him something low key, lol) because they start the series saying they hadn’t really connected in a bit, yet ended it agreeing to 18 months side by side.

I’m not going to make this post any longer than it needs to be, because I’m honestly just rambling my thoughts down, but… yeah… I think Jimin and JK might be kind of messy. Not to each other, but in a complicated, not-platonic-not-committed way. And maybe I’m alone in this, but I’m not saying they aren’t friends. They obviously are, but I don’t think they can be just friends. They come across as either flirting or there’s a palpable intent when they don’t touch or tease one another, and I really don’t think normal friends have that.

[purveyorofsnozzberries]

So, let’s talk about anti-depressants for a bit.

Tw: suicide, depression, and SSRI withdrawal symptoms.

Antidepressants are wonderful miracles of modern medicine. In that we don’t really know how they work.

In 2016, my life sucked. I could go into how bad it sucked, but ironically I feel like that way lies a depressive episode so let’s not. One day, I received some unusually bad news. Life ending bad, it felt at the time. And, in the wake of that news, I tried to commit suicide. I thankfully was not well equipped, or I would have actually done some damage. I was lucky. I had a support system who sprang into action to let me know that I was loved, and would be missed.

So I started taking antidepressants. I went to a doctor and said “I tried to off myself, I think I need antidepressants.” They readily agreed, and I was prescribed escitalopram. Years have passed, I’ve had my ups and downs but for the most part the antidepressants did a lot to help me stay sane during those bad years. Hurray!

But then, a few months ago, I moved from my hometown to one 5 hours away. My doctors said they could prescribe me 3 months supply while I found a new doctor. Easy, right? Wrong. I have made 3 appointments with doctors in this town and each one has called me back saying “we’re not accepting new Medicaid patients”

I’m sorry, the fuck? I just need someone to sign the little pieces of paper that allow me to take the pills that make my brain work. And sadly, I am one of those people who needs medications. I take them to focus, I take them to sleep, I take them to maintain my mental health. But while I was trying to find a doctor, my antidepressants ran out.

“Oh shit.”

Day 1 through day 3 wasn’t so bad. Felt a bit off, emotions were swinging more than usual, maybe got a bit irritable sometimes but nothing I haven’t gotten used to dealing with over the years. This was hardly the first time my ADHD ass forgot to re-up on meds over a long weekend. It sucks, but it’s manageable. Day 4 changed that. Day 4 I couldn’t sleep. I woke up really to kill someone. I SCREAMED obscenities at my pet cats when they meowed to be fed ( I feel really bad about freaking them out now). Any little thing went straight to 11. My mind was foggy.

Day 5 was worse. The body aches started. My muscles felt… thin, like I could bite right through my arm without stopping. My extremities were at turns numb and tingling. I started experiencing “brain zaps”, which is a phantom sensation that feels like an electric shock goes from your brain all the way down your body. Deeply unpleasant all around.

Day 6 I started feeling a bit better mentally. I found that marijuana could at least keep the irritability down. I made another appointment, then sobbed when I got a call back saying no new Medicaid patients.

Finally I called my mom. The nuclear option. I, a 32 year old man, called my mom hoping she could make things better. And for the most part, it worked, lol. She showed up a few days later and marched me down to an urgent care who was able to prescribe me a months supply. I was so out of it I told them the wrong dosage (I take 10’s but said 20’s) and so wound up with a 2 month supply. Which hopefully will be enough to find a real doctor who takes Medicaid and can write me my magic pieces of paper.

So, what takeaways can be divined from this mess? Don’t run out of medication? Don’t assume you’ll be able to find a doctor easily?

How about “know what medications you’re taking”.

I didn’t ask about lexapro/escitalopram when I started. I didn’t know it was an SSRI, I didn’t know what would happen if I stopped suddenly. No one told me, either. Not one doctor in the 8 years I’ve been taking it warned me about *gestures at my last week of existence* THIS.

And I was okay with that. Because it did what I needed it to do. It works. But as soon as I can find a doc, I’m going to ask them to wean me off it. I can’t live with that kind of pain hanging over my head. The physical symptoms have mostly abated but my legs are still sore and my fingertips are numb. Some studies have shown such symptoms lasting for weeks or even years.

I’m not saying everyone or even anyone should stop taking their SSRIs, and certainly NEVER EVER stop taking them cold turkey like I did. That’s what caused The Issues. But if you are unaware of what SSRI withdrawal feels like and you’re taking them, I would absolutely suggest talking to your doctor about what can be done to minimize the risk of something like this happening to you.

Because this last week has been hell, and no one should have to go through that just because they moved.

[bisluthq]

Thank you for the advice about my friend! I really appreciate it, and think you're right.

I have been socialising with more people and making some new friends, which has been really good. Though, in general, i'm not particularly social. I mean, i'm not as bad as i was in primary or early high school (because JESUS Christ), but still. I don't have a part-time job, and i generally haven't hung out with people outside of school since year 7 (excluding last year where me and the mentioned friend saw a movie). But, if and when the opportunity presents itself to hang out outside of school hours, I'll definitely take it up.

Anyway, in the midst of all this, something funny/strange happenend. Yesterday I had to walk home, and since there's a chip shop across the road from my bus stop, and since I was feeling pissy about the friend thing, I decided to grab something even though I wasn't that hungry.

When I went in, I ran into this girl from my class (we've spoken a few times but aren't very close. We sit at the same table but so do like 6 other people so😭). Anyway, that day we'd played a game, so we got to talking about that. Then I mentioned that I was walking home, and she offered me a lift. The walk wasn't far, but I accepted anyway because I'm not particularly athletic, and it's a 10-20 minute walk even though it's not all that difficult.

Anyway, that whole interaction made me feel better. It felt like some kind of sign from the universe that things would be okay, and in the moment, I kind of needed it. I think I'll be alright, but obviously, it's still a hard time.

See? That’s awesome!!! That’s something to celebrate!! It hurts A LOT and it’s okay to feel that hurt. It’s okay to be upset. But you’ve got to look on the upside - this is a chance to try new friend groups and extra murals and/or maybe a part-time job out and meet new people. Also depending on where you are and how the subject choices work (I kinda figured UK system based on the college comment and I still lean to that or former Brit colony now with that “years” thing and the chippy lol but you confused me for a bit by saying “grade”) you might be doing subject choices that don’t have your friend in with you and that’s another cool opportunity to make new friends?? I doubt you picked the same 3 so like there must be people who don’t overlap regularly? That’s an in. Just ask for opinions on homework or whatever.

This SUCKS but it’s also a HUGE opportunity for you. You two might reconnect btw but don’t spend time waiting for it. It’s not worth it. Like focus on finding shit that’s making you happy right now - and you’re doing that!!! And it’s awesome!!!

I’ll tell you one more friendship breakup story that hurts more to this day than that girl I was friends with throughout school and into uni and then she “broke up” with me that is similar to your story OR the friendship breakup that in effect was just a breakup because we never kissed or fucked but we dated like we were tooooo close and uncoupling was as hard as any breakup. The MOST HURTFUL one wasn’t those two, which like were for the better for all of us. The MOST HURTFUL one was one of my BEST friends in school (from primary all the way through into uni but we went to separate unis) and we used to actually say like we’re best friends and whatnot and anyway when I came out as bi she just… stopped talking to me. Like she just stopped all communication. She bumped into me once and asked me if I was turned on during sleepovers and I was like “… no???????? WHAT?????” and then she was like “so you’re saying I’m ugly?” and I was like “………. NO??????” Crazy ass homophobic cunt.

Also I made peace with that fact but my house now is in the same area as her parents’ and she had her wedding at her parents’ house so like VERY close to me and actively didn’t invite me (the other friend in the story went; my remaining HS bestie didn’t go but was invited because that friend thinks this girl is homophobic and is on my side and didn’t want to like go there even tho she’s straight af lol but for me she skipped it - they were never that close in school so it was also not a huge snub but it was weird I didn’t land an invite while living up the road from the venue) and her parents and I have the same local as a result obviously and I always worry about bumping into them lol.

anyway THAT’s a bad friendship breakup. Where friends are picking sides and where I genuinely think she’s a huge cunt and she thinks I’m a pervert and stuff. Your friendship breakups and the other two of mine that I mentioned are just opportunities for us all to grow 🤷🏻‍♀️

[shadowsandashes]

October 22, 2022.

In the morning an oppressive light, in the evening a swallowing dark.

Traveling alone gives one a great sense of freedom tempered by a profound loneliness. It wasn’t until I slipped out of the casino and sat down at the bar to suck on my third gin and tonic when it really set in. I was surrounded by people. They were laughing, yelling, drinking, smiling, coming, going. Some happy couples, some bachelorette parties, older married men and women, frat bros eager to win some cash or some pussy, corporate types getting a few hours of pleasure in while on a business trip, foreign families getting their first taste of the great American citadel of Las Vegas.

I sat and watched them while the drink coated my throat with that wonderful bitterness and made my head buzz. Meanwhile a certain bitterness was seeping into my heart as well. The speaker system in that circus of a venue was rotating through a playlist of country and pop songs, most of them about getting laid or about the passion between romantic partners. I thought about the empty hotel room awaiting my return while inconspicuously eyeing a couple huddled together in front of a video roulette table. Even if they lost all their money, they had something good awaiting them at the end of the night. A look, a kiss, an embrace.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious but I didn’t feel bitter towards that couple, nor towards any of the others I saw, even if some of them were engaged in displays of PDA that would make a stripper blush. The souring of my mood wasn’t directed at anyone, really. Everyone around me was having the time of their lives, just like they were supposed to. I couldn’t fault them for that. But I couldn’t stop myself from dwelling on what might have been in a slightly different timeline. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the look, the kiss, the embrace I’d get to end my day with if things had gone differently.

I tried to chase off those thoughts. They didn’t do me any good, and part of the reason I agreed to go on this trip was to try escaping them. Their constant harrying had made my life into one long, drawn-out effort to numb myself. I pulled out my phone and opened that stupid hookup app, making sure first that nobody could see over my shoulder before I began to scroll through the filtered faces and unflattering pictures of chests and asses. These hookups had never gone well for me in the past but that combined sense of freedom and loneliness--plus the generous amounts of gin I’d imbibed--had a certain effect. It was my first time in Vegas, after all, and I figured I should get a taste of all the city had to offer.

The first person I pinged was pretty close to my type and quite eager to meet but got cold feet after chatting for a couple of hours. They’d never actually gone through with this type of thing before, they explained, and were just too anxious to commit. The second target was equally eager, and was even staying at the same hotel, but flaked out before I could extend a proper invitation. It was late, and I gave them the benefit of the doubt that they had probably just fallen asleep. The alternative--that I just wasn’t that desirable--wasn’t something I cared to humor at the time, despite how often the thought plagued me.

It was quite late at that point. Maybe not late for Vegas, but late for me. I retired to my room and took care of myself in the bathroom, then went to sleep.

I never sleep well in foreign beds but my slumber that night was worse than usual. My dreams were filled with images of what could have been. A reunion of sorts, a reconciliation, a return to the way things once were. A “see, I promised I’d take care of your plants,” a “welcome home, I missed you so much,” an “I’m sorry” and an “I’m sorry too.” I kept waking up to disappointment, finding my bed empty and only one pair of shoes sitting by the door. I’d go back to sleep, slip into the same unconscious narrative, then wake up again over and over.

When the sun cast its dictatorial rays through the gaps in the curtains I tried to resist but ultimately failed. I had to face the world again, with all its demands and expectations. How I wished to let it go on turning without me, to sleep longer, to sleep without those dreams for once. How I wished to skip ahead to the moment the sun would set again, when I could be alone with my sorrow instead of having to look into others’ eyes and pretend I was normal and happy. But I had no choice. It was the last day of the company retreat and if I chose to stay any longer it would be at my own expense. With the overpriced hotel room, the exorbitant cost of food, the ridiculous amount charged for every attraction, every beverage, every taxi ride, every game of craps, my bank account would be empty before I had a chance to catch a different flight home.

I packed my bags. I checked out of the hotel. I left the casino (and the $150 I had budgeted to gamble with, fully expecting to lose it all) behind me. As I returned to my home, to my normal daily life, the sense of freedom waned but the loneliness followed. Like a vengeful ghost, or like a loan shark, it clung to me.

Hannah Arendt speaks of a sense of control one gets when traveling. “You are more master of yourself than at any other time,” or something like that. I didn’t feel in like any kind of master, and I certainly don’t now. In the daytime I’m a slave to the world’s demands and at night I succumb to isolation. Where the feelings of mastery and confidence are supposed to come from, I don’t know.

What I do know is that there’s an unopened bottle of cognac downstairs calling my name.

[circular-bircular]

how... how did saying "i'm not an individual, i'm a part of one singular whole" make you guys feel more individual? genuinely do not understand. parts language implies you're not you, you're just shards of a broken whole, that every system member is not a full person and that collectively they add up to one individual, the "singlet-you-were-meant-to-be" or whatever

I would love to talk more about this!!! It’s one of my favorite parts of how we function now tbh. Sorry for the rant ahead, I’ve wanted to talk about this for so long, and this is apparently the time.

Before we used parts language, we were of the idea that Rice was the “original alter.” We were taught that by the online communities we were in, and she was forced into that role. That meant, we all felt like figments of her imagination. Which. Sucked ass.

We fought hard to be seen as our own selves. We dressed differently, we dropped our voice when male alters were out to an excessive degree (to the point of damaging our voice often). Curtis struggled so much with trying not to smoke, because at least smoking would prove he was himself, because Rice has never wanted to smoke. Trying to make ourselves be people hurt us a lot.

Eventually, we finally moved away from the “core” idea, which was gross anyways. But even seeing ourselves as our own people, we never felt like we could be. I’m my own person - but I want top surgery. If I was really my own person, I would be able to get top surgery. But I’m not! I’m stuck here with these assholes like Sierra and Debbie, and they both want these tits. So I have to fight to be myself, and the fight was with them. I fucking hated every single day, because I was fighting with someone who couldn’t even hear me half the time, because I was the one fronting. How useless right?

And then, we learned about parts language. It sounded like bullshit, to be honest. “We’re all our own person, we don’t want to be parts of a whole.” But… that’s how DID works. It’s what made the most sense. DID works out that you (as a singular identity as a singular child) are traumatized to the point of putting the pieces of yourself into multiple identities. Those dissociative identities are part of that whole.

When we first started thinking of ourselves as parts, we saw it as that “broken-parts-of-one-whole-who-we-are-meant-to-be” thing too, and that pissed us off. But… we started looking at it through the lens of functional multiplicity instead. We are who we’re supposed to be right now - because we aren’t supposed to be anything except what we want to be.

Now? Now I’m a person who wants top surgery. But because I am part of one whole, I can recognize that collectively, we don’t want that. Collectively, I have Sierra, Debra, Rice, Sie, Octavian, Ve, Avery, and now a new split yesterday who all want to keep our chest. Even Curtis feels something about it. That’s 7.5 out of 13 who want to keep our chest (for the most part - Octavian and Rice sometimes don’t like it). I can recognize that, as a part of Circ (our name for the collective system), I want my chest off because we are collectively queer, but maybe we aren’t fully a trans man like I am. Does that mean I’m not a trans man suddenly? Fuck no!!! I still exist!

But now, my voice matters. Before, I was constantly fighting to be my own person. I didn’t WANT what the others wanted. And I was fighting them - now? Now I’m fighting with them. Now I can have a conversation about my desires, and they understand my pain. Before, Debra didn’t understand my desire to get rid of my chest, because she was trying to make the body hers. She was her own person and was trying to live like it. Now? Now she understands that, as part of this collective, I am part of her. Deep down, there was a part of her that wanted to be a man. That part was so, so strong, it split into me - the depressed closeted trauma holder who she used to see as pathetic, because all she could see was how much better she was.

If I’m her, and she’s me, and we’re part of this whole? How could we ever hate each other? (We’re dating now.)

By using parts language, I got listened to. I didn’t have to fight to be me. None of us did! And… that led to us being able to use our energy to actually exist. Rather than putting all of his energy into sexual jokes and dropping his voice, Curtis really found a love for voice acting. Does it matter that some of us share that interest? Not anymore! Makes perfect sense! Before, he would get so twisted up because “but if Wade likes this too, that means I’m not my own person.” Now he can recognize that, not only would multiple parts of a whole clearly like some of the same things, but. Different people can also like the same things!!! So - we are no longer having to fight to be our own people.

Aaa sorry I’m just gushing over parts language now. I gotta make dinner but:

TL;DR: We tried out core theory and it hurt us irrevocably. We tried “we’re all separate people” and had to fight, hard, to try and be individuals. It was only once we called ourselves parts of one whole that we could stop fighting each other, which gave us the chance to grow into our own interests, and say “fuck you” to doubts we had about being our own people.

[rcksmith]

Secret — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “For Five Hargreeves — can I get 97, 91 28 and 35 for a heavy smut? And 40 from fluff? If it isn’t too much trouble!”

“If it’s not too much trouble could I do 40,53 & 91 from the smut prompts for Five ty honey 💕”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

35. “Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.”

40. “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

53. “Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.

91. “guess i'll just have to cum in you then’

97. “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

Fluff prompts:

40. “Come cuddle.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

Guys, I really understand who doesn’t feel comfortable reading or writing Five’s smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit heavy smut, swearing, fluff too.

— — — — —

It was one of those warm nights, which carry a searing and heaving sensation in the back, which had a malicious tone in the air, which stirs your body to choose bad decisions, making your hands itch and your heart racing for something...intense. It was one of those hours that passed midnight, that breath was heavy with the expectation of something extraordinary, that skin prickled just with the images in mind.

And you were in that state. Heart pounding heavily, yearning for something, caustic breathing, the environment with an energy of lust. Well, at least you was like that.

Five did not share your line of reasoning, or, if he were not oblivious to the malicious moonlight that rose in the sky, he was pretending very well. Sipping a margarita at the bar in the Hargreeves mansion, with calculations in front of him taking all his attention. Normally, you loved that he focused on his own things. But now... you were seething with something that only Five could placate.

It was a few months ago that you went from just being friends with his siblings to someone he fucked hard at night. The sexual energy between the two of you was very strong, and it was very easy to make bad decisions when the bad decision in question was so fucking hot.

Five Hargreeves did things to you. You wouldn't know how to explain it with clear phrases, but his gaze made you shiver, his body made a very specific part in the middle of your legs vibrate, and his voice and that self-centered smile... God!

It was no accident that you surrendered. You would have surrendered to that battle a million times.

“Five.” You sighed softly, taking a sip from your own drink. “Can't you do this tomorrow?”

“No. I am close to solving this.”

You controlled yourself not to roll your eyes. You were never the most needy type, especially with people as reserved as Five, but, damn it, you were on fire. It was logical that you could go out and choose someone to placate that, but that would trigger many things between Five and you. He hated that you were with someone else, even though he himself didn't assuming out to you.

It are a delicate situation, you were friends with all the Hargreeves siblings, and it would be a racket if they knew that their brother was fucking one of theys best friends.

The warm evening breeze came in through the window and collided with the chill of the drink running down your throat, awakening even more lustful anxieties.

“Five..." You purred, got up from the armchair on the counter, still behind Five and slid your hands over his shoulders "Maybe...you might want to finish this later.” You whispered at the foot of his ear.

Even without seeing him, you could feel that he was letting go of one of his arrogant and malicious smiles. Five rotated the seat to be face to face with you, his legs spread wider to accommodate you between them.

“And what are you going to do to distract me?” That same defiant, boastful voice.

But the look he gave you made a shock of desire reverberate through your body. Five wanted to play? Okay, you were going to play a game whit him.

“Why did you…” you leaned forward gently, resting one hand on his hot thigh, leaving your cleavage exposed “don't try guess?”

You realized that he had swallowed hard, even though his posture had remained unwavering. Five looked down at you cleavage, waist, and slightly elevated butt. You approached him a few more inches, your mouth a breath away, the heat of the bodies being shared without even touching.

Five could drive you crazy and screaming, but you knew it could also drive him insanity.

When you leaned over a little more and your mouths were so close to meet, you changed the direction and reached out with your free hand to pick up Five's margarita behind him. You straightened up and away, with a mischievous smile on your lips that revealed that everything had gone as planned.

Five semi closed his eyes at you, a fiery glow going through his eyes.

“Do you want to play with me?”His voice was low, dangerous “You know what happens to you when you challenge me.”

It was a warning, clear and resonant. You were a good girl for Five because you knew the strength that he could fuck you. Fuck, he could break you if he want. But now you were sexually frustrated, aroused, with a racing heart and wheezing from the expectation of something.

A night of bad decisions.

“You don't want to get out of your equations.” You turned your voice into something innocent, soft, provocative, and the strong breath that Five drew was a small victory for you "I guess I'll just get off all by myself."

Your smile was malicious, causticante, but as soon as Five got up from that chair, the perfect posture, much taller than you, and was slowly towards you, like a predator with its prey, you knew you were screwed.

“Do you want to come this much?” His fingers passed gently over your warm neck, and you let out a breath with that stupid touch.

Five moved closer, your chest glued to his, the hot, citrusy breath of alcohol hitting your nose. Something wetted you panties, making you bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from sighing any louder.

“Would you use your little toy thinking about the times that I fucked you so hard that you couldn't walk the next day?”

That was too much for your already sensitive system. Those words went directly to the thread that connected your heart and its pulsating nucleus, causing a burning note to reverberate.

“Five...”the sigh came out, while the memories of Five using your vibrator to push you to the limit, while him fucking you brutally, prowled like a wild beast in your mind.

Five slid the fingers from your neck to your cleavage, brushing the tips of her fingers across the flesh of your breasts. Five stuffed his forefinger into your cleavage and pulled you to him.

You moaned softly, in a purr.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" The whispered floated in your ear, while you put down the margarita at the bar and held your hands in his arms.

You bit your bottom lip, your panties soaked, your heart beating fast in your chest, the atmosphere more wild and fiery.

“You want this?” Five slowly lowered a strap from your blouse, each second speeding up your heart even more.

“Yes...” You sighed “I really want to, please.”

Then Five's touch got rougher and he held your chin firmly, lifting you face to look him in the eye.

“Beg.” It was an order, but your body was sending millions of feelings to you that you were lost for a second "beg!”

“P-please.” You looked at him pleadingly “Fuck me so badly, please.”

His grip got stronger.

“Once again.” Now the other hand slid roughly over your body, squeezing your waist, thigh, ass, anything that Five could mark as his property.

“Please, I'm begging you to eat me.” You really were, your body needed more, and there was no denying it.

So in the blink of an eye, the blue flash swallowed you both up and took you to his room. You were dizzy for a second, you were not used to his tricks. But Five used it as a bonus and stuck his lips to yours, stunning you with the strong taste of alcohol, desire and lust.

You moaned softly, your hands working to free him from his clothes, your lips corresponding to the battle. You managed to strip off his shirt layers and fade his pants, but Five didn't have the same patience as you. He didn't wait to undress you, he tore the thin fabric and opened your bra hungry, in a hurry, as if you were his last meal.

In a second his hot mouth was on your breast, sucking and nibbling at the needy skin aggressively, his fierce hands pulling you out of the other pieces of clothing. Five was not delicate, loving and caring, he conquered, took, owned, his goal was to devour you until his savagery was sated.

“Fi-Five!” You moaned loudly, your naked body now shaking with desire, your heart exploding in your chest.

You would have said something more if Five hadn't pushed you to the bed and made you fall into it. He pulled your legs apart, exposing you completely to him. His eyes burned with a dangerous and brutal fire, and Five slapped down the inside of your thigh. You screamed, arching your back, your hands closing on the sheet.

“Well, since you want to cum so badly…” Five climbed on top of you, his mouth proving the point where he had hit you “why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, his mouth was right in the middle of your pulsating core. Eating, sucking, tasting everything you willingly offered to him so much. You moaned, or screamed, your hands tightly squeezing the sheet, digging your nails into the fabric.

Five ate you at an undisturbed pace, as if you were the last meal in the desert, clasping his hands on your waist to keep you immobile, sinking his mouth deeper into you. His tongue opened its yours walls, circled her clitoris and sucked there, leaving a hot trail of spittle. You moaned loudly, your waist trying to fight the firm grip of his hands to roll in him mouth. You felt a thread about to burst inside you and your heart started to race in your chest.

“F-Five!” You screamed when he sucked your clitoris, and he could feel you pulsing in his mouth, signaling that you were close.

“Come for me, little slut.”

The vibration of his voice in your sensitive flesh was the trigger you needed, you came intensely, your legs wobbly, your breathing heavy, but Five didn't wait for you to finish coming before climbing on top of you, lowering his pants and underwear enough and brutally get inside you in a fraction of a second.

You groaned loudly, your hands clasping his bare shoulders, your walls hypersensitive to the end of the orgasm that was still breaking free. It was too much for you, your eyes stung with tears, your heart was racing a marathon in your chest, and your whole body was shaking.

Five doesn't give you a second to get used to it, or to get down from the sensation of your orgasms, he set a rough, hard, badly rhythm, entering inside you in penetrations that pushed your body upwards. You spread your legs wider and wrapped them around Five's waist, your chest glued to his chest, skin-to-skin contact being the extra to drive you crazy.

It was too much for you to take, too much for your hypersensitive body. Five silenced your broken moans with toxic kisses.

“Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.” His voice was hoarse, breathy, broken, Five drives his dick so deep inside you as possible with every word.

“I...I can't...”You whimpered in his mouth, clasping your hands in Five's hot flesh, sobbing at the strength he put in you, you needed more.

“So let's take care of it.”

Five released an aggressive and rough hickey on your neck, putting an arm around your waist, sticking every inch of their bodies together, and his free hand covered your mouth, drowning out yours screams. You thought it was going to placate his hard rhythm, but Five started pulling your waist down, against his dick, and sinking deeper inside you.

“You wanted me to fuck you, didn't you?” Five snarled, looking into yours watery eyes "Now take it, fuck!."

His dirty words only led you further towards the second abyss. Five fucked you so hard that you couldn't answer, let alone whit the heavy hand on your mouth. Yours hands sank into the skin on his back, yours legs pulling him hips towards you, desperate to placate what was about to burst.

Five could feel yours tight walls throbbing on his dick, signaling that you were going to come any second. He groaned loudly, clenching his teeth on the skin of your neck so as not to make a noise, thrusting his dick as deep as possible into you. He replaced the hand in your mouth with his own lips, swallowing yours moans and trying to keep the sounds of you both low.

“I ... I'm going to...” You cried with pleasure, pain, desire, his rhythm hurt but it gave you so much hunger and pleasure that you could feel the liquid of your arousal soaking his dick.

Five looked at you in a way full of lust and with a very desire to break you. Oh he wanted to destroy you.

He came out of you, making you let out a loud moan of frustration and tears streaming from yours eyes. You whimpered loudly, and Five switched positions and pulled you hard into his lap, giving you no time to straighten up before he pushed his dick into you and aggressively stuck both hands to your waist.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, trembling hands resting on his chest as Five pulled you up and down brutally, thrusting his dick in as deep as possible in you. He did not contain an aggressive groan at the sight of yours breasts jumping on his face, body sweaty and marked by fingers and hickeys, the inside of yours thighs already red by the force that Five shocked the body in you.

“Pl ... please!”

You begged, your face smeared with mascara and tears, your lips red from raw kisses, your hair sweaty. You looked like a goddess and Five wanted even more to destroy you.

“Do you want to come?” His voice was breathless, hoarse, fierce.

You nodded frantically, looking at Five with beg, begging him to let you come. It seemed to have an overwhelming effect on him. Five slapped your ass down, raising his hand to your back and pulling you forward, making your chest lie on his while the rhythm reached new places.

You bit his shoulder to keep from screaming, tears streaming down your face.

“If you come in this position, I will not control myself.” He snarled at you.

“I do not mind!” You begged, moving your waist to match his rhythm.

“Guess i'll just have to cum in you then” Then Five kissed you, hard, bad, dropped a hand to your clitoris and applied the trigger you needed to collapse.

You sank your mouth into the skin of his neck to muffle your scream, and soon a hot, thick liquid was filling you to the brim, taking up every inch inside you. You whimpered loudly against Five, hims hips doing the final thrusts to make sure the cum was filling you, his warm hands loosening the aggressive grip.

You both breathed loudly, your legs were shaking, your hair was stuck to your face and it took you two minutes to lift your face and look at Five. He gave you an arrogant smile of ‘I said I was going to break you and I broke’ and you laughed softly.

“I don't think I can get up.” You laughed, and Five removed a lock of hair from your face. “Do you think they heard us?”

“They certainly heard you.” He scoffed.

“Coming from your room.” You snapped and Five laughed, hims chest still heaving and heaving, covered in a mist of sweat.

“Fuck them.” Five said, gently pulling your hips up, pulling the dick out of you, making you sigh a broken moan. “You are so sensitive!” He said between his teeth, as if he had never been satisfied with you.

You laughed, and shook your head, exposing your neck full of purple tick marks.

“You know…” Five took his index finger to the marks, delicately skirting them “you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

You pushed his shoulder slightly, rolling your eyes.

“Can we take a shower together?” Five nodded at you question. “ and…”

“And?”

“You know ...” yours cheeks became more flushed "Come cuddle."

Five laughed, his eyes tame now, an open smile and satisfied energy.

“We can.” he smiled and you gave him a passionate kiss on the lips.

[glorified-red]

Could I request hcs for subtle ways the boys express their protectiveness?

Thank you for the request my love! I got to play a fun little game of ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ for which request to do.

Protective BatBoys

word count: 1600~

warnings: insinuation of someone getting hit by a car, mentions of attackers

I was quite tempted to write Bruce headcanons to this but I must hold back ><

Dick Grayson

Ah, Dick Grayson, the King of small romantic protective gestures

Every time, without fail, Dick will wait until he watches you get inside your house safely before driving/walking away

Its a really cute tick of his because he covers it up with a goodbye kiss and goofy waves that leave you giggling even after you close your house door

But its so he knows where you are, and he can see for himself that you made it safely inside because the second he turns away too soon, you may get locked out, or someone can crawl out from the bushes and nab you

Paranoid, he knows

He constantly wraps you up in things, when you two go swimming he’ll patter up from behind you and place a towel around your shoulders, patting you dry along the way

Very insignificant gesture but he doesn't want you to catch a cold in the A/C or Gotham wind

He’ll do the same with his jackets, maybe even plop his hat on your head when it's gets to the snowy seasons 1. Because its adorable seeing the hat fall into your eyes and 2. Because it'll warm your head up

Scarves too, he’ll even go on a tangent about how cold it is outside while he wraps you in it

Dick will always offer to drive you places, even if you insist on driving yourself to meet up with him or walking there, Dick will still offer because it means he’ll be present if you get into a wreck, sucks but then he can help with first aid

If you decline his offer though, he’ll politely ask for you to take Titus or Ace with you whenever you walk somewhere, they’re trained and he trusts them to keep you company/safe when he can't 

Jason Todd

Jason’s protectiveness comes from a place of knowing how cruel the world actually is

He can't stand the idea of anything happening to you

If he has to, he will use his reputation of Red Hood as a way to keep you safe, putting a man at gun point and sneering out, “They’re off. Limits.”

He’d bust a whole trafficking ring if it meant ending a person who touched you or hurt you in any way

But Jason’s protectiveness doesn't stop while he's wearing the helmet

Even when you two are sleeping, Jasons unconsciously protecting you, no matter how you two cuddle, Jason always positions himself as closest to the bedroom door

Whether his back is to the door or he’s facing it, Jason needs the comfort of knowing any person coming into the room would have to get through him before even reaching you

He also envelopes you, he's a big guy so its pretty easy for him to wrap you up in his arms as an extra layer of protection from the outside world

Jason doesn't really like the idea of training you past basic combat or gun skills, hell, he doesn't like involving you in the family business if he doesn't have to

So he inserts himself into any situation you may need protection in

Which is exactly why he starts going to the gym with you as a work out buddy

Jason makes it sound like he just wants to spend time with you or help you achieve your goals faster since he knows how the body works from his Robin days

But deep down you both know his true intentions: he wants to keep an eye on you

The gym is crawling with creeps that have the guts to ogle at you or get too touchy, but having Jason’s 6 foot beefcake of an ass standing beside you the entire time is like an instant creep repellent

Plus, he gets to spot you and make sure you don't get injured from bad technique or from pushing yourself too hard

He’ll even encourage you with innuendos the entire time, but at the end of the day, he’ll gladly walk you home

Tim Drake

Tim is the most subtle about his inner protectiveness, a subtle King if you will

Most times when he gets protective, you never even notice

When you two cuddle in your house, it takes him a very long time to actively fall asleep because he doesn't trust your home security system if you even have one so he forces himself to stay awake just incase anything happens

But don't worry, he’ll eventually get to updating the security in your house

He does get these protective eyes whenever something is off when he's around you, they narrow a bit and latch onto whatever is off, glaring holes into the offending object until its all clear

Its quite terrifying to witness and very hard to miss when Tim is staring dead at the man speaking to you from across the room at a Gala, sipping his drink in the corner

If he feels the need, he will walk up and control the situation, whether it mean inserting himself into the convo or simply being present for it, he’ll do it

The thing with Tim though, is when he's protective, he’s almost always touching you in some way

His fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as he speaks to a random person who walked up to you, clinging to your shirt/sleeves when he’s analyzing a situation and doesn't want you to go forward just yet, or even as simple as holding your hand as he leads you home

Tim also keeps small snacks/waters on hand at all times to protect you from Gotham heat and pesky hunger, very much like a mother hen because he also carries a first aid kit everywhere

He follows you whenever you walk alone around Gotham at night, he’s already on patrol so he might as well make sure you make it home safe, if anything happens he won't think twice about intervening as RR

If your going out somewhere alone he always always always asks you to call him until you make it to your destination, he doesn't care if he's working on something or in the middle of a board meeting, he has an assistant for a reason who can give him notes

Its become a normal thing for you to send him your Uber tracking link so he can watch it, if you don't send it he won't hesitate to hack into your account just to find it

Damian Wayne

Damian? Wayne? Being subtle?

Its usually pretty obvious when Damian gets protective over you

He’s the type who won't hesitate to pull out a knife out of god knows where and threaten whatever is responsible for you being uncomfortable

This leads to very interesting encounters of you having to hold him back because ‘oh no a random guy bumped into you and didn't apologize’ and suddenly Damian is missing 

He’s also incredibly blunt, saying things like “Cover your drink” at galas or handing you one of those hand held tasers before you go out and saying “Go for the neck”

Will insist on training you himself, whether its hand-to-hand combat or with a sword, Damian wants to keep track of your progress himself so he can make sure all your weaknesses are trained

Its also because he doesn't want his grimy brothers near you, so its protective on all counts

But subtlety? Theres a few you can notice after being with him for awhile

He’s very careful when going out around Gotham with you, Damian knows he can fend for himself so he will gladly take the brunt of any possible situation

This leads to him always walking on whichever side of you thats closest to the road, so on the off chance a car derails, he’ll get hit first

Always making sure to match your pace when you two walk together, he doesn't want you getting too far ahead of him because he'd have to run to get to you, too far behind and he might not notice you getting taken silently, he wants you right in arms reach at all times

He has a permanent scowl and narrowed eyes but when he's protective, they get even more prominent

Bonus

All the BatBoys do the same exact thing out of instinct when it comes to protecting you

None of them will hesitate to step in between you and any attacker, pulling you behind them so they are in the line of fire now

Its a subtle action that each of them do, albeit with some differences

Damian will push the attacker back as far as he can from you, putting plenty of distance between the two of them and you, so if anything breaks out, you can run away easily

Dick will hold his arms out, fully covering you but keeping his hands in the fray so if the attacker tries attacking you from any angle, Dick is ready to protect

Tim will grip onto you somehow, keeping his hand right on your bicep or forearm so he can still hold you, he doesn't know if there can be a hidden attacker from behind that will pry you away from him, so touching you is his way of making sure he doesn't lose track of you

Jason will slip in front of you and cross his arms, its a sign of nonchalance but obvious dominance, showcasing that he doesn't need his hands to be intimidating to the attacker, he’ll glare and challenge them so all attention is on him now and not you

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption​

[rowaelinismyotp]

The 50-yard Line

Masterlist

written for day 7 of @elorcanweek2022

a/n: not edited, sorry if it sucks- i’m trying to get back into the groove of writing. i had this sitting in my drafts for months and elorcan week finally pushed me to finish. also side note cause i just wanted to tell someone: i actually wrote this on paper to get the ideas flowing and it kinda worked!! but it was a pain in the ass to type so i don’t know how i feel about the method. anyways, hope you enjoy :)

wordcount: 2.8k

~ ~ ~

“Salvaterre! Whitethorn! Get your asses on the line!”

Lorcan Salvaterre rolled his eyes at the senior screaming instructions: Erawan Valg. The guy had it all: the ladies, the popularity, the money, not to mention he was the captain of the football team (but did it count if it was because his dad was the coach? Lorcan didn’t think so). But, Lorcan mused to himself, he’d rather be a broke virgin loser than be stuck with a personality as vile as that.

Lorcan wobbled as he stood up from where he was taking his water break between sprints, feeling like a newborn fawn on a ship caught in a storm. Fuck, he would definitely need an ice bath when he got home. Erawan was not taking it easy on the rest of the team today. Maybe he had some issues with his daddy dearest, the coach. Seeing how hard it was considering it was only week two of the season, Lorcan couldn’t say he was particularly excited for the rest of the season, no matter how much he loved playing.

Football was his way out of this small town. Rowan may have had the brains but for Lorcan, he honestly couldn’t give a shit about academics. That was definitely not his calling, as made evident by his grades. People would always say he couldn’t amount to anything, a foster kid bouncing around in the system, house to house. At least Rowan had a future, they said. Well, he was determined to prove them wrong. 

Rowan and Lorcan had been adopted together at 10 after staying together in the system since they were 6, both boys facing traumatic childhoods with Lorcan and his substance-addicted mother and Rowan with his emotionally and physically abusive aunt. Gavriel had adopted them. They would mock him, asking how much of a family could they be, a real family anyway, but Lorcan didn’t give a shit what people thought. He was happy, Rowan was happy, and his little family of three was happy, the third being Gavriel, their adoptive father. Apparently, the man had grown up in foster care as well and after the death of his wife and son, he decided to comply with his late wife’s wishes for him to adopt a child to give them a loving home and family, things both she and her husband didn’t have growing up. Gavriel saw Lorcan and Rowan and had seen himself in them, at least, that’s what it said in his journal. Lorcan hadn’t meant to snoop one day, he was just looking for a spare notebook he could use, but the juicy tidbit of gossip was just too good not to share with Rowan. Though Rowan pretended to be dismayed as to how Lorcan got the information, he knew that on the inside, the little gossiper would be having a field day at the minefield of information. They knew they could talk to Gavriel about anything, it was just more exciting this way.

That had been 6 years ago when little Lorcan’s biggest concern was if Gavriel would return them to the foster home like an ill-fitting pair of jeans. Now, his concerns were football and college. Bemoaning the hour of ‘optional’ practice they surely had left, Lorcan turned towards the bleachers, suddenly distracted by the recognizably familiar pair of blood-red converse. There was only one person at this school with those shoes. Shaky legs and exhaustion forgotten, Lorcan jogged up to Erawan and his right-hand man Duke Perrington to ask for a break to use the bathroom. Sent off with a careless wave and some crude joke Lorcan didn’t care to hear, he turned with a huge grin that was an accurate representation of how his heart felt at seeing Elide Lochan. 

They had met at one of Aelin Galathynius’ birthday ragers, Lorcan only tagging along for his brother Rowan, the hopeless idiot crushing on Aelin. Lorcan had been in the corner, ignoring the piss-poor beer he was handed and lamenting his decision in letting Rowan drag him along when that bastard had left him for Aelin after she batted her lashes at him. Elide had been looking for a way to avoid Erawan, landing herself on his lap with a hurriedly whispered ‘Please play along’ before pressing her lips to his. They kissed awkwardly for a while, Lorcan only putting his hands on her thighs when she placed them there before Elide was sure Erawan had gotten the message. They escaped to one of the spare bedrooms upstairs to further cement their lie for Erawan with an explanation from Elide and they’d spent the rest of the night talking to each other. They had had more in common than Lorcan had originally thought when passing her in the halls. She was sharp, funny, and so unbelievably gorgeous. Elide had asked that they take it slow and casually after Lorcan accidentally blurted out a rushed ‘Willyoubemygirlfriend?” but Hellas damn him if it wasn’t the hardest thing in the world for him. He should’ve known then that he was falling hard, and fast. 

Lorcan ran behind the bleachers as fast as he could when he left the captain’s vision and was rewarded by a short but sweet kiss from Elide. They were quickly cut off by Lorcan’s breathless pants, something he swore was from the running, not from seeing his crush. Elide took one last hit of her joint before putting it out, all too aware of Lorcan’s aversion to all drugs and substances after both of his parents died of accidental overdoses. Granted, it had been crack, not marijuana prescribed for her bad ankle, that Lorcan’s parents had taken, but Elide never wanted to do anything that made Lorcan uncomfortable. She was developing a soft spot for her fuck-buddy, actually. 

“Hey sport,” Elide muttered in a husky voice that made Lorcan lose his mind every time.

“Hi, El-” Lorcan started to greet her before being cut off by the taste of her cherry lip gloss on her lips as she pressed them to his. A scent of cinnamon and elderberries that was so uniquely Elide enveloped him. The hour that had felt so long when he was conditioning now was over with a blink of an eye as Elide and Lorcan lost themselves in each other. Hot and sweaty from their make-out session and the late August heat, they were startled back to reality with the clattering of cleated feet plodding up the bleachers. Lorcan raised his head in alarm before cursing as he clonked his head on the bleachers. Elide let out a small giggle at the comical sight of a 6’5 (and growing) Lorcan squished under the bleachers with her 5’1 self. 

Lorcan stepped out from their secret make-out spot and offered his hand to Elide to help her up when he was met with the leering grins of Erawan and Duke. Those fuckers. Elide led Lorcan away with a scoff towards the two seniors when Erawan’s voice echoed after them.

“Wow. That’s real slutty of you ‘lide. First that cheerleader witch, now the junior loser? What’s next, the trash? Seems that you’re getting pretty damn close to getting there.”

Elide growled, the sound intimidating yet sexy to Lorcan. “Fuck off, Valg. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

“You could find yourself a real man here, Elide,” Erawan ignored her, digging deeper into his little stupidity pit. “I’ll be waiting for the day you regain your senses. We could rule the school.”

She rolled her eyes in response before continuing to drag Lorcan away with her, a storm cloud gathering above the both of them. Elide didn’t deserve the shit she got for not wanting to hook up with the biggest douchebag at their school, Lorcan thought. Unfortunately, Elide ran in similar circles with Erawan because of her friends, the icy head cheerleader Manon Blackbeak, the aforementioned ‘cheerleader bitch’ as well as Aelin Galathynius, her cousin and the rising freshman star of the soccer team from what he had heard. Combined with her status as a senior and a reputation for being one of the hottest yet hardest to get with girls at their school, according to a poll taken by the newspaper club at least, that meant she frequently ran into Erawan often at parties and therefore came face to face with his horrid attempts to woo her by talking down to her. Like Lorcan said earlier, he’d rather have nothing in the eyes of Erawan than have a personality like his. 

Elide pulled Lorcan off to the side into an alcove between buildings where no one could see them. As a habit, she frantically pulled out a pre-rolled joint to weed before taking a long puff. Lost in his detailed imagining of revenge against Erawan (beating the shit out of him) on Elide’s behalf, not that she needed him to, Lorcan was startled back to reality with the smell of weed. With a groan, he pulled the joint out of an unsuspecting Elide’s hand before smashing it under his foot. Already braced for the harsh feedback, he was  not surprised when the verbal lashing started.

“What the fuck was that for, asshole?”

Lorcan narrowed his eyes. “I asked you not to smoke that shit around me, El, and you agreed. Besides, you’re welcome for helping you not drop dead.”

“Oh my gods. We’re not doing this again. I’m not going to fucking die. It’s prescribed you big gargantuan moran. Mind your own business,” Elide muttered in a tone akin to the growl from before as she balled her fists up.

“Hell, I’m sorry for caring about your well-being. I thought we were friends. Or a thing. Or whatever?” Lorcan was met with Elide’s dick shriveling glare, as he liked to call it. Oh shit. 

“Well then don’t fucking care about me. We’re not friends, we’re fuck-buddies. That’s all it is,” Elide spat out, the escalation of their argument surprising both of them. “I’ve had enough of this toxic male bullshit for today. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Lorcan scoffed bitterly, hurt by her sudden outburst. He hadn’t been trying to fight her, he genuinely was concerned for her but maybe this wasn’t the best way to show that. Whatever, he wasn’t about to cave now. “Well if that’s what you want, I’ll see you around.” Lorcan turned and walked out of the school towards where Gavriel’s car was waiting, forcing himself not to look back at the girl he had fallen in love with as he took each step. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

It had been about three weeks since ‘the incident’, as Lorcan liked to call it, and Elide still hadn’t called or texted. Or even looked in his general direction. Lorcan was more ashamed of himself than anything, trailing her like a lost puppy and taking long detours from class to class just to get a glimpse of her. He suspected the silence on her end had something to do with him labeling their relationship rather than their argument, especially with her known aversion to relationships. But then again, he could be wrong. Fuck, he just wasn’t sure anymore. 

Miraculously, as if summoned by his tortured thoughts, Lorcan’s phone lit up with a text from a number he knows all too well. 

my uncle left last night- come over and talk?

Lorcan typed, deleted, and re-typed different responses too many times as he tries to formulate a response that says ‘I wasn’t obsessing over you or chasing you like a lost puppy but I did think of you a little” while still being cool and suave. He gave up eventually and just settled on a simple ‘k’ before sending it off. Lorcan sighed. The things you do when you’re whipped for people. 

Jolting out of bed to put on a pair of sweats, Lorcan jogged through their one-story house to the key rack. He cursed when he found the keys to the Range Rover he and Rowan shared missing. As Lorcan heard the unmistakable sound of an engine starting, Lorcan cursed again, letting out a few choice words. Today was Whitethorn’s date with Galathynius. Lorcan normally loved Aelin, Rowan’s girlfriend of 4 months after he finally brought up the courage and balls to ask her on a date. The ‘bitch queen’, as he nicknamed her affectionately, could give insults as good as she got and the two quickly became as thick and thieves after a short period of mutual antagonizing. Aelin made his brother happy and she was like a sister to him but Hellas be damned if she didn’t have the worst timing. This was his chance to finally confess to Elide how he felt after three weeks of agony and he was stuck with no ride to Elide’s place after an invitation there.

There would be no other choice than to run. Gavriel took his own car to work and he refused to ask Rowan to come back and drop him off. Now that he remembered, the bastard had been so excited for the date today, fucking humming some love song that had pushed Lorcan deep into his wallowing in misery. No matter how desperately he wanted to see Elide quickly, he couldn’t do that to his brother. 

Half an hour, 2 bottles of water, and a lot of breaks later, Lorcan was finally at Elide’s grandiose house (or was it called a mansion?). Lorcan shot a text out to let Elide know he’s here so she doesn’t attack him thinking he’s an intruder before lifting the potted plant next to the door to find her spare key. As he walked up the familiar stairs where he had fucked Elide when her parents were away, he grinned at the memory before refocusing to find Elide and talk about whatever she wanted to talk about. He peered through the rooms he thought she would be in, before poking his head through Elide’s bedroom door last. Bingo. 

Elide is furiously texting someone with lightning-fast thumbs as she’s hunched over her phone when Lorcan found her. He knocked on her door to let her know he was there and her head snaps up so quickly that he heard her neck crack. Lorcan winced. That had to hurt. Elide ignored the painful feeling of her back protesting her strained position to tell Lorcan the three words weighing on her since the day he walked away from their argument. Granted it had been because she told him to, but Elide knew it would kill her if he walked away from her like that again. Her heart was too involved for her to not care. 

Lorcan began to speak, the words coming out too quickly to be actually considered words when Elide interrupts him.

“Lorcan, just please let me get this out. I know you care for me, and I care for you too, but I want more. I- I love you. A lot. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our argument. I’m sorry for what I said that day, I didn’t mean a single thing I said. We are more than fuck buddies. You’re my best friend, and I love you. I felt so bad about how I lashed out but you were really pissing me off, but all I could think about as you left was the fact that I don’t care if you piss me off every single day for the rest of our lives. I just want to spend it with you.”

“Lochan. I don’t know what to say..” Lorcan trailed off, pouting before he grinned. “You stole my dramatic love confession. I’ve only loved you since the day we first met. I realized it that day during practice when I saw your converse from the 50-yard line. I’d never been so excited to see someone as I’m excited to see you every single day and all I could think was ‘Damn, I could do this for the rest of my life’. I’m sorry for the shit I said too, and for walking away. I promise you that I will never walk away from you again. We’ll always solve shit before leaving from now on, okay?” 

Elide’s face went from worried to euphoric in a second. She threw her arms around him and hugged him with more strength than Lorcan thought she had. As Lorcan let out a booming laugh, Elide shrieked in surprise as he spun her around like she was his queen. Lorcan had never been so fucking happy in his entire life. The moment she told him that she loved him, it was like a missing puzzle piece in his heart finally clicked into place.

Maybe that 50-yard line when Lorcan had realized he loved Elide had something to do with all the magic he was feeling. He’d have to plan something there to commemorate it. Maybe a promposal? That was hilarious, Lorcan thought to himself. If you had told him a year ago, hell even a month ago, that he would be excited to go to prom, he would have laughed at you. But now? Now, he’d be ready for anything with Elide by his side.

~ ~ ~

tags

@perseusannabeth

@backtobl4ck

@autumnbabylon

@swankii-art-teacher

@cretaceous-therapod

@themoonthestarsthesuriel

@vinylcryes

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[selinakidreams]

here’s a lil something for baku (and you) to enjoy on his birthday <3 all apart of the bakugo birthday bash hosted by the lovely @jodrawssmut @phasmwrites @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda @lady-bakuhoe @ramen-rambles ! !! thank you guys so much for letting me be apart of this <3

pairing: (established relationship) QUIRKLESS AU kiribaku x fem! reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: alcohol consumption but sober sex, oral (f receiving), mentions of throat fucking, mentions of spit roasting, lots of mentions of spit <3 (and exactly one spit into a mouth), very light degradation, praise

a/n: this is my first time writing with three characters kdjdkdk it’s way out of my comfort zone and I only had 6 days to write it,, but I did it!! trust me I wanted to write more but I actually wanted to make it to baku’s birthday so !! don’t be mad at the endiiiiiiinnnngggg <3

The jazz wafted throughout the empty bar; your silk dress falling from the edge of your seat. It has been a slow night for the bar. You leaned your head into your hand, elbow keeping you sturdy as you swirled the drink around it’s glass cup. 

Your friend's party became a bit too feral for your taste, but you kept your word and stayed as long as you could for the sole purpose of seeing her smile, but then they showed up and you saw yourself out. 

The dim lighting made your eyes droopy with no action to keep your brain going, so you take another swig of your drink before swiveling in your chair to face the other side of the bar. 

Floor to ceiling windows greeted you, giving you the perfect overlook to the twinkling city lights below. It was incredible how your friend could afford a room in this hotel for her party. 

You noticed a movement in the corner of your eye; someone had entered the bar. 

You turn back to face all the expensive drinks displayed on the shelf, the perfect excuse to catch a quick glimpse at him. The contrast of his hair against everything else in the room almost made your eyes pop out of their sockets. 

Platinum blonde hair tufted out like an explosion, a satin red shirt that danced with the warm light of the room, black slacks and from what you could tell, some expensive ass shoes. Too dressy just to be here for some drinks.

Wanting to see more but not willing to fully stare at the man, you signed and waited until it seemed like he got settled on the bar stool before saying, “Is it your party that’s on this floor? It seems like quite the... experience.” 

Your voice came out smooth and velvety to bakugo’s ears, not that he would ever admit it. He scoffed before taking a second to look at the stranger who was daring to talk to him. His first thought settled in his mind and accepted it, almost prompting for silence- waiting to see if you would push to talk to him again.

From what you could tell, he was scanning you up and down. He opened his mouth to say something; his pink plush lips looking extremely inviting as they began to mouth something.

No sound came out for the next few seconds, showing he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He closed his mouth and took out a phone from his pocket, the screen illuminated his face as he began typing something out. 

With this newfound light, his features became even more alluring- which couldn't be said for most people. Perfect porcelain skin, his profile pointed and devilishly handsome.

He’s well aware that he still held your attention, so when he slid his phone back in his pocket, he responded to your previous question, “yea, that’s the one. I’d rather stick it out instead of hearing them complain about me not going to my own party  for the rest of the week.”

By the end of his sentence, he had a glass of something amber in his hand that seemed to look a lot like whiskey. He didn’t spare you another glance but you could tell he expected to hear a response.

You hummed, slightly nodding your head, “The party I had to go to is upstairs and it’s… a lot. They're all just talking about expensive this and designer that and I couldn't listen to another word so I had to get out of there…” you trailed off at his silence. Noting that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, you introduced yourself in hopes to continue interacting with him. You knew his type, and you knew in some way, he was going to surprise you. 

“Bakugo Katsuki.” He said in turn.

You slowly nodded before posing another question.

“So Bakugo, not really a party goer?” You attempt to ask, only to get a huff in return.

“not one for small talk either, i see?” You add at the end.

Another few quiet moments go by before he responds

“If I was a party goer, I’d be at my own party wouldn’t I?” He quipped back and your eyebrows shot up as you raised your hands in defense. 

“Well hey, I dunno ! For all I know you could have had a really rough night and this specific bar could be your saving grace. Could possibly use this night to drown your sorrows away behind a whole bottle of what… whiskey?” You say, ushering to his drink before turning to face your own, knowing he probably didn’t like being pegged as such.

“but you wouldn’t do that. You’re a strong man who knows what to do when things get bad, huh?” you continue, sprinkling praise to his dignity. He seemed like the type to prioritize that.

He didn’t do or say much in terms of a response but a small smile grew on your lips seeing how his body suddenly released a bit of the physical tension that was winding up.

You moved a few seats closer to him. If he didn’t like it, he hadn’t said anything. 

“So-'' Interrupted before you could continue the line of questions, Bakugo surprised you by asking, “you think you’re better than your friends? Leaving them and comin’ here to drink alone?” his voice coming out gruff and low.

“No, not one bit. I was the one who planned the whole thing for my friend, it’s just unfortunate that she had to invite all those people who aren’t all that nice to her. I can’t stand them. I’ve told them off more than I can count, but they just brush me off. A group of bullies is one thing, but a group of people who pretends to be friends with you then talks behind your back is another.`` 

Bakugo was quiet, not by astonishment or anger; he seemed to be expressionless as he piped up, “fake people are some of the uglies nobodies out there.”

You turn to look at him before sipping your drink and moving a seat closer. This time Bakugo glanced your way but continued to stay silent. 

“You ever beat someone up?” you ask, resting your chin on your palm, tilting your head towards him.

Your second surprise that night, he chuckled. It was soft, the complete opposite to the demeanor he'd been holding.

“Why? You want me to go in there and beat a few of those assholes up?” his eyes were relaxed by this point, no longer sharp and heavily guarded.

“Only because they don't believe I'm intimidating enough.”

“Maybe because you're not.”

You fake gasped, bringing your other hand up to your heart. “Excuse me sir but I'll have you know that I can be quite the fighter.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You hadn’t realized you got so close to Bakugo until you heard the footsteps nearing you both.  When a handsome voice called out bakugo’s name, you slightly jumped. Putting as much space between the two of you as possible, you looked to the source of the voice. 

Handsome would be an understatement. 

With red bangs that framed his sharp toothy smile perfectly and the rest of his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, this man looked a bit taller than Bakugo with a much warmer aura... but radiated the same type of... manliness. 

“Bakugo, I just got your text- Mina has been dragging me everywhere to make sure your party’s going well. Is this her?” the handsome man asked, a slight indistinguishable gleam flashes in his eye when he looks over to you.

“Yeah, ‘nd i wanna leave now.” he almost pouted before looking over to you. 

“You comin’?” 

Your gaze snapped between the two men, only slightly putting two and two together. 

Red hair spoke up, “He probably didn't explain it well but I'm his boyfriend, Kirishima Eijiro!” he held out his hand cheerfully, listening to your introduction. 

“Not to sound too forward or to make you uncomfortable... but do you wanna come home with us? He texted me earlier saying that there was this hottie in a silk dress and… well…” he trailed off licking his bottom lip as his wandering gaze slowly shifted hungrier, “he wasn't kidding.”

There was a lot happening at once but all that you were thinking was that these two hot men wanted you, and the happy buzz that was coursing through your system couldnt object the offer, so with a quick nod of your head, you were handed a water bottle, guided off of the stool, and into the back of the next taxi they could hail. 

The ride was filled with wandering hands and mischievous looks. Kirishima was whispering naughty promises in Bakugo’s ear that you couldn't quite hear, while your attention focused on the big palm that was making its way to the most heated part of your body. The quick inhales that the blonde took went straight to your core, making you incredibly excited for what the night had to offer. 

As soon as the door swung open, lips were on lips and clothes were coming off. The rush to get to the bedroom was heated and messy but once you all entered the room, there was an intense shift that even you couldn't predict. 

Kirishima spoke first, “So what does my birthday boy want? Does he want to fuck or be fucked?”

With a suck at his teeth, Bakugo knew if he didn’t give an answer soon he’d be met with-

“Better hurry up handsome, or I might just choose for you…” Kirishima hummed, bright crimson eyes hopping on over to meet your gaze, “better yet…”

He was by your side in mere seconds. His huge figure towering over yours, you almost flinched when his bulky fingers grazed up your arm. 

“What if you chose for him?” He purred in your ear loud enough so Bakugo’s ruby eyes found yours. Your name rolled off the red-haired man’s tongue like sweet honey, “go ahead, what do you think he would want more?”

Your gaze flickered between them, you couldn’t tell one or the other’s preferences but if they wanted to use you, they could. 

“How about… Eijiro… you could fuck my throat and Katsuki… could fuck whatever hole he wants?” You ask, the question raising an octave out of uncertainty. 

Kirishima raises an eyebrow towards the man of the hour, slightly amused and completely aroused. 

Bakugo is already smirking,“Atta girl, knows exactly what to say.” 

Kirishima starts to kiss your neck as Bakugo stands in front of you, occupying your lips for the first time that night. 

With one arm wrapped around your waist, he seemed to have rubbed on his boyfriend's bulge before reaching for the zipper of your dress. In turn, the feeling of the Eijiro’s bulge humped your back. 

Whether it was your dress hitting the floor or Katsuki’s tongue slipping in your mouth didn't matter, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, causing Kirishima to chuckle and whisper, “get on the bed, princess.” while Bakugo pulls away from you, a string of spit keeps you connected.

With your gaze lustly hazy, you dreamily make your way to the bed, but not without a little show. Before splaying yourself out on the mattress, you stretch out- almost in the child's pose of yoga except you add a deep arch in your back for the sole purpose of showing off your pretty seamless thong. 

As you reposition yourself, you glance over to the side to find that both men are now only in restricting briefs, eyes glued to your figure, both palming themselves over their boxers. 

Eyes half massed and back flat on the bed, you begin to pout, feeling almost bare without anyone’s hands on you. 

As if on cue, they began to make their way over to you, looking oh so hungry. 

You immediately sat up and swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, pulsating at the prospect of having two seemingly thick dicks at once… but they were still in their boxers. Why?

“Ya have to ask nicely in order to get a treat, you ungrateful slut.” Bakugo growled before taking your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks with his fingers. 

“Better yet, beg.” he said with a coldness that heated your core and had your eyes going wide.

Whimpering when he let go, you kept your innocent doe eyes as two sets of starved eyes stared down at you.

“W-wanna get fucked, please. Wanna feel both of you everywhere…” you say as you reach both hands out to palm the silhouette of their bulges. “Please…?” 

There was a “christ” that was muttered out before you were pushed back on the bed by Bakugo, then kirishima manhandled you so that your neck was supported by the edge of the bed, your head mostly hanging off.

Even in the midst of the binding tension, Kirishima didn't hesitate to instruct Bakugo to put a pillow under your hips, the blonde eagerly following through with the demand. 

“How’dyou want Katsuki to prep you, baby? He’s skillful in every sense but he really enjoys using his mouth.” 

The bed shifted and before you could string a thought together, you looked down and lost all ability to think. The sight in front of you was downright sinful. A smirk was pulling at the left corner of his lips as he sunk closer to your clothed pussy, his red gaze now a deep wicked crimson as he watched for your reaction.

You didn't have much time to analyze before a thick hand laced through your hair and ushered your view back to the red head’s now exposed cock. You gulped. 

Not incredibly long, a moderate size but with a juicy girth, Kirishima’s cock had a thick vein trailing up his underside. 

If you could make heart eyes, you're sure that you'd be doing them by now. 

Focused on paying attention to his pretty pink weeping tip, you felt your panties being pushed to the side. As tempting as it was to look down, you kept your sights set on the task at hand. Licking and kissing his cock, mixing your saliva with his precum, you earned a guttural groan from the big man above you, encouraging you to do more, please him more- until a warm muscle was met with your sopping core, causing a high gasp of a vibration to hit Kirishima’s head. 

Your mind stopped reeling for a second- it stopped doing anything to be frank. Your hips mindlessly thrust up in attempts to get more of Bakugo’s mouth. He chuckled against you in response.  

Moans bounced off the walls the deeper you guys got with each arousing movement; slurps coming from your’s and Bakugo’s mouth were the loudest noises in the room- that was until you moved down to pay the much needed attention to Kirishima’s balls. He couldn't seem to take it when you began sucking and fondling, moaning about how full he looked. He let out an obscene whine that you couldn’t believe came from him but when Bakugo pulled his lips from around your clit, you followed the noise with a similar one.

Unlike Kirishima who had stayed still, you tried to push Bakugo’s face back down out of lack of patience. Somewhere along the lines, the dominating rolls have switched, but you couldn't really find it in yourself to trace back to when that happened.

 “You really are a fighter, huh?” he chuckled out before adding, “quit whining shitty hair, you’ll get to fuck her throat once I’m done eating.” 

And with that, he dove right back in, causing you to clench around nothing yet and arch your back to get impossibly closer. In turn, your gaze caught the big desperate pleading eyes looking down at you, nearly begging you to do something... 

You were so dizzy with pleasure that you murmured  a mindless, “I didn't forget about you Eijiro.”,  before using your hands to guide his cockhead back into your mouth to coat it in your saliva then pulling off and spreading it down the rest of his length. He bit his lip and let out a cute “mmph!”, which went straight to your abused core. Wanting to hear more, you began to pump his shaft with your messy fist. 

With everything going on, you didn’t realize how built up you were. At an astounding rate, your climax crashed over you, making you shriek against Kirishima's dick as you attempted to cage Bakugo’s head in with your thighs. What pushed you even further was the death grip Katsuki had on your thighs and the sinful sounds he was making while lapping away at your juices. 

Your hands shot from Kirishima’s cock down to grip Bakugo’s hair, freeing your mouth to pant out breathy praises and a whiney “Katsuki!”.

“Fuck,” Bakugo groaned as he came up from your pelvis once you’ve relaxed, whipping your juices from off of his chin with the back of his hand. 

“Kiri, c’mere, you gotta try this,” he said before pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss over your slumped body. Watching their lips meet and seeing Kirishima’s tongue slip into his lover’s mouth sent a dull throb to your core, even moreso when Kirishima sighed into the kiss while his cock twitched upwards, close to your face. 

When they pulled away, Bakugo gave one more little peck to Kirishima before looking down at you with a mischievous grin. You mentally gather yourself and sit up, already ready to be told what to do next.

“Open up, sweet cheeks.”

You did as you were told with your tongue out on display, unintentionally closing your eyes as a sweet little “aaah” came out on instinct. 

The spit hit your tongue dead on and you had to refrain from automatically swallowing. 

A low whisper about how good you were to Katsuki pulled him out of his daze, his eyes darting away from the new wetness on your tongue. 

“Swallow, slut.” and so you did.

“You're right Kiri, she is such a good girl…  Are you ready to get fucked stupid as your prize?” was the last thing you remember before both of them did exactly that.

[keilemlucent]

take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader 

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

||||||||||||||||||||||

You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch. 

You were put out. 

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden— 

His voice shocked you from your thoughts. 

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?” 

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways. 

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride. 

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it. 

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you. 

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea. 

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words. 

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away. 

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you. 

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin. 

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed. 

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was. 

“I-I can change—” 

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point. 

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you. 

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could. 

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted. 

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably. 

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’ 

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt. 

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible. 

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion. 

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

 “Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been— 

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning. 

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine. 

“‘Uh-huh’, who?” 

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before. 

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced. 

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled. 

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you. 

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot. 

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting. 

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!” 

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch. 

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue. 

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking. 

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs— 

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver. 

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest. 

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?” 

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

 “Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass. 

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

 And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.” 

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks. 

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands. 

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler. 

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e— nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise. 

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more. 

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course. 

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!” 

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead. 

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings. 

 “TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?” 

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position. 

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

 Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same. 

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine. 

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation. 

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut. 

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....” 

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed. 

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest. 

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’. 

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?” 

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you. 

....

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