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mountainsandmayhem · 3 days ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah! You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey.

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this.

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible.

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”.

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands.

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance.

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip.

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold.

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller.

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car.

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight.

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists.

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another.

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something.

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany.

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms.

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his.

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again.

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss.

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic.

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way.

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there.

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle.

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours.

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him?

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms.

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.”

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?”

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.”

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him.

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right?

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier.

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you.

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings.

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now?

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music.

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers.

I love you.

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder.

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him.

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song.

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart.

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?”

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.”

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore.

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller.

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over.

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it.

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.”

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage.

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage.

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar.

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?”

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage.

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with.

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar.

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords.

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel.

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing.

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women.

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?”

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.”

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you.

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints.

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit.

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once.

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane.

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him.

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him.

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties.

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you.

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him.

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you.

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady.

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours.

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are.

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you.

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?”

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office.

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused.

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful.

I love you.

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side.

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull.

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.”

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright.

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego.

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet.

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?”

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.”

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?”

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.”

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him.

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours.

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy.

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants.

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric.

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!”

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.”

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.”

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently.

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.”

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back.

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him.

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says, “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you.

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips.

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”.

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now.

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does.

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.”

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers.

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach.

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece.

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen.

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel.

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat.

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you.

He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.”

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling.

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip.

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you.

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way.

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl.

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips.

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk.

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…”

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating.

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved.

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you.

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.”

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.”

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask.

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.”

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep.

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed.

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his.

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany.

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

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dashing-disaster · 2 days ago

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Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

“I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommy fanfic #sal deluca #lucy donato #gina deluca #this is actually terrifying i haven't posted anything i've written in like a decade #totally did not accidentally put the title in wrong at first

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baphometsss · 3 days ago

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I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keeping giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man doesn't not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

#i'll shut up about solas one day but that day is not today #solas #lavellan #solavellan #mythal #dragon age spoilers #datv #datv spoilers #dragon age

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mind-intheclouds342 · 2 days ago

Text

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..."

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention.

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister.

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman.

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression.

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them.

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly.

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill.

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill.

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..."

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you.

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste.

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

#A new ladder mouthwash #mouthwash #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing x reader #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing curly

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dev1lm4n · 1 day ago

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favors

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader

summary: ghost is curious on how far he could push around the pliant private; the kinds of things he could ask for and all the perverted favors he could earn, including stuffing you full of your silly little pen.

warnings: nsfw! sorta power imbalance (ghost is a l.t and you're a private), ghost is mean :(, uses of whore, unprotected piv, inappropriate use of a pen, semi-public, doing it in an evidence room lol, terrible accent, getting caught

notes: reblogs n comments appreciated! i also do commissions for $10 / 1k words on cod/tlou/aot/haikyuu n many more. msg me :)

“So yer telling me,” Johnny paused, vulgar gargles of cheap booze echoed around the buzzing pub. He had to take a minute or two to relinquish the revolting burn that’s paving a path right down his trachea and into his junk of a stomach.

Ghost shouldn’t even be having booze, more so the kind they serve in the dirtiest street of London (the one that’s definitely infested with rat droppings and a random fella’s piss), but here he was, advocating for his friend’s ideas.

The masked man shrunk back against the booth’s shiny red seat. His hips jutted forward, beer comfortably propped up on his thigh.

“This lass will literally do anything you ask for?"

Ghost sighed.

It took him a beat too long to answer Johnny’s inquiry.

He’s getting impatient, rightfully so. Unless it’s playful jeering or stern commanding procedure, Ghost hasn’t exactly spoken a word that he’d deem interesting after the last mission.

He’s just been quiet underneath the skull-face attire. Tired, perhaps. But Johnny truly feared that he’d finally end up as a shell of a person. A suit of skin, muscle, and bones. The lights are on but no one’s home kind of thing.

Ghost shifted in his seat. He leaned forward tentatively, deep in thought Johnny suspected. His hulking mass of muscles further emphasized by the tacky shine of multicolored lights.

“Yeah.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah?”

His eyebrows knitted underneath his balaclava.

“‘course. You got yourself a fan, L.T.”

A fan. A fan. A fan?

Ghost could laugh at the premise.

At the thought that someone had the audacity to think of him as someone worth that kind of attention. He had never thought of it in that manner, couldn’t bring himself to at least, but it’s still as far-fetched now than it was the first time he considered it. It’s absurd.

Ghost propped his elbows up on the bar’s table. A sticky substance - most likely some sort of spilled milkshake or a very sweet Cosmopolitan - instantly pooled his sleeves, but he had more important things to dwell on. The idea that you, a simple girl-next-door private that he met by accident, adores and devotes yourself to him to the point of no return. What kind of fuckery is that?

“‘m not someone to fan over, Johnny. You know that fair and square.”

“You have a point there, L.T.”

Johnny huffed out a pained chuckle. His stomach must’ve been sending neon red blaring signs to quit drinking and hurry back to his woman back home, but he’s a persistent man, even stubborn some might say.

Ghost was still deep in thought. He even managed to abandon the cold beer he'd ordered a couple minutes back, the condensation making a very clear point as it dribbled down his gloved palm.

He’s trying to acquire every last bit of information he has of you. Every detail, every moment that might help him deduce this extremely serious problem.

What did your hair look like? When’s the first time he noticed the repeating tendencies? It might not result in his ultimate death, sure, but it’d surely wound him insane. Why would someone even be a fan of a socially-resigned man?

Johnny cleared his throat. Ghost’s taking too long and he’s made that clear.

“Where d’you even meet the lass?”

“’m not sure…” he trailed off.

Johnny offered him an odd look, before another laugh erupted from his booze-scented cavern.

Ghost looked away, but was pulled back in by the comfortable arm (way too comfortable if he had a say in it) slung across his shoulder. His caramel eyes came around to his partner’s, as if waiting for him to spare him a piece of his mind.

“You’re one cruel man, sir.”

“‘m not. Just never thought of it,” he tried. “Didn’t have the time to.”

“Come on. Bet you could get something outta that thick skull of yours,” Johnny jeered.

“I think, well, ..think she’s part of that task force. Y’know, the one that was an extension of ours, in case things go to shite?”

Johnny hummed. There was that one time, too long ago that he couldn’t even picture the faces clearly. They're more similar to blobs of beige and brown now, but he’d remember a lady if he came across one. “Oh yeah, yer right, there was one.”

“Had trouble mapping out the terrains so I asked the Captain,” Ghost continued on lightly, hoping Johnny could somehow connect the statement to where and how he’d meet the mysterious lady.

“And so she came in handy,” Johnny cleverly added.

Ghost took a deep breath, the shape of his lips made a brief appearance through the thin fabric, frustration knitted in every inch of his appearance. “She’s smart, Johnny. Well, even that drunk man coulda been smarter than you,” he argued teasingly, but was quickly met with a brute hand down the back of his neck.

“That’s fuckin’ mean, man,” Johnny cocked his head to the side defeatedly. “’m here tryna solve your love problems, but yer making fun of me.”

“Not ‘love’,” Ghost corrected. “But she’s so pliant, John. So.. obedient.”

“And smart people aren’t obedient. Moreover, smart lasses.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Johnny took another swing of his foamy beer. A light trace of cheap booze made an appearance in the shape of a mustache right above his real bush. He looked like he’s truly using his head for a minute and it’s truly entertaining. Ghost would’ve chuckled, sneered, and made entertaining comments if it’s not for the fact that he’s equally as burdened.

Come to think of it, you weren’t anything extraordinary. You weren’t a spectacular tank-shaped-human that’s won the recognition of every military general, neither were you superbly drop-dead gorgeous. You’re just this girl.

This girl who didn’t have a blind adherence to his authority as a higher commanding officer; rather, you made it seem as if it was a conscious choice, a demonstration of your commitment to him. Your unassuming demeanor and lack of vanity blended right into the black-and-white nature of the military, but there was just something.

Something particular that bothered him.

“What’d she do?”

“Asked her to gather intel from the last ten years,” he started. “Did it in two days.”

“That was well.. technically her job. Maybe she’s just terribly invested in it?” he offered.

“Asked her to get my boots washed-”

“Wait, what?”

“Boots. Washed. I had a sling on so I..”

“Don’t tell me she did it,” Johnny shrieked. “Your boots smell like horse shite.”

“She did.” Johnny looked at him in terror. His fucking jaw almost went unscrewed from the statement. “She’d switch schedules with me if things got out of hand. Oh, and she patched me up awhile back.”

“And you don’t know the lass’ name?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” he grunted uneasily. “No.”

“Jesus Christ. What’dya even say when she finished patching you up?” he threw his hand up. “Thank you, random gal who I vaguely remember for cleaning up my boots and doing a shit load of things for me.”

“Well…”

“She’s in love with you. Christ’s sake. The wedding bells are ringing in my ears.”

“Too much, Johnny.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he tugged on the male’s collar, for dramatic purposes only of course, a classic of Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish. “I bet she’d do anything for you.”

“You’re fuckin drunk.”

“Maybe. But she fuckin adores you,” he continued on. “Bet she’d suck your lil willy if you asked.”

“Now you’re outta line, Johnny,” he scoffed, deciding his pal’s spitting all but the truth, maybe the piss-colored concoction finally fried his brain cells off. “And it’s definitely not little.”

Amidst all the naturally occurring hellish nature of the military (including and not limited to bitter black coffees, deafening morning roll-calls, and pungent blood), there existed an unconventional sanctuary for you. A safe haven-- special and reserved only for you.

It’s not nearly as lovely as what home felt, but it was still something.

The old evidence room, filled with bricks on bricks of aged papers along with neatly labeled boxes cluttered with God knows what. Classified artifacts, flickering lights; nobody wants anything to do with such a room and if they did, it’d probably be a direct order from their cigarette-smoking ripped captain. Or so you’d imagine.

You’re not even close to being that level of importance. You’re closer to being a coffee-bearing, mess of an intern, instead of those in the laps of the General.

You didn’t mind. Not one bit.

The admin work is far more aligned with your goals than holding a hand grenade could ever be.

After quite some time, drowning in your own mind, earning paper cuts with every flip, and sipping that God awful black coffee, you’ve managed to turn every inch of the four by six room into your own twisted version of a highschool data wall.

You’d argue that it’s a lot more effective than trying to do it in your team’s pristine glass wall, but truly it’s just a silly reason. A silly reason not to be humiliated and undermined by fellow colleagues who think that they’re above and beyond.

You stood up. Observed. Crouched (in hopes that there’d simply be a miracle, but alas, futile). Then repeated the regime like clock work for what seems like forever.

That was until an interruption came along.

A glitch in your picture-perfect routine, and it terrified you like hell.

You stood in full attention. A forty-five degree angle between your toes, hips and shoulders level, chest puffed, and limbs stiff. Between the moment in which the heavy metal door swung open with ease and when it finally came to your attention who the intruder was, you thought of all the ways you could rationalize the mess you’ve corrected. You’d imagine having a thirty second period - or less - where you’d have the chance to save your ass from running toilet duty all week.

But what came was far worse.

It’s that man. That Lieutenant, if we’re being prissy.

The one you had a crazy, borderline psychotic crush on.

The one you did back flips and handstands for. And you didn’t know if it’s the thick helmet that's strapped to his head, the heavy eye black he rocked daily, or the skull-patterned balaclava, but he’s utterly indifferent to the treatment.

Enough of that, you decided.

“At ease.”

Your shoulder slouched back to its acquired form and like always, you’d allow him to stare you down like you’re some sort of farm animal.

“Apologies, Lieutenant,” you drew back a breath. “For the mess that is. I.. wasn’t expecting anyone to come by.”

You attempted to meet his gaze. Keyword, attempted.

His stern gaze, brown eyes framed by a fading ghost of eye black, made it hard to breathe. The air seemed to thicken - wine into blood - as if acknowledging the unspoken, blurry lines of tension.

You, acutely aware of the rising tautness, attempted to challenge him ferociously, but the weight of his stare proved almost tangible. And despite it being heavily inappropriate, your clit pulsed in a foreign rhythm and your nipples pebbled with desire underneath the pure wrap of your uniform.

“Not my business,” his response fell flat. It’s like he’s trying to have you embarrass yourself.

“What’s your business then?”

It sounded a little rude, so you managed to add on a slurred line of ifyoudon’tmindmeaskingthatis to sweeten the deal.

He looked stunned for a bit, but then his gait laxed and you took the bait. You took a sharp intake of air through the gaps of your top and bottom row of teeth. Cold air seeped through, as hostile as the rumbling storm outside.

The single bulb flickered ominously - was the Lieutenant powerful enough to control electricity with his terribly distant gaze?

‘Ghost’ was his callname. That’s the only thing you know of him, aside from the fact that he’s a prominent member of TF 141 and that he has a god awful habit of tossing his duties to you. The kind of duties that won’t earn him a star or two.

“Do you need me to deep soak your boots again?”

His lithe lashes swept over his eyes, but once more, no response. It’s like you’re speaking to a wall. A damn persistent one.

“Or run names?”

Something. Anything would be better than nothing.

“Nothing like that.”

“No?”

He shook his head.

He stuffed his hand down the pocket of his tactical trousers, shoulder hunched forward, before he took a step forward. His boots, lathered in mud from a far away land, crushed the papers you’ve laid neatly.

Your eyebrows - disobeying each and every one of your neurons - twisted in disdain.

That was your work. Your hard work.

The Lieutenant inched closer, an estimate of a full foot ahead of you, towering with such an incredulous look. You challenged him with a similar gaze. Emotions naked, unveiling beneath a thin line of shameless and daring. A line of sweat began to form on top of your upper lip, a betrayal to the T.

“You think you’d let me fuck you?”

“What?”

“You think you’d-”

“I.. I heard you the first time, L.T. Just a little bewildered I s’pose.”

Not even the wildest beast of Manchester’s pub would query such an upfront question.

You swore that your physical state had forgotten that there’s an entire raging snowstorm outside base, because all you could feel was warmth.

Warmth pumped through every inch of skin under the neat fold of your collar and the tight cuff around your forearm. Warmth made your palms pool with dubious desire. It enveloped you whole, suffocated you in a headlock.

At his approach, you staggered back. It was as if your knees gave out thoroughly. You are clearly not an easy slag, but he’s making you look like one.

“Would you?”

He questioned with such.. reverence?

The Lieutenant’s large pointer finger, equal to the size of a French baguette, swept beneath your chin. A tease. Not a threat. Perhaps more of an invite.

“You could say no,” he offered. “Nothing’s gonna happen if you say no, ‘course.”

The question ‘why’ was on the tip of your tongue, before you retracted it entirely. It didn’t matter why, at least, not to him. You’ve heard about the practice. The military is cruel. Brutal. Stinky men, blood and puss, tasteless MREs; people need a getaway car, even for just a bit.

The real question was if you’d let him.

Would you let him fuck you?

You nodded.

You’re not even sure if that’s your good conscience speaking. It’s just.. you gravitate towards him like a love-blind teenage groupie.

The ghost of a smile, barely there but obvious enough it protruded out the smooth surface of his balaclava, momentarily diverted you.

He looked so good. Even with every inch of his skin covered in some sort of cloth, he looked devilishly good.

Before you could react, his strong arms were quick to wrap around your waist, swiftly turning you around. Surprised, you found yourself pushed gently against the edge of the table. It rattled side to side from the sudden impact, a rhythm that coddled you back into reality.

His cold fingertips held your wrist together. A makeshift cuff of some sort. You glanced over your shoulder, met instantaneously by the Lieutenant’s icy expression, tinged with a hint of deviance.

“Would you truly let me?” he asked once more.

You nodded.

He looked displeased. Something’s missing, but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was bothering him.

Ghost took another step forward. The faint presence of him crowded your backside. The tips of his fingers told a whole ‘nother story as it smoothed over your arm, mistakes and trauma from a faraway land. His warm breath flooded across the nape of your neck, controlled, yet imposing. You made an embarrassing noise when he tugged at your wrist, pulling you flush against his frontside.

Way to go.

“Say it out loud, soldier,” he grunted. “Needa be sure.”

“Fuck me.”

Exasperation and determination, he consumed you whole like wildfire.

You tried to weasel your way out of his grip, thinking it’d be smart to arch your back like a cat in heat to meet his crotch, but it’s no use. He’s as thick as concrete, not keen on meeting your demands.

You whined. Desperate this time.

He's tinkering on the edge of something big, something you know is going to be the best thing you agreed to. Ghost shushed you. A short click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his hands traveled along the circumference of your stomach.

He made it an easy task to tick off those pesky, bothersome buttons. One by one. Every time making you wince in anticipation.

“Lieutenant!” you squealed aloud when he buried his head down the crook of your neck. The texture of his balaclava made your nerves jitter, rough yet the warmth his skin emitted set your own alight.

You gasped when he finally cupped your breasts. He kneaded the soft skin gently, the cold tips of his fingers twisting to pebble your nipples. From the back, you might've looked prim and proper. But from the front, your nipples stood out like the slanted tips of Everest.

A stinging pleasure was quick to spread, especially down South, where your needy cunt gaped and squeezed tight around nothing. He's kind enough to leave the remnants of your uniform attached to your body. It's cold out and he was bright enough to know that this room was equipped with not even one heater. It's the higher-ups cutting costs like always.

“Why'd you let me fuck you, eh?” he whispered tauntingly. “You a whore?”

You shook your head no. Mind too frazzled to even get offended.

“Looks like a whore to me,” he chuckled slowly, only to bend you straight at the waist.

The side of your face came in contact with the cold surface in a loud thud. A protest tore out of your throat.

He pawed at the belt buckle you're sporting, so impatient he might’ve torn the material in one go if it didn't unclasp right away. With a single pull, he had your tactical military-issued pants pooled pathetically around your ankle.

It was quiet for a moment or two. You would've guessed that he was standing there, admiring your backside like some twisted connoisseur of some sort, or setting aside a list of what he would've liked to do. It's unbelievable that the five-minutes-ago-you agreed to something this bizarre. His large palms spread across the entirety of your ass, feeling up the smooth surface before a slap landed loud and clear.

“Ah!”

Something came into view on your right side, so you turned your head ever so slightly. And there it was.

His thick fingers were wrapped around an item, the same one your mouth has been wrapped around so many times at frustrating moments.

Your red pen, the same one that's ink has stained every inch of your fingers, was now offered in front of you. He wanted you to suck, you figured. You could've said no, sure, but there was a desire to fulfill his every wish, to be the good whore he's asking you to be.

With much hesitation, you took the pen cautiously. It's not long before a good portion of it was lathered lewdly. And when he pulled the object away, a bead of saliva came attached with the warm end of your tongue.

“Look at you,” he cooed. “Couldn't even stand up for yourself, can you?”

“No.. puh- please.”

Ghost pulled you flush against his chest, so close that you felt the ridges of his uniform against your arched back.

A possessive arm wrapped itself around your soft stomach. Your head was spinning-- his scent, musky and woody, had your mind twisting and bending in every manner possible.

Finally, he spared you of all your suffering. The first nudge felt experimental. He rubbed the pen down your throbbing clit, running it up and down the sensitive bud. Then he slowly made his way further down in a voyage for your cunt.

His calloused fingers paved the way down the slippery road. You found yourself bucking your hips against his warm hands, craving for just a touch. For more. Anything will do from that hulking figure of a man.

“God, just put it in already,” you grumbled, a notch above a whisper. Ghost didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t like your bratty tone and so, decided to punish you against it.

The cold pen slipped into your wet cunt in one go. It might be thin, barely the size of a finger, but when you haven’t been fucked for ages, it felt incredibly intrusive. You’re almost sure your cunt had sealed itself back up after the long dry spell.

Like a virgin, you let out a squeal. One that received a low, dry chuckle from the Lieutenant.

He pulled it all out, pulling it up to your eye level, as if taunting you with how dripping wet the pen had become. It was lathered in your juices, thick and globby as it dripped down. You sucked on the end once more. This time unprompted, simply to show off how dirty you can also become.

This earned another one of his low grunts. Approval, you thought.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispered against your ear. Ghost guided the pen back to your entrance, letting it get sucked back by your needy cunt. He couldn’t watch, not with this position. But God did he want to. “Being all bratty won’t help, love.”

The squelching noise your cunt had made every time he thrust the pen back in was so.. dirty. Enough to also get him hot and bothered.

You could feel him grow beneath you, feel it bulge against your lower half, though he didn’t seem to be making certain arrangements due to it. Ghost’s index finger and thumb moved rhythmically as it worked in tandem to touch all those sweet spots of yours. Undoubtedly, it’s working like a charm.

Sweet nectars of his hard work started spilling out your cunt in thick translucent globs. It dribbled down your inner thigh, creating such a lewd display for Ghost to marvel. Teasingly, he thrusted upwards, hitting against those ridges deep in your cunt and making you lurch forward. Your nipples rippled in reaction, a twitching pleasure made you let out a needy moan.

“S-shit,” you cursed. Ghost continued to thrust the pen deeper, as deep as it could reach at least, and took it upon himself to twist and withdraw it every time you’ve gotten too loud with it. “Don’t-” you were interrupted once more. This time with the presence of his rough fingers, creating tight circles above your engorged clit. “Fuck!”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you, eh?” he whispered teasingly as he pressed clothed kisses against the nape of your neck.

He was persistent in rubbing your clit, not changing the speed one bit even without you asking for it. It felt so nice. The way his textured fingers felt against your sensitive nub, the way he dragged your juices up your clit-- oh he’s driving you insane.

Ghost angled his thrusts once more and with such expertise, he found that one cushy spot that made you tremble. Your knees felt weak and all you want is for him to fill you up properly. The cold pen rummaged against your insides and before you knew it, your walls had already started to flutter against the smooth plastic. “Small little cunt so desperate for me.”

“I- I can’t-” you gasped in between soft moans. “A-ah, ooh, I-”

Ghost barked out a laugh at the way you can’t seem to finish any of your sentences. He was a sadist it seemed as he had no intentions of hearing you out.

He drove the pen in harder, faster, determined to have you react more. To have you, the pretty little thing who’d run stupid errands for him, slather his fingers with your wetness. “Gonna cum on a pen, huh?” he teased, his voice tipping you over the edge.

You guided your thighs forward, eager to have your clit caressed more. To have it stimulated by a masked Lieutenant you barely even know.

“Sweet little thing..” he cooed as he watched you reach your high. “Drippin’ over a pen..”

“Cumming, I’m cumming!” you announced and he found it rather.. heart-warming in a way.

You sounded so pliant, so dumb, and it’s what made blood rush instantly to his throbbing cock. You could feel him watching.

His gleeful eyes ran over your convulsing body, the way your cunt clenched rhythmically against the office tool that’s lodged up into you. Ghost didn’t even get to pull out the pen before your cunt began spewing out what it’s been holding back. He’d just reprimand it with a few encouraging slap to your clit.

The thin substance dribbled down the pen and onto his fingers, leaving a mess behind. A much-needed mess that is.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he cursed, holding your body upright as it seemed you had zero control over it.

The room felt warmer, much warmer that you couldn’t even feel a tinge of the cold air anymore; that everything else sounded like a ringing buzz and the only thing you could focus on was his rugged breath.

It felt cathartic-- the moment, that is. Though, Ghost wasn’t one with plenty of time.

Everything is timed when it comes to him, so he allowed you just a minute to breathe before he manhandled you back onto the table. He perched you up on top of crumpled papers, admiring the way your cunt pushed out the pen messily. Your favorite red pen clunked against the cold floor, leaving your aching cunt gaping with need.

How truly pathetic it looked.

You looked at him with a stupid smile, as if he’s truly fucked your brains out. As if all you can think of was how his cock would force its way in, of how much thicker it’d be compared to the shabby pen.

“Ghost?” a timber voice crawled from the door. Before you could make your case, the door swung open confrontationally.

Though it terrified you, that you weren't upset by the fact that you’re caught. More so that you didn’t get to have your favorite Lieutenant’s seed drip from within you. Maybe.. maybe you were a whore like he’d suggested.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #call of duty

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the-silver-peahen-residence · 2 days ago

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Megumi felt his face darken hearing this. How the hell does this guy live even after all this? It was sick and wrong. However, he was worried about his plan to use her to get others here.

"....." She didn't move seeing him finally let her chin go, moving away as she tries struggling again to get free but the damn chains were tight around her wrists. After the two times he used rope, he used chains to stop her from getting out.

"Anyway...the body does provide a good substance for a soul. All I need to do is to use the remains of the soul, remnant and put it into an animatronic under my control. I never thought I had this kind of power before" Metal Zilla shrugs his arms as he picks up a pizza cutter from the table. "This place is great! The kids are a pain in the ass since I started working here." The man is wearing a long light brown trenchcoat with a hoodie, he has long sleeves. Daichi can't see his face thanks to the mask he's wearing. But his voice is so full of himself.

"......"

"But they do make great resources! Easy to take and easy to corrupt! But now I feel like I need to move on to the adults! But it's hard to get some but one. The good thing is...I'm going to use that shitty security guard! Zilla is good for something besides singing."

"*Muffled grunting while struggling again* Mfffmmm!!!"

"Anyway...I gotta get back to work!" He said. "I still have about 5 more bodies to work on before getting their souls out. But who knows? If you behave I Might let you out...just kidding! You are going to be good and lure your so called friends here. I'm sure you'll be happy to see them again." he smiled.

"So...what do you have to say about that?" he asked to look at her but Miko said nothing feeling him sigh. "Here, why don't you speak right and tell me?" he asked reaching to lower the gag as she gasps coughing.

"..Hmm?"

"I think your t..terrible! How could you! Your nothing but a creep and murderer to those poor kids! What did they even do to you!?" she shouted.

"EVERYTHING! THOSE BRATS DESERVED IT AND IF YOUR ANGRY ABOUT IT GET OVER IT!" he shouted. "I deserve to get what I want even if it means killing someone else!" he glares at her. "Even if it means torturing someone else.." he said showing the pizza cutter near her cheek. However, she looks quiet for him to sigh.

"You don't get it though..I'm doing this for a reason..now...I'm sure whoever sees this will be happy your safe....why not say something?" he asked but Miko looks up at the camera.

"Guys! If your seeing this; don't come down here! I'll be fine! Please, you don't want to come down here!" she said but he laughs finding her funny.

"Oh what a joke you are Miko-chan!" he snickered but as he leans in about to almost cut her cheek seeing the cutter cut her skin drawing blood. "Why not say more?" He teased.

However, she quickly knees him hard in the stomach hearing him groan henching over. She begins struggling more working on trying to get out before seeing Anaconda. He was trying to break the chains again.

"Anaconda!" she was looking to him hearing the other coughing before he growls getting mad. "!?...Anaconda, run! Get out of here and warn the others! Tell them not to come here!" she said seeing him not wanting to leave her.

"I'll be okay. Just go!" she said before she tires using her strength to break the chains only to see Anaconda rush out away as she sees the other growling to stand up.

"WHY YOU BITCH!" he shouted to hit Miko hard as she coughs wincing a bit. "Tch....I'll have to have them look for that thing. But in the meantime....*faces Miko angry*..since you wanna be a brat! I'll have to punish you again for it!" he said cutting her free but saw her trying to run only for him to pick her up over his shoulder.

"LET ME GO!! LET ME GO!!" she shouted kicking but he keeps carrying her away. "LET GOOOOO!!"

"Once I deal with you..it's back to work but lets work on that mouth of yours!" he shouted as she screams kicking before the door slams shut behind him leaving Miko's screams before they were fading away leaving silence.

The roars and the shouts are heard before it becomes silent as something is heard shut. A door. Muffled shouts are heard before laughter is heard, "With this, I can make a new animatronic! Thanks to those brats, I can collect enough agony to make more of these things! It's thanks to that stupid owner who wouldn't give up. Hell, they brought in some damn brats..." Said a figure. It sounded male.

Megumi didn't like that at all. What was he planning to do?! Make more of the animatoric but it sounds like he would make it more danger and disturbing where it might get even worse. He saw Miko struggling but she glares at him while still moving.

"Oh well...I just need to move and leave this dump. Not before bringing more brats in here!" He cackled. "I just need to use those dumb robots and a helper to bring them here."He said.

Someone came into view, he wore a grey Zilla mask, this one looked metal as it had yellow eyes. He looks at Miko, "Tell me...I wonder which of your friends will get here first. The girls, the boys, or that brother and sister! Who knows! It makes the game fun, doesn't it?"

"......" Miko still tries to struggle but he sighed to look at her.

"Now now, don't struggle. You'll hurt yourself like that. I can't let a fresh offering get ruined." he said only to hear more sickening crunch noises to see himself. Miko saw blood on him but also saw the animatronic show up but it was coated in blood along with holding a bloody axe.

Right away Miko's face pales a little. "Though, again, we just begun the game..I'm sure you'll have loads of fun..won't you? Besides, I still didn't forgive you for that kick earlier after you escaped twice. TWICE!" he shouted as he slams the axe above her head almost cutting her hands but missed.

"With your wrestling moves and all that punching and kicking. That hurt you know. BUT! I forgive you for it." he pouts to grip her chin forcing her to look at him.

"I mean after all....I had sooooooo fun making sure you didn't do it again." he said glaring at her but Miko kept looks at him seeing the bloody axe near by.

"So lets see if we can have more guests show up...but you'll be fine won't you.." he smiled petting Miko's head while she was still struggling hoping she can break free again.

"But lets see...maybe you can lead your friends here for me! You can be so helpful and I know I can get them trapped.." he giggled but Miko shook her head furiously not wanting that. He looks to her but he only glares seeing the mask up close that she stares into his glowing yellow eyes.

"Don't you fucking say no to me...you're lucky I didn't kill you.." he said as she was quiet. "Just because you got lucky, I'll be sure you don't...so unless you want me to cut that pretty little head of yours..behave." he warns.

#IC #rp reply #short rp thread #silver roses #halloween mission start #fnaf inspired rp #jujutsu kaisen au #yuji itadori #the cursed vessel/jujutsu sorcerer of the damned #megumi fushiguro #shadow jutusu sorcerer/chimera snake #chunibyo-x-sorcerer

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honeygrahambitch · 3 days ago

Text

"Even Will Graham has a better sex life than I do." Jimmy said, as if he had been holding that sentence inside for too long.

Beverly and Brian abandoned the blood samples they were working on and looked at him in disbelief as if they were trying to make sure they got it right.

"One question would be how do you know that?" Brian asked. "I doubt Will is the type to talk about stuff like that."

"That's easy, haven't you seen Hannibal?" Beverly asked rolling her eyes.

"I am not particularly into men."

"You don't have to be in order to tell that someone must excel in bed. It's the attitude."

"Stop that." Jimmy interrupted their banter. "I overheard a discussion between the two of them."

"Do we really need to know?" Brian said as he looked at Beverly for support. However, her opinion was different.

"Share."

"Alright but this doesn't leave the lab. It stays between us." Jimmy said. After all, Will was his friend and he didn't have anything against Hannibal. He was usually not the one to gossip but this felt like something that needed to be debated. "They are having a threesome."

"No way." Beverly said as she elbowed Brian who remained dumb.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Brian asked.

"Why did you immediately assume it's a lady?"

"For more diversity? I don't know how these things work?"

"Can you shut up and listen?" Jimmy cut them off. "I overheard Will asking Hannibal whether their plans for the night have changed. Hannibal had said that they did not and then pulled out this business card and handed it to Will. Will was like- a sport trainer? He will be a handful."

"I told you it's a man!" Beverly told Brian then turned back to Jimmy. "That doesn't prove anything though."

"Maybe if you two listened I could get to the point. So, Will said that and Hannibal was amused and said "I am confident we can handle him. Cannot be worse than the one last week. I was not proud of the way we left his bedroom"."

"Shut up..." Brian whispered. Beverly didn't say anything, her lips parted in disbelief. "And then?"

"Then Will said...damn, I hate that I have to repeat his words but he said..."He was bigger than either of us expected. I mean, for a finance guy, he was quite a challenge. My back still hurts."" Jimmy went on. "And Hannibal was like "the one we are having tonight will definitely be in good shape. I will be there, I am not letting him touch you.""

"Christ." Beverly said. "And?"

"And Will said "As if I need you to take care of me. Remember how the one from two weeks ago surprised you from behind? You were lucky I was there." Then they noticed me because of the stupid coffee machine who started beeping. And I swear to God, their surprised expressions indicated exactly the fact that I was not supposed to hear that."

"Wow." Brian said thoughtfully. "Every week. Good for them. That's how you keep things interesting in a relationship."

"I wouldn't have believed Hannibal would share Will with anyone." Beverly commented.

"Will might have a say in that?" Jimmy suggested. "Anyway, I couldn't believe it. I was afraid I took things out of context maybe?"

"Definitely not." Beverly said. "What else could they have been talking about?"

***

"Do you think Jimmy overhead us earlier?" Will said as he looked for their knives in the trunk of the car.

"I doubt it. It doesn't prove anything. We were quite subtle." Hannibal replied as he put his scalpel in his left pocket. "Ready? He must be home by now."

"Let's go. I don't want to spend the whole night butchering this guy. By the way, what did he do?"

"Insinuated I do not take my physical health seriously."

"He just hasn't seen what's underneath that suit." Will replied, making Hannibal smile.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction #blue writes

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lemotmo · 22 hours ago

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hey so this has been rotting in my brain since yesterday and I'm going crazy so I need some outside perspective

im a buddie shipper and 100% believe they are perfect for each other, but sometimes it feels like buck is a better to friend to eddie than vice versa? like buck is there for eddie all the time and often goes above and beyond for him, buck gave eddie carla, was there for him during eddie/shannon troubles (s2 christmas ep), showed up to his probie ceremony in his cast, took care of him and chris during shooting, built chris a skateboard, literally saved him in the shooting, always gives him advice on relationships (told him to prioritise his happiness over chris during ana), showed him charlie at horse therapy, was there for him with his panic attacks, and then his eventual breakdown (repairing his wall), he was there at the diaz household when eddie went to texas, helped chris when eddie was at therpay, always babysists, was with eddie when the kim fiasco went down, never judged but gave good advice, he was there when chris left and even after (eg s8 chris bday zoom party)

if we compare this with the times eddie supports buck its not nearly as extensive, or oftentime his help/time comes with strings attached, eg tsunami (gave buck chris to cheer him up, but also got free childcare (twice)), with the poker (used his maths powers, but also helped cheer him up), he was just missing mostly from buck sperm donor storyline, he did help buck with donor baby trauma and all his relationship traumas, the thing is that whenever hes there for buck its often buck instigating it, he always akss for advice/help, its very rare that eddie does something completetly selfless for buck unprompted, whereas we have so many examples of buck doing that for eddie,

it rly funny when eddie complains of buck always thinking of himself/being selfish when hes consitently THE character who cares for others more than himself, im not saying buck is a perfect uwu little baby (the lawsuit for example, but even in this case the way it panned out buck took 100% of the blame, and no one even tried to understand where he was coming from except maybe Hen), or that eddie is the devil, i just want to acknowledge that buck similar to his childhood is always giving but never getting that same energy back, and that does make him a tragic character, because even in adulthood when he does have a found family he still sometimes faces the problems he did as a child, the show should actually acknowledge that buck is so used to being treated like shit he kinda takes it from everyone, and when they do get together maybe they have a conversation about this idk, sorry for the long ass rant and feel free to maybe add some counterpoints of eddie helping buck unconditionally, but this is all i could think of

Oh no no NO no NOOOO no NO no no no NO No NOOOOOOO no NO Nonny, just NO. 🤦‍♀️😬🤦‍♀️😬🤦‍♀️

Don’t drop this in my ask box Nonny. You need to back waaaaaaay up with this. You need to get rid of this bad take, because it’s absolute garbage. 😖

It seems to me that you fundamentally do not understand Eddie Diaz and how much he KNOWS and GETS Evan Buckley.

So buckle up Nonny, I’m about to take you on a walk down Eddie Diaz-lane:

Buck doesn’t need someone to feel sorry for him or to indulge him. Buck needs someone to tell him that enough is enough. That’s where Eddie comes in. He is the one who steps in and tells Buck to stop spiralling, because that’s canonically what he does. Remember how Maddie had Buck’s friends and family check up on him in shifts after the lightning strike? Eddie was the only one who said no. Why? Not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew exactly what Buck needed and it wasn’t to be pampered, but to be understood. And lo an behold, who shows up on Eddie’s doorstep at the end of the day? Buck. Ready to commit murder because he is tired of everyone walking on eggshells around him. And Eddie is the only one who knew Buck enough to know this wouldn’t end well. He knows exactly what makes Buck tick.

He knows what Buck needs or doesn’t need. He knows that Buck sometimes gets into his own head a little too much and that is when he acts and does something small and inconspicuous that will resolve the situation.

Often times Buck only sees the worst sides of a problem and he becomes blind to the good things in life. That’s when Eddie steps in and puts him firmly back on the ground again, reminding him that he is loved by his friends and family and he’ll be okay.

Do you remember whose voice Buck heard when he disassociated in the scene with Gerrard? Eddie’s was most prominent. Why? Because he knows he can always count on Eddie to get him out of his spirals. Eddie understands him on a fundamental level. Throughout the whole time that Gerrard was the Captain of the 118, Buck was struggling while Eddie kept his cool. We saw him hovering near Buck a lot of the time, trying to give him some advice, but mostly he offered him silent support.

It’s at these difficult times when Eddie comes in and NO Nonny, this does not come with any strings attached. Yes, Eddie barged in and told Buck to take care of Chris before the tsunami, but not to get free child care. That was just an excuse, a little white lie. No, this was because he knew that Buck was wallowing in self-pity and he wanted to get him out of that pit. He told him that Chris never ever feels sorry for himself and that Buck should take that as an example. And it's exactly what Buck needed as well. Bringing Chris was a very clever diversion to get Buck out of the house and start living again. (Of course then they got caught in a tsunami, but that’s not the point here.)

The poker date had NOTHING to do with Eddie wanting to USE Buck’s math powers. I assure you, Buck is a grown man. If he hadn’t wanted to go on that poker date he wouldn’t have gone and if he hadn’t wanted to stay there, he could have just gotten up and left. Eddie wouldn’t have held it against him either, because that’s the kind of friend he is… selfless. In that episode we see that Eddie was bang on again. Buck thrived during that poker game. He had fun being the best and Eddie indulged him, keeping a close eye on him at all times. He knew exactly how to get Buck out of his funk and his spiral of self-pity.

When has Eddie ever been selfish in all of these scenarios? I’ll tell you… NEVER.

Another example: After Eddie got shot, Buck sat in that hospital chair, telling Eddie it should have been him that was shot. Eddie immediately said: OH HELL NO! He then revealed he had put in his will that Chris would go to Buck if anything ever happened to Eddie. And not just to the benefit of Chris, because we all know that boy would thrive with a caretaker like Buck, but also for Buck himself. Eddie knows that if anything were to happen to him, there wouldn’t be anyone there who understands him enough to get him out of that slump and that spiral of blaming himself. So he gave Buck a task and a goal, something to do to keep him focused and sharp. Buck would never give into self-blame if he had to take care of Chris.

Eddie has consistently been shown to be willing to step in to Buck’s messes, sitting down next to him and listening to his plight. The hospital talk after Chimney got stabbed and Buck decided it was a great idea to illegally get into Chim’s phone? Eddie sat next to him and really listened, told him that he understood, but that he was still in the wrong. Buck needed to hear that, as he was increasingly getting more and more anxious about Maddie. He needed the voice of reason.

The balcony talk, after Chim had given Buck the black eye, where Eddie reassured him that Chimney would forgive him. Sure, he did it with a joke, but again that was what was needed. That joke provided some levity to the situation. Something Buck absolutely appreciated in that moment.

Even that last scene in 8x06. Eddie had just danced in joy (and in his underwear), the bell rings and who's there? Buck, looking miserable. Eddie could have turned him away, unwilling to deal with his obvious bad mood. Instead he just welcomed him in and no words needed to be spoken. His quiet acceptance was enough to let Buck know that he would be there for him, no matter what.

Point is, Eddie Diaz KNOWS Evan Buckley to the core and there isn’t anything he isn’t willing to do for him. Nothing he has ever done for Buck came with strings attached.

And as for Buck helping Eddie out and doing all of the things you listed? That’s just the way Buck loves. He loves completely and wholly. Once you are a part of his family, he will go above and beyond for you, no questions asked. He goes to bat for Eddie again and again. Him and Chris are two of the most important people in his life and Buck loves to give selflessly to the people he loves.

So taking care of Chris, babysitting him? That’s not a hardship for him. He does it with love and joy. Showing up for Eddie with his leg in a cast? Eddie never asked him to do that. He decided to do this because of love. Helping Eddie out during and after the breakdown? He willingly stepped into Eddie’s mess because that is the way Buck loves.

I could go on and on about this, but I’ll end it here.

Bottom line is this Nonny…

NO! Eddie doesn’t wait until Buck comes to him to ask for help. He gives him some time, yes. But then, when he sees him struggling? That’s when he steps in to help him out, to care for him, to love him the way Buck deserves to be loved. The only selfishness Eddie indulges in is that he WANTS and NEEDS to see Buck happy again. Because seeing Buck happy? That is what makes Eddie happy.

So NO, he has never treated Buck like shit and he never will. Neither has anyone else on the 118 by the way. Buck was treated like shit by his parents, that’s true, but the moment he stepped into the 118 he found his family. And they always treat him with the respect and love he deserves.

I’m not going to get too deep into the lawsuit arc, because I think both Buck and the 118 made some mistakes there, but in the end they got through it, which is what a good family does. Eddie was a little prickly in the beginning sure, but he had good reason for that. Buck had hung out all of his dirty laundry to that stupid lawyer. But they got through it and their bond became even stronger. At the end of that arc I do feel like everyone in the 118 understood Buck a little better than before. So did Eddie.

So NO. They don’t need to have some kind of conversation about this ‘imaginary’ problem you think they have Nonny. They do however, need to sit down and have a conversation about what they want out of life and how to go on from there. Them having been friends for so long, the switch to become more than friends is huge. They definitely need to talk about that and about Chris’s part in that as well. Whatever decision they make and take in life, Chris will be a part of it.

*deep breath*

Okay, I feel like I got out of my system what I needed to get out.

Listen Nonny, I appreciate you taking the time to drop something in my ask box and asking for some outside perspective, but in the future? Maybe keep these very bad and wrong takes about Eddie Diaz out of my ask box and just post them on your own blog? I’m sure you’ll find people out there who will agree with you, but I am decidedly NOT that person.

Thank you kindly. 😌

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 abc #bad and wrong garbage takes on Eddie Diaz #Eddie Diaz is MY person #I understand him on a deeper level #He is like me in so many ways #He is my comfort character and he deserves all the happiness in the world #I'm legit so annoyed right now #I've been seeing so many bad takes on Eddie lately #It's exhausting #leave the man alone #nonnies galore

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ghost-in-the-hall · 20 hours ago

Text

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Pt. X

Hello hello! After a long time away I have finally returned! It's good to be back! Here's an update for the Eepy's, I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury and blood, suggestive comments

My Masterlist! ~ A03 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

Part IX - Part XI (TBA)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Got a second to talk?”

“Yeah.” You respond after a moment of hesitation, your voice raspy with sleep. “Yeah, let me just grab my coat.” You shove your feet into your boots. You glance at the group in your living room, silently telling them to stay put. All four of them looked ready to rush to your rescue without hesitation. But, if they got involved, it would only make the situation even riskier than it already could be. You shrug on your winter coat before stepping onto your landing. “Something wrong, officer?”

“That’s what I came here to ask you.” He responds. “Got a call? An unfamiliar pickup truck showed up in your lot. Four suspicious men were seen approaching your apartment.” He looks down in the lot at the beat-up truck sitting next to your car. “I'd say there's a pretty good chance they're still here.”

“That's really why you're banging on my door at the ass crack of dawn?” You ask in an annoyed tone, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, I'm going to tell you right now, you're not getting in here without a fucking warrant-” He cuts you off by firmly saying your name.

“I'm not here to arrest anyone.” He explains in an attempt to try and diffuse your hostility. “I'm just here to check in. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?” He whispers, eyes darting between the door and your less-than-pleased expression.

You let out an aggravated sigh, “Mike, listen… the only reason I'm not running you off my property right now is because you've helped me out in the past. If I needed your help, I would ask for it. I'm not going to let you show up here and harass me or any of them because some fucking backwoods country bumpkin wants to demonize a different way of living.” You take a deep breath, seeing the genuine concern on his face. “This… isn't like last time; they wouldn't hurt me. I'm safe, promise.” He looks at the door and then back at you.

“If you even get the feeling that something is wrong, you call me.” You nod.

“Get back to the station. Your wife would be worried sick if she knew you were out driving right now.” You nodded to his vehicle, watching him descend the stairs before heading back inside the apartment. You stepped through the door, kicking off your boots and hanging up your coat with a sigh of relief now that the situation was over.

“Thank god, you're safe.” Vessel pulls you into his arms, his voice thick with worry. “What did he want?”

“Someone called to report an unfamiliar vehicle and four suspicious individuals entering my house last night; he was just swinging by for a wellness check.” You reassure him. “He might be a bit of a hard ass, but he means well. I'm sure he won't give you guys any trouble.”

“Bit of a sour start to our first morning all together, isn't it?” III chuckles, making the rest of the group laugh.

“And here I was, looking forward to cuddling up with you.” Vessel purrs, the tension from your unexpected visitor quickly melting away as they all attempt to soothe your nerves.

“Nothing is saying that can't still happen, Ves,” II responds with a smile. You see a devious smirk quickly pass over Vessel’s features. You yelp, and your feet are lifted from the floor in one swift movement. Vessel easily tosses you over his shoulder to carry you towards your bedroom. You giggle as he gently tosses you on the bed, quickly being surrounded by warmth as the boys pile around you. You lay sandwiched between II and IV, III holding one of your hands in his as he lazily plays with your fingers. Vessel’s hand possessively wraps around the curve of your waist as he reaches over II, needing to be somehow able to touch you. It didn't take long for your eyes to grow heavy, returning to sleep for the last few hours of dawn as the new day's light began to melt away the cage of ice that had covered the surrounding trees.

You smiled as you woke up, pressing into the body's warmth behind you with a soft hum. A strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow, languid strokes across your hip. You reach over to find the other side of the bed empty. “-’s just you and me, lovey.” Vessel purrs. You let out a soft, pleased sigh.

“Is that so?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone, your voice still thick with sleep. Was that your plan all along? Get me in bed all alone?” He meets your playful smirk with a chuckle of his own.

“You’d like that, wouldn't you, sweetness?” he whispers, his grip tightening on your waist. Your cheeks grow warm, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel his lips brush over the shell of your ear. “Trust me, my first time with you isn't going to be some messy little hook-up in your bedroom.” He chuckles. “I plan on worshiping you like the divine creature you are.” A shiver runs up your spine as he presses his lips to your pulse. “Until then, we just have to be patient, don't we?”

“Fine.” You sigh in mock annoyance, making Vessel laugh softly. You rest your hand on top of his, languidly tracing the spaces between his knuckles as you allow yourself to melt into his warmth. “Where are the others?”

“They're making you breakfast. We all want to make sure you have a better day after starting on the wrong foot.” He explains softly.

“You’re sweet, " you say with a smile. “The power came back on?” He lets out a hum of approval.

“Clicked on a little while after you fell asleep.” You lay there for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of Vessel’s body molding against yours. You sigh as you attempt to roll out of bed. “And where do you think you're going?” He chuckles, tightening his grip on your waist. You roll over to face him, the playfully grumpy expression on your face making him smile. “Trying to run away without giving me a kiss? That's how it's going to be, hm?” You giggle as he pulls your lips to his.

You could get used to mornings like this. After leaving your lungs burning for air and your head spinning, Vessel lazily helped you get out of bed. Scooping you up in his arms to escort you towards the kitchen. “Well, good morning, beautiful.” III stood at the stove, bacon sizzling in the pan in front of him, IV at his side cutting up fruit and tossing it into a bowl, and II sat at the table drinking a steaming cup of coffee.

“Good morning.” You greet all of them. Vessel sets you down on the floor before collapsing into one of the other chairs that had been dragged into the kitchen. IV approaches you, holding out a piece of fresh fruit for you to bite into. He rests his hand against your cheek, carefully running his thumb under your eye.

“Eyelash.” He whispers with a chuckle. He holds it out on the end of his fingeMakemake a wish.” A smile creeps across your features at the simple request. You think about it momentarily before closing your eyes, wishing that every morning could be like this with them, and blowing the eyelash away. Your eyes flutter open to meet IV’s curious gaze. He presses his lips to your forehead before returning to the task he was completing prior.

“You hungry?” You smile as III wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Starving.” You respond, giggling as he squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I'll have breakfast done shortly, love.” You stand up on your toes, sharing a kiss through his mask before allowing him to finish cooking.

“Well, good morning, baby.” II quickly caught your attention, a warm hand settling against your waist as he pulled you into his lap. “Thought you forgot about me.” He teases with a chuckle. “My pretty girl is getting so much attention.” He squeezes your hip as his gaze lazily trails down to your lips.

“Trust me, that’s not remotely possible.” You giggle as his forehead bumps against yours, holding his lips just out of reach.

“Good,” he whispers, “because after holding you in my arms this morning, I can't seem to think of anything besides you.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips finally brush over yours. You feel II’s legs tense underneath you as you hear IV let out a sound almost akin to a growl from across the kitchen.

“Relax.” III states in a warning tone. “You can spend time with her, too.” You watch IV’s shoulders soften under III’s intense, almost corrective demeanor. “And II, keep it respectful, yeah?” III stood like a wall between the two men, ready to launch into action at the first signs of a fight.

You hear II make an annoyed sound of approval. The fact that he seemed to be acting like a child who had just been scolded by a parent almost made you laugh. You press your lips to his cheek, “I'm going to see if they need any help.”

“Don't let them work you too hard, love.” He jokes with a wink. You laugh, shaking your head as you hop off his lap. You walk up to III, crossing your arms behind your back.

“Head chef.” You address him seriously.

“Yes, love?” He responds with a chuckle.

“Where would you like me to help?” You ask, following III’s gase as it trails over to IV. He nods in his direction, smiling at you as you walk away.

IV tenses slightly under your touch, your hand resting on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” You grab a bowl from the cabinet in front of you and place it on the counter to pour the fruit into.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the cutting board. “Guess I'm just a little jealous.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” IV sighs, his shoulders softening as he lets some tension roll from his body.

“No, you're absolutely perfect, love.” His eyes finally meet yours, the corners crinkling slightly as he smiles. “I just need to get out of my head, I'm afraid.” He finishes with a chuckle. Your heart skips a beat at the sound of him saying your name, “promise you're still my girl?”

“Of course.” You say, shooting him a flirty smile. “Besides, you still have to take me out on that date.” He chuckles bashfully.

“Yes, I do. I just want to make sure I think of something special first.” He gently nudges your shoulder with his own. “My girl deserves only the best.” Your cheeks grow warm, the two of you sharing a small glance before finishing breakfast in silence.

“All set, sweetheart?” III asks before clearing your dishes from the table.

“I can bring my own plates to the sink; I'm not helpless, you know.” You joke.

III chuckles as he strolls up to you, “And why should my pretty girl have to lift a finger?”

“You're such a flirt.” You tease with a flustered giggle. You sigh, standing to answer your phone in the other room.

“Thank god I got a hold of ya’.” The momentary panic that had bubbled up in your chest at the sight of the contact that flashed across your phone quickly died at the familiar calm tone on the other end of the line.

“Henry, is everything alright?” Henry McMann owned the dairy farm up the road; you had grown close to him over your time running the store.

“Everything's fine. Tree fell and put a damn hole in the barn roof. I was hoping I could convince those boys you have staying with you to come down and help; I could use their pickup truck to clean up the place.” Your eyes narrowed at the request.

“How did you know they were staying here?” You question.

“Whole damn town’s talking about it, kiddo. Hell,” he starts to laugh, “at least three people have called up here this morning asking if we've heard from you.”

“You weren't the one that sent the police here, were you?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds immediately. “Your business is your business. As long as no one's getting hurt, I frankly don't give a damn what you're getting up to.”

“Let me see if I can get Vessel to come talk to you; he'll be able to help.” After some gentle convincing on your end, you managed to get him on the phone. Vessel might be wary of strangers, but despite his icy exterior, he couldn't turn down someone who needed help. After a while, he carefully hung up the phone and wordlessly approached the others.

“Let's get going; we have some work to do.” You weren't exactly sure what Henry could have said to Vessel that made him agree to head out there, but you were happy for whatever it was. Pulling up at the farm always provided this strange sense of home. Seeing Henry waiting on the porch, a dark pipe lazily perched against his lips, was a sight you'd witnessed a hundred times at this point.

“Thanks for showing up.” Henry’s hand claps into Vessel’s with a firm shake.

“Thank you for giving us the opportunity to.” Vessel responds simply. “Why don't you show us this barn.”

The tree hadn't damaged much but couldn't remain across the barn’s roof. “We need to get the sheep to the other building before we do anything.” You caught Vessel silently nodding at III, who quietly slipped from the group. You stood by as the pair formulated a plan, Henry seemingly impressed by Vessel’s initiative to help. You startled at the bleating from behind you, turning to find that III had successfully managed to herd all the sheep together.

Vessel calls your name. " Why don't you take Henry inside so you can both warm up? The more people out here, the more dangerous it'll be.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.” Henry chuckles. “You boys drink coffee? I'll get a pot started.”

“That would be great, Henry, thank you.” Vessel responds before his attention turns to you. “Go on, love. We won't be long.” The sight of his smile was enough to put you at ease. If you were being honest, this whole interaction was going a lot better than you thought it would. You were expecting Vessel to be cold and Henry to be abrasive, but the two seemed to be getting along just fine.

“Oh, wait, they're going to need some chain.” You sent Henry inside, insisting you would be right in. You were just going to jog back over and tell them where to look in the– You skidded to a halt as you rounded the corner. IV stood under the tree, his jacket discarded on the truck hood and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His muscles strained under the weight of the colossal trunk; with a groan and one strong push from his legs, he lifted the tree from the barn. You hear him curse before pushing the tree forward, causing it to crash loudly to the ground. You watched him grab onto his hand, droplets of blood dripping from his fingers into the pure white snow. You were immediately consumed by panic seeing him hurt, the inhuman strength you just witnessed being pushed from your mind. You yell for him, rushing forward to see the damage. “Are you okay? Let me look.” The wound wasn't anything terrible, a gash left behind by what you were assuming was a sharp branch, just enough to cause him to bleed. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” He wordlessly followed you, allowing you to rush him inside and past Henry to the bathroom. You kicked the door shut behind you, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink. IV stared back at you with confusion in his eyes, apprehension rolling off him in waves as he waited for you to address what you had just witnessed. He was snapped from his daze by you softly saying his name, “Can I see?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, placing his injured hand in yours. “I'm sorry you have to play nurse,” he chuckles. I wasn't expecting that bark to be so jagged.”

“It's no problem; it's what girlfriends are for.” He breathes out a sigh of relief as you smile at him. The silence still hung thick between you as you carefully cleaned the wound, being as gentle with him as possible. “So, you're strong enough to squat a tree?”

“I guess, on a good day.” He responds in an awkward attempt at a joke.

“Can you… Can all of you–?” You make a vague flexing motion, making IV chuckle.

“To an extent, yeah.” He leans closer to you, a smugness lacing its way into his words. “I would like to point out, however, that I am quite a bit stronger than II, thank you very much.”

You smile coyly at him, “As long as you're strong enough to sweep me up in your arms, that's all I care about.”

“You're acting like that would be much of a problem.” You swallow thickly, your heart racing as your eyes meet his.

“Try to sit still while I get you wrapped up, alright?” He laughs at your abrupt change in subject.

“Yes, love, whatever you need.” He leans in, gently pressing his lips to your forehead

“Is he gonna make it?” Henry asks, unbothered by your usual frantic chaos rushing through his living room, reading yesterday's paper in his recliner.

“Yessir, just a scratch,” IV responds with a chuckle.

“We're going to see what else they need help with; we’ll be back, " you explain before heading out of the house. You step onto the porch, pulling your jacket around you to try to shield yourself from the frigid wind. You squeal as IV effortlessly picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder.

“See? No trouble at all.” He teases before turning you into a more comfortable position, holding you close to his chest. By the time you had gotten back to the barn, Vessel and II had made quick work of chopping up the tree, the back of their truck filled with neatly sliced logs ready to be moved elsewhere.

“There you are! You were gone so long we thought she had to chop your damn hand off.” II chuckles.

“No, he got lucky this time.” You joke, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You mind going to check on III? Tell him we're just about done.” You nod, running off towards the other barn. Upon entering, you couldn't help but laugh, watching III attempt to calm the panicked sheep.

“I'm not trying to eat your flock; I'm just trying to help.” He attempts to bargain to stop the bleating.

“Want some company?” You ask with a smile.

“Please.” III chuckles in response.

“I'm surprised they don't like you; Henry’s sheep are usually very sweet.” You muse, patting the top of one of their fluffy heads as you pass.

“I tend to be rather scary to livestock animals… for one reason or another.” He responds vaguely.

“Well, Ves wanted me to tell you they're just about finished.” He slides to the ground with a sigh, patting the empty cushion of hay beside him.

“Good, that gives me a couple minutes to spend with you.” He responds in a flirty tone. You tumble down next to him, allowing him to pull you into his side. “How's your day going, baby?”

“Well, I'm spending it with you, so I can't complain.” You say with a smile.

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer to you. “Glad to hear it.” His gaze drops to your lips, slowly tracing your features before meeting your eyes again with an eye-crinkling smile. “Do you think, um– Do you think I could maybe steal you away for myself tonight..? Only if you want, of course.” The memory of III confessing how he just wants to get you alone bubbled up in the back of your mind, making your stomach flip.

“If you can manage to get me away from the others.” You joke with a giggle.

III releases a sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. “Oh, don't worry about that, pretty girl. I'll make sure everyone knows you'll be spending the night with me.”

“Alright, III, bring them back in!” You hear Vessel call from outside. He stands with a groan, offering you his hand to help you up.

“Alright, everyone, let's make this as painless as possible.” He calls over the hoard of bleating sheep. He was surprisingly efficient at the task, rounding up the entire flock into one solid group to lead them from one building to the other. You noticed how he quickly spotted anyone who fell out of line, nudging them back with his knee as he barked to keep moving.

You jump as Vessel places a hand on your waist, “I think that went well, don't you?”

“I think you're right.” You smile softly, leaning into him as you share your hushed conversation. “Thank you for giving Henry a chance; he's pretty much family.”

“I can't say no to you,” he breathes out a chuckle. You asked for my help, and I'll always be there to give it to you… and, I guess, Henry doesn't seem so bad.” He playfully nudges your shoulder.

“You boys hungry? The wife and I would like to make you some dinner to say thanks for helpin’ out.” Vessel looks to the others for a response.

“Well, you know I could always eat.” III chuckles with a shrug.

You hear II sigh, somewhat relieved, “Would either of you like help in the kitchen?”

“No, you've done more than enough. All of you.” Henry confidently walks up to Vessel with a look of determination. “After today, I can tell just how much bullshit those reporters are trying to fill everyone's head with. You're a good group; if you ever need anything, just let me know. Just make sure you take good care of my girl.”

Vessel smiled, genuinely shaking Henry's hand. “Thank you; I really appreciate that. And, trust me,” despite the mask covering his face, you could feel Vessel’s eyes shift to you. I plan to.”

You stood side by side with May, Henry’s wife, in the kitchen, helping her wash vegetables for dinner. “Those boys seem very sweet on you.” She gracefully dances around the subject. Your cheeks grow warm as you struggle to think of a way to explain your four boyfriends. “They're all very handsome; you'll have to come by and tell me about them sometime.” She whispers giddily.

“I’d love to; they're all amazing. I'm happy you finally get to meet them.” You jumped at the loud boom of laughter from the living room, smiling at the sound of the group.

“I think Henry likes them too.” She chuckles.

May insists she can finish up the cooking herself before sending you out into the commotion. You couldn't get over how lovely they all were, genuinely enjoying their time sitting in Henry’s cramped living room. The house was full of laughter, stories, and all the small things you missed about being at Henry's farm. The hours flew by, and before you knew it, you were comfortably tucked into the truck's cab, settling into III’s lap while Vessel drove towards their camp. III wraps his arms around your waist, chin settling against your shoulder. “How's my pretty girl?” He whispers.

“Good.” You reply with a pleased sigh. “Tired.” You follow up with a chuckle.

“Do you still want to spend the night?” A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm breath against the shell of your ear.

“Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 days ago

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@zepskies

Oh goodness I am so excited to finally being able to read part two!

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?” Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. “Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

And oh my word the two lines from Dean when she got mad KILLED ME. The:

"What's this, some kind of Latina temper?" he asks snidely.

AND

"Oh, I'm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?" he snarks.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room. So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

Oh sweetie pie, Dean you're an idiot, but we love our little idiot even when he loses his temper because he cares so much. This part really got to me, because at first I was like "oh why would she stay with him in his room," but I get it. Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships.

Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. “You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. “Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless.

And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss. He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds. A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. “I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

ESPECIALLY THIS LINE:

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

I don't know why that wiped me out after everything tbh.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.

You truly become incensed at that.

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.

Dean calls your name in frustration.

“What?” you hiss.

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.

Dangerous, for both of us.

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.

Oh, fuck yeah.

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]:

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Series Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @deanwinchesterswitch @freewastelandstrawberry

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #guysireadsomething

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demonic0angel · 2 days ago

Note

Prompt: Tim and Dani have a very good vacation in Norway alone

(I got way too into this lmaooo)

Tim looked down at the girl who tried to mug him. “So this is where you recommend going to eat?”

The girl, Dani, looked up at him and raised a hand. He sighed, shook his head a little, and handed her another crisp bill. She smiled and pocketed the cash. Although she was a money-hungry, greedy little thief, she was so ridiculously cute that Tim couldn’t help but forgive her.

Lord help him, his brothers would absolutely tease him ruthlessly for this.

“Yep,” she answered. “The food’s good and the staff here are nice.”

Tim looked at her again. She was wearing worn clothes, and she didn’t look warm enough as she stood there and stared back him, a hint of defiance in her gaze. Tim then turned back to the restaurant and said, “Alright then. You should come with me and recommend some dishes.”

Dani looked befuddled and she glared at him. “Why would I do that?”

“I’ll pay for whatever you want to eat too.”

She relented with only a little hesitation. Tim smirked in victory and followed her inside. As they sat down, Dani ordered everything. He was pleasantly surprised to see her speak such fluent Norwegian despite being American. He had thought she was someone stranded in Norway with no money and had resorted to stealing to get back to US soil, but perhaps it was something else?

He stopped thinking though, as she finished up their order and turned to him.

They stared at each other. He looked at her cat-like eyes, her icy blue irises, her pink lips, her strangely delicate features tinted with a hint of wildness and sharpness like a tiger, her raven hair.

Stephanie would probably laugh at him right now for being down bad. In fact, he had already crossed the line and was already well on his way to being down atrocious.

They observed each other in silence for a long, long moment until Dani eventually frowned, her eyebrows dipping before she snapped, “Why do you keep staring at me!”

“You’re pretty to look at,” Tim said, leaning on his fist.

She blushed bright red. “W-What?!”

Tim smiled. “You’re cute. Did anybody ever tell you that?”

“Screw you!” She hissed like a disgruntled cat. Then she stiffened and said, “I want another twenty dollars!”

Tim smoothly handed her another bill and she turned crimson, but didn’t take it. Tim folded it and put it on the table for her. Dani glared at him and the bill with alternative glances, looking more and more flustered by the second, not knowing what to do with his advances.

Tim felt like he wanted to buy them both tickets back to the US.

Actually, screw it.

“Should I buy you plane tickets so we could go back to the US together?”

Dani hissed with pink cheeks. “Fuck you.”

Tim smirked. “I wish.”

Dani didn’t say anything else until the food arrived. Seafood plates with soup and bread covered the table and filled the air with a delicious aroma, and Dani gave him another light scowl as Tim leaned on his hand and raised an eyebrow.

She pouted at the table before she then mumbled, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then let’s get to know each other,” Tim said. “I’ll pay for the expenses and by the end of it, you’d decide whether or not you want to go back to the US with me.”

Dani grimaced at him, although her face was still pink. Then she finally nodded slowly.

Score! Hah! Who said he couldn’t get a date?!

Tim smiled at her reassuringly as he picked up his spoon. “It’s a deal.”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #ask #anon ask #ty for the ask <3 #danielle fenton #dani fenton #dani phantom #danielle phantom #tim drake #travel photos ship #dani wanting tim to leave her alone: *pretends to be a gold digger*#tim: *into that*#dani: ?!?!?!?!??#travel photos ship is so rich ceo x spoiled gf coded lmaoooo

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hoshinasblade · 1 day ago

Text

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

#this was cooking in my head for a while #and i was like #well this sounds cute #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #hoshina soshiro fic #hoshina #vice captain hoshina

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tessieee · 2 days ago

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“Out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me?” MC x Main 7

Pairings: Obey me! Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC, Satan x MC, Asmodeus x MC, Beelzebub x MC, Belphegor x MC

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It had been a particularly long day at R.A.D. Your professors droned on about subject matter you had been too drained to read about the night before, results for a test you were not confident about came in and you did way worse than you were expecting, and your nights grew shorter as you tried to keep up with the particularly hard material you were given that week.

Once you finally arrived at the House of Lamentation, you kept your interactions with the brothers curt– no one failed to notice your slumped shoulders and distant answers. Your door shuts behind you, your body sliding slowly down the door. Dark thoughts raced through your mind a mile a minute as you buried your head into your hands. Why am I even here?

The weight in your chest became heavier as the days went by and it wasn’t unusual for you to have days where you'd feel like you were incompetent. That there would be so many better choices for a human exchange student other than yourself. There are smarter, prettier, more athletic people. Why you?

Not much time passes before you hear a knock at your door, and you promptly let the demon in.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · Lucifer ~

The first thing he notices about you is your teary eyes, usually filled with the same wonder for life he lost so long ago. It broke his heart to see you this way. Still, he remained stoic; someone had to be levelheaded.

“I brought your dinner.” His eyes trail up and down your vulnerable figure, taking in your emotional state. “If there is anything I can do to alleviate your distress, please tell me.”

And there he was, sitting on the floor by your bed right by your side. He’d insisted that you accompany him to his room but you refused to move. Curled up into a fetal position, you were basically cemented onto the ground. At first, he’d been taken aback by your sudden outburst– the sobs that racked your chest while you spilled your whole day onto him. All he did was sit there and listen, which was just as much as you could’ve asked for. Lucifer trailed his hand to your upper back, caressing it softly until you leaned into him. When you finally took your face away from your knees, he was greeted by your puffy eyes and snotty nose. You felt embarrassed but the day had taken its toll on you and you were too tired to care.

Lucifer gazes at you sympathetically, he knows better than anyone what it’s like to have days that wear you down. He also knows that outbursts with the intensity yours had aren’t just from momentary things, this was something you’ve kept over time. He curses himself for not noticing sooner, perhaps he could’ve had this conversation with you sooner.

“This might be stupid but,” The demon perks up at your shaky voice, raspy from the lament. “I just felt so pathetic. I started to question… Why me? Y’know?”

“I don’t. Do you mind elaborating on the subject?” His expression shifts from sympathy to confusion.

You sniffle, finally regaining consciousness after the crying spell. Wiping your tears from your red, swollen eyes and taking a deep breath, you finally answer his question.

“I mean- I just feel so… Insignificant.” You start, looking off to the side, almost ashamed to admit this out loud. “Out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me? What’s so special about me?”

You continue, once again allowing the words to spill from your lips.

“There’s nothing about me other humans have if not more! What if you all visit the human realm one day and you meet other humans and you realize that I’m not..”

“Not what?”

“I’m not anything special. Nor important.” His expression became more tender as you admitted the main thing that had been bugging you all this time. He could see the way a weight lifted off your shoulders and your teary eyes seemed to relax. At last, your body relaxes the muscles you never recalled tensing up in the first place. A comfortable silence ensued in your words, followed by Lucifer pulling you closer to him so your curled-up body rests more on him. You take a moment to notice he’d been sitting criss-cross the whole time. This distracted you enough to let out a sigh of relief. The eldest demon brother rests his head on yours, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head and taking in your scent. “You’re missing the bigger picture, here.” He murmured.

“Huh?” Your thoughts were so loud, you almost missed it.

“It’s offensive to yourself to take away so much credit from a remarkable human.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again.

“My brothers and I have been around much longer than you. We’ve all known humans; what they're like, and what they’re capable of. You may not be worthy in your impossible standards, but to us– to me– you are more than enough.” Fat tears roll down your puffy cheeks once again, yet these are silent. You smile at your lap as his words sink in, allowing yourself to relax more into Lucifer’s frame. He welcomes you in, allowing the both of you to share a moment. He believes in you, he always has. “Thank you, Lucifer.” You sniffle, sincerity laced in your words. “Thank you so much.”

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Mammon ~

No words are exchanged between the two of you; simply relying on facial expressions to end up in your favorite spot to gossip in the room. However, at this point, it was unfair to reduce your bed to simply gossiping. Over time, Mammon had practically moved in at this point. He kept a spare charger and toothbrush there– you never complained.

He cradles you gently in his arms and lets you cry, similarly to how you had comforted him countless nights after arguments with his brothers that got out of hand. You two were a team, the terrible twos, two peas in a pod. He was your first, and you, his human. The sight of you broken down in his arms, distraught to no extent, truly unsettled something in him. Moments you had spent with him fly through his head as he searches for a sign as to when you started to feel this way. Was it something he said? Or did? To be fair he did only sell one thing, but if that’s what had you in this state then he’d go to the ends of all three realms to get it back.

The secondborn ran his fingers through your hair, being careful to not tug too hard on the tangles. Cooing quietly, attempting to soothe your obvious pain in any way possible. To his relief, you eventually calmed down enough to tell him what exactly was going on. You don’t think much as you tell him about your day, running by every incident in every class. Mammon takes note of the way your body shivers and grows colder as you speak of the anxiety-inducing day and doesn't miss a beat before messily throwing your comforter over the both of you. The cool cloth smelled like a pool of the both of you, taking you back to a multitude of memories of the both of you staying up far longer than you needed to simply talk.

“And with all of this, I just couldn’t help but think that I’m just not good enough.” You cry out weakly, exhausted from your outpour. “That if you met literally any other human you’d realize I could never live up to them. You’d all forget me!”

Hearing you say this tore his heart apart.

“Oi, whaddya’ even talking about?” He was dumbfounded by your feelings. How could his human feel this way? His human! The thought of you being anything along the lines of what you claimed to be confused him. You could just look off to the side, heat rising to your face in slight embarrassment. He was acting like you'd just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Don't go sayin' stuff like that about ya'self. I'll sock you in the face if you do."

You scrunch your nose in amusement before returning to the same sad pout. Doubts continued to cloud your mind just as quickly as they left.

“Out of everyone in the Human Realm, like, ever. Why me?” You hiccup quietly, wiping a tear with the side of his shirt leaving behind a small, damp, glossy spot. Mammon flashes you a look, usually, this would earn you a playful shove but this wasn't something he'd fix with jokes or banter. He supposes he’ll let it slide. For now.

“Well… cuz’ yer’ uhh..” The avatar of greed struggles to find the words to properly express the utter adoration he has for the human in his arms at this very moment. At the same time, he dealt with the shock of hearing such a thing come from you. The thought alone of him giving someone else the same time or feeling the same way for someone else just made him uncomfortable. He swore he'd end the person who inspired this insecurity in you. So many feelings seem to cancel out the moment he attempts to say them out loud.

“Listen, I dunno’ why or how Diavolo picked you, but I’m damn glad he did.”

You don’t hide your disappointment at the short response he gives you. Luckily you read his expression as deep in thought, so you give him a moment.

“All this time we’ve spent together, Human, is the most fun I’ve ever had running get-rich-quick schemes or even getting my ass whooped by Lucifer or– or in class–” He stops himself before he can continue rambling to you.

“Point is, yer’ irreplaceable! There's like a trillion humans, right?” “Well..!” You start with a gentle correction before he continues. “An’ there's only one you. I’m lucky to be the one to enjoy you, so don’t go round’ letting others enjoy you too, kay?” His words tug at your heartstrings resulting in a big goofy grin spread upon your pink and puffy lips. You nod your head at your first man, being more than happy to comply with his request. No one gave you such validating reassurance quite like he did. Who could blame him? You were his human after all and when you struggled he promised himself he'd be there just as much as you were there for him.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Leviathan ~

“I-I know you’re upset! So I brought some snacks and games– or we can just watch something and not talk! Your choice! Or– or we can talk about it. Do you want to talk about it?” The rambling demon stands at the foot of your door, your red eyes and tear-streaked face look up at him sourly. You almost felt bad since he was being so nice and his attempt at comforting you was so cute.

“Hey! Don’t zone out on me like that!” He pouts, brows furrowed with worry. “Do you want to be alone?” “Not really, please come in.” He nods and complies, blushing furiously at the position he found himself in. What would others think if they saw him going into your room alone?! With presents! And a desperate expression!

“Set that stuff down anywhere,” You sniffle quietly, looking up at Levi whose arms were full of comfort items he’d brought for you. He awkwardly dumps some of the things on your bed and the floor in no particular order. The air between you two is tense, he wonders if he’s the right person for this job. Then again, he wanted to be the one to comfort his player 2.

“Can we just play Devilkart™ for a little bit?

“Please.”

And so, the two of you played Devilkart™ until you could finally breathe without sniffling every five seconds. The quiet time allowed for you to relax, usually Devilkart™ nights are full of yelling curses at each other and bets as to who’d win, but tonight you both just sat there in comfortable silence. The sounds from the TV comforted you, the soft lighting of it in your dark room and warmth from Levi’s body shifted your mind from its corner in your brain.

After a couple rounds, you scooted closer to Levi who failed to react nonchalantly as you felt his body tense when your head rested on his shoulder.

“Wh–oa. You okay?

“It’s not fair, I could never be as great as some of the humans out there. I’m not worthy of being here.”

“What?” He blinks, shocked by the sudden confession. Your words process in his head and hit too close to home. You sounded like him.

“That’s… that’s not true and you know it” Levi shifts the position you two are in, this time allowing his arms enough space to hold your shoulders. As to make sure you hear what you’re about to say— as if he could yank you out of the slump you were in, dust you off, and the balance would be restored.

Was it bad he wanted to kiss you?

“What if Diavolo picked a celebrity, or a model, or an idol!?” Your hands trail to his wrists, holding tightly but not pushing away. More tears race down your face, shameless and loud.

“You’d all have no idea who I am— out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me?”

“Because you’re— you— you’re special! How do you not see it?” His voice raised slightly, getting heated as you did. Leviathan takes a moment to lower his tone again; it was beyond him why you felt this way, he couldn’t fathom someone so perfect ever feeling anything but. If he had your charisma, your good looks, your wit— he doesn’t know what he’d do but he just knows it wouldn’t be feeling this way and it certainly wouldn’t be seeking out the comfort of an otaku.

“You’re like… my— my confidant! Thanks to you my stats are— they’re stronger than ever!” You could cook an egg on his face, burning to the touch.

“Really?” His reference momentarily allowed you to sniffle your emotions down. Knowing him, he was anxious out of his mind to confess how he felt.

“D’aw!” You coo teasingly, sniffling once again and rubbing your cheek against the hand still gripping onto your shoulder. The atmosphere alone felt hot, he was flustered.

“Levi, that was sooo sweet!”

“Huh?! What’s with that shift?!”

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Satan~

He had noticed that you were struggling in class, confirmed by when you went to his room one night to ask for help with an assignment. Since then he’d been trying to help you, you seemed okay. That didn’t prevent him from being disappointed in himself when you came home and locked yourself in your room.

Satan had been in your room way less than you’d been in his. His hand gripped your favorite book tightly as he stood awkwardly in your room. You let him in, now what. It was unusual for him to go into situations unprepared like this, he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shrug, dejected by the day’s events. Exhaustion took over your body and the last thing you wanted was to expel your burden onto him. Satan’s expression softened from seeing your mood shift. At least you weren’t crying anymore?

“Lets lay down. How’s that sound, hm?” He nods towards your bed, you lead the way.

The avatar of wrath displays impossible softness around you, stroking your hair with one hand and skillfully holding onto your favorite book in the other. You feel the vibrations from his chest where your face lies, his rich voice bringing your favorite characters to life. He’d introduced you too the book not long after you first made a pact with him. Since then, you’d read the copy of it he and you shared. The book was loved, usually Satan wouldnt be able to stand the tattering of a book but the little notes and scribbled annotations peppered on the margins stood out. It was more than just a story now; a display of your blossoming friendship, the small fingertip touches whenever you’d exchange the book between you two to read the week’s notes from the other, and the way you began to look forward every time you planned an exchange of the book.

“There are few people whom I really love,” He reads, leaning his head on top of yours. “and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I–”

Satan stops himself; he took note of the way your breathing steadied and your eyes drifted shut. Your form lay against him peacefully as he slowly put the book away and readjusted your position so that you could both drift off to sleep.

When you woke up, there was a cup of tea by your nightstand. Steam was still emanating from the top of it– you take it in your hands and blow gently. Too tired to process the absence of warmth that Satan’s body provided before he left, you take a small sip of the herbal liquid.

“Ready to talk about it?” He appeared from the front of your door, shutting it gently behind him. His brothers were worried sick and flooded the fourth eldest with questions about how you were doing and if an intervention was required. He simply reassured them that everything was under control.

“In hindsight, it’s kinda’ silly. I don’t want to trouble you with it”

“If it’s about you, it's never silly. Talk to me, please?”

You sigh, eyes dashing to the side as he approaches the side of your bed taking a seat for himself. The sip of tea you took sits warmly in your mouth, any attempt to stall admitting to him how you felt. You swallow hard.

“I just feel like… In comparison to other humans, I fall short.” You tangle a hand through your hair tugging at the strands gently. The demon on your bed shifts his body more towards you. You had his attention now– intrigued by your insecurity he stays silent hoping you tell him more.

“Makes me think, out of everyone in the Human Realm, why me?” A short pause fills the air with tension. “I wish I was special.”

“But you are the most remarkable human I’ve ever had the privilege of spending time with.” His words seem to heal something in you. You wondered when you began to care so much about what he thought of you. “Truly, I have never caught myself admiring a human with the same intensity.”

Your heart skips a beat while he’s speaking. The grip on your mug tightens and the look on your face reads disbelief. How long has he felt this way?

“Ad–admiring? Satan..”

“Believe me when I say you are anything but unremarkable. You’ve worked your way into all of our hearts… Mine especially.” A soft blush crept onto his face, you noticed.

Satan held much more passion for you than you originally thought. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck to bury your nose in the crook of his neck and he wastes no time before returning your affection. You couldn't quite put your finger on his scent, but you knew it smelt like home.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Asmodeus~

Asmodeus followed you to your room the moment he saw your teary eyes. The two of you had been inseparable since you arrived at the Devildom. Whenever your attention wasn’t being demanded by all of the other responsibilities you bore simply by being a human and existing in the Devildom, you were in his room. No one had ever made him laugh the way you did, regardless of what you two were talking about. Lady Luck worked her magic when he met you.

“Oh, darling…” A sympathetic look laced his porcelain features at seeing your trembling shoulders. Choking on your sobs, you shove your hands towards your face being embarrassed to be seen this way. You felt like a mess, you probably looked like one too. Overhearing your classmates during lunch enlightened you to what they considered you to be. Sometimes you forget that outside your circle of love provided by the exchange program, a lot of demons still had to shift their mindsets when it came to humans.

Little time passes before the avatar of lust takes your body and pulls it close to his. Seeing you this way made him anxious, though he’d never admit it out loud, he liked how it felt. Asmo wanted to care for you almost as much as he cared for himself and it showed. He never missed a chance to offer you some sort of joint self-care sessions that you grew fond of over time.

“That's it, love.” He cooed, peppering kisses on the top of your skull as you spilled muffled wails into his designer sweater. “Cry it out.”

Panic struck his face for a moment, maybe putting more thought into drabbing down before comforting you would have been the smart choice. What a silly thought! It was impossible for someone like him to drab down.

The texture of the cashmere comforts your nose that you’d rubbed raw. was broken by the demon’s quiet humming. An unfamiliar melody lulled you to a less troubled state, gentle and kind. Asmodeus’ flirty behavior turned you off when you first arrived in the Devildom. Back then everything was so new and overwhelming and a part of you couldn’t stand all of the demons around you. Being received with such affection was a foreign feeling to you which you just excused as ingenuine. That didn’t stop your mind from wandering every once in a while– with all the touches on the shoulder when he’d run into you after class, the back rubs when you’d spend the night gossiping in his room, the charged eye contact when he would do your makeup– you couldn’t help but look forward to the next time he would be around.

“Darling, why don’t you tell me what’s going on now?” His cold hand soothes your red-hot face, your sobs had eased into quiet huffs. “Keeping this to yourself won’t relieve the pain in your chest.”

A sigh follows Asmo’s words. You never had to deal with anything alone now that Asmodeus was by your side. His presence felt so bright in comparison to yours– how he always knew how you felt and what you needed was what confused you. To have someone be so attentive to your needs and the push and pull of your emotions was new to you. When you drowned in your feelings he was always there to save you. For a while you were suspicious of his intentions– unsure if the interest he took in you was anything genuine. But now you realize that you had never felt so seen by another entity before and by having someone to help you recognize your worth, you began to appreciate life.

“I can’t shake the feeling that if you guys ever meet another human… I don’t know Asmo, this is pointless, I feel better now!” This earns you a deadpan from the demon.

“What about me interests you so much?” You raise your voice, eyebrows arched with annoyance. Emotions clouded your judgment making it easy for you to fall back into your old thinking habits. You found it unfathomable for someone to care for you without hidden intentions and not knowing if Asmo had any frustrated you.

“I don't deserve this!” Your hands motioned between the two of you pointing out his affection.

“Asmo, I feel awful.” You frown. “I had an awful day and heard awful things from the people in my class and–” Silence.

“Out of everyone in the human realm, why me?” Asmodeus furrows his brows, exhaling sharply. Your words didn’t go without hurting. He figured that he had nothing to hide from you so that that would earn him some trust. This didn’t stop him from brushing it off; your insecurities already haunted one person and he couldn’t make it become two for your sake.

“Because a human quite like you is hard to come across. Your soul is like a diamond, love. The toughest, shiniest, most eye-catching diamond.”

“You don’t mean that.” Bitterness is laced through your words. You didn't understand why he felt this way about you. The unknown regarding why he felt that way flustered you, everything about your borderline erotic friendship with the avatar of lust flustered you.

Your heart skips a beat and a quiet sniffle breaks the silence. Asmodeus made you nervous. Sure, he was never shy with letting you know how he felt about you, but you were at your lowest and here he was; with you. Then it dawned on you. Anyone else could’ve come to check on you but it was Asmodeus who followed you straight to your room, as if he could feel what you felt. You wanted someone to chase after you and somehow he knew that. It irritated you and made you swoon at the same time. Realization dawned on you. The demon cradling you in his arms wasn’t the root of your frustration but the fear of being known the way he knew you.

You learned a lot from your time with Asmo. Thanks to him you knew you deserve the love he gave you.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Beelzebub~

After hearing your door slam shut the brothers could only shrug at each other. They shared confused looks until they all landed on Beelzebub, who had been shoving some of your favorite snacks into his pockets and grabbing some for himself on the way to your room.

“Should we come too?” Belphegor chimes in. The sound of your door had stirred him awake. His groggy expression provoked a softness in his brother’s face.

“I think that would overwhelm them.” He says, barely swallowing the food in his mouth before speaking. “Be right back.”

Hastily he makes his way up the stairs to your room to not be tempted to eat the snacks he saved for you. Luckily, the ones he brought for the road had been devoured after you let him into your room.

Beelzebub was faced with your red nose and teary eyes. With a sharp inhale, he pats his bulging pockets which he packed full of snacks for the both of you.

“Hey. Can I come in?” You nod and sniffle. A weak smile graces your sad features at seeing the avatar of gluttony at your door. Over time he’d become less aloof around you and since you’d started to spend more time together you had a firsthand experience of how loyal and caring he really was. Having him there in your room checking on you made you flustered, you liked it— you like him— a lot.

His large hands dug into his pockets, emptying out the contents before taking a seat on your bed. Beel pats the seat next to him which you trudge over to and take a seat.

“Beel?” You rest your head on his shoulder. The bag of your favorite chips crinkles loudly as you tear it open. “D’you ever feel like you’re nothing special?”

This confused the demon by your side. What did you mean, nothing special? He couldn’t imagine you and those words being in the same sentence, much less spoken by you. Spending time with you and knowing of your equal fondness and understanding towards Belphie made you practically perfect in his eyes. To him, you oozed kindness. Yet he understood where you were coming from. To be reduced to one word to summarize your entire being was an experience he was far too familiar with, even with loved ones. Seeing your hurt-ridden face felt like a punch to the stomach.

“All the time.” The words come out quietly from his mouth as if he’d also been admitting something. His strong hand reaches over your body and into the open chip bag you had yet to eat out of. The sounds of his crunching serves as white noise while you think. You couldn’t possibly fathom someone like Beel feeling the way you do. If you looked like that you’d probably be an asshole, you were hot so you figured you’d never have to be nice to anyone. You chastise yourself for your thought process.

“People will have their idea of you,” Beelzebub rubs your back gently and an empathetic look in his eyes glistens in your direction. “If that's all you are to them it says more about them than you.”

Your smile becomes genuine as he cheers you up. Perhaps he’s the type to pay attention during the pep-talk before a big game of Fangol. The thought made you laugh sadly. Beel catches a glimpse of your expression. He smiles too.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You say a thoughtful frown etched onto your features. Reaching into your bag of chips you grab a couple to hold in your mouth while you and Beel sat there. The plush mattress dips under your weight as you take a seat right behind where the sixthborn was sitting. He turns to look at you with confusion but you take his face in your hands and gently turn it the other way. Beelzebub doesn’t question you when you start to run your fingers through his ginger locks and he knows better than to comment as you start to braid strands of his hair together.

“That tickles.” He says through a mouth full of the chips you made the mistake of abandoning on the floor near him. You give him a tired giggle which is all you can muster up. The demon gives himself a couple of seconds to finish up the bag before continuing with his point. He felt like it wouldn’t be fair to you to just leave it like that. A part of you still looked upset.

“There’s no one like you out there.” Assuredness drips from his words. As if he’d practiced this in the mirror a million times over before heading to your room. “Not in all the three realms.”

“You’re special to us all and I..” He hesitates for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought. Why did he feel shy all of a sudden? A light blush dusted his cheeks as thoughts about you ran through his mind. “Really think you’re special.”

“Very detailed, thank you, Beel.” You say with feigned satisfaction. The hair you were braiding slipped from your fingers as the demon turned to give you an incredulous look. Laughter bubbles in your chest at seeing the way his head tilted, you were fond of the demon and not fond of the way it felt like you’d just kicked a puppy in front of him with the expression he was shooting in your direction.

“I’m kidding.” You slid your arms around his neck, resting your weight on his built shoulders. That’s a feeling you’d never get tired of. “Thank you, Beelz”

A large hand trails toward your forearm, which grounds you in the moment. Suddenly you both become aware of how close you are to each other. You can feel his breath on your arms; he’d pull you closer if he could.

“Yeah.” The simple response from the demon certainly didn’t speak for his complex feelings for you. He knew he’d do anything to keep that pretty smile on your face.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Belphegor~

“Hey, you’re kinda’ being really loud. Do you mind– uhm…”

Belphegor was faced with the unexpected. He assumed that when he’d go complain to the human you’d apologize, laugh it off, and invite him in– which he would’ve reluctantly accepted whilst already falling asleep in your bed– but there you were, sobbing and glaring furiously at him. Did he even do anything?

“Whoa, alright what’s with the face? Let me in.” You grumble something under your breath that you’re glad he doesn’t hear. The door creaks as he pushes through it and scans your room, eyes locked onto your soft, unmade bed. Not that he cared.

“I dunno Belphie…” You stare helplessly as he walks by you. “I don’t feel good right now.”

He shrugs you off. There’s nothing he couldn’t help you get over. Someone like you shouldn’t have to be worried about anything. You have one of the most comfortable beds in the Devildom and seven doting demons who care about you— if that isn’t the makings of a stress-free life he didn’t know what was.

“Kay’ then.” The demon makes himself comfortable on your bed. You helplessly watch as he curls up in your crying spot.

“What I meant was that I wanna’ be alone?”

“Belphie?”

He was fast asleep. Of course, he was! Why would you expect him to respect your wishes? Frustration displayed itself proudly on your face as you watched the seventh-born sleep. You were jealous of how peacefully he slept.

“Whatever. Why would you care?” You mumble, taking advantage of the fact he was knocked out cold. “You of all people would agree I’m not shit.”

The floorboards creak quietly as you pace around your room, rubbing up and down your arms for comfort. If you stopped moving you’d likely start crying again and you’d rather not wake Belphegor just for him to see you cry.

“Of course I’m not special.”

“This is so stupid. Now I can’t even have a pity party in peace.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes again. Just when you managed to stop them your tear ducts were betraying you. The steady flow of tears began once again, your chest heaving with sorrow. No sounds escape from your mouth until you have to inhale again. Trying to keep yourself quiet, you slap a hand over your mouth. Heading to the bathroom to cry seemed like the only valid solution at this point.

“Why do you want to be special so bad anyway?” The avatar of sloth’s drowsy voice snaps you out of your ramble. His eyes shift lazily across you, taking in your distressed appearance. You whip your head around towards him making a pathetic attempt to clean your face from the tears and snot that expressed your dread.

“What?” You stutter out. A quiet yawn is emitted from the demon before he sits up to face you.

“What’s so good about being special that it deserves to have you pining for it like this?” This earns a scoff from you.

“You were listening the whole–” You cut yourself off before setting off on the demon. To alleviate the pressure of an oncoming headache you pinch your nosebridge, hoping the tension won’t get worse. “Belphie, I feel like I’m gonna break down. If you don’t care to help then leave.”

Mentally you cursed yourself for allowing Belphie to see such a side of you. Even when you were trying to be stern your voice shook with uncertainty and hurt. He seems to visibly soften with your words, understanding that now wasn't the time to banter or push your buttons. It wouldn't be fun to see your reaction if he did. Belphegor stifles a yawn which turns into a long sigh.

“You’re pacing y’know” You shoot him a furious look before he speaks again. “Look, it's just lame you think this way cuz’ you don’t even have to try to be unique.”

You let him talk this time.

“It’s what draws people to you. I mean, who else can deal with our problems the way you do and then still have energy to give after.” A soft grin graces his lips. “I’d be exhausted.”

Damn it. How emotional were you exactly? Tears slipped out of your eyes as he spoke, your heart holding on to every word and the knowledge that Belphie did understand. Part of you was afraid you’d just be brushed off by the demon but after everything you had been through with them made it silly for you to think so. Belphie cared for you too, in his own way. He nods to the side you usually sleep on and makes room for you to lie by him. Not much time passes before your head is resting on the nook of his shoulder and his fingers trail shapes lazily on your side. You always forgot how tired breakdowns made you. You always forgot how safe sleeping by Belphegor’s side made you feel, ironically enough. Whether you were special or not to everyone else stopped concerning you so much now that you knew how special you truly were to someone who never would’ve given humans a chance in the first place. With your mind finally at rest, you could drift off to sleep.

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Oh mty glob finally its done T_T I'm so sorry for taking a billion years on these I tried my best to not make any part longer than the other or anyone OOC. Im super anal when I see a character I really like is OOC so if anyone sees that and has tips for how to write them I'm all ears!!

Thank u for reading <3

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