#yes that is a pot of leaves from the Outside

[joelsmeadow]

Forbidden Fruit [Part 2] - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Summary: this is the fix it chapter. Joel and Reader are in an established relationship as he heals from his injuries, and the younger members of the family make a guest appearance for family movie night.

Contents & Warnings: spoilers for 2.02 but That didn't happen. Age gap unspecified but exists. Established relationship. Unprotected PIV. One (1) degrading pet name from Joel. Praise. One (1) spank. Mentions of traumatic injury. PTSD implied/briefly mentioned. Creampie/unsafe PIV. Reader is AFAB but no physical description beyond being able bodied (or at least moreso than Joel).

Notes: we can all collectively agree 2.02 was not a vibe, yes? Cool. I offer my contribution to the fix it stash.

Word Count: 2.7k. || Part 1 Here

- x. -

You've lost count of how many times you've thanked whatever God is still listening for Joel's life.

Having lived through and existing in the world of the outbreak, you thought you knew fear. Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer terror that had come with Ellie and Jesse riding back into Jackson after the blizzard, Dina half conscious with Ellie, and Jesse supporting a literally comatose Joel.

A group of five, they had explained. Military, maybe. Former Fireflies. One with a vendetta. She had beaten Joel half to death before Ellie and Jesse had arrived. Had had the element of surprise and sheer fucking luck on their hands.

He had been unconscious for the better part of a week, and you? You had felt frozen in time with him, barely moving from his side unless you had to, whilst the town doctor and medics moved around you like bees.

That was months ago now. Joel's eyesight was worse in one eye, it had taken him a while to recover from the concussion, and he walked with a limp - would walk with a limp for the rest of his life, if the doctor was right.

But he was alive. Alive and with you. Alive and reconciled with Ellie, who had not only managed to work out their issues, but had finally started calling him 'dad'. Joel hadn't made a huge deal out of it, but you knew it meant the world to him. More than the world.

He had expected you to leave; you're young, he had said. You didn't need to be saddling yourself with a broken old man, he had said. You had kissed him until he had shut up, changed the butterfly bandage on his forehead, pressed a featherlight kiss to his uninjured temple. And eventually he had realised you meant it. That you weren't going anywhere. That you, and Dina, and Jesse, were all a part of his family now.

The months ticked on; Jackson slowly rebuilt, Joel slowly healed, and you moved into his house. Every night that you fell asleep beside him, every morning you woke tangled together, and you didn't take a single one for granted.

Ellie wanted to make fun of you, wanted to tease in the way that only a young adult watching a parent fall in love could manage, but she had come so close to losing Joel too that any joke or comment about acting like it was the last day you'd get together seemed to hit a little too close to home.

The weather is warming, though it's still cold outside. Still a faint chill in the air. The day is slowly turning to evening, and you have a pot roast on the stove ready for later.

Dina has made coffee; everyone has a mug. Joel sits on the couch, his glasses a little crooked as he tips a spoon of sugar into his coffee cup. Ellie sits on one side of him, Dina with her head on her shoulder. You sit on his other side, leaning into him like you're one person instead of two.

All that's missing from this scene is -

"Fuckin' hallmark postcard in here." Jesse shakes snow off his boots on the porch and hangs up his coat as he walks in, ignores the middle finger he's given in greeting from Ellie.

"You're late. We were gonna start without you." Dina says, clearly ribbing him.

Jesse looks mock horrified, turns to Joel as if to clarify that such blasphemy would occur. Joel just offers the younger man a 'I just live here' sort of shrug and a grin.

You get up to fix Jesse a coffee, come back to him sprawled in the armchair, Die Hard loaded up on the television waiting. It's an old movie. A classic, really. The sort of thing you can all lose yourselves in.

Which you do, for the next few hours; the five of you lose yourselves in the action movie misadventures of John Maclane, quoting your favourite lines to one another back and forth over the dinner table long after the credits roll.

The five of you eat the pot roast, the strawberry tarts you made especially for movie night because they're Joel's favourite. It's close to nine when the girls - women, really, but they'll always be girls to you - retreat out to the garage for the night. You offer the spare room to Jesse but he just grins, says he has to be up early for a patrol anyway, and bids you goodnight.

You wash the dishes and Joel leans against the bench top to dry them, both of you packing everything away before you go up to bed for the night.

He's still a little slow on the stairs, much to his own chagrin, a step behind you with muffled cursing.

"Fuckin' leg. Bitch knew where she was shootin', dammit."

Wordlessly you stop so you can help him. Ignore the attempt to muffle the sigh he makes, because he hates needing help. Hates that he accepts it, even though he loves you dearly.

"I know what you're thinkin', that I'm damn lucky to still have my leg," Joel grouses as you reach the bedroom, help him with the flannel shirt that he's wearing.

"Actually, no." You say, as you hang up the well loved green and blue plaid, "I'm thinking I'm lucky you're still here, bad leg, complaints and all."

You turn around to see him shaking his head with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Make it fuckin' hard to complain about shit when you put it that way, sweetheart."

You sigh, worried you've upset him as you cross to the bed where he's sitting, wrap your arms around him.

"You can complain as much as you like. I'll be glad to listen. Because it means you're still here with me." You press a soft kiss to his mouth. Inhale the wood and gunpowder scent of him.

Joel wants to tell you that that's lame, that he's too old to be worthy of that sort of affection. But he doesn't, because he's been so close to death he can taste it, and if for some reason you feel the same way about him as he feels about you, well. That's your issue.

So what he says instead is:

"Sorry, sweetheart. Ain't getting rid of me that easy."

Wanting to make you laugh. Only, you don't. You manage a weak giggle, only your eyes well up a little and it makes him feel like shit, because while he's at a point where he can joke about how close to death he was, it still upsets the hell out of you and Ellie.

"Aw, shit. Don't cry, darlin', I'm okay..." he pulls himself up off the bed so he can wrap you up in his arms, pull you against his broad frame and let you feel the warmth of him, his steady breathing.

You bury your face in his chest and listen to his heart, strong and steady, until you don't feel like you're about to break into a million pieces or hyperventilate. Then and only then do you look up at him.

You want to tell him he scared the hell out of you, but what good is that? He knows that already, and it's not exactly his fault. So you go for something else instead, something equally true.

"I love you, Joel, you know that?"

His thumb brushes away a stray tear that's still on your cheek as he nods.

"Yeah, darlin', I know. I love you too."

Maybe before the incident at the lodge he might have taken your words less seriously, but now, with a far too close call under his belt, Joel knows how much he means to you. How much you mean to him.

How, as he had been sure he was going to die, he had hoped somehow you would feel that he loved you as he left the world. Only to come to a week later with you on one side, holding onto his hand like you thought he might disappear if you let go, Ellie on the other.

How the first words out of his mouth had been "my girls okay?" before you'd dissolved into relieved sobs and Ellie had begun berating him about how he'd scared her to death and was he stupid and how fucking dare he do that to them all, as if he had had any say in his own attempted murder.

"Joel-"

You barely get his name out of your mouth before he's on you, his lips covering yours, gathering you up in his arms again, because fuck if he isn't going to savour each and every one of these moments with you now.

The kiss is long, intense. Half because he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of kissing you, and half because he doesn't want to hear your protests about how he still needs to take it easy. He can take it easy when he's in his eighties and on his actual deathbed. Having been there before, he knows he's nowhere close at the moment, and nothing is going to stop him from being intimate with you.

"Joel, we have to - mm - be careful," sure enough, you get the words out as he pulls your shirt off, nuzzles into your collarbone and kisses the side of your neck.

"Fuck being careful." Joel growls into your skin, somehow soft even after the harshness of the outbreak and the weather. "Keep tellin' me to be careful I'll tie you to the bed and fuck you like the mouthy slut you're actin' like."

He's rewarded with heat rushing to your cheeks, the knowledge that he can toe the line between sweet and filthy just right without actually disrespecting you. Only -

"Your back would give out before you could, old timer." You tease, and he laughs, lays a heavy swat to your ass with his big hand.

He can't even be pissed about it because you're right. Twenty years ago he could have bent you over every surface in this house. Maybe even ten. But now, rough sex between you involves you on your hands and knees, maybe his hand around your throat.

He's become softer with age, more gentle in how he handles his lovers. Even moreso with you.

"Shut up," he mumbles, though he's still kissing your throat so you know you're off the hook this time as you thread your fingers through his soft curls.

Even between kisses and the slowness that comes with his damaged leg, you manage to get every layer of clothing between you off, tossed to the floor of the bedroom with very little regard for it. You'll probably grumble about it in the morning when you go to do laundry while he laughs at you, but for now it's the furthest thing from your mind as you collapse back onto the bed, tugging him with you.

He might still be recovering from an injury and older, but he's still strong, still able to prop himself up on one hand as he leans over you, cages you in.

Your hands wander, gentle, reverent almost, as you lightly touch each and every scar on his body. Less than a year ago, he barely let you see his torso, see the map of brutality time has left across his olive skin. Now he almost hums and purrs under your touch as your hands move back up to his face. Cup his cheeks as you lean up to kiss him, moan when he licks into your mouth.

His free hand moves between your thighs, finds you soaked for him already, just from a few kisses, a few touches. Joel doesn't think he'll ever get over that, that feeling of elation that comes with being so easily wanted by someone, without any sort of stipulations.

"Joel..."

He doesn't think he'll ever get over that, either. That soft, whimpering plea of his name that somehow manages to be so full of equal parts love and lust.

Normally you both make an effort with foreplay, take pride in it, enjoy it. Taking your time with one another. But there are times like this where you just need each other, need to become one too much to bother with anything beforehand. All he cares about in this moment is that you're wet enough to take him, and God knows you are.

He slides into you in a single, fluid motion, grunting with satisfaction as your tight heat welcomes him, your fingers flying to his curls and knitting there as you inhale sharply.

Joel loves that fucking sound. That sweet little intake of breath when he fills you up with his cock, knowing it's almost too big for you. Almost too much, and yet you're always begging for him to keep going.

"You good, sweetheart?" He knows you are, can feel your warm inner walls constricting around his cock, can feel how wet you are. Can see the pleasure on your face even without him moving.

Still, you nod, confirm your pleasure with him before he moves, rolling his hips against yours. He has to be careful, doesn't want to piss off his stupid damaged leg, doesn't want you to worry, so he goes for slow and deep rather than fucking into you hard and fast like he once used to.

You don't mind; find you prefer this pace anyway, the intimacy of it, of his broad frame caging you in as he moves above you. You draw your knees up so he can get deeper, moaning when he hits your sweet spot.

"Fuck, good girl, such a pretty sound-" he groans, runs his thumb over your lower lip before he leans down to kiss you.

Eagerly you lean up to return the kiss before you fall back against the pillows, settle yourself there as you pull him close. His mouth finds yours, before he kisses down your throat.

Pressing his cock in deep, he grinds against you, drawing obscene moans from your lips as his mouth finds a peaked nipple, sucks it into his mouth greedily. Only when you're trembling beneath him does he release it with a lewd pop before giving its twin the exact same treatment, still grinding against you, getting the entirety of his thick length deep inside.

He isn't playing fair, is pulling every single trick he knows to make you cum, and it's working. Before you even realise it, you're almost there, a whimpering, trembling mess as he devours your mouth in greedy kisses.

"Go on, sweetheart. Go on an' cum for me now."

It's that soft, still dominant demand that sends you. Your entire body trembles beneath his as your pussy tightens around him, fluttering and weeping around the cock splitting you open.

Joel doesn't last much longer, knows you don't give a shit whether he lasts three minutes or thirty, groaning and cursing as he spills inside you, using the very last of the stamina he has to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you.

It's only after, when he's rolled off of you and you're curled under the blankets together, his arms around you, that the thought strikes you.

"Do you think Jesse didn't take the guest room because he knew?" You ask.

Joel fixes you with a look that can only be described as amused.

"Yeah, darlin', I think he knew."

You dissolve into a fit of laughter, mildly horrified by the idea that the younger adults in your lives are, God forbid, aware you have a sex life.

He shakes his head, presses a kiss to your forehead as you curl into his side. Maybe tomorrow you'll go into town, trade some strawberries from your garden for something. Bread, maybe.

One thing is for certain. Neither of you take these little moments for granted, nor the love you have for one another and your strange little family.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Beach vacation? More like I stole your bitch vacation- Dieter Bravo x reader × Joel Miller

cw: mmf threesome, double penetration, anal fingering, anal sex, mention of sex toys, fingering, piv, safe sex that later becomes unsafe sex, creampie, jealous! dieter, crying during sex, overstimulation, not full on cum eating but at least a little cum tasting, 1 ppcu guy + 1 gratis

Written for the #MagicNumberChallenge by @mothandpidgeon , @schnarfer, and @whocaresstillthelouvre

Dieter Bravo hated Christmas. It wasn't like a Grinch thing, nor did he think it was pretentious. Yes, long queues in stores weren't his thing (call him old fashioned for not buying his gifts online, and he's going back to get a refund). He also wasn't a fan of Christmas movies (why would they just leave the kid home alone, truly there was no distant relative with a car or a neighbor that could get him for a few days?). Truth was, he was just cold. He'd spend so many Christmases in California. Los Angeles lacked snow, so usually his posh film friends went to the Alps. So, more free time for him. Dieter could go to his favorite restaurants without a reservation. He could just do lines on his balcony while scrolling Raya. There was that one incident with the escort in the Santa outfit, though his pr team did a great spin. Dieter got them a raise on new years. But after that cursed movie, he had packed and left the city of angels.

His first New York winter almost did him in. But of course, faith brought him you. A pretty roommate. A nice, respectful girl that kept to herself. Occasionally had a friend over, but never had a guy sleep over. Dieter would've guessed you were gay or ace, but he didn't miss how you ogled him sometimes. Especially when he would parade around in the apartment in just his bathrobe, which was more often than not. You guessed he was just one of those people who didn't get cold. Until you got your October electricity bill. He had ranked up an insane amount of money. And you had to confront him because the landlord confronted you. That's how you found yourself yelling at Dieter, finger jabbed at his chest. His room was a sauna, and he had the audacity to leave the window open. "It keeps the place from smelling like pot," he whispers, letting you on his big secret. Unfortunately, you don't care. Even when he shows you his bank account, with so many zeros, he could afford to heat up the entire floor. It was a matter of principle. You dragged him to your room and showed him the zeros on the meter. Your screaming match was over when you tucked him in bed, under your heavy, warm comforter. He pulled you close to him, claiming that he read about this hugging the tension away method for a role. Somehow, you manage to end up naked with him, sweaty and panting under the covers. Dieter basically made camp in your bed for the winter. Sucking his dick daily wasn't on your bingo card, but it sure was a nice distraction from the bleak weather outside. He actually took you out on a date in March, and the rest was history.

Dieter did not particularly want to spend this Christmas with your parents. I mean, he was probably closer in age to them than to you (math wasn't his strong suit). So, months in advance, he buys tickets to a tropical paradise, opting for you two to spend a very sunny Christmas. He presents them to you in October, a year on the day when you first kissed. You tease him relentlessly for keeping track, still half-convinced that Dieter was with you for the sex. He could bring out something needy and almost pathetic in you. He loved Friday nights, because he'd spend hours between your legs, making you cum over and over again. Sometimes he'd get high or only get you high and just slowly hump you for hours, both of you so relaxed and at peace. You'd come so hard against him then, he swears you were made in a lab, especially tailored to his tastes. Hell, he even called you his soulmate the first time he finished inside of you. Watching you fuck his cum in deeper made him want to put a ring on your finger. You two were casual, yet serious, friends with benefits but also a secret third thing. So that's why Dieter thought you loved surprises.

You did, you really did. But you were terrified of flying. The whole process. Going to the airport. All the people, the long lines at TSA. Being somewhere, then in a few hours, landing somewhere else. And no matter how many times you flew, it was the same. You, like the mature well-adjusted adult you are, ignore this. Maybe this time it would be different. Maybe your boyfriend's dickmatization included anxiety. But as soon as you wake up in the morning of the flight, it's all going tits up. When you tell Dieter everything, in between the gagging on nothing on the toilet, he brings you a pack of edibles. He shakes it, the gummies hitting the plastic like they're dog treats. You have to remind him that you don't have his celebrity status and you'd definitely get in trouble. He rummages through his bathroom drawers and comes out with a thing that's just 3 natural herbs with a calming effect. Totally over the counter and definitely not his style.

"After everything that happened on set for Cliff Beasts 6, they thought I had lost it. Put me in rehab and all. I was getting drug tested at every audition. These kept me afloat. Take 2 for serious cases and 3 for emergencies." He says in response to your unasked questions.

You take 2 immediately, chasing them down with water. The whole journey there, you're stuck to Dieter's side like a koala. He's taking care of you, and it's almost okay. You're still anxious, and it doesn't let up until you're in the air. Then you're both taking advantage of the complimentary wine on the plane. You're grabbing a second one, and it dawns on you that you forgot to ask Dieter if the meds were okay to be mixed with alcohol. But he's fast asleep next to you, the script for his next project strewn on his lap. You stuff the confidential words in your in-flight magazines and lay your head on his shoulder. You're out like a light, sleeping like never before. You're a groggy zombie through passport control and already napping again in the taxi to the hotel. There you're more rested and start unpacking as Dieter already heads to the pool, towels in hand. You plant a big kiss on his lips and let him enjoy himself.

He's better at intimidating people, at remembering to put on sunscreen, at picking out the perfect chaiselounge. Dieter Bravo was made for relaxation. You can bet he's already drinking out of a coconut at a pool bar by the time you're down. Folding his speedos and hanging your clothes wasn't that time-consuming. It was your swimsuit that was the problem. You hadn't bothered to own a cute one before, and that meant that you had been on the hunt for two pieces in the middle of winter. With holiday shipping delays, and all you had to just go to a cheap, trusty store and pick a suspiciously cheap set. The white pieces with an overall cherry print looked great on you, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't soon become see-through.

So you spent a good 10 minutes looking at yourself in the mirror, poking and proding at the fabric, stretching it, anything. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do, you guessed. Finally, you decided to fuck it. You'd tell Dieter about your woes and he'd wait for you to exit the pool with a towel. You had no qualms about being wrapped in the huge Star Wars one someone gave him at a meet and greet. You swore your boyfriend had a doppelganger out there somewhere. You begged him to contact the guy playing Din Djarin for a remake of Parent Trap. D even had his ears pierced, it was perfect. To his effort, he called his agent and tried, but to no avail. Turns out that actor was a former stunt double of his and absolutely refused to work in the same vicinity. Your boyfriend took that in stride. Not before teasing the shit out of you, though.

"Oh, I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you, sweetheart? Visiting me on set, seeing two of me. You'd try to make a pass at him too, get him to join us, I know. Be a sly little minx, get a menagé with me and him. Wouldn't that be a brainfuck, huh?"

Dieter is a sweet talker but a persistent yapper nonetheless. That's why he knew just how far he could go with the threesome talk. How to coax you to ask for what you need.

"Come on, say it. What do you think about my idea? Cat got your tongue? I hope not, because I quite like it when you use it to do that thing with the." You cut him off with a

"It's hot, okay. My holes being filled by you, well two of you, it's a dream. To have you like that. Need you now, though. Please, enough of daydreaming."

You didn't need more freaky tales about how he'd fuck his clone. You needed him. Of course, Dieter wasn't gonna keep you waiting.

He trails two fingers towards the fabric of your underwear, pulling the panties to the side. You can hear him mumbling about how "you're soaked enough just from his words" as he curls the pointer and middle finger inside of you. The familiar, yet ghastly sounding squelch sound was a testament to this, you guessed. Luckily, you could get your way with him too, using a couple of simple words.

"Please, give me your dick, please, I wanna come on it," is all it takes. Simple, easy. Has him reaching for sweatpants strings and pulling them down, along with his boxer shorts. He slides his member between your thighs as he rummages through the bedside drawer, looking for condoms. Time stills as you watch him tear open the package frantically and put it on with precision, still giving you a show. How he fucks you in missionary, pillow under your hips. How he spits into his palm, uses the slick that's down your thighs to coat his finger. How he keeps apologizing that you don't have lube and reassuring you he will stop if you tell him. How your lips form a perfect O when his finger moves past your cheeks, and inside of your ass. How he tells you that sharing you would probably be like this and you squeeze against him twice. How you both cum embarrassingly fast, all of it a little too much for you.

You remember this little anecdote and pull on the bikini that's already wedged itself in your ass. Sunscreen in one hand and big emperor sunglasses perched on top of your head, you scan the perimeter for Dieter. You spot him, but something looks a bit wrong. You're not sure what it is, a Mandela effect of some sort.

Maybe it's his hair, looking a bit more salt and peppery? You trail through his body, but you spot the long red beach shorts he's wearing. When did Dieter pack that? You wondered why, too, because you already shoved 3 different colored speedos in the hotel wardrobe. When in Rome, he seemed to say with those, even though you were pretty far from Rome. You're staring at his crotch for a good minute until you snap out. The lack of tattoos is a dead giveaway. The thick book that says something about plowing and bones is what cements it. D's very smart, he's got an Oscar for God's sake. But he simply doesn't have the attention span for a slow paced read like this . That was not your boyfriend. But they looked identical. They could be twins. You knew it wasn't a "parent trap" situation because Dieter's parents were married. But this was getting very "three identical strangers" for you.

You were busy gawking at the stranger to notice Dieter sliding himself next to you.

"What's caught your attention? Wait, what the fuck is that. Is that a mirror or something. Jesus, it moved. Oh my God, that's a man. How many fucking doppelgangers do I have?" He says.

"Should we talk to him? I mean, he's obviously staying in the same hotel. Stars aligning and all that."

Dieter raises a brow. He had plans for this vacation. They included you, him, lounging by the pool, maybe a couple of museum and insane amounts of sex. After all, somebody else was changing the sheets. A buddy would be a bit awkward. D planned to ravish you at dinner and not fork asparagus as he makes small talk. Or God forbid, make conversation with a crazed fan. But on the other hand, he was also curious like you. So he decided to bite the bullet. He intertwined his fingers with yours and took the short walk to the pool chair. Chest glistening with water, a strip of sunscreen on his Aqualine nose, almost like he came from the set of Gladiator 2.

Joel Miller lived under a rock. So he had never seen a Dieter Bravo thing. Maybe that one episode of Buffy that aired eons ago. But he had a daughter to raise, not much time to be a cinephile. Especially boring, uppity stuff like the plays or historical epics D was involved in. Ironically, Joel had seen Cliff Beasts 1-5 and was still waiting for 6, which they were "in post production limbo" for years, according to the fan forums. So he didn't recognize the celebrity. He was nonetheless intrigued because the man towards him looked more alike than even Tommy. And not to mention the breathtaking woman next to him.

Joel practically jumped when Dieter faced him. They were a spitting image of eachother, bar a few of the tattoos. The other man also looked leaner, while Joel had a more defined physique. Perks of the job, he thought. The job that was currently probably falling apart without him. But sue him for getting a holiday for once in his life. Sarah was too old (her words, not his) to spend Christmas with her dad. Rather do that with some friends from college. And he managed to charm the lady at the tourist agency to give him a discount, last minute trip and all. Now Mr. Miller was grateful to be alone. Because there was nothing that he wanted more than to sink his cock inside of you as Dieter watched from the cuck chair. And almost like an angel, the man says to him "Would you like to have sex with us? For science.". Joel snickers at you lightly smacking your boyfriend's arm and apologizing. Then come introductions. The three of you take to eachother. Of course, him and Dieter compare lives, fully invested in this Sliding Doors scenario. You rub sunscreen on both of them as they talk, only humming or asking additional questions. It's like you're supervising 2 bulls and you're a matador. Dieter reads out recent news in increasingly weirder voices he learned at school. Joel gives you crossword clues, correcting your spelling of cordyceps. The three of you pass around a ball in the pool, much to the chagrin of other guests. Joel Miller has never been wined and dined. But he comes pretty close to it when you're buying him mocktail after mocktail and charging them to the room. All he has to do for a beer is ask nicely. You're grabbing the bottle too fast and pressing your lips to the foam, slurping obscenely. Then you twist like a vine, between the two men. The bar chairs are uncomfortable, so you have to sit in their lap? Sure. Joel notices how Dieter subtly gropes you, grabbing handfuls of your ass and tits. Not to be undone, he makes sure to press you down against himself. It's a cat and mouse game now, and D intends to start it off properly. By asking you to go upstairs and get ready for a shower as he tags along behind you with Mr. Miller.

You've barely swiped your key card when they catch up to you. Dieter pins you to the door,lips on yours, while Joel clumsily tries to kiss your neck.

"How do you want it, pretty face? Wanna take it in your mouth, show us that you suck cock like a pro?" Dieter asks as you're already moaning for more. You shake your head no, envisioning something a little different.

"Greedy. Then what? Tell Joel first, tell him what you want from him." Your boyfriend prompts you.

"Fuck my ass, Joel. As D's inside of my pussy. I wanna feel you both. At the same time. I've never done that, always wanted to."

He basically reboots for a second and then goes for your bikini bottoms. He looks at Dieter for confirmation, who just nods and tosses a bottle of lube in his direction. Joel would stop and think if this is a good idea if his cock hadn't been painfully hard in his swimming trunks for some time now. So, instead of ruminating, he uncapped the lube and spreads it on his fingers. You're surprisingly still, like a doe in headlights. He can hear you breathe in and out as he teases your hole. Better get on with it if you wanted to take him, he reasons. So he slides a finger past your ass cheeks. He asks Dieter to palm your tits, rub your clit, anything to get you more loosened up. It works. Bucking your hips against your boyfriend distracts you. You're still shaking a bit, so he asks

"You two have never, I mean, she's never?" Taken it up the ass remains silent, as if it's too vulgar. As if Joel wasn't two knuckles deep inside of that hole as he questioned you.

"Not totally. I've taken fingers, plugs. Dieter likes to keep me on edge, that fucker. But never a cock." You say nonchalantly, as if you're asking him what he's doing tomorrow.

"It's just so impersonal. Yeah, I'm an ass man, but it's not the same. Especially with this one soaking me like a broken sprinkler. No lube can come close to this." Dieter cuts in as he curls his fingers just right and slides them inside of you.

You whine for more, but Dieter doesn't rellent. No, he's played this song and dance before. The orgy scenes from game of thrones? Those weren't scripted. So he knows exactly how to make two people tick at the same time. He thrusts his fingers, once, twice and pulls them out. Shushes your disappointment with a kiss. Slides his digits past Joel's lips. Loves how his doppelganger socks hungrily, acting like your pussy juice is ambrosia. Dieter counts to 5 and pulls them away, almost chipping Mr. Miller's tooth. It's a game, all of it. And he intends to win.

You sense the dick measuring contest from a mile away. But you're prepared. Dieter is thicker, but shorter. You blab on how full he makes you, how he stretches you out, how you're not sure if it will fit. Joel, longer, but not as thick. You try for the old "he's so pretty", oh it'll ruin me, I have never had it so deep in me before. Of course, your boyfriend does the honours. They both move against you, heads ready and throbbing. Dieter grumbles about picking up the wrong condoms, forgetting about his latex allergy. Thankfully Joel somehow gets one out of the pages of his book. As soon as you tease his about his choice, he smacks your ass.

"I could walk away right now, fuck my fist in the shower tonight and then tease you and your little boyfriend for the reminder of your stay. Or you could be a good little doll and respect your elders. Still wanna make fun of me?" He asks, rubbing his cock against your ass, against the spot where his fingers are still stretching you open.

"No, sir." You say. Dieter watches it all, and the tension is too much for him. He thrust his all too big for you cock into your pussy in one motion. Little tears form at the corners of your eyes. His movement pushes you into the mattress, into Joel. Who grips your hips and moves forward, as D moves back. You're sandwiched between them, and it almost is too much.

It certainly isn't the most comfortable. Then Dieter says it, that while it feels fucking amazing, he knows a better way. He slides off you and lays back, cock pointed straight in the air like a flag in a golf hole.

"Giddy up, cowgirl." He says in that voice, the one he's gonna be using for agent Whiskey in Kingsmen. The one that drives you wild. You crawl over to him with Joel still inside of you. It's almost funny, you're like two animals rutting desperately together. Dieter spreads his legs a little, watches you struggle to straddle him.

"Fucking horndog, you better behave if you want me to make you cum. I know you're a sensitive little bitch that loves every touch, but I doubt you'll finish just from anal. Show old Dieter a good time." He says as you take your time. Joel pauses, letting you sink on your boyfriend's cock. He knows that if you cum, your whole body will be reacting, including the sweet ass he was currently fucking. You reach out to help Dieter put it in, and apologize as your sharp hotel bracelet almost scratches him. The blonde receptionist with the thick Slavic accent had something against you, you could swear it. It's all forgotten as Dieter lifts his hips slowly and lets gravity do its job. You sink on his cock and all three of you try to move. It's a sweaty, wet mess. You're not sure who you're begging for more, who's praising you, who's telling you you're a filthy slut. The tears come naturally, and you don't even feel them fall. Until Joel reaches out to dry them, pad of thumb rough and calloused against your face.

"Look at her, crying already. We've barely started, doll." He says. Of course, the universe disagrees. And by the universe, of course here we mean Dieter Bravo's insufferable jealousy. Maybe it's the speed with which he fucks into you. Maybe it's the fact that he still has his rings on the hand he uses to rub brutal circles on your clit. But you can hear the elastic of the condom shift. You lift and low and behold, it's split, a slit right against it.

"We don't need it, do we pretty thing? I'm your boyfriend after all. I'm the one you come home to, I'm the one you fuck every night. I need you to say it, though. Tell me you want me to fill you up with my cum. Go on." He begs, as you rub against his tip. You reply with a "Need you, need to soak your cock." and as soon as you feel all of him, you do.

Coming on Dieter's cock as he starts to build a rhythm and Joel is about to finish too is a religious experience. The stranger chokes out a "You did good, doll" and two pumps later he's done. But of course, like a true southern gentleman, he goes on. He tosses the used condom in the trash can (with surprising accuracy) and he's back on the bed. His fingers are on your clit, despite you saying it's too much.

"She can take it." Dieter parrots, and you echo the same, even though it's half- moaned and fully a lie. Joel matches his rhythm to D's instructions, and low and behold, you're coming. Dieter is right there with you, but what pushes him over is the other man's hand slowly moving to your cunt. Joel fucks the cum inside of you, pushing it back in. Once he's satisfied, he lets you lick one finger and offers the other to Dieter. The actor begrudgingly agrees, ready for the "Tom from Succession" special. After all, what's a good beach vacation without a sweet treat?

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Factually, I understand the process of boiling leaf litter that I have collected from my backyard is logical, I don't want to introduce anything potentially harmful into my isopod enclosure

on the other hand

boiling pot of leaves is REALLY giving kid-making-leaf-brew-like-a-makebelieve-witch vibes

[pseudowho]

Link to Furry Little Problem (where you, Nanami Kento's wife, are turned into a cat for a week) here!

And, a link to @yuutaguro's exquisite art for Part One

It had been almost a week since you had turned back into a human, and Kento had seen most traces of the four-paws-and-sharp-claws Cat You, bleed away.

Most, at least; what concerned Kento, was that you weren't completely normal. He could overlook the way you would turn, and turn, and turn on the spot before settling onto the sofa. He could forgive the way you would spin on a pinhead, phantom ears pricked and still as the grave, at every little noise past the front door.

Kento drew the line, however, when you shot up from the dining table mid dinner conversation, to run headfirst into the patio doors with a thud. The sparrow that had landed just outside twittered, and flew away, as you sat, dazed. Kento buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, Nanami," Shoko had tutted, inviting you both into her office. "I'm sure it will just...just take, uh..."

You had been forced to pause at the door, to bat and chew at the loping leaves of her little pot plant. As Kento, ever patient and gentle, guided you with whispered reassurances away from the pot plant, and to the sofa, Shoko's clipboard drooped.

You dug your nails into the couch for a few seconds, pricking it all over, before sitting down in your seat with a satisfied little wiggle, and a smile.

Shoko's eyes flicked from you, to Kento, to you, and began, awkward.

"Let's...get a baseline, shall we? See how much of the cat still remains." Shoko reached behind her, rustling in a bag, before placing something long and green on the table before you. "I have a cucumb--"

You shot into the air like you were on springs, landing with a crash behind Shoko's sofa. The room was silent. Shoko's cigarette idly smoked in her ashtray. Kento buried his fingers into his hair, his elbows on his knees.

"Tell me...uh...tell me some of your experiences from the Cat Week, please, Nyanyami--"

Kento glared at Shoko.

The top of your head rose slowly up from behind the sofa, staring at the cucumber with an unhealthy amount of suspicion.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Stop that," Kento snapped at you, pausing the movie. You, toe-beaned and glossy and sweet, tilted your furry little head sideways. Kento could almost see the question mark over your head as you stared at him, unblinking and eerie.

The room was dark, save for the little lamp in the corner. The movie sat, inanimate. Kento felt a prickle up his spine; the shadows were thrown long and the room felt many-eyed and still. Kento stared you down. You stared Kento down. Kento narrowed his eyes. You tilted your head to the other side. A clock ticked.

"Meow," you said.

"I mean it," rumbled Kento, stern, "stop it."

You blinked, and chirped, and turned back to the movie. Kento breathed out a shaky sigh, and restarted it.

Five minutes later, Kento dropped the remote with a clatter, cursing.

"Stop staring behind me-- there's nothing behind me-- that's it, we're going to bed--"

Your unwavering gaze into the gloom behind Kento, was interrupted by him picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. You chirped in protest.

"Mew-- meooooow--"

"I warned you, stop being creepy. It's bedtime for you, madam."

"Meow."

"Yes, I'll rub your tummy, just stop doing the thing--"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I'm recommending Ino for the initiative. I think it would be good experience for him, in his plan to progress to--to...darling, please--"

Kento's face on the computer screen was obscured first by furry little face, then a body that dragged hair across his chest, and finally a jaunty little tail, raised and flicking. The other Zoom call participants were silent as Kento lowered you to the floor, where you fizzled up at him in tiny irritation.

"I apologise," Kento sighed to awkward silence, "just my wife--"

Clatter-- clatter-- clack.

The screen flickered. The Zoom call expanded, and shrunk, and expanded, and shrunk, and finally ended. Kento leaned back in his chair, watching you settle on his keyboard. You batted at the mouse, until it landed with a sad little clatter onto the office floor.

You looked at Kento, all pink nose and innocence. Kento's eyes narrowed. He looked into your eyes, looking past the cat to the you within.

"...you know exactly what you're doing, don't you, you absolute terror--"

"Meow," you replied, rolling onto your back to keyboard clatter, and showing him your belly.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow--"

"--no, you listen to me-- you did that on purpose--"

"Mew--meow, mrrrrow--"

"--don't give me that, you always hated that tie-- awfully convenient--"

"Mew, mew, meow--"

The neighbour watched, slack-jawed and confused, as his neighbour argued with a cat over a brandished, shredded red tie.

What was stranger, was when the cat seemed to argue back. The neighbour's little pot plant overflowed, the watering can slack in his hand.

"--we shall have words when I'm home," Nanami clipped, handing the tie back to you with a glare. You took it in your teeth, imperious as you turned your furry little back to him.

And so began the rumour amongst the neighbours, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow."

You bopped your head against Kento's shin. Gojo watched the vein throb in his temple.

"Meow."

You bopped your head onto Kento again, brushing up against his legs, and brushing, and brushing, and bopping your head. Kento ignored you, utterly steadfast. Gojo gulped.

"Ah, Nanami, I...I think she's hungry--"

"--she is not hungry, she's only just eaten breakfast--"

"Meow," you said. You dragged a plate to your usual spot at the dinner table with your teeth. You nosed a knife and fork into place next to it. You sat by it, staring at Kento. A few seconds passed. You pressed your paw to the middle of the plate, more insistent now, ticked off. "Meow."

Gojo felt a bead of sweat drop down his soul.

Kento spoke, uncharacteristically mild.

"You know, this is one part of her that's really not all that different to when she's human."

"Meow--"

"--yes, I'll get you a snack, give me a minute--"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Yo, Nanamin! A package arrived for you."

"Ahh, Yuuji. Good. Bring it to the staffroom, please."

A rip. A rustle. You, circling round Kento as he rummaged in a box. Your tail twitched, and flicked, excited, excited, excited--

Boff.

A big, glass fishbowl was placed onto the staffroom table. Thrilled, you sprung up, and promptly poured yourself into the bowl, your form melting to fill the space perfectly. Your head peeped out of the top of the bowl. You purred.

Kento looked delighted. Yuuji tried not to laugh.

"How, er...how much was that fishbowl, Nanamin?"

"It doesn't matter how much it cost. She likes it, don't you? Yes, you do. Yes you do."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Ex-excuse me, uhm...would you mind not hanging around outside the womens' bathrooms? We're starting to feel, uhm...uncomfortable."

Kento raised his eyebrows. He pushed his glasses up his nose. He bowed.

"I apologise. I assure you, I'm waiting for my wife--"

A toilet flushed behind closed doors. A scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch at the handle. The door edged open.

"Ah, there she is-- my apologies-- good afternoon--"

A cat ran out with toilet paper stuck to its back foot. Kento followed.

A small crowd of women turned to watch them leave, utterly perplexed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento arrived home with a sigh. The day had been long. His shoulders ached, heavy with the burden of work and worry, missing his wife, and he walked through the corridor, calling for you and--

"My lov-- Jesus Christ!"

You leapt out from the staircase, all four paws out in a clawed jazz-hands of death, and yowled at Kento, before skittering away.

Kento leant back against the wall, holding his chest, his glasses askew. He sounded so desperately weary, when he spoke.

"...please stop jumping out at me, you are ageing me--"

From somewhere deep inside the house, "Meow."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento couldn't remember the last time he ran around his garden like this. But he did, running, panting, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie abandoned in the flowerbeds and a quirked little half-smile on his face.

He hid behind a forget-me-not blue Hydrangea, trying to silence his breaths, listening, and listening, and--

"Meow!"

Kento laughed, deep and husky, as you shot through the bushes, finding him in seconds. He burst out, running across the garden, and feeling you catch up fast, and jump onto his back, and--

Kento grabbed you, his hands huge and warm and gentle. He fell onto his back on the grass, holding you aloft, where you gazed down at him with as much love as a cat could gaze at a human. Except you weren't a cat, were you?

The sun shone your fur into effervescence. Kento sighed, suspending you in one hand and stroking your cheeks and whiskers with the other.

"This is...nice," he whispered. "Fun. We should...we should do this again. When you're back."

You dropped down onto his chest. You nuzzled your nose against his, over, and over, and over, your two front paws clutching his cheeks with joy.

Kento accepted your feline kisses with a faint sting of tears in his nose.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Perhaps there's something about her that always connected on a spiritual level with cats?"

Kento glared at Shoko. "Are you suggesting my wife is more feline than human?"

Shoko smirked. She looked over to you, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, with Kento's tan suit jacket covering your body.

"She'll come back. Maybe she'll get her comeuppance one day, for all the trouble she caused you. But in the meantime...she's kind of cute."

Kento scoffed, stroking your hair behind your ear. He could have sworn he heard you purr.

"Nonsense. She was always cute."

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

The final act is coming, any day now.

Shadow Milk has been burning with a latent anticipation ever since Pure Vanilla had first resonated with the Soul Jam again. The sheer strike of giddiness he had felt in that precious moment, when he felt that distantly nostalgic power reach weakly for Pure Vanilla, is possibly unmatched.

That anticipation has only worsened as the weeks drag on, simmering in his dough like a stewing pot. Standing indefinitely on the brink of this grand finale, so close to getting everything he wants, leaves Shadow Milk noticeably restless. He pretends it is adrenaline from the ever-increasing waves of Wafflebot attacks, and assists Pure Vanilla with the almost constant stream of patients as if he isn’t eagerly puzzling out plans for what to do next, once the Soul Jam manifests in full.

Shadow Milk feels it, when Dark Enchantress Cookie is released from the Moonstone. He feels it as the kickback of Dark Moon Magic stirs the stagnant nothing of his other-realm and ripples through him like a courteous reminder. He straightens up at the sensation, all of his eyes immediately darting over to Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla feels it too. He must, because it is his own spell that is breaking and, whether he remembers it or not, it is still connected to him energetically. Shadow Milk watches him stiffen, sitting at the perfect angle to see the confusion that pinches his mouth as he briefly shudders through the magical kickback. He is also sitting at the perfect angle, out of direct eyeshot of the few patients in the tent, to allow himself an indulgent, hungry smile.

Yes, the final act is coming, any second now.

Sure enough, it is only a few hours later that a loud commotion kicks up outside the healer’s tent, an argument of clashing voices rather than the usual sounds of Wafflebot attack. The noise disturbs the patients, which in turn makes Pure Vanilla agitated, though he is obviously doing his best to ignore it.

“What are they talking about outside to cause such a racket?” Pure Vanilla murmurs in coiling frustration as he heals a particularly nasty looking head wound. “The patients need as much peace and quiet as possible.”

Shadow Milk takes that as his cue, haphazardly finishing the bandaging he was in the middle of doing and ignoring the patient’s wince when he tightens it a little too tight. Instead, he turns to Pure Vanilla and asks breezily, “Want me to go tell them to shut up?”

Pure Vanilla coughs out a little laugh, a smile peeking through his stress as his shoulders loosen slightly. “Maybe not quite that bluntly but yes, if you could.”

Shadow Milk makes a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, hopping to his feet and brushing dust off of his patchwork costume. As always, he leaves some of his eyes in Pure Vanilla’s shadow, keeping especially close watch for any meaningful Soul Jam development as he sweeps out into the daylight.

Good timing too, because a band of scraggly little Cookies come screeching right to the front of the tent, barely skidding to a frantic stop when he abruptly pops out and blocks their way in. The tent flap quietly slides closed behind him.

“Can you all kindly shut up out here?” Shadow Milk shouts, projecting his voice over the buzzing of the insects and placing his hands sternly on his hips. “There are some poor, injured patients who are in desperate need of actual rest, and they can’t get that with all this yelling!”

“You–!” Black Raisin starts with the sharp glare she always greets him with, but she cuts herself off as she casts a glance back to the healer’s tent. Clearly, she must have registered his words and realised Pure Vanilla sent him out, because she lowers her voice to something quieter, though no less barbed. “Look, just tell Healer that I’m taking care of some outlanders that breached the village and stay out of it. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

Shadow Milk turns back to the group of newcomers, evaluating them for a moment. They really are a ramshackle group of itty-bitty Cookies, most of them barely out of the oven and hopelessly stupid from a first glance. He snorts in mock disbelief. “These guys managed to breach the village?”

“Not just that, they managed to defeat some of the Wafflebots!” One of the other villagers interjects, sounding slightly out of breath. They must have been chasing these teensy Cookies.

Shadow Milk doesn’t consider that a very impressive feat at all, and it does nothing to change his opinion on the overall insignificance of these Cookies. Still, he pretends to consider it, idly glancing back at Black Raisin. She narrows her eyes at him, jerking her chin slightly as if to shoo him back into the healer’s tent, and Shadow Milk grins slowly back.

“Daaarling!” He calls, which is a new nickname, but one that is worth it, if only for the way it makes Black Raisin’s eye twitch. “It looks like we have some little outlander guests.”

From his non-physical eyes, Shadow Milk sees Pure Vanilla pause for a moment in pleasant surprise as he stems a patient’s leaking jam. “Guests? Oh, let them come in, I want to hear from them. They’re not hurt, are they?”

“Not at all!” The playking chirps as Shadow Milk turns to open the tent flap again, waving his little sceptre around in childish boast. “My faithful servants are strong. Even if they weren’t, I, Custard Cookie III, would ensure their safety, as any good king should!”

Shadow Milk notices how Pure Vanilla softens the moment he hears how young the voice is. He tsks under his breath, unsurprised, as Pure Vanilla replies playfully, “A king? My, what an honour has graced our humble village.”

“No, Healer, you don’t understand.” Black Raisin insists, a frazzled exasperation in her voice. She pushes past Shadow Milk none too gently to enter the healer’s tent and talk to Pure Vanilla herself. “These outlanders breached the village. They cannot be trusted!”

Pure Vanilla sighs heavily. “Black Raisin, I have told you countless times before that it does you no good to completely close your heart to every stranger you encounter.”

As the two bicker in hushed tones, Shadow Milk takes the opportunity to turn back to their guests and hold open the tent flap for them, gesturing inside. “Come on. Don’t worry about her, she’s always acting rashly like that. I’ve been here for months and she still doesn’t trust me.”

Because Shadow Milk has been provoking her, but they don’t need to know that.

“Well, if that’s true, we have no absolutely no hope of gaining her trust.” The amateur wizard grumbles dejectedly into his scarf. “I just hope she doesn’t decide to start chasing us around again. It’s starting to get exhausting.”

“Hey, don’t say that! It’s like she said, we’ve just got to prove that we can be trustworthy.” The boy with the candy cane chimes, aggravatingly optimistic as they duck under Shadow Milk’s arm into the tent, one by one. He follows closely behind them, his anticipation pacing between his ribs.

It can’t be a coincidence that they appeared so shortly after Dark Enchantress’ release. Though even Shadow Milk can’t precisely predict what will unfold, he knows that their arrival acts as a catalyst.

The tent is cramped, now packed with patients and guests alike. Black Raisin must have been reluctantly pacified by Pure Vanilla, as she always is, because she stands to the side and does nothing to stop their guests from settling down, aside from giving them a wary glance. Shadow Milk largely ignores her, making a beeline towards his spot by Pure Vanilla’s side and plopping down as Pure Vanilla warmly greets the newcomers.

The patients are mostly settled for now, which would allow Shadow Milk to focus entirely on the budding conversation, if he cared about it. He doesn’t though, uninterested with the introductions and pleasantries and exposition for the most part. Time feels like it is crawling incredibly slow, impatience humming through his dough as he sits through their chatter, waiting for something interesting to happen.

“What is the Vanilla Kingdom?” Pure Vanilla asks, sincerely curious, and Shadow Milk bites down on the laugh that threatens to escape him, tilting his head back to glance at the slanting ceiling. Still, the turn in conversation gives him a shot of clarity, and he realises exactly how this will all play out. Or, at least, he knows exactly how he will make it play out, if it doesn’t flow that way naturally.

The final act has come, and Pure Vanilla has to confront the Truth of his past.

The guests drone on and on about how amazing the Vanilla Kingdom is, until Pure Vanilla suddenly gasps. He turns towards Shadow Milk, hand patting around to finally squeeze his knee. “Wait- could they be talking about the castle in the sky?”

The peanut gallery makes some shocked exclamations at that, but Shadow Milk hums smoothly, setting his hand over Pure Vanilla’s hand as his eagerness peeks through his words. “It must be! That’s the only other thing around here for miles, and I promise you, it definitely looks like a kingdom.”

“Wait, wait, you haven’t explained what this castle in the sky thing is yet, and we haven’t seen anything like that. There’s no way it’s real!” The thief scoffs, crossing her arms.

“Well, I haven’t seen it either,” Pure Vanilla says, a hint of laughter lacing his own joke as his hand absentmindedly slips out from under Shadow Milk’s, “but I know it must exist. That’s where all the Wafflebots come from, with every coming of the crimson moon.”

“The Wafflebots?” The playking yelps, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, that can’t possibly be the Vanilla Kingdom then. They would never attack other Cookies!”

As if to prove him wrong, it is then that a metallic shriek rattles through the air, the warning cry of another wave of Wafflebots. In the ensuing panic, Black Raisin rushes out of the healer’s tent with their guests hot on her heels, probably eager to help and prove their trustworthiness, as they said. That leaves Shadow Milk with Pure Vanilla, as always, with a few resting patients blending into the background.

“This attack sounds even louder than before.” Pure Vanilla frowns, head upturned towards the approaching buzz. He’s right – it sounds like an absolute swarm. Shadow Milk’s fingers twitch with restlessness, taking it as a sign, an omen. “Do you think the Wafflebots managed to get past the defences to us?”

Shadow Milk has, thus far, done his absolute best to steer Pure Vanilla away from the Wafflebots’ path. He needs to keep Pure Vanilla alive to have any hope of recovering the Soul Jam, after all. It has never been too hard anyway, since the patients that Pure Vanilla needs to tend to are always piling up as a good distraction from silly thoughts of rushing out like a hero. Now, though, Shadow Milk thinks it is time for a risk.

He swears he can hear the faint ringing of the Soul Jam, cloaked in the hum of encroaching machinery. His twitching fingers squeeze into fists, itching, itching, itching, before relaxing again.

“I don’t know.” He declares, getting to his feet and grabbing Pure Vanilla’s staff. He holds it out to him, tapping it against Pure Vanilla’s side. “Let’s go check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Good idea. We should make sure the tent is still safe and secure before more patients arrive.” Pure Vanilla nods, taking his staff, steadying it against the ground and pulling himself to his feet.

Outside, the noise is deafening, almost as bad as the very first time the Wafflebots descended. Shadow Milk watches with a rising satisfaction as their harsh silhouettes draw ever closer, closing in on the healer’s tent through a dense thicket of fog. That’s good. That means he can pull off his experiment. Or rather, his challenge.

“They sound close.” Pure Vanilla mutters fretfully, the smallest questioning tilt at the end of his sentence. He wants confirmation.

“They are really close. And there are so many of them too.” Shadow Milk injects an artificial waver into his voice, stepping closer to Pure Vanilla to the point of hedging into his personal space, a protective move masquerading as a fearful one. A failsafe, in case this challenge doesn’t pan out, because he still needs Pure Vanilla alive to get the Soul Jam. “How are there so many of them? What- what should we do?”

His voice cracks on that question, just enough to make it sound vulnerable, and that is all that matters. Plain Yogurt goes along with Pure Vanilla’s requests or polite orders often enough, but he doesn’t tend to ask for them. No, Plain Yogurt is more prone to figuring it out himself or offering help his own way, if not taking the lead entirely.

But Pure Vanilla has to face his past, and that includes the crushing weight of being a leader in a crisis. Shadow Milk knows Pure Vanilla has never heard him panicked like this before, and that works in his favour, because it makes it all the more impactful now.

Predictably, Pure Vanilla’s protective instinct kicks in and he throws his arm out in front of Shadow Milk, craning his head up with his mouth set in a grave line, like he’s trying to track the Wafflebots. Shadow Milk wonders if, for once, his bandages feel like a hindrance rather than a help.

The amusement he might feel at that thought is swept away as Pure Vanilla finally replies, a nervousness tinting his words that is unbefitting of a so-called hero. “I-I don't know, I’m sorry. Oh, if only Black Raisin were here, she would surely know-!”

Irritation flares through Shadow Milk, because that is the wrong line. It makes Pure Vanilla sound pathetic, and while he generally has no problems with Pure Vanilla appearing pathetic, this is one of the only instances where he needs his stupid heroics. The Soul Jam probably won’t reveal itself without them.

“Stop that!” Shadow Milk snaps, slightly too harsh for being Plain Yogurt. He tries to play it off as a spike of nerves, barely managing to round the edges of his tone as he continues. “Not only are you just as capable as Black Raisin, you are more capable than her with that power of yours. Just focus on what you can do.”

“I don’t know if that's quite right, but… it is true that there is no time for weakness now.” Pure Vanilla exhales, then takes another deep breath as the tension in his frame sluggishly eases into something more steady, tightening his grip on his staff. He shifts his feet, falling into that noble stance like it is the most natural thing in the world, squaring his shoulders. “No matter what, I will stand my ground!”

There you are, Shadow Milk thinks, pleased with the echo of the past as it begins to creep up on Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla’s spark of resolve is encouraged by the voice of the resting patients within the tent, who seem to be huddling around the tent flap as they cheer, “We- we believe in you, Healer!”

“Yeah, you can do it!”

Shadow Milk lays a light hand on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, spurring him on with a whispered, “I trust you. Whatever you plan to do, just go for it.”

Pure Vanilla seems to stand even taller at that, and Shadow Milk’s smile stretches wider as he feels the air ripple weakly with an enticingly familiar energy, his chest practically aching as it–

“Don’t forget about us either!” Comes a determined young voice, as their gaggle of guests run over, appearing from behind some of the other tents. The boy with the candy cane acts as their naive leader, charging forward as he waves. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. We can fight!”

“Ah- and we’ll do our very best too.” The shy girl pipes up as the group stumbles to a stop by the healer’s tent, clustering around Pure Vanilla like a flock of sheep pretending to be wolves.

“Children?” Pure Vanilla murmurs, clearly surprised by their return, as he slips from that noble posturing, his shoulders dipping slightly, not relaxing but loosened with a lifting of a load. That pulsing energy stalls and stagnates in midair. Shadow Milk swallows a scowl, his eye twitching, briefly worried that their guests’ support will make Pure Vanilla more complacent.

But, of course, Shadow Milk should have known better. Pure Vanilla has always fought best with someone else on the line, just as he has always fought best at someone else’s side. His momentary surprise is displaced by a smile that cuts through the warning wails of the circling Wafflebots.

“Thank you, all of you, for your support.” The stagnant energy begins to move, faster and faster, swirling around him in a steady current as Pure Vanilla turns his head to the sound of the Wafflebots, lifting his chin to meet them directly. His expression settles into a serious determination as he resumes his grand, unshakeable posture, planting his feet. “I won’t let it be in vain. I will protect everyone!”

And with that final, firm declaration, he lifts his staff skyward as the current of power overflows.

The Wafflebots freeze in place, shimmering with a diluted golden sheen like they are encased in honey. Their guests and the patients alike begin chattering and cheering in awe, but it blurs into insignificance in Shadow Milk’s ears. He’s too focused on the flow of magical energy in the air, thick with true power, tugging at his core in ancient familiarity.

Since he is tracking it so closely, he feels it collect in front of Pure Vanilla a few split seconds before it manifests physically, crystallising into a rough, raw blue gemstone. His eyes fixate on its meek glow, pulsating in time with Pure Vanilla’s steady breathing.

And, coincidentally, in time with Shadow Milk’s breathing too.

It’s not fully manifested yet. It’s not the polished, perfect form of the Soul Jam, it hasn’t properly reconnected with Pure Vanilla, but it has a secure enough connection to draw some of itself out of its shattered hiding. And it certainly is the lost half of Shadow Milk’s Soul Jam, there is no doubt about that. He can feel it like his own pulse.

In a trance, Shadow Milk leans around Pure Vanilla, inadvertently pressing into his side as he reaches out towards that frozen drop of his own power. He shudders as his fingers draw close to it, feeling the energy of the Soul Jam curl around his outstretched fingers in coy greeting.

“Wait.” Pure Vanilla is, naturally, the second one to notice this new presence, turning away from the idle conversation he was having with their guests to turn towards the light. Whether it was the tug of the Soul Jam or Shadow Milk’s movement or a combination of the two that clued him in doesn’t matter. “There’s something… what is that?”

“A gemstone,” Shadow Milk describes in a tone toeing the edge of reverence, not skipping a beat, the explanation already ready on his tongue, “that glows like a star.”

Shadow Milk wants to take it, he wants to take it so bad, it is a yearning that eats through his insides like a parasite, but he forces himself to hold back. As it currently is, the Soul Jam is still incomplete and halfhearted, so there really isn’t any benefit to reclaiming it now. Besides, the scene isn’t right. It would be so anticlimactic to take it away now, in the middle of this dingy village, and he thinks he and Pure Vanilla both deserve a little more fanfare than that.

Instead, he reaches for Pure Vanilla’s free hand, guiding it up so it is enveloped by the cool aura spilling off the Soul Jam. “It thrums with power like a star too.” Shadow Milk adds, closer to a whisper. “Do you feel it?”

Pure Vanilla seems to be mystified, his mouth slightly agape, but he recovers quickly enough, his lips moving to reply.

“Did you say gemstone?!” The thief shouts eagerly, tearing through the fragile haze between the two of them, as she lunges towards the gem in question. “Hey, lemme see that!”

Clearly, the Soul Jam doesn’t agree. It slips out from the range of their hands, zipping silently through the air to collide with the crux of Pure Vanilla’s staff, melting seamlessly into the bandages for safekeeping. The thief groans in disappointment, and Shadow Milk sends her a covert glare, deadly as a cloaked dagger. He doesn’t appreciate her unwanted intervention, and he appreciates her sloppy attempt to swipe the Soul Jam even less.

And yet, alongside his irritation, there’s a flicker of vindication. The Soul Jam had only retreated to Pure Vanilla’s staff when the thief tried to approach, after all. It had no negative reaction to Shadow Milk’s close proximity. Of course it didn’t – it is his, first and foremost.

Pure Vanilla pulls his hand back, clearly focused on his staff as the lingering glow fades into the dim, boring light of day. “You…” He murmurs gently to his staff, to the fragmented Soul Jam, almost in awe. “You’re the thing that has been resonating with my staff recently.”

“What was that?” That amateur wizard asks, trying and failing to hide his own childish amazement. “I know plenty about magic, obviously, but I’ve never seen something like that happen before!"

“I’m not sure. But..." Pure Vanilla perks up as he whips around to face Shadow Milk. He reaches out for him and Shadow Milk obliges, setting his arm in Pure Vanilla’s grip so he can squeeze his elbow. “...This must be the good thing you thought was going to happen, isn’t it? These new friends, this strange power and this adventure towards a great kingdom? This is by far the most exciting thing that has happened in weeks!”

The smile Pure Vanilla gives him is bright, practically glowing like the Soul Jam had, just a few moments ago. That yearning yawns hungrily within him, demanding attention. Shadow Milk wants to take it, him, everything so badly it burns.

He wants to swallow him whole.

But he needs to be patient. He’s been waiting for this long, he can wait just a little longer. It would be no fun otherwise.

So he smiles back with a crescent of teeth that Pure Vanilla cannot see and says, “Yeah, I think it must be. In that case, wherever we go from here must lead to amazing things, right?”

It is a hope, a promise, a fact, a threat. The one thing it is not, ironically, is a lie.

Wherever this little expedition to the Vanilla Kingdom leads, the destination will be something amazing, as defined by Shadow Milk. He will make sure of it.

It’s only fair. After all this time, they both deserve a perfect finale to this little farce. Right?

Pure Vanilla hums in agreement, letting go of him as he turns his attention to whatever silly little rallying speech the outspoken children are giving, and Shadow Milk’s unseen smile twists smugly.

[next]

[jjsloverre]

my love- j.m

bsf!jj x sweetheart!reader

in which… bsf!jj runs to you when him and his dad get into another physical fight. (not proofread)

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of blood, mentions of bruises, mentions of cuts, mentions of fighting

________________________________________

“mama.. please pick up the phone i need you.. please princess i need you..!” jj screamed through the phone. you finally picked up his frantic calls with your sleepy voice. “hi jayj, what’s up?”

you could hear his dad screaming at him and things breaking in the background. you instantly shot up, realizing what the call might be for. you put some sweatpants on with a random shirt you took from jj’s closet. “jj? listen to me what’s going on?”

he whimpered through the phone call. “m-my dad.. fuck baby my dad.. it’s bad- it’s bad this time.. please- come get me?” you didn’t need to be told twice. you snuck out your window and walked to jj’s house. “stay on the phone okay? i’m coming.”

“okay..” he said with a shaking voice. “how about we talk about something different yeah? what do you want for dinner tonight?”

you could tell he was forcing his voice to not come out shaking. “s-some of that soup shit you make when your sick, i want something warm..” thank goodness you had the things to cook that for him tonight. “your wish is my command love bug. pot roast it is!”

“that’s what it’s called?” he asked. “yeah.”

“how far are you?”

“not far, about two minutes.”

“you walk really fast.” you giggled. “you said you needed me, why wouldn’t i be fast?”

“you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me- not that i think of you as an object but-“ you cut him off. “i know what you mean jj and it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“can you- clean me up? like the cuts and shit? i don’t wanna bleed all over your room.”

“course i can, i was gonna do that anyway. we can shower together too.”

“fuck yeah, exactly what i need… can i spend the night?” jj asked, even though he knew the answer to that question. “you were spending the night anyway jayj. now come outside, i’m here.” you say. “don’t hang up til you see me please?” jj pleaded. “alright love.”

time skip…

“jeez jj.. this is bad- what happened?” i said as i wiped all the blood that was smeared on his face. i stripped him naked as he spoke. “he found out about the money, that i spent on that dumbass hot tub. we argued, got physical and that deadbeat beat my fuckin’ brains in.”

“next time ask me for money, i don’t care about the price or nothing, i don’t want you to get hurt like this anymore okay?” he nodded as you cleaned his face. “yes ma’am. will you still get in the shower with me?”

“yeah i will. cmon.”

as we got in the shower, i let jj cry into my neck as i wash off the blood that stained his beautiful body. he was so fragile. the best friend that never deserved to get hurt. the best friend that would protect you with his life and you’d do everything to protect him from his pain.

“fuck.. it hurts so much… he almost killed me- i almost killed him…”

“shhh, none of that now okay? let’s get you into bed, and i’ll bring you a bowl of pot roast. turn the tv on and watch something.” he nodded and stepped out the shower. i gave him some clothes that he usually leaves over just in case something like this happens.

“here you go, i’ll be right back.” he got up to give me a quick kiss to my lips. “what was that for?” i asked surprised, but not complaining- not at all whatsoever. “just want to, i dunno thank you for coming to get me and taking care of me.. i love you for this.”

“no need to thank me, and i love you too.” you walk out the room with two bowls, you come back up to your room and hand him a bowl. “here you go! i have some water up here for us too.”

he cuddled into your chest as you both ate. once he devoured his bowl, you set it down on the dresser and look at him, really look at your best friend, he was so precious, like an angel.

“can i kiss you?” he asked softly. “yeah you can.” with that, we shared a deep passionate kiss. “i love you mama- i love you so fuckin’ much..” you both finally break the kiss. “i love you too, cmon lay down.” he laid down on your chest, rubbing your stomach until you also fell asleep. “goodnight jayj.”

“goodnight my beautiful best friend.”

________________________________________

-a/n: idc i LOVEDDDD writing this, also 2 fics one day? hell yea !

more bsf!jj x sweetheart!reader here

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @sophand4n4 @aaliyahsturniolo @ethanthequeefqueen

[trivia-yandere]

autumn of terror

the small town of oakville is being taken over by a serial killer who goes by "the ripper" who uses fear as a tactic to control the town entire. you, an out of town detective, team up with head detective of oakville kim seokjin, to take down the ripper. @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader

word count: 16.773

warning: blood, character deaths, smut, reader is blindfolded, dub-con moments, slight mention of child abuse/abandonment, voyeurism, oral sex (m/f), handjob, dub-con.non-con elements, dirty talk, degradation, nipple sucking, thigh riding, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of human trafficking,

halloween masterlist - happy spooky season!!

The leaves crumble beneath your feet as you step onto the pavement, a chill running up your spine at how chilly it was this autumn. The breeze runs through your hair and pierces against your skin like a knife. Your breathing is evident in the harsh, cold weather and your nose automatically sniffles.

Your legs continue to walk up the shallow stairs of the building, your gloved hand grasping the door handle and pulling it open. Warm air engulfs you and you sigh in relief, rushing inside. 

It’s chaotic inside said building - there’s several phones ringing nearly nonstop, people running around in a frenzy. You never seen a precinct be in such a ruckus. There’s a crowd forming inside, all of which are hollering out demands while there are several police officers attempting to hold them back.

Your eyes scan the large precinct, eyes unsure where to fall - the telephones are ringing nonstop and you notice they are several officers already speaking. Officers who are attempting to keep the crowd at bay are seconds from drawing their weapons.

“What are you doing to catch the Ripper?!”

“How many people have to die before the Ripper is caught?!”

The Ripper.

The Ripper was the reason why you were here - all the way from your own town. The Ripper has taken over the town of Oakville spanning back to the end of summer. It began with one or two murders a week - it caused mumbles in the streets of Oakville. Murders so gruesome didn’t happen in said town - blood splattering the streets and the walls, intestines sprawling outside of the body and seemingly dragged away for miles.

One or two murders a week became murders every night - each murder more gruesome and cruel than the last. It caused a frenzy throughout the town that had officers and detectives working overtime for any clues; the Ripper left none.

As Autumn creeped in, it appeared as if the Ripper’s identity had remained a secret, but that didn’t mean that the Ripper worked alone. 

“Excuse me?” you clear your throat, waving your hand high to grab the attention of the officers. “I’m here to speak to Detective Kim? I’m Detective-”

“Y/L Y/N.”

There’s a door to the far right that opens and you hear the ragged voice of just the man you were looking for. Seokjin is tall and his shoulders broad - they appear to be stressed as the weight of the town depends solely on his shoulders. “Come, please.” he says, waving you over to his office. “We’ve been expecting you.”

You do as you’re asked, rushing towards the man's office where he quickly slams the door shut and locks it in case anyone from the crowd wants to follow after you.

“Coffee?” Seokjin asks - the question comes out as a sigh. You assume that he uses coffee to keep himself sane and awake. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes and you understand that he must be working overtime to figure out clues.

“Uh, yes. I’ll make it.” you nod your head, making your way towards the pot of coffee that’s on the shelves while Seokjin makes his way around to his desk. “So, what do we have so far, detective?”

“Please,” Seokjin huffs with a shake of his head. He falls onto his office chair and opens up a few documents. “You can call me Seokjin or even Jin. We’re going to be well acquainted if we’re going to be working together.”

You nod your head at him. “Yes, Jin.” you say, the little nickname sounding foreign to your tongue. 

It was a month prior when you got a call from Kim Seokjin, lead detective from Oakville, a small town a few hours from your own. The man appears slightly frantic and desperate, explaining that every precinct he has called for assistance outside of his town had refused any assistance - an act you found completely cowardly. You had agreed to help him with the investigation no matter how long it took and he was grateful.

You listen to Jin speak as you pour sugar and milk into your coffee.

“Right, as you know,” Jin begins, leaning back into his chair. “the Ripper has been plaguing this town for months now. The townspeople are utterly terrified of him - them.”

“You believe the Ripper is more than one person?” you ask, blowing at your coffee.

Jin shrugs. “It’s a possibility,” he states. “Nothing is off the table. I believe the Ripper is just the head of an organization - the same gang we have around Oakvale now.”

“Explain further, please.” you sip your coffee, leaning against the wall as your eyes watch Jin. 

Jin sighs. His right hand reaches up to rub at his temple. 

“There’s a small gang that we are positive that operates at the Ripper’s orders. We have someone on the inside undercover.” Jin says, glancing up at you. “By his words, none of them has seen the Ripper face to face, only speaks to him over the phone or through letters and such.”

You furrow your brows. “Interesting.” you murmur. You place your cup of coffee on the shelf and cross your arms, grateful that you were beginning to warm up. “The Ripper is doing a great job at remaining anonymous.”

“Tell me about it.”  Jin scoffs. “I had one of my men go undercover nearly a month ago and has seen everything except the Ripper.”

“I see.” you hum. “What is the plan while he’s on the inside?”

“The Ripper is one hell of a killer and none of those working under him is as calculated as he is.” Jin opens up a few envelopes. “His kills are truly horrifying and demeaning and this is how he even keeps his own gang in line. They’re just as terrified of him as we are.”

Jin continues. “I’ve seen this town go from safe to completely…barbaric. Prostitution is at an all time high on the outskirts of the town and my detective tells me that some of them are forced into it. The townspeople are attempting to take matters into their own hands and have physically brought in who they assume the Ripper is.”

You believe it, the angry crowd outside were just as restless and afraid. “I take it as none of the suspects were the Ripper.”

Jin snickers with a shake of his head. “You’re catching on quick, Y/N. Can I call you by name?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues. “By what I’ve seen the Ripper can do, he would not let a few townspeople catch him. He’s truly a force of nature…a shadow.”

“You must’ve had a lot on your plate.” you take another sip of your coffee. 

“Indeed I have. Detectives and officers have quit because they received threatening letters…by the Ripper.” Jin glances your way, analyzing your reaction. “I should have told you before-”

“I understand why you haven’t.” you interrupt. “I’m from out of town, Jin. I won’t be scared away by the Ripper.”

Jin exhales.  “I hope so. We need all the help we can get.” he admits, eyes glancing back down at the stack of documents. “Do you have any questions?”

“Well, for one…is there a spare room around here? I already told my captain that I won’t be returning until the Ripper is caught.”

Jin’s eyes slightly widened. You were serious about staying and helping.

“I can have a room made for you!” Jin nods his head. “I live right above the precinct, as sad as that sounds. I have basically lived here myself ever since the murders.”

“Thank you.” you nod, offering a soft smile. “My next question is, what do you think we should do to take down the Ripper? I have a few of my own.”

“Please, explain.”

“Well,” you step forward to sit across from him in the arm chair. “The Ripper doesn’t work alone. I say we take down as many of his little gang and that should be able to draw him out, right? Your detective on the inside should be able to help with that.”

Jin slowly nods his head. He places a hand on his chin.

“We start by taking down whatever businesses he has. The prostitution ring is just the beginning I’m sure. There has to be a reason why he’s doing all of this.”

“Control? He’s completely taken over the city.” Jin shakes his head once more. “My detective said there’s parties nearly every other day at a secluded location.”

You nod. “That’s what the prostitutes are far, I’m sure. Maybe there may even be…higher officials at these parties?”

Jin tilts his head. “You mean like…?”

“Officers. Politicians and more. People in high places with power.” It wouldn’t be a surprise to you that this is why the Ripper can remain as anonymous as he does.

Jin releases another exhale. He licks his lips, beady eyes blinking a few times. 

“You can be right, Y/N. We’ll have to infiltrate these parties.”

“We do. If I may,” you lean forward, elbows on his desk. “do you believe we should have another insider?”

“How so?”

“Well, like me?” you tilt your head. “I’m a new face. The Ripper nor anyone working for him would know who I am.”

“Y/N,” Jin goes to shake his head. “I don’t think-”

“The closest to the Ripper’s operation are the prostitutes, are they not?”

Jin’s beady eyes widened. “Y-You want to go undercover as a prostitute? Y/N,” he releases a shaky chuckle. “that is completely dangerous.”

“I’m well aware, Jin. I’m also a trained and skilled detective, unlike the women working those spaces. I’ll be able to protect myself.”

Jin eyes you, scanning your face. “You’re serious.” he states. “I’ll never forgive myself if you were harmed, Y/N. You are only here because of me, after all.”

“We both have jobs to do, don’t we, Jin?” you tilt your head. “I’ll be safe and grab intel while I’m on the inside. I’ll be nothing but a whore to them.”

A loud knock sounds on the door and it startles both you and Jin. The door creaks open, waiting for no answer. It shuts abruptly behind the intruder.

“Y/N,” Jin stands to his feet. “This is my undercover detective. Daniel,” he nods his head to you. “This is the detective I was speaking with you about.”

“The one from out of town.” Daniel nods his head. He appears to be out-of-breath, dark hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Y/N is suggesting she infiltrate, as well. As a prostitute…”

Daniel’s eyes widen and he looks at you. “I…don’t think you’d want to do this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “For the sake of the case,” you begin.

“You’ll have to sleep with one of them in order to gain access. That’s how they determine if…” Daniel sighs, a pink tint to his cheeks. “...if you’re worthy or not to work for them.”

Your mouth goes dry for a moment. Slowly, you nod your head. What else would you expect - these women were working and selling sex. “Who would I have to sleep with?”

“You’re not truly considering this?” Jin scoffs in disbelief. “Y/N-”

“How else are we going to gain access to these parties? We’ll need someone else on the inside. Once there, I’ll excuse myself and find a way to contact you and that’s how you’ll be able to bust them, no?”

Jin shakes his head. This plan was already risky - but knowing now that you’d have to give up your body so soon is something he doesn’t want for you. 

“It sounds like a good idea…” Daniel murmurs. “Even I don't even know where these parties are held. Only certain members are allowed to go for security purposes.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jin murmurs to you. “Sleep on it for now. Tomorrow we can speak further.”

“Jin-”

“It’s not up for debate.” Jin says. “Enough talk of this case. Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat. Daniel?”

“Right,” Daniel nods. “I was just reporting back. Tomorrow there’ll be a shipment coming in.”

Jin nods. “I’ll make sure to have officers on hand,” he says. “Thank you, Daniel.”

Daniel nods. “No problem.” he sighs. He offers you a short glance. “Detective,” he bows to you before turning on his heels and making his leave.

As the door clicks shut, Jin frowns at you. You furrow your brows. “Are you upset with me?”

“No. Just…” Jin swallows his words. “...I don’t want anyone else dying at the hands of the Ripper or his weak henchmen.”

You understood completely. What you were doing is insane - but for the sake of the case, you’d do it. You were a renowned detective that always put whatever case you had first, no matter the consequences.

“What do you prefer to eat?” Jin asks, closing a few file envelopes before rounding his desk to you. “There’s a diner not far from here we can go to?”

“Uh, yeah sure. That’ll be fine.” you nod your head, lifting yourself up from the chair. You make your way to your discarded cup of coffee and quickly down it. It’s lukewarm now and easier to drink than when it was white it was piping hot. “Let’s go. I’m sure you can fill me in on whatever details we left out.”

“I often enjoy breakfast for dinner.” Jin comments, digging into the smothered pancakes, syrup daring to drip down his lips. “I basically live in my office since the Ripper appeared.”

You take a sip of your juice and nod your head. “I can imagine. The phone was ringing nonstop.”

Jin snickers. “You’re not lying. I’ve unplugged the one in my office.” he says. “The calls were all useless. Some thought they caught the Ripper while others were just demanding that we hurry up and do our jobs.”

“Is it that ludicrous to believe that they did find the Ripper?” you ask.

Jin lifts his eyes to look at you, a look of disdain. He nods his head slowly. “Of course. You believe a regular person can find someone that doesn’t want to be found?”

You scoff. “Putting it that way…”

Dinner goes by smoothly. Jin has managed to give you as much information about the Ripper as possible and your mind processes it entirely. You didn’t have an easy stomach, so going through the crime scene photos didn’t bother your stomach, but your spirit. The way these people were harmed so cruelly - dismembered and body treated with such hatred. You want to ask if the Ripper has any tie to any of these people? Surely these could not be random murders committed - not when it appeared to be so personal.

“Enough about the case.” Jin nearly has to pry away the documents from you. He closes them and places it besides him. “What about you, Y/N?”

“What about me?” you plop a piece of toast into your mouth and begin to chew.

“What made you want to become a detective?” Jin questions. “I feel like we’ll be working together for a while. The Ripper isn’t an easy target.”

“I agree.” you chuckle. “Well…I…” you swallow, unsure of where to start. The beginning is always good and Jin didn’t appear to be in any rush. “...I always wanted to help. I actually…um…”

You bring your glass of juice up to your lips and begin to chug. Talking about your past was never easy for you. You don’t cry anymore - you’re an adult that doesn't need to seek out pity. In your line of work, you’ve experienced worse as do others. 

“I was given up for adoption by my biological parents and that led me with people that weren’t so kind. I wasn't with them for long until I eventually found myself with people I don’t belong with - even as a child.”

You’re being vague and you’re positive that Jin understands this. 

“I had to do some horrible things just to survive. Thing’s children shouldn’t have to do.”

Jin listens, no longer eating his food. His eyes are watching you, awaiting for you to respond. 

“I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by more children…they were my,” you put your fingers up to do finger quotations. “‘siblings,’ they said. I’m too young to remember any of them but I do remember the day we were rescued.” Jin furrows his brows. “Rescued?”

You nod your head. “I remember the two of them. I remember being so scared of them. They were adults and all the adults in my life ever did hurt me and my siblings. But they didn’t. They promised to help us…and they did.”

Your mind processes your memories, the blurred faces of the children and the two saviors who freed you all from captivity. “It’s unfortunate that I’ve never seen those kids again. I’m not sure if they’re still alive to this day but,” you exhale. “I truly do hope their lives got better. I prayed that they found peace and happiness in wherever life took them.”

Jin is quiet for a moment, probably taking in everything you’ve told him. You said a lot without speaking too much of the truth, not fully ready to address the early years of your life. You contemplate if you ruined the mood as speaking of your past could do that to anyone - even you at times. But you understand that Jin didn’t mean any harm and probably wasn’t expecting your past to be that chaotic.

“I see.” Jin says. He takes hold of one of his drinks - he ordered three, a coffee, a water and fresh-squeezed orange juice - and takes a sip. “I suppose we both had different childhoods.”

You raise an eyebrow. “My mother,” Jin drops his drink and blinks at you. You notice just how intense his eyes are - dark and nearly unreadable. “was a prostitute.”

You sit straight on your side of the booth, shoulders straightening as you listen to his speak.

“I’ve seen a lot of men come and go in my life and the same men take her life. I suppose you and I are somewhat the same. I was trafficked, sold to work in factories and warehouses alongside other children and even adults paying off their debts.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind swirling with flashbacks of your own past life and how you and the other children you grew alongside. You swallow the lump in your throat. To think Seokjin has gone through something similar like you and also managed to not allow his past to define his future.

“My mother had a long debt and since she was gone, I had to be responsible for it. I recall only sleeping a max of two hours before we were instructed to go back to work. The amount of times we’ve almost died working in such heinous conditions.” 

Jin speaks without a stutter or as much as a short break. His face remains stoic and you just wonder how much he’s been through to be so numb to it all.

“I suppose maybe that’s why the Ripper is so personal to me. He once targeted prostitutes before his reign of terror around the town had widened. The same sun that would shine bright in the sky appears to always be hidden by dark clouds.”

You can hear your heart beating so rapidly and it pounds right outside your chest. You take a deep breath to process it all.

This wasn’t going to be easy, you note. The Ripper was a sensitive subject for everyone- especially Jin. By the few hours you’ve come to know him, you realized that he worked such long hours in catching the Ripper and now you understand why. His childhood followed him into his adulthood ; working on little to no sleep, nonstop. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes, and yet he still manages to look refreshed and young.

“Thank you for telling me.” you speak after a few moments of silence. 

“I should be thanking you, as well, then.” Jin smiles with a tilt of his head. It causes your body to heat up slightly - but you weren’t here to act as a giddy teenager with a growing crush. “I’m glad we’re both getting to know one another. You are going to be my partner until we catch the Ripper. I do want us to be close.”

Jin leans forward and you’re caught completely off guard. You stiffen, his eyes boring into yours only making you a bit more awkward. 

“I really do appreciate you for coming here, Y/N. It isn’t safe for someone like you here.” Jin speaks truthfully. He wasn’t going to sugar coat anything for you, and for that you were grateful. “You’re putting yourself into harm's way is truly admirable.”

“It’s nothing.” you murmur, body still warm at his words - and even the tone of which he says them. “I’m not doing anything differently than you.”

“True, but,” Jin shakes his head. “Oakville is my town. You came all the way here to help us, and for that you deserved to be acknowledged.”

After all these years, you weren’t used to being praised. It always caused you to just stand awkwardly as you received them, but you cannot say that his praises didn’t cause a warmth fill throughout you. 

Slightly, you nod your head. You take a gulp of your drink, needing something to cool yourself off.

“I’m surprised I haven’t scared you off yet. I was hoping I would be able to steer you away from becoming…”

“A prostitute.” you finish the word for him. Understanding Jin’s childhood with his mother, it made sense as to why he didn’t want you to go undercover as one. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help catch the Ripper, Jin. I can handle whatever is thrown towards me. I’m sure we went through the same basic training in bootcamp.”

Jin chuckles with a nod of his head. He finally leans back into the booth. “I’m positive we have.” he responds. “I don’t wish to offend you. I just want you to be careful. If you ever need a way out, please, don’t hesitate to use Daniel to your advantage.”

You nod your head. Your stomach was satiated and you were glad that you had a chance to sit and speak with Jin on a deeper level. It made working alongside him better - more trusting.

Jimin was an interesting character and he made you nervous - you’re positive that he’s aware. You were expecting someone grimey and old; maybe not ancient old, but old enough to be that creepy uncle.

Jimin wasn’t old and you truly wish to ask for his actual age as it appeared he and you were around the same age. His skin is fresh and wrinkle free, almost like a porcelain doll. His lips are hydrated and plush. His face is sculpted perfectly, oval face shaped with narrowed chin and jawline. His hair is styled neatly, the silver tresses on top swooped on the right side of his head, the sides cut shorter than the top. It seemingly reflects off of the dim lights of the room you’re in.

Jimin’s eyes are what makes you the most nervous. They’re dark and they appear to be watching you closely, trailing up and down your body entirely as if looking for any imperfections. It’s hard to be confident underneath his gaze, but you had to remain as such.

You’ve been in Oakville for a week and finally managed to make it inside Jimin’s large estate. It’s cleaner than you would have imagined a brothel to be and the women are all welcoming and inviting. There’s an aura around them that shines brightly even underneath the dim lights of his estate.

Only you and Jimin stood in this large room and it appeared to be like an office. There’s a desk directly in front of a large window - it displays a beautiful scenery of woods behind it, the tree’s moving silently in the wind from the outside. The floors are hardwood and a dark mahogany that doesn’t squeak or squeal when you walk on them. 

There’s several paintings on the walls, most of which are of women and some are nude, but they aren’t lewd paintings as you might expect in a brothel. They’re artistic in a way and you recall hearing many people speak highly of art such as this.

“You like them?”

Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you. He’s still seated at his desk, leaning back with his arms placed in his lap as he stares right at you. His voice is as young as he looks, soft and calm. It has a level of coolness and sensuality to it that has you realizing why someone like him could be in this line of work.

“The art,” Jimin continues, glancing at the array of artwork on his wall. “do you like them?”

Slowly, you nod your head.  “They’re amazing.” you admit.

Jimin’s lip stretches into a low grin at your response. “It was once said by Michelangelo that the skin is more beautiful than the garments in which it is clothed.”

Jimin begins to tap his fingers against his thigh, again watching you closely. 

Daniel had insisted - apologize profusely, as well - that you needed to dress the part if you were going to impress Jimin. This is how you found yourself, clothed completely in white. Your stockings stop at your upper thigh, held up by a garter of the same color. Your bralette is laced and similar to your panties, a floral pattern stitched onto the fabric and hides just enough for you not to be fully exposed.

You didn’t wear lingerie and your undergarments were as basic as they come. You had gone out your way to buy some new ones when Daniel had warned you - going with white as it was the safest color for a situation such as this. 

“What’s your name?” asked Jimin.

“Y/N.” you answered truthfully.

“You’re not from here.” Jimin states. It wasn’t a question. Jimin is certain that someone like you wasn’t from Oakville - he’s lived in this town for years. “Where are you from?” “Nowhere, really.” you respond. “I haven't settled anywhere for too long.”

Jimin blinks and hums, mind taking in your response. 

“Why have you chosen Oakville, Y/N?” Jimin leans forward, hands placing themselves onto his desk. “Surely you’ve heard of the Ripper.”

You swallow. You had to act the part and appear slightly afraid - even if the Ripper had not frightened you. 

“I have.” you nod your head. “I assume if I stay in my own lane, I wouldn’t be his next victim.”

Jimin chuckles to himself, a boyish laugh that causes his eyes to turn smaller. 

“You’re right about that.” Jimin nods. “Working for me means that you’ll also be working for the Ripper. Do you know what that entails?”

That you’ll be one step closer to defeating the Ripper and stopping his reign of terror in the town of Oakville. Instead of stating that, you shake your head.

“It means you do what you are told.” Jimin stands, his chair scrubbing against the hardwood floor as he pushes his chair back. 

Jimin’s taller than you expected and he rounds the corner of his desk and stalks towards you. “It means that while you work for me, Y/N…” Jimin is in front of you now, tilting his head to peer at you with dark eyes. “...you’ll do as I tell you to. Turn around.”

Your shoulders are tense but you have no choice but to turn around. If anything, you’re sure you would be able to fight off Jimin if needed be - but you couldn’t resort to that just yet. You were undercover; expected to be nothing but a prostitute in their eyes. 

Your eyes are then covered by a silk fabric. It’s tied behind your head tightly and you lick your lips in nervousness. 

You know what you are expected to do, you think. If Jimin was going to invest in you, he needed to test out whatever product you were selling - that only meant your body.

“Turn back around.” Jimin’s cool voice speaks to you, his hands on your shoulders to guide you around to face him. 

Your mind is making up images as your eyes cannot see. Jimin removes his hands from you and takes a few steps back - you can hear his footsteps creak away, as if watching to see your reaction.

“Get on your knees.”

Jimin’s voice is farther and you are given no choice but to do as you are told. Your knees hit the cold hardwood floor, hands in your lap.

You hear the footsteps come closer again and you inhale a shaky breath as you feel warm hands on your chin. It lifts your head up as if to look at him.

“Working for me means you’ll be more privileged than any other prostitute.” Jimin words hit your heads, a thumb swiping across your bottom lip. “I want to see how good you are.”

Your heart is pounding now and your body heats up at the obvious sign of sex. You were going to have to make the first move - after all, you came to him.

Your hands reach out to touch him, finding his wrist. Your mouth opens slightly, tongue poking out to poke at his thumb. Your tongue twirls around his thumb idly, your grip on his wrist tightening. 

You lightly nibble on his thumb, your thighs pushing themselves apart as you inch closer to the man. Your hand trails from his wrist to reach out until you are sure you find his thigh. It would be easier if you could see, but you would have to manage.

There’s a bulge that you finally manage to find and it causes you to gulp once more - you were actually doing this. But there was no going back now. You were one step closer to the Ripper.

Your hand caresses the bulge in his pants, squeezing it into your embrace teasingly. 

“It looks like you want to taste something else.” Jimin states. 

“If you’d let me.” you retort, head lifting as if looking at him in the face - you wish you could.

“If you truly wanted to, you would. I’m not stopping you.”

Your hands trail up until they feel a belt buckle. It’s leather and it takes you a few tries until you manage to unbuckle it. Your hands tremble as they go to pull down his pants, breathing increasing.

“You look so scared, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” you respond. “It would be easier if I could see you.”

“You made the impression that you’ve done this before. Have you not?”

Jimin speaks as if he knows you’re lying and that’s not something you wanted. Your life was on the line for this and you truly didn’t want to die this soon.

You don’t respond, and instead your hands proceed to tug at the briefs he wore until they are down. Your mind has to connect the dots that you cannot see.

Your hand finds his cock, the naked flesh already hard and warm. It pulses in your grasp and your thumb circles the tip of his cock to assure you had it in your possession. Without warning, your tongue licks up the slit as if licking a lollipop. It swirls around the tip, the salty taste of precum meeting your taste buds immediately. 

You wished that you would have taken something upon coming here - you knew what you would be getting into. A type of aphrodisiac of the sort so that you could enjoy yourself without the thoughts in the back of your mind.

You didn’t have time to think about your actions now, and instead wrap a hand around the base of his cock to continue sucking, your cheeks suctioning inward with each slurp. His cock is coated with saliva. You can hear him - short moans that have your ears perking at just the sound of them. You suppose it’s nice, as the sounds of his boyish moans shoot straight to your core - an act of service you indeed needed if you were going to go through this case.

Your palm begins to pump his cock, focusing more on the tip than anything. You’re sure you looked exactly like you were supposed to - exactly what they were looking for in a woman in this business. 

Your slurping increases, bouncing off of the walls of the quiet room. As your slurping increases, so do the moans he releases. It comes out in short breaths, dancing through your ears as a compliment that what you were doing was indeed working.

Your hand falls onto your lap and you widen your mouth to take more of him. You pop his cock from your mouth and lick your lips - you could taste pre-cum, the salty taste bitter in your mouth. “You’re such a tease.” your ears perk when Jimin finally speaks and you cannot help but believe that you had no effect on him. 

You gulp, breathing through your nose a bit. “I can’t help but believe I’m doing all the work.”

Your hair is gripped suddenly and without warning, he slides into your mouth. Your eyes widen behind the silk ribbon and you’re unable to react fully as he’s already sliding in and out of your mouth.

It’s rough, you note, and maybe your words set him off. With each thrust, it hits the back of your throat and you feel the need to gag, but you manage. Your fists clench in your lap, legs clenching together tightly for whatever friction you could get.

His moans increase, grunting and groaning with each thrust into your mouth. There’s drool dripping down your chin sloppily to match the forming tears in your eyes. The sounds that now echo across the room are filthy, suckling and gagging from you and his increased breathing.

“Ah, maybe you are a good whore, after all.” Jimin sing-songs, amused. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

Your head is yanked back. If you could see, you would be looking up at the man now. His thrusts slow down and your mind has to connect the dots once more. You’re positive that he’s watching you, possibly admiring the way you look now; vulnerable and slutty - something a man like him would enjoy.

“I can see the way your legs clench together…” his words hit your ears once more, this time his tone is low and deeper. “...you like this, don’t you? A woman like you enjoys being treated like this…”

You cough when his cock is released from your mouth. Air finally hits your lungs and you take it all in as you’re unaware when you’d be able to process what’s coming next.

Again, you’re pushed. This time, you’re on your back and your legs and forced open. Your head crashed against the hardwood floor as hands touch and grip your skin with such greed. You’re unsure what to do and all you could do was whimper to yourself silently.

“You’re a whore, right, Y/N?” Jimin asks you. “Has anyone ever pleasured you?”

You feel pressure on your clothed clit - he was cupping it. Your stomach churns at the feeling; forbidden and dirty. You weren’t supposed to want this; you weren’t a whore. You were a detective, and for a moment you forget about the case entirely. 

“No…” you respond.

“Tsk,” Jimin murmurs. 

You whimper once more when you feel circular motions being rubbed onto your clit. The lacy fabric of your panties were beginning to stick to you and you feel utterly exposed to the man, now more than before. 

“Take them off.” Jimin suddenly commands. There’s a slight tug at your bralette. “I want you to strip for me, Y/N. After all, I’m paying you to be here, aren’t I?” You inhale, lifting yourself up from the cold hardwood floor to do as the man asks. Your bra falls off of you and without warning, your panties are tugged off, as well, a ripping sound sounding through your ears. 

“You look so scared.”

Jimin’s voice doesn’t have any concern in them. If anything, you could hear a tint of amusement. He got off by embarrassing you and other woman. To him, you were indeed a whore that needed him to succeed in life. You’ll make it your mission that he would be brought down alongside the Ripper.

“Whore’s usually…” you are pushed down against the floor once more. “...pretend they're with another man while doing this. Who are you pretending you’re with?”

Your mind flashes for a moment, seeing Seokjin. His dark eyes shining with concern at not wanting you to be here. He was kind, truly, and it hurts to think that he showed more concern for your safety than you had from your own.

“Tell me.” Jimin speaks again. “What’s his name? Is he a childhood friend? A former lover?”

“Jin.” you murmur, defeated. 

Jin was the first man that came to mind - if you were going to pretend you were with anyone, it could possibly be him. Back home, you devoted yourself to your cases. You worked alongside mostly women. There wasn’t any man in your life that you could think of in a moment such as this - besides Seokjin.

You haven’t known Jin long, but seeing as your relationship with most men were close to nothing, he was the top candidate. While you’ve been in Oakville for such a small amount of time, he was determined to keep you out of harm's way. He had given you a room in his home that also had its own bathroom for privacy purposes. He had allowed you to take over smaller cases that involved the Ripper’s henchmen and had treated you with respect - like an actual equal. He hadn’t been a typical man who would use their authority over you and for that, you were grateful of him.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as a shiver runs down your spine.

“Jin…” Jimin says, the name trailing off his tongue. “Jin…who is Jin?”

You don’t give a response and after a few moments, he doesn’t care to hear one. His hands are upon your body once more and it causes you to flinch. His hands are softer than what you expected and they grip and tug on your naked flesh. 

Your breath hitches when those soft hands grip at your breast, pads of his thumbs pressing against your erect nipples.

Your thighs are forced apart and you can feel him between you - you assume his own thigh right where your heat is at. He presses it ever so gently against your clit, his palms squeezing your breast.

Maybe if you imagined it was Jin then things would be a bit better - you wouldn’t get too far into your head about what you were doing. You didn’t technically see Jin in a sexual light before; of course you’d admit that he was attractive. But whatever attraction your eyes enjoyed would not allow you to ruin what you were here for - not until now.

You gasp when a warm sensation runs through the skin of your neck - slimy and wet. You notice it immediately being his tongue. It swirls at the nape of your neck before trailing down towards your collarbone. He presses his clothed thigh harder against your clit, his left hand removing itself from your breast to place it onto your hip. He doesn’t speak and instead attempts to guide you.

He wanted you to rub yourself against him as if the moment wasn’t embarrassing enough. You do without a fuss, your eyes closed (even if they were bound by the ribbon) and imagining a kinder man that wasn’t Jimin.

Your hips buckle, rubbing yourself against his thigh. His tongue runs lower and lower. It’s right between your breasts now. The coolness of the large office causes your skin to shiver once more, body heating up.

There’s a groan from him. His left hand leaves your hip to then grasp your breast once more. This time, his tongue is connected to your hardened nipple and hungrily he suckles onto it. His right hand begins to pinch your other nipple with his index and thumb, tugging and pulling onto it.

You swallow back a moan, unable to control the way your body feels about receiving pleasure. You clench around nothing as you glide your clit against his thigh, all the way he continues to suckle slopping onto your breast.

He seems to be insatiable, moving onto your next breast to suck just as needily onto it as he did the first one. He now forces his thigh hard against you, right hand slapping your hips to grind even more.

You sigh, a shaky moan coming from your throat that has you embarrassed by how much you liked this. You know when it was all over that you would have a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror, but you were also aware of what you were getting yourself into.

Don’t think of Jimin, think of Jin, you tell yourself.

And as your mind thinks of the tall man with broad shoulders with such kind eyes, it makes it easier for you to touch him. Your hand places itself onto the back of his head, soft tresses greeting you. Your back arches slightly towards him and with that, you feel both of his arms engulf you entirely. His lips release your swollen nipple with a low pop and you can now feel his lips, so plump, press against your neck once more.

His teeth sink into your neck, biting down harshly - possessively. In reaction, you yelp, holding onto the back of his head for support. You can hear him breathing so intensely, getting into the moment just as you were.

“Ah-”

His hands are large, you note, ranking down your naked back as he pushed himself against you. Your thighs now cage his waist between your legs and you can feel how excited he is, a hardened bulge pressing right against your clit.

His tongue reappears, swiping over the spot he bit at, determined to leave a mark upon you no doubt. Just like before, his tongue makes its way down your collarbone, his head lowering. He goes past your breast before it stops at your stomach. This time, his lips press a kiss by your belly button.

This felt far too intimate and the part of you that knew that this wasn’t Jin was left confused - did Jimin do this with all the women he slept with? Was he always so intimate and sensual?

But in order to not be grossed out by the scenario, you pretend it’s Jin, and the thought causes you to relax. You give into the kisses, mouth opening slightly to allow a low moan to be heard. 

His kisses trail further, kissing your abdomen and it’s then you realize that he was going to be right between your legs. Your body is already hot while in the moment, heat radiating off of your skin like a furnace in the cool room. A part of you wanted to see him, but the other part didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.

He presses a kiss directly onto your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden action, inhaling a breath. He presses a few more kisses before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit. Your back arches once more at the foreign feeling. His tongue is so warm - warmer than it felt against your skin. 

He continues to lick between your folds, both hands forcing your thighs apart so that you’re unmoving. You don’t hide how good it feels - especially since your mind is connecting pieces that aren’t there. Your mind displayed images of Jin between your legs, ravishing you so hungrily; similar to the way he appeared at the dinner. His dark eyes would look up at you, watching the way you came undone on his tongue for him.

Your hand tangles into his soft hair, hips buckling to feel more of his tongue - and it’s as if he gives you exactly what you want from him. His tongue lays flat against your clit, allowing you to take a bit of control of your own pleasure.

With your free hand, you grasp your breast in a semi-tight hold. Your lips get caught into your teeth in an attempt to not be too loud.

There’s a slap onto your thigh and without much warning, your legs are pushed farther apart. They are brough upwards to your shoulders - a position you weren’t aware you could be put in - and he takes back his control. His tongue suckles onto your clit sloppily, his head weaving back and forth with such speed. 

Your groans increase higher and maybe that was his plan all along, to hear how good he’s making you. His wet suckling along with your cries soon echoes off of the walls, a filthy sound entirely.

Your mind flashes again, with Jin’s tongue buried so deep onto your pussy that it causes your skin to litter with goosebumps again, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Ah…!” you shriek, genuinely surprised with the sudden pressure inside of you. 

He never gives any warnings. His fingers enter you whole, pumping greedily inside of you - he wants more. More moaning and groaning, more arousal to pool onto his tongue. 

More.

Your pussy is tight as it clenches around him and your thighs are quivering once more with pleasure, but he doesn’t allow you scurry away from him. His fingers are so long and they fuck into you with such experience, hitting spots you never knew existed.

You're humiliated with the squelching sounds your pussy makes, an obvious sign of how much you enjoyed it all - his tongue lapping between your folds causes severe overstimulation.

Your eyes squeeze shut harder, hips jerking. You’re breathing intensifies, your body appearing so much lighter than before. You can feel the slick pooling out of you.

“I-I can’t…” you try to speak, but it doesn’t go anywhere. You’re trembling with pleasure right now, and your mind can only display images of Seokjin fingers curling inside of you. He stares at you with those dark eyes that tell you to cum all over him without having to utter a single word.

“...gonna…cum…” your hand reaches out to push the man away when the feeling comes - a sudden urge to let loose. It’s not something you’ve ever truly felt before and you were frightened by what it  was.

The man doesn’t move as you expected. He removes his tongue from you and replaces it with his tongue instead, fingers drilling inside of you while his thumb rubs harshly against your clit. 

Your toes curl, your hand holding onto his soft locs in need as the feeling grows closer and closer. You don’t realize that there’s tears forming until they slide past the silk ribbon and onto your cheeks.

“P-Please…” you plead, sounding utterly pathetic. Your head dips back and you let the pleasure consume you entirely, pooling out all at once with a humiliating splash that hits against the floor. It sounds like water spilling, a disgusting sound as this was your first time experiencing anything like this.

You fall back against the floor, chest rising and falling. Slowly, you feel his fingers leave you and you feel so empty with them. Your legs shake, pussy clenching and unclenching. You've never experienced such a thing, your body enduring the aftermath of such an orgasm that has you feeling dirty.

Your body is being pulled once more, a sign that the man wasn’t done with you just yet. You are handled like a doll, legs forced apart once more. 

There’s another sensation against your clit - it’s already so wet that when it rubs against you, it squelches.

You knew it was time for him to fuck you - the tip of his cock inching closer and closer to your entrance. 

You’re more willing now, widening your legs. You are still seeing Jin in your mind and imagine that it is him. When he enters his cock inside of you, you gasp, back arching from the ground once more.

He enters you deep, allowing you to adjust to his size. You cannot help but groan, your hands reaching out to touch his wrists. His own hands dig into the naked flesh of your hips and for the first time in a while you hear his own groan.

Your breast bounces as he begins to thrust inside of you. He lifts your lower body up from the floor a bit to get a deeper entrance. He isn’t quiet in the slightest. With each deep thrust, there’s a groan after it.

You are positive that you aren’t meant to last long - not with the amount of pleasure you experienced in such a short amount of time. You’re so full of him, his cock ramming into you so fast and deep that you don’t have a time to react to it.

Your hands trail from his wrist to his arms, holding on for support. Your moans dance along with his and you cannot help but want to be closer to the man. You initiate the embrace first, lifting yourself up from the ground to wrap your arms around his neck.

The act causes the man to fuck you ever harder, hands gliding from your hips to wrap you in his own embrace. 

His shoulders are so broad, you note, and you rub onto them needily. Maybe it was the sex blinding you from the fact that this wasn’t Jin as Jimin didn’t have the same body - but the ribbon causes you to imagine that it was. It’s what has you moaning and begging him for more.

The ribbon blocking your sight is what has you licking onto his own skin hungrily as he fucks into you so good. It’s what has you buckling your own hips to meet his thrusts.

Your lack of sight of Jimin has you seeing Jin in your mind, and it causes your lips to meet his plump ones that are coated in your arousal. Your hands grip onto his hair as your tongue dances with his, your pussy clenching so tight around him that neither of you want to stop now.

You wonder what he sees. Maybe a girl once shy, turned so aroused that she’s pleading for more. She’s leaking all over the place, soft moans growing higher and higher until she’s nearly screaming.

He gives you exactly what you want him to, fucking into you with a stamina so great that it has you cumming all over him again, more hot tears streaming down your face pathetically.

He doesn’t last too long, either. His thrust becomes sloppy and he’s grunting into your ear so melodically. He manages to pull out of you, cumming right onto your stomach - it’s hot and the amount is alarming, but you allow it, your mind seeing Seokjin, so fucked out and full of lust that you are completely content with being used by someone that wasn’t him.

“Y/N…I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

It’s been another week since you’ve last seen Jin.

Daniel nods his head before closing the door to his office.

Jin places whatever documents he’s going through down onto his desk and rounds it to come closer to you.

“Jin. Hello.” you greet him, nodding your head. “Mind if I have some coffee?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Jin snorts and nods his head yes. “How are you?”

You’ve adapted in Jimin’s mansion and had gotten your own room. It was luxurious and completely your own. 

After the day with Jimin, you were told to keep the ribbon on until he specifically told you to take it off. 

Looking Jimin in the eye was easier than you expected. He didn’t appear different or smug after having just fucked you. You assumed it was because he was accustomed to it already.

Looking Jin in the eye a week later is what frightens you. 

“Y/N.”

“S-Sorry.” you had poured coffee onto the counters. You grab several napkins to clean it up, blinking away the thoughts. 

“You seem so shaken up.” Jin places a hand onto your shoulder to grasp your attention. “Do you need me to find you a way out-”

“No.” you shake your head, turning to look at him. You swallow when you look into his eyes - the same dark eyes you’ve seen in your mind constantly.

“You don’t look good, Y/N. Is everything…alright?” Jin doesn’t want to dig deeper into what you’ve gone through the past week, unsure of where he should inject himself. “I don’t want you to get too deep into something that isn’t for you.”

You offer Jin a short smile.

“I’m…not a prostitute.” you murmur to Jin who nods - he knows that. Whatever you had to do while undercover was just that. He would never label you as such.

“Jimin…he keeps me around as his maid. So he says.” you admit. “Said I was…too good…to be a prostitute.”

Your body burns now with even more embarrassment. Jin’s ears are red and he nods his head. “I’m glad.” Jin admits, a part of him content that you wouldn’t have to be selling yourself for the sake of the case. He isn’t sure how to put what he feels into words at times, you note. “I just want you to be safe, Y/N.”

You continue to clean up your mess, your mind racing. 

You were a detective - you’ve managed and solved several cases. You’ve gone undercover countless times.

And yet…

This was the straw that broke the camel's back?

You didn’t want things to be awkward between you and Jin as you still had a job to do at the end of the day. Yet, it was difficult being around him when you had to have him on your mind in order to sleep a little better at night; in order to not feel so shitty about yourself.

“I’m able to handle myself, Jin.” you murmur, pouring a few sugar packets into your coffee and grabbing a little straw to stir it. “Jimin doesn’t suspect that I’m nothing but a whore.”

“A maid.” Jin corrects, knitting his brows.

“Right.” you scoff. “A maid. There’s going to be a gathering this weekend at the mansion. I was told that several high-ranking individuals would be attending.”

Jin nods his head slowly as he processes the information.

“I don’t think the Ripper would be there, however.” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee and humming when it hits your throat. “He appears to be…an entity. People speak of him but no one’s ever seen him. I’ve asked a few women who work for Jimin-”

“Y/N, you have to be careful!” Jin interjects. “You’re the new girl there who managed to be a maid instead of a prostitute. You don’t think women are pining for your position?”

Your eyes connect with his and instantly, your mind replays you the events of the week prior - how content you felt being with him even if it wasn’t with him.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head. “You’re right.” you murmur. “I’ll be more careful.

Jin stands straighter. “Thank you.” he responds. “I do appreciate your dedication, Y/N. I don’t want to be so hard on you.”

You take another sip of your coffee after blowing on it a few times. “I can handle whatever you throw at me, Jin. I’ve worked alongside harsher men.” you place your cup back onto the counter and lean against it with crossed arms. “Back to the gathering. It’s being held in a neighboring town instead of Oakville.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Oh?”

“Yes.” you nod. “They never have any form of gatherings in Oakville incase of…you know, you.” you slowly grin his way. “Having so many people come to a small town suddenly raises questions that they don’t want to answer.”

Jin returns your grin - an act that causes the hairs on your arm to raise.

“Uh...I’ll give Daniel the details when I get them.” you avert your eyes to the ground. “I’m sure we can get the neighboring town police force in on what is happening and go forward with the raid that way?”

Jin nods his head. Without warning, he places a hand on your head. He pats it, almost as if he was patting a small child's head. Your head slowly turns toward him for answers. “Good job.” he chuckles, a twinkle in his eye. “I have to admit having you on the team has made my life a lot easier. No one has such great ideas as you do.”

Your heart begins to pump faster and mentally, you’re screaming at yourself to stop acting like such a pathetic little girl with a growing crush. This was nothing but an attraction for your lack of love and (former) sexual life. Maybe you craved attention you never got - not even as a child - so any form of it was making you weak.

Jin’s hand slowly slides from the top of your head down to your cheek. Your skin is even hotter, unaware of what to do in this situation.

“I’m always here, Y/N. If you ever need anything.” Jin assures, years ears perking at the sound of his voice that any background noise seemingly dies down. “Just ask and I’ll do my best to deliver.”

Your lips part and a shaky breath releases. You begin to nod your head at his words, swallowing down a gulp. His eyes are so intense and you couldn’t truly read them. They scan your face for any form of reaction, possibly reading right through the facade you’re attempting to put up.

“I want you to be safe, as well.” you testified, your hand placing over his - still resting on your cheek lazily. “You can call upon me, as well. If you need me to do anything while on the inside.

“Let’s catch the Ripper.” Jin hums, that familiar twinkle in his eye returning once hearing your words.

“Is this a gathering for important people?” you ask as you fix Jimin’s tie, your eyes fixed on the piece of fabric. “Or do you usually dress this way for them?”

Jimin’s attire has always been up to par, you’d admit. The suits he adorned were always tailored to fit him perfectly. You were advised to hand-wash his clothing and let them air dry before ironing them just the way he showed you how as he was specific about how he wanted his clothing to present him.

Jimin tilts his head just as you were done with his tie. “Is this your way of flirting with me?” he teases, a smirk forming onto his lips.

You take a deep breath and put on a smile that wouldn’t reach your eyes. You’d play nice for now for the case. You lightly tap his chest as that was the only response you were willing to give. 

“It’s a gathering, yes. But also a meeting.” Jimin speaks, strolling towards a small, rectangular box in his bedroom and opening it. It’s where he kept most of his expensive watches. “We have a lot to discuss, Y/N.”

A meeting? Your mind racks through different ideas and possibilities - would the RIpper be at this meeting? Of course not, you think, most of his henchmen never even saw him in person and surely would not start now. 

“You’ve been with me long enough to know the struggles we are facing, I assume.” Jimin places his watch onto his wrist as he speaks. “Our men are being arrested. Prostitutes not doing what I am paying them to.” he shakes his head. “It’s so hard to find decent help.”

You want to boast that you were the reason that the men in their “gang” were being arrested - thanks to you and Daniel. You had given information to Jin about whereabouts; when shipments would be coming and days where they would be causing havoc before it happened.

Prostitutes were escaping - also thanks to you - this lifestyle. Majority of them were young and had never spoken to anyone with positivity who encouraged them to be better. It wasn’t an easy task to do and you still had hundreds of women to speak with, but you were determined to do just that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you tell Jimin, lying through your teeth. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker to you when you respond. He hums. “There is.” he says. “Just do as you’re told.”

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips.

The journey to your destination wasn’t a long one, only about an hour. You arrived alongside Jimin and a few men while the other remaining prostitutes arrived separately. You were surprised to find that the gathering would be held in what appears to be a theater. The inside is clean and pristine with high ceilings with such amazing white lighting that shines down on the bodies surrounding you. There’s rows upon rows of seating available, even ones upstairs in booths. The stage is right at the center, tall and grand and you ponder just how many theater performances have been right here.

“You,” Jimin catches your attention, placing a hand at the low of your back. “represent me, Y/N.”

You understood as such when Jimin had chosen your clothing - a dress that is entirely too long that you often find yourself nearly tripping if you weren’t so quick on your feet. It’s a dark maroon color to match that of his suit and for some odd reason, you adorn a corset that was tied by Jimin himself to shape your figure, it’s laced and tied behind your back. 

“You’ll be serving us tonight.” Jimin begins to steer you away and into a room to the right. It’s a bar area where rows of drinks are set up ready to be served. “Just make sure people’s cups are full. Easy enough for you?”

You nod once more, eyeing the cups. You assume they’re wine mixed with more - something to have the girls and whatever attending this gathering be more loose. You cringe at the thought.

The night drags on and you do as you’re told, serving people as they mingle. You shouldn’t be surprised to see familiar faces - officers from other neighboring towns, high police officials and politicians alongside mayors. They all funded the Ripper - you’re unsure as to why but that didn’t stop you from collecting the desired intel needed. You had their faces and names locked deep in your mind, the case only growing larger. 

Your eyes catch Daneil from across the theater. He’s sipping his own drink, looking around the same as you are. You ponder if he notices anyone familiar or something off about those who are attending.

The theater is loud with chatter and laughter, prostitutes being seated in the laps of powerful men. You take another deep breath.

“Excuse me,”

There’s a loud voice - Jimin’s - followed by clapping. He strolls onto the stage and makes a grand entrance that has you rolling your eyes. 

“Y/N, please serve our guest the specialty wine of the night.”

You stand a little straighter as Jimin calls for you. You go into the backroom to find the wine he was speaking of. It’s a dark color of crimson on a medium sized silver platter. It took you longer than you desired, especially with the waiting eyes of the attendee’s around you, but once the last glass was full, you scurried off to the side.

“Thank you all for coming.” Jimin begins, his clapping together. “It’s been too long since we have been together. Just like old times.”

There’s a few murmurings of agreement.

“As you know, however, there's been a slight…inconvenience to our operation.” Jimin’s tone lowers and you assume he’s speaking of several of his men being arrested and the police force - that’s not involved with the Ripper - was zoning in on them.

“It’s nothing we cannot handle, surely.”

You turn to the sound of the voice - an officer. Maybe this is why they’ve never been caught before. Having officers on the inside was a smart move from such a sick man like the Ripper.

“As I thought.” Jimin nods. “However, we’re also losing our girls. With these men being arrested and charged every other day and whore’s leaving…”

You lick your lips, scoffing to yourself. This is what the gathering was about - trying to find ways to stop the decline of their operation? 

“I have a shipment coming from out of the country.”

A shipment from out of the country…?

You gasp to yourself at the statement. The man was a mayor not from Oakville, but elsewhere. They were trafficking girls from outside the country - how they managed to do a thing, you’re unsure. The thought makes your skin crawl, your mind flashing of your past and what you had to endure alongside your “siblings”. 

“That’ll help.” another member of this cult - because this couldn’t be anything but - has said. He has a girl seated in his lap as he speaks, his hand rubbing onto her thigh.

“It’ll help. But,” Jimin appears stoic. His eyes glance around the room as if in search of someone. “Let’s raise our glass and drink to the Brotherhood.”

As you expected. This was some sort of sick cult of elitists. The Ripper wasn’t the only sick individual as he was surrounded by much more. 

“To the Brotherhood.” the surrounded men all state in unison. Your eyes meet Daniel’s once more and not that he had not lifted his cup to drink anything.

What comes next is what shocks you. As the men all take their drinks, it’s followed by sudden screeching. Chao’s ensues and you could only watch in horror as things began to go haywire.

Coughing and gagging are heard, followed by the screams of the prostitutes who all scurry away and surrounding one another. Several men fell to their knees and began to vomit their guts out, blood pooling from their noses.

“W-What-”

“There has been a traitor among us…”

That voice is different. It’s not Jimin’s, you note. It comes directly behind you all and it takes everything in you to not freeze in your stature. 

A man, tall and covered from head to toe in dark clothing. His trenchcoat is black and leather and sways behind him as he trails down the carpeted stairs to reach the stage. He’s sporting a mask that covers his face entirely. It’s ghostly and adorns an expressionless expression.

“One of you,” the man says, coming even closer. “has betrayed me.”

It happens entirely too fast. He lunges at the prostitutes, a large dagger in his hand and manages to stab one directly in the heart. The other’s scream, crying to get away from his attack - but none of them manage.

It’s a shocking sight to behold - the men are slowly dying, obviously poisoned…by you.

You feel sick to your stomach having been a part of such a sick set up.

The Ripper is here.

The Ripper is here.

Your eyes blink several times, as if trying to comprehend what you’re witnessing is true. He is so brutal in the way he murders the prostitutes without a care. They’re thrown around like ragdolls, being, blood seeping from such quick attacks upon their skin.

Your mind is racing, eyes darting all around the room. It was pure chaos - utter havoc. The screams only grow louder and louder.

“S-Stop!”

You found your voice, going to screech as loud as you can to grab the attention of the man. Your heart nearly stops when, ever so slowly, he turns towards you, knife raised. Crimson blood seeps off of it and drops onto the carpet. 

You swallow, taking a step back when the man stalks towards you. 

You’re unsure what you imagined yourself doing in a situation such as this, never truly expecting to be in it. You thought of ways of figuring out who the Ripper was and what you’d do if you ever came face to face with him - but now you appeared to cower.

You had witnessed a massacre right before your eyes. You were a part of it, having served these same people with poison.

“Y/N, what did I say earlier?” Jimin’s voice rings through your ears and before you could process anything, you’re being pushed harshly onto the ground. Your head nearly crashes against it but you catch yourself. “Just do as you’re told.”

You exhale a frightening breath, eyes slowly looking upwards at the man, knife clenches in his gloved hand. He’s looking down at you, almost as if waiting for you to react.

You weren’t a prostitute or a maid.

You were a detective. 

You have trained for years to be where you were at. 

You had come to Oakville to bring down such a horrid person - you couldn’t just lay here and cower.

It takes far more strength than expected, but neither of the two men - the Ripper and Jimin - were expecting you to react so quickly, or at all. You attack the man's legs, bringing him to the ground with you in an attempt to get the knife out of his hand.

Your hair is being pulled, yanked harshly. Your eyes clenched shut and your hands immediately clasp onto your hair. You can feel your body being dragged against the carpeted floor.

Your heart thumps, pounding into your ears. You couldn’t contain the low grunts coming from your lips, pain shooting throughout your body as you continue to be dragged so violently by the Ripper.

“Now why shouldn’t you be killed for your actions, Y/N?”

Jimin’s voice oozes with disappointment, like a superior upset with their students' actions as he steps off of the stage. 

You were finally released and pushed aside roughly. Your head throbs but you whip it around to look at the tall man. You cannot see his eyes and they appear to be pitch black holes of nothingness staring right back at you.

Daniel is looking between Jimin and the Ripper, his own heart thumping in his chest and he’s visibly trembling. This is his first time meeting the man in person. He was stunned at the sudden appearance of the murderer slaining people in plain sight - only when you were in trouble did he snap back to reality. “S-Sir!” he speaks forward, stepping closer to where you three stood. “I-I can take her back to the-”

“Get the fuck out.”

You don’t blame Daniel for being terrified and you could only be upset with yourself if this is how you did die. You could only hope that Daniel wouldn’t meet the same fate. 

Your chest heaves, your eyes fixed on the Ripper who seemingly is staring right back at you. 

Daniel’s mouth shut once he heard Jimin’s stern tone. His eyes flicker to you onto the ground, trying your best not to cower away, but even he was frightened of what would happen to you if he left.

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Jimin snorts, shaking his head a bit. “Get the fuck out! Wait for us outside.”

You can hear footsteps scurrying away, going farther and farther, and yet your eyes never leave the ghoulish mask of the Ripper.

Jin, if you managed to make it out alive, was surely going to be upset with you. You had managed to come face to face with someone so heinous - and piss them off to the point that it might just lead you to your death.

“She’s a feisty one. I like her.” Jimin is leaning against the stage with his arms crossed. “She’s different….not a whore in the slightest.”

You swallow, your eyes remaining on the dark sockets of his mask. You didn’t want to give yourself away or appear suspicious.

What did Jimin mean that you weren’t a whore in the slightest? Did he know who you were - no. He couldn’t have. He would have gotten rid of you if he did.

Still, why keep you around if he knows you weren’t a part of this world? Just what was he planning on doing?

“What say you, Y/N?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

You didn’t waste any time. If you were going to die here, you’d make sure you had the chance to fight back.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” Jimin looks bored as this was not entertaining in the slightest. You and he stared at one another, as if daring the other to strike first - no one had. “You look determined to survive. How about this…we all love a little game.”

Your first clench at your sides. You weren’t in the mood to be toyed with - especially not when you’re at such a disadvantage.

“You make it out of here alive, Y/N…we pretend none of this ever happened, yeah?”

For the first time in who knows how long, you glanced at Jimin, the Ripper in the corner of your eye becoming a blurred figure. 

“I’ll be making my leave…”

Jimin begins to stroll away, a strut in his walk. 

“W-Wait!” you call, looking back at the Ripper. “Where are you-”

“I’m not going to be here. If you want to live, you’ll escape yourself. You know where to find me if you survive.”

You let out a low gasp as his footsteps clogged your mind, his words replaying over and over  - and over again. Your eyes slowly turn back to the tall man a few feet away from you. It’s eerily silent, only the theater door opening and closing behind Jimin.

You were powerless and had not a weapon on you. Your mind races of ways to survive this. You were positive that if he didn’t want you dead then, by now he surely did.

You barely have a second to process when he suddenly lunges at you. You throw yourself to the side and manage to get onto your feet.

Your dress is entirely too long to function properly and you ponder if this was Jimin’s initial intention. 

Your hands scrunch up the dress so you could run freely.

He’s swinging the knife as it slices the air close to you. You continue to dodge, finding that this would be the easiest option instead of trying to attack the man head on. 

“You’re a coward!”

You hiss at the man after managing to dodge another attack, this time it slices at your side and fortunately slices the dress and not your skin.

“Attacking women because you cannot take on a man!”

Maybe it wasn’t smart to taunt someone hellbent on killing you - and if not killing you, at least hurting you. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction that you were frightened to your core at the disadvantage.

“I know men like you.  I’ve dealt with men like you.”

You round a corner, a beam separating you and him. His attack stops and you’re met with his eyeless stare.

“Weak.” you spit, your hands clutching onto your dress for support. “You take your pathetic anger out on innocent women simply because your life is miserable. Were you rejected…maybe…”

Your breathing increases, determined to stay alive.

“...Mommy issues?”

The man attacks again, this time dropping his knife to come at you full force. You should have expected it and could only blame yourself when both of his gloved hands crashed onto your face. You’re forced backwards until your back hits against a wall.

Your hands punch along his chest - it’s broad, you note, a thought that he was a man of either great strength or smart enough to wear protection beneath his clothing. 

You weren’t doing any damage to him and he gave you little room to do so. His body pressed against yours. Your face throbs beneath his clenching hands.

You wheeze when you’re pushed away, back slamming against the wall once more. Without warning, you’re turned around, your cheek now pressed to the cold, theater wall and his right hand clasp around your neck. 

Your hand reaches back to attack him once more, an attempt to claw at him to release you.

No man should have strength like this - this was inhumane. 

“Let…me…go…”

It was getting hard to breathe.

Your body tenses up when you feel him press up against you sickly, your mind going to the darkest possibilities of what he was going to do to you if you didn’t escape him.

“...fight me like a-”

His gloved hand reaches upward to clasp against your mouth while his free one grasps your waist harshly. You’re pulled from the wall and suddenly, slammed onto the ground. Your head crashes against the carpeted floor and before you could react, you feel pressure on top of you.

There’s a knife pointed to your throat, dangerously close. You can feel the cool tip prepared to slice against your skin.

“Hurry up and kill me.”

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted. It’s obvious that he wanted you to cower before him and beg for your life - but you weren’t.

If you were going to die, then so be it. But you would not feed into his ego. 

The man tilts his head, eyeless sockets staring right at you. 

The man comes closer to you, his masked face inches from yours.

You swallow, remaining whatever eye contact you could.

The knife pinches your skin a bit, trailing from your neck to your collarbone. It stings -  but not the way you thought it would have. It feels more like a papercut slicing through delicate skin.

It pierces through the fabric of your dress, slicing ever so slowly - as if  to taunt you. Your lower half is constricted, but your arms are free.

“Get off-” you hiss, your hands balling into fists and you throw a harsh jab at the masked cheek. It was just the amount of reaction you needed to kick him away from you, freeing yourself from beneath you.

You begin to crawl backwards, your eyes not leaving his figure as you struggle to get to your feet. Your breathing has increased tremendously. “Fuck you!” you spit, stumbling further away from him. You needed to grab a weapon - any weapon.

As you were rushing away to find said weapon, the masked man lifts himself up, knife gleaming in the lowlights of the theater. 

You’re behind the bar now, grasping the largest bottle of alcohol you could find and hurling it at him, then another. The third bottle you grasps you slam against the large bar island, the sharp now being used as your own weapon. The excess alcohol splashes against you, but you don’t move your eyes from his. 

You duck just as the man attacks, the knife swiping right above your head and with instinct, you thrust your own weapon towards him. 

“Ah-!” you swing it once more and with each swing, the man dodges it. “Get,” swing. “away,” swing. “from me!” you scream, swinging once more, but the Ripper’s glove hand catches your wrist. 

Your free hand is quick, however, grasping the nearest bottle and smashing it against the man's head. 

The Ripper stumbles back, the alcohol shattering and the liquid staining his clothes.

You know well enough that the attack would only stun him, not fully halt him. You toss another, this one hitting him directly in his masked face. 

Your eyes move around with great speed, wondering what you could do next - what weapon could be used upon him to save your life and the life of others.

Your eyes catch them, the small, square box of matches.

You swallow, your body moving before your brain could fully process what you were doing.  Your hands are slippery as you grasp them, but you knew exactly what you were going to do. 

You struck the match, the small flame illuminating against your face. Your eyes meet the Rippers eyeless ones and you tilt your head. 

“I won’t allow you to kill anymore people.” you say to him, almost as if he would care what you would say to him. 

You fling the match and, almost as in slow motion, does it fall onto the pile of alcohol behind the bar and directly in front of him. 

The flames spark immediately and you attempt to make this your exit. You had no idea how long you’d have, especially with the flames growing larger and larger, but you understood that you had to make your way out somehow. 

You’re positive that Jimin is long gone, having no hope of you ever making your way out alive.

The fire spread rapidly and quicker than expected was the entire scenery full of smoke. Your eyes begin to water and your throat clog up. All your ears could hear were the cracking of the flames surrounding you, unsure if this was your final moment alongside the Ripper - and if it truly was, then you couldn’t be upset with yourself.

You promised that you would stop the Ripper - that his reign in Oakville would come to an end. You promised Seokjin that his once quiet and safe town would return to just that, not realizing that your life would also be a part of that promise.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Your chest felt heavy, as if someone was seated right on top of you. Your head is pounding, an increasing pain at all angles that even with your eyes closed, it feels as if the room is spinning.

You were trying so desperately to open your eyes - to see what the fuck was going on like the voice was speaking.

“Y/N?”

Y/N.

Y/N.

The voice appears far away, like a distant echo. You recognize the voice - Seokjin.

Where were you?

Where was he?

Why was everything so dark?

Seokjin presses a hand to your shoulder, squeezing it gently as your eyes begin to flutter open, completely glossy and dazed. The oxygen mask clings onto you, assisting in your breathing.

“You’re finally awake.” Jin sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments. “Can you hear me, Y/N?”

You cough, as expected, and Jin waits for you for him to continue.

“Jin…” you cough once more, your eyes wandering around to where you were at. “...how-”

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?!” Jin hisses, his once soft eyes now enraged. “I had to hear from Daniel that you came face to face with the Ripper?!”

Daniel.

Jimin.

The Ripper.

Your mind swirls with what happened. Where was Jimin? Had the Ripper survived the fire since you had - did he manage to escape?

“Jin.” you begin to lift yourself up from the bed and Jin shakes his head. “I-”

“You are not capable of going anywhere, Y/N! You’ve literally survived a fire!” Jin nearly screams. 

“Where is he?” your throat is aching, but you had to know what was going on. “Where’s Jimin-”

“Gone.” Jin grits his teeth. “We…don’t need to worry about Jimin anymore, Y/N. Focus-”

“Gone?” your hands reach up at the hospital mask and you begin to lift it from your face. “Gone where? Has he been arrested or-”

“He was gone by the time we arrived, Y/N!” Jin doesn’t want to take out his frustrations upon you, but you were acting daft. His hands slap yours away from the oxygen mask and he places it back where it was once located. “Obviously he had no intention of you escaping the Ripper. Daniel told me as much as he knows.” Jin explains. “The theater is burned to the ground, Y/N. You’re lucky to even be alive.”

You inhale, the information clogging your brain.

Jimin was gone - as expected. Who else managed to escape?

“The Ripper…” you trail off. 

“There wasn’t another body recovered in the fire.” Jin murmurs back, eyes blinking away. “And right now, Y/N, I don’t care about the Ripper.” he shakes his head. “You could’ve lost your life right then and there. I…”

Jin turns away from you and you understand that this would weigh on his shoulders. Your heart jolts at the thought of Jin and what guilt he may be feeling. 

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Jin.” you inhale. You could still hear the harsh cracking of the fire as it spread throughout the theater. “I did this for the case-”

“Fuck the case, Y/N!” Jin’s eyes turn back to you, dark ones staring right into your own. “I wouldn’t have cared if the Ripper was still alive and well as long as you made it out of there alive.”

Jin swallows, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t…I don’t want to blame you. It isn’t your fault, Y/N. You couldn’t have known but…” Jin blinks a few times, trying to find the words to say to you. “...I don’t want you on this case, anymore. It’s too risky and-”

“What?”

You look pathetic, barely able to raise your voice past a hoarse whisper. 

“You’re off the case.” Jin repeats. “Don’t fight me on this, Y/N. I’m-”

“I’m not getting off the case. I-”

“I want you to stay in Oakville.” Jin interrupts, raising his voice to challenge your own. “I want you to stay here. With me.”

You swallow, throat aching for some water but all you could think about are Jin’s words at the moment. 

“I want you to be safe.” Jin begins. “And I can only assure your safety if you’re here with me. Jimin is gone and the majority of the Ripper’s men have since been arrested.”

You sniffle, eyes roaming Jin’s face.

“I…”

“I won’t force you.” Jin shrugs his shoulders, a bit awkwardly. “I…have grown to like your company. I would like you by my side. Here. With me.” he murmurs, hoping that his words - as vague as they were - would have you understand what he truly wants from you. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for the case but now I just want you to fall back. Heal and-”

“I’ll stay.” you nod your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat; that or it was soot, who knows. 

“Good.” Jin licks his lips. “Good.” he sighs in relief, glad that he didn’t have to fight too hard. You were a stubborn one and in a way, he likes it. Not when your life is put into a compromising situation, however. 

As days dragged onto weeks and weeks dragged onto months, your mind can do nothing but wander to Jimin and how someone of his status could just disappear into thin air. The streets of Oakville were slowly returning to how Jin said they were once before - safe and homely. There was very little crime and death was at an all time minimum unless caused by natural causes. 

The once ringing telephone in Jin’s office now laid silent most days and it was just as it was before, peaceful. You began to think that maybe the Ripper was truly gone; that Jimin would never return to Oakville as it was far too risky.

The Ripper’s name was uttered as something in the past - somewhat like a folktale. The town of Oakville now allowed the sun to shine bright above their small, happy town. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to your own town?” Jin asks as he sets down your boxes onto the ground of his apartment. It’s labeled “kitchen”. “I don’t want to force you here with me.”

“Are you telling me you want me to go?” you tease, placing a smaller box on top of the one he sat down and cross your arms. 

“Of course not.” Jin scoffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “I just don’t want to remove you from your home.”

“Oakville is my home now.” you uncross your arms to throw a jab at Jin’s side, an act that he dodges effortlessly, smooth hands grasping your wrist to bring you closer to him. 

You’re unsure how you’d ever explain to someone how you and Jin got closer with one another after the death - or disappearance - of the Ripper. His admission to wanting you by his side was just the first (awkward) step. You working alongside him constantly was another step of you two getting closer, mixed with shy glances and awkward encounters in his home. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jin questions, arms wrapped loosely around you. “And don’t say nothing, either. I know you.”

“Sure.” you scoff, but it was true. Jin did know when your mind was clouded with a thousand thoughts at once. “Jimin…”

“Ah, of course.” Jin rests his forehead against yours. 

“You think I’m foolish to keep thinking about him, huh?” you snort. 

“No, of course not. It’s in your nature.” Jin responds. “Jimin is like…an unsolved case to you. You’re fiending-”

You pinch Jin in the chest slightly and he yelps.

“Hey!” Jin flinches but chuckles heartily at your reaction. “It’s the truth! You’re just a determined detective.”

Jin squeezes you a bit. “It’s not your fault. I want to know where the bastard went, myself. But dwelling on it would only drive me insane.”

Jin leans his head back to scan your face. He inhales deeply, a smile slowly creeping onto his lips. 

“I like to think Jimin met his demise. That he’s somewhere laying in a ditch. It’s easier to accept that he could still be out there in another town alive and well.” 

“Ugh,” you groan and throw your head back. It’s easier for Jin to not care about things such as this - maybe it was because he was a man. Men tend to lack any form of sense. 

Jin is quick to press his lips against your neck, plump lips kissing the spot he knows would be your sweet spot.

“Just forget about Jimin and everything else for now.” Jin murmurs.

“We’re supposed to redecorate…!”

“We have all week for that.” Jin exclaims. “It isn’t like there’s a lot of crime, Y/N.”

You hated when Jin was being logical. There was a lot of time on your hands as Oakville has become such a safe haven for the townspeople again. 

“How about you,” Jin’s lips crash against yours to silence you and you’re only partially surprised. “mph, just go lock up downstairs and-”

“Ugh,” Jin groans but he knows you’re right. He has already told several officers that they could go home early. Business had really slowed the last few months. “fine.” he sighs. “Then we’ll pick up where we started?”

You nod your head, a glint in your eyes that has Jin excited. 

Your eyes follow as Jin scurries out the door, his footsteps growing more faint with each passing step. You release a sigh, your body radiating heat. 

“Let’s see what I can do while Jin is locking up.” you speak to yourself, eyes roaming to the array of boxes until your eyes catch one.

Jin had insisted that he move the boxes full of items you didn’t use into the attic. They’re filled with memorabilia mostly instead of day to day items. 

You grab a chair to open the attic door to the ceiling, the stairs squeak as you drop them down onto the ground. A bit of dust catches your nostrils and instantly, you sneeze.

You grasp the box and begin to slowly ascend the attic stairs. It’s dark mostly, but your phone light is all you truly needed to not be completely creeped out by the scenery. 

There’s already boxes up there - expected seeing as Jin did state he kept the area as storage. You place your box down on the ground and grasp your flashing phone from on top of it. You scan the area, not finding anything out of the ordinary. There’s rows of boxes all closed and on top of one another, your camera finding that there’s an insane amount of dust covering the top of it that indicates that neither of them has been opened in years.

Though, your eyes catch a chest that is the only item inside the attic that isn’t covered in dust and grime and you hum. Your feet stroll towards the chest, kneeling down to shine your flashlight right at it. It’s wooden and a mahogany color, the top drawer slightly cracked open.

Your free hand pulls at the drawer to open, shining the light inside. It’s nearly  empty, aside for a few pieces of jewelry, you note, and what appears to be picture’s facing down.

“Is this an invasion of privacy…?” you ask yourself but your hand grabs at the pictures either way.

They’re old pictures and now you think they're of Jin in his youth. Your eyes scan each passing photo, more and more children coming into each frame. 

Your eyes stop at one in particular, dozen of children standing in front of what appears to be a warehouse-like building. 

Your eyes blink a few times before squinting.

“What…?” you murmur, orbs staring at a familiar face of you, right in the corner of said picture. You recall the exact outfit you wore that day, covered in mud and grime. 

You swallow, slamming the picture down into the drawer. Your heart is pounding and your head is swirling with far too many emotions to count. 

Your eyes catch onto the next photo and your heart sinks at who.

Jimin.

Jimin and Jin.

They’re young - possibly teenage years. However, they’re both smiling ear to ear with arms wrapped around the other’s shoulder.

Your breathing increases.

“Jin…”

Your ears hear him - Jin. He isn’t home yet, however he will be. He’s just down the hall and you sprint out of the attic. Your nerves are causing you to shake violently and you’re truly unaware how you managed to close the attic door and put the chair back to where it belonged as he entered. 

“I’m back. Do you think we should order a…” Jin’s eyes turn to you and instantly, he freezes. “...pizza...? Is something…wrong?” He tries to laugh but nothing is amusing.

“Huh?” you try to sound unfazed, but you know you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost. 

“Is everything okay?” Jin steps closer to you and without thinking, you step back. 

“Yeah.”  you nod your head. You touch your forehead with the back of your hand. “I’m…just feeling tired.” you lie. “And…hot. I need a-”

“Y/N.” Jin takes another step forward and with each step, you take one back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You swallow.

Jin and Jimin knew one another. They were friends the least.

Jin knows you - for fuck sakes you knew Jin. You’ve blocked out your past life as much as you can that you completely forgot your ‘brothers and sisters’ and now Jin stands before you, reminding you everything of the past life you wished to keep behind you.

“Y/N.” Jin repeated, this time his voice was deeper and more stern.

“How did you know where to find me?” you ask Jin. “When…the fire broke out?”

“Daniel told me.” Jin responds with a tilt of his head. “Is something wrong?”

“How did you know I fought the Ripper?” you question. “Daniel wouldn’t have known. He wasn’t in the theater with me.”

Jin is silent and only his heady eyes are watching you. 

“Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?” Jin stands straighter. “Go out and ask. Don’t jump through useless questions.”

You want to ask Jin what was truly on your mind - you were just afraid of the response. 

“Why…how do you know me?”

“That’s your question?” Jin scoffs. “You’ve been in the attic, have you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…like a person who’s been shown the truth.”

“Stop coming closer.”

“Why?” Jin doesn’t listen and he slowly steps closer to you. “Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”

“Stop.” your teeth grit. 

“Ask me what you want to know, Y/N. I’ll answer you truthfully.”

You have nowhere to run without him easily catching you. Your heart was beating so loud that it was getting hard to focus.

“You…you’re him.” you shake your head in near disbelief. 

“Are you upset with me, Y/N? Do you look at me differently because…I was the Ripper?”

You release a choke gasp of disbelief. 

“You tried to kill me!” your back hits a wall and you curse at your own bad decisions. “You-”

“I could’ve gutted you a long time ago!” Jin suddenly roars - one so loud that it echoes off of the walls. He stomps towards you. “I could’ve had your blood seeping through these floors the same night you came.”

Jin slams his hands on either side of your face against the walls.

“I could’ve killed you that night you presented yourself for Jimin so willingly…for me so willingly.”

“What…?”

“I knew you and I were meant for one another right then and there, Y/N. When you said you would be thinking of me while giving yourself to another man.”

Your night with Jimin was another night you would rather forget and often block out.

“I don’t…I-I don’t understand-”

“You don’t think it was Jimin who fucked you, right?” Jin scoffs with a shake of his head. He looks so different. His eyes…they were so cold and deranged. So distant. 

Your stomach churns at Jin’s words. 

“You’re as strong as I remember you were. You fought me the entire time at the theater. I wasn’t expecting you to be so dumb and cause a fire.” Jin shakes his head with a low tsk. “I had to get the both of us out of there before anything happened.”

Your hands, as rough as they could, shove along his chest to get him away from you. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” you hiss, eyes blurred with hot tears. 

“You’re being rash, now, Y/N.” Jin spit. “Don’t let this ruin us.”

“You’re a murderer!” you hiss, your eyes viewing Jin as he was; the Ripper. 

“And you’re any better, Y/N?” Jin laughs. “Or does it not count because it was just a bit of poison?”

Your eyes widened at Jin’s words.

Your fist clench - another memory unblocked. 

“I didn’t…you and Jimin and-”

“If anything, you were an accessory. You caused the fire that got rid of all the evidence, baby.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “You’re just as bad as me. Get off your fucking high horse.”

“No.” you shake your head. 

“Yes.” Jin scoffs. “The Ripper is dead, Y/N. I killed that part of me so that you and I can be together. Don’t you get that!”

Jin is quick in his movement, snatching your shoulders and forcing you to look at him. 

“The Ripper is dead. Kim Seokjin is not.” Jin grits his teeth, appearing utterly deranged. “You and I can be a family again, Y/N. Eventually you’ll come around to Jimin, too.”

“You know where Jimin is?”

“Of course I do.” Jin smiles. “Jimin is my brother. Our brother.” he murmurs. “We all went down different paths but we’re together again. The Ripper was just a phase that I’ve gotten over.”

You didn’t know Jin - not as much as you thought you had. These eyes weren’t the eyes of the Jin you were growing to love. He didn’t look as kind and soft; his eyes were different. They dance with insanity as he speaks. 

“You aren’t going to leave me again, right?” Jin watches you intensely. “I'd hate to have to kill the both of us, Y/N. But if that’s what you want.”

You stiffen, your ears not believing what they were hearing. 

“We can pretend you never found out about the past and go back to what we were doing.” Jin’s hands begin to sooth you, rubbing along your shoulders. “We can order pizza and do what we normally do.”

You feel the tear drop onto your cheek before you realize you’re crying. You’re unsure of what to say or how to respond to this new information - you’re left with more questions than answers; questions you’re far too afraid to truly grasp.

“Or…I kill you. Then myself.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of our love, baby.” 

halloween masterlist

[oceantornadoo]

ch4 the wrong john | masterlist | next

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

—

The universe hates you, obviously.

Why else would it send you this charming and attractive man in the form of your brother’s boss? Not to mention your hookup with him was so meaningless he didn’t even deign to write you a note. Even a “had a nice time :)” would have been more acceptable than an empty bed and an aching throb in both your cunt and your chest. Since clearly it was just another hookup to him, you decide to treat John with the same dignity he treated you with.

��Nice to meet you both!” You nod at the clock above John’s head, refusing to meet his eyes, then turn to Gaz and give him a warm smile. “And I’m sorry you have to spend so much time with my brother. At least you get paid, it’s a better lot than mine.” The crew laughs, breaking the inevitable awkward tension of bringing a civilian family member to their place of work. Johnny shoves your shoulder and you gladly take the opportunity to turn your back on John.

“Well, Cap’s got a meeting soon, but we can show ye ‘round while we wait.” You don’t bother saying goodbye to John, something that Gaz and Ghost note with a look between them. Johnny’s too focused on you to notice, shouting his goodbyes over his shoulder to Price before tucking you against him once again. Your traitorous heart pounds out of your chest as you take stock of the situation. Not only is John your brother’s captain, he’s practically a father figure. Johnny’s told you how the captain took a chance on him, saved his life countless times, and you’re putting these facts together like pieces of the puzzle that is John Price. A military captain who treats his men like sons while treating a stranger like his wife, just to leave the next day. He’s clearly unstable, a person you should stay away from, because you have the slightest inkling he could ruin your life. He might already have.

Ghost leaves to finish training, Johnny on his heels to “wish him goodbye,” as if they won’t see each other in an hour. It’s disgusting how in love your brother is, how besotted Ghost is, and you hate yourself for wanting what they have so badly. It’s clear they’re meant for each other, tethered together by blood and sacrifice and the life that can grow after death. Want bubbles inside you like a pot about to explode, and you would do well to keep the lid on.

“So,” Gaz shakes you out of your reverie, cunning eyes tracking your gaze to Ghost and Johnny. “Approve of the Lieutenant for your brother? ‘m dyin’ to know.” You nod slightly, cheeks flushing in the face of Gaz’s full attention. Closer up, he’s the type of handsome you would never pursue, too pretty for his own good. In his voice and behind his eyes, though, there’s something lurking underneath. You can tell he wields his handsomeness as a weapon and you can’t even fault him for it.

“I think it’s more if Ghost approves of me, to be honest. They already seem like they’d hang the moon for each other.” Gaz nods thoughtfully, leading you outside to a path that outlines the base, giving you a glimpse of soldiers training outside. “An’ why’s that? Soap talks about you all the time like you’re a sort of angel. Not sayin’ you aren’t, of course.” He sends you a wink and you giggle at both that and the nickname Soap. Johnny told you about it, of course, but it’s a bit silly to hear it next to the name Ghost or even Gaz. He’s never told you what Soap meant, and you never asked in case it was something you didn’t want to hear.

“I think Johnny loves me, it’s just, I remind him of the parts of our family that don’t. And with Ghost, and all of you, he’s got a real family that doesn’t judge him. It’s like introducing two friend groups when you’re not sure if they’ll like each other. We represent different parts of him, but I’m old and Ghost is new, so the lines seem blurry to me.” Gaz lets you talk more, his demeanor so welcoming with the internal challenges you’re facing. He even tells you to call him Kyle, warm and soft. The two of you walk around base, minutes turning into an hour. Finally, a soldier runs up to the two of you, telling you you’re needed in Price’s office. You bite your lip nervously, not seeing how Kyle tracks your response. He almost freezes, years of training preventing him from doing so, but he’s still thrown by how nervous you seem to go back.

“Well, I’m a little sorry for talking your ear off. But I see why Johnny likes you, Kyle. You’re a good friend.” You smile at him, almost faltering when you see his stony expression. It changes in a split second, like a cloud moving from the sun, and he grins and tucks you under his shoulder, just like Johnny. “It’s no problem, angel. It’s one of my specialities. Let’s get you to lunch, ‘m starvin’.”

Johnny greets you like a long lost twin when you get back, asking for details about who you saw and where you went. He’s like that all the way to lunch, insisting on driving just the two of you to “the only decent pub in this town, really, hen.” It’s nice to spend time with him and you squeeze his forearm to say so, basking in the light of his smile. You almost forget about the John situation until you see him get out of the car the other men took, his fatigues fitting him criminally well. In fact, he’s even better looking in the daylight, blue eyes catching the sun while he stretches, muscles rippling under his clothes. You stare so long that Johnny yells at you to get moving, but he’s too focused on Ghost to turn back to see who you’re looking at. 

You find Kyle quickly, tucking your arm into the crook of his elbow and letting him guide you into the pub, sparing a singular backwards glance to John. He’s staring at you, again, but he’s too far back for you to tell anything of the subtext behind his eyes. Is he mad you’re Johnny’s sister? He has no right, obviously. Maybe he thinks you stalked him or something and this is all some elaborate scheme. Deciding you don’t care, you focus on lunch and the growling in your stomach from all the calories you burnt with John last night. He’s really the cause of all your current plights.

The pub only has booths. Johnny insists on you being in the middle, guest of honor and all that, so you’re stuck in the middle with Johnny on your left and Kyle on your right. Ghost is next to Johnny, of course, leaving John next to Kyle, a perfect angle for him to stare at you while you answer Johnny’s interrogation. Johnny asks you questions like you haven’t talked every week since you last saw each other. Like only a brother could be, he’s unhinged. 

“So yer still single, m'eudail?”

“An’ yer livin’ alone? Steaming Jesus, hen.”

“Not even a cat? Bloody hell.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see John’s shoulders bunching closer with every invasive question your brother asks. He’s being an ass, they both are, and you need a break. “Before the food comes, I’m going to use the toilet. Scooch, Johnny.” As you leave, you hear Ghost muttering to Johnny, telling him to calm down. At least someone’s on your side.

You do your business, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before going back out and facing the cavalry. As you open the door, you see the universe is not on your side.

“We need to talk.” He’s standing there, posture military straight. You hate him.

“John…” You try to push the bathroom door open to make your escape. He prides himself on your mission being unsuccessful, an arm preventing you from leaving. He doesn’t like to use his strength to intimidate women, but in this case, you’re too slippery for him to let you go politely.

“Sweetheart…”

“Oh, don’t sweetheart me, John. Or should I say, Captain?”

He yanks the door handle from your grip, spinning and locking you both inside in one move. It’s a one room toilet and there’s nowhere to go with John taking up space like it’s his right. “We need to talk.” He says it in what you imagine is his Captain Voice, firm and unmoving. Luckily for you, you’re not on his payroll. “Actually, we don’t. We had a good time, the night ended and you left, and now we happen to have a mutual connection. It’s whatever.” You try to shrug nonchalantly, fumbling for the door, but John notes how you stumbled over the words “you left.” His hands find your waist, pinning you to the door with a gentleness remnant of last night.

“You didn’t call. Or text. ‘m confused why y’r upset, pet, when the ball’s in y’r court.” His hands on your waist are breaking down your mental walls and you hate how easily you let down your guard. His actions don’t match his words, though, and that’s something you can’t deny. “How would I have called? I don’t have your number.” His brows knit together in confusion, thumbs rubbing circles over your shirt. “I left a note.” Oh. Oh.

“There was no note.”

“Left it on the pillow, sweetheart.”

“There was nothing on the pillow!”

“Must’ve moved while you slept. Should’ve known by how much ya kicked me last night.”

“I don’t kick! God, you’re annoying and-“ 

He cuts you off with a kiss, pressing you further into the door. John slots a muscled thigh between your legs, smiling against your skin when you let out a soft moan. “‘m sorry ‘m a right idiot, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you.” You shake your head, pushing him away but keeping your hands on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform. “What would you have done if I never called? And if- if I didn’t show up on base?” He smiles at you indulgently, like you’re a little girl instead of a woman. He knows he’s won, can tell by how firm your grip is on his chest. “Would’ve gone back t’ the bar tonight. An’ if you weren’t there, would’ve gone to y’r hotel room.” You frown at him. “How would you have gotten up the elevator? You need a key card.” He pecks your forehead like he’s known you a year, rather than a day. “I have my ways, sweetheart. I am a captain, as you know.” 

That kills the mood.

You push him away, finally letting go, before stepping in front of the mirror to readjust your clothes and hair. He stands behind you and it’s intoxicating to imagine you two like this, fixing your clothes after a hookup or a domestic night in. Something about John Price feels permanent, likes he’s meant to be in your life for more than one night. But then, the image of your brother pops into your brain. Your memory of how much he talks about John, talks about the group in general. How they’re like family, like brothers, how Price treats him like a son. You can’t ruin this for him.

“We can’t do this, John. If it goes wrong, it’ll break Johnny’s heart. I can’t do that to him.” Hands wrap around your waist, slotting you against him. You fit perfectly and it’s heart wrenching. “An’ what about my heart? An’ yours?” You shake your head, pushing off of him and unlocking the door. “It’s early enough that we can just- just stop. Johnny’s more important. I am sorry, truly.” You walk away without a second glance, like John’s not even there.

And just like that, John Price knows he’s met his match. His future wife, if he has anything to say about it. John Price doesn’t lose.

-

notes: johnny says bloody hell because simon says bloody hell. i don’t make the rules sorry.

also someone complained on my ao3 that this wasn’t slow burn and…i never said it was???? they literally meet as a hookup bffr. anyways hope yall enjoy! angst is coming soon hehe

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@nova-willow-541

@sirbonesly

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[glitteringdust]

Lucanis/Spite pining for Rook

Could be at any part of their romance.

Or at 1 am when that 13th cup of coffee hits

Why did you leave?

Spite's questioning had still not ceased. Lucanis ignored the demon, staring at the slow, orbiting Fade rocks in the distance. Trying to clear his head was hard when a Demon wouldn't shut up about his mistake. He takes a sip of the coffee in his hands, surprised at how cold it had become. A trick of the Fade or had he lost track of time? He had already lost track of what number cup this was, the exhaustion from the day was slowly creeping in. He needed to be in better control.

Rook was right there. You had her.

The infatuation Spite had for Rook had started right away— she was a shiny new toy, something new to play with. Lucanis figured the demon would grow bored of her eventually, but Spite hung on to every one of Rook's words and demanded to speak to her constantly. His attention was on Rook whenever she was in the same room.

He could not blame him, honestly. Rook was delightful to be around, and becoming the best part of his day. She was just… good. Everything felt good when she was there. So when she started flirting with him, he could not help himself. She was so close he could smell that unique scent of her.

Cherries…cinnamon…

He was so close to tasting her, but stopped himself at Spite's remark. He could not do this to her, could not bring her close to him if there was even one chance of hurting her. He was an abomination, a danger.

So he pulled away. He left. Keeping her safe was of utmost priority.

Rook is not afraid of us.

"She should be, Spite." He mutters aloud.

He heads back inside the dining hall, needing to start another pot of coffee if he is going to evade sleep a little longer. As it brews, he finds his mind wandering back to Rook.

What would it have been like? Sweet and intriguing, like he thought? Or would she have been more bold? She was a force of nature given form, after all. His kisses would have been fervent, as he pinned her against the wall. Tucked away in the dimly lit pantry, he would have shown her just how much he thought of her.

Maybe she would have taken his hand, and led him back to her room across the way. They'd risk the chance of being seen but he would not have cared. He can picture it now, the way the light of the main hall would make her curls a captivating navy blue. He should have kissed her…

…

…

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but jolts awake just outside the hallway leading to Rook's room.

"Lucanis?"

She's dressed down into sleep clothes, hair slightly damp as if she'd just bathed. "Is everything alright?"

"Ah, Rook. Yes. I am fine, only on a stroll."

Blue eyes examine him once over, a small frown forming, "You look tired, Lucanis. Why don't you get some rest? I can keep an eye on Spite."

Yes. Do it! Go to Rook.

"I do not wish to trouble you with that. Spite is mine to deal with."

"You can’t just avoid sleep forever. It would be no trouble at all." She looks at him with such softness, he wants to give in.

"I can handle this. Do not worry yourself."

The space between them is a hollow ache, close but not enough. A moment of weakness, Caterina would call it. To be an assassin, you must set aside emotion. To get the job done, there can be no hesitation, no doubt. Love is a weakness. It sets you up to lose.

He did not want to lose her.

He turns, heading out of the main hall and back to his own room. The air of the Fade was stale with each inhale, heavy.

How frustrating you are. She likes us, and you stay away?

"What is it with you? Why do you act as if you know her?" He snaps back.

You know her, so I do too. Rook is good.

It’s the least hostile thing Spite has said to him. The demon really means it. He cares for Rook in his own unconventional way.

He pours another cup of coffee.

[sirxlla]

Climbing Into Bed With Them Randomly As Their Friend (Batboys)

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

Warnings: FLUFF

Note: IDK why Tumblr thinks this needs a content label?

-It's all under the cut-

Dick: Dick didn't mind one bit; he pulled you close to him and hugged you. He knew you probably weren't climbing in bed just for shits and giggles, you probably were feeling bad, and Dick is the type of guy to want his friends to be happy, and he'd do anything he can to help.

"You okay?" He whispered as he rubbed your back. He's worried about you but he wouldn't push you to talk about it if you didn't want to.

"Bad dream." You whispered back and held onto him, pressing your ear to his chest to hear his heart.

"You wanna talk about it?" Dick knew the answer was most likely no, but he just wanted to cover all the bases so he's not surprised when you shake your head no. Dick just stays awake until you fall asleep before he allows himself to do the same.

Jason: "What the f-" He goes to grab his gun, but he opens his eyes notices it's you, and leaves his g*n under the pillow.

"I'm sorry, Babygirl." He lifts up the blankets and allows you to get under with him. Jason's skin is warm, unlike the shitty apartment you two rent, the heater went out today, and you have to wait for your landlord to come to fix it.

"Jesus, you're freezing." He takes his hands in his and blows hot air into them before letting go to pull you close to his chest.

"You aren't gonna freeze on my watch. I'll your own personal heater 'til he comes to fix the damn heat."

You cuddle into him, and slowly, your body begins to heat up, and your shivering stops before sleep takes you.

Bruce: Bruce had let you stay with him due to the fact you'd been recently k*dnapped; he doesn't sleep often, so he was surprised when you climbed into the bed with him. Even though he's surprised that your sleeping schedule matches his, he thinks about it for a brief moment...the jumpiness, the dark circles, and your constant need to be around him makes complete sense.

Joker had taken you captive, and it makes sense that in your mind, the only person you'd be safe with is Bruce. He lets you get comfortable any way you want, he's not gonna talk to you or bring it up. The last thing he wants is for you to feel worse than you already do about the situation, and plus, you need sleep, not a long chat about the worst 48 hours of your life.

Tim: Tim really didn't notice you crawl into bed with him, he'd crashed after a 72-hour manhunt for Zsasz and just about five million pots of coffee. He probably would've noticed anyway due to how squishy his bed is.

It's almost adorable how he looks asleep cuddling the squishmellow you bought him for his birthday. Tim doesn't notice you're in the bed til he notices his blankets are gone, and he reaches for them in his half-asleep daze. Of course, it surprises him, but he just cuddles up next to you and shares the blankets you will swear you didn't steal in the morning.

Damian: He knew from the second you stepped a single toe on the outside of his room that you were coming in to crawl into bed with him. You'd been doing it often, and it didn't even remotely surprise him.

He moved over onto the left side of the bed, the side closest to the bed instead of the middle where he was sleeping so you had space beside him.

"Dami, Can I-"

"Come on." He said nonchalantly but still in a serious tone. Every word that came out of his mouth was in; he knew what you were gonna ask before you asked it.

"I don't wanna be a bother." You said a bit unsure due to his tone, your pillow in your hand.

"I said yes. Come to bed, I heard you out there before you even came in here." His voice had softened a bit, and he held the blanket up for you to crawl into bed with him.

You put your pillow down and got under the blankets with them, the material warm from body heat. He'd never admit it but sleeping next to you helped him sleep better, he'd always wrap his arms around you and sleep with his chest pressed to your back but you'd never know because he'd wake up at the butt crack of dawn, much earlier than you ever wanted to get out of bed.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if you'd like

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SPRING — NANAMI KENTO.

contents. domesticity with nanami after moving in together. aka brushing your teeth. aka staring at him shamelessly as he does mundane tasks. (me writing someone other than gojo or geto ???? whatttttt :O)

it doesn’t hit you that you and kento now live together until the the morning after the first night.

it’s spring. there are flowers you want to keep in your balcony sitting in your living room, the box labeled dishes is half empty from only what you took out for dinner, and you aren’t quite sure where your clothing box is because you forgot to label it. but kento is handsome next to you in the bathroom, shirtless as he brushes his teeth.

there are two sinks—one for you and one for him, but you opt for brushing your hip against his and sharing one. he doesn’t say anything, just scoots a little to the side and rinses his mouth as he makes room for you.

“please stop staring,” he mumbles tiredly, “it’s getting awkward.”

“you look handsome,” you pout, “i can’t admire you?”

“i’m brushing my teeth,” he deadpans.

“yes, a very handsome sight. i love seeing your care for dental hygiene.”

kento sighs, grabbing the small towel from the side and patting his face dry as you lean down and spit, rinsing your own mouth and plopping your toothbrush back in place. next to his.

and your face wash is beside his too, and so is your shampoo and body wash in the shower. you step to the side, bumping hips with him again as you grin—it’s ecstatic, the expression on your face.

“kento, i just realized something,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his jaw. it’s smooth, the feeling of his skin under your lips—you watched him shave earlier, sat on the counter and swung your legs as he carefully ran the razor along his skin.

“and what’s that?” he asks, patting your face with the towel, gently wiping away the droplets of water with extra care.

“we live together now—and i can watch you brush your teeth every day,” you grin.

“we shared a bed last night,” he raises a brow, “i’m sure you realized a bit before this that we now share a living space.”

wrong.

your home isn’t put together yet—you couldn’t find your pajamas last night, so you wear kento’s. the coffee machine still hasn’t been taken out and plugged in yet, and breakfast is currently limited to cereal and fruit that doesn’t need to be cut until the kitchen utensils have been organized. your couch hasn’t arrived yet, and your bed is currently just a mattress on the floor until the bed frame is delivered.

it doesn’t really dawn on you that you and kento are living together until you wake up with his chest under your cheek and his breath fanning against your forehead. sure, you and kento have spent nights at each other’s apartments—but that always results in one rising before the other to leave early and make up for the extra distance in the commute to work.

today, however, you and kento are home together. it’s spring—you can hear cicadas calling and see the buds blooming in the plants outside. there are flowers waiting to be potted in your balcony, and fresh strawberries of the season waiting for you in the kitchen.

and when you watch kento take his time and brush his teeth, hip accidentally bumping against yours as he leans down to rinse his mouth, you realize your home is with kento now.

you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “well, we’ve shared a bed before,” you kiss delicately at the slant of his jaw again, “but i’ve never seen you shirtless and brushing your teeth.”

“this new obsession is scaring me,” he mumbles, “what’s so special about me brushing my teeth?”

“oh, kento,” you grin, warm and bright and as fresh as the first breeze of spring, “it’s certainly a sight. you just have to see it.”

he hums, shaking his head gently as he chuckles in that soft, calm little way that he does. his arms find your waist.

your bathroom, even with missing shower curtains, feels like it’s always been yours. it feels natural, living with kento, it feels natural sharing a towel to wipe your face and leaving the door unlocked for the other to come in as you prepare for the morning.

“i have my own sight,” he murmurs, tracing your cheek as his hand cups your face, “you look lovely when you drool in your sleep.”

“kento,” you whine with a pout, “don’t watch me sleep.”

“how could i not?” he grins, brown eyes bordering on hazel as they brighten, “it’s the best new part of my mornings.”

he kisses you there, in the bathroom you still have to finish setting up, the tiles cool beneath your feet and his lips warm against your mouth.

it’s spring when you move in with kento—and you have a newfound appreciation for the season.

guess who wants to brush her teeth in the mornings with nanamin. it might be me. it might be my undying need for domesticity. it might be my deep desire to witness him spit. it might be both. i haven’t decided yet

[heartfullofleeches]

Amab Yan Warrior + Kind Naga Reader

[Size Difference, Reader has a penis - two in fact, Reader is a sweetie and honestly a bit of a thembo, No outright smut, but still highly suggestive so 18 mdni+]

-

Wicked devil.

Bested them in combat and this is what you do with their broken body out on full display?

Shattered armor piled neatly in the far corner of your den, bandages tucked around their bruised and cracked rips - knotted just so to grant their skin passage to breath. Truthfully, you hadn't no intention to leave them in such condition. Perhaps, there was a pinch too great of love in your adoring grasp, but in your defense, they may have poked an eye with that sharpened toothpick their kind dubbed a blade.

You have brewed enough tea for your guests to make a pot with their hands tied, but you have grown rather fond of both of your eyes over the duration of your time with them.

"Dearest guest? Are you conscious enough to evaluate the modesty of your host's wears? It has been so long without a mate. Had to take matters into own hands. Guest forgive such an immodest beast, yes?"

Never in their remaining years will they give you pardon.

Hisses of bliss constricted by a yelp of surprise, or dare say, shame as that authoritative voice of theirs echoed from the walls of your cave. The loincloth cloaking your midsection swells with the unfulfilled lust imprisoned in your twin sheaths. As victor, it is your honor, your right- to unload that burden on them. Had the hours of prepping their hole by the campfire stationed outside your den been for not?

"So happy~ Been so long without a guest. The crest on your armor- You belong to a kingdom, no? One with a king and queen. Perhaps a prince or a princess? Would like to befriend as well."

The princess? What would a brute like you want with her? Don't you see that the trained, hardened body of a warrior like them is the only mortal flesh capable of accepting your impossible girth?

"More friends means more opportunities to find mate. So lonely, but humans good company. Too small to be mate, but excellent companions."

Why must you torment them so?

[jobean12-blog]

Life is Good

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 999

Summary: Bucky loves to take care of you even if it means he has to get out of the the warm and cozy bed but he'll be keeping it warm for when you get home.

Author's Note: My sweet friend @sgt-seabass shared this absolutely lovely and adorable tik tok with me and just made me think of this softness with Bucky and Alpine. Thank you love! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft sweet fluff and warm and fuzzy 😁

“You don’t have to bring me to work Buck. Stay in bed!”

Alpine meows in agreement and stretches himself out in the warm spot Bucky just vacated.

“Nah doll face. I’ll take you. I don’t want you going out in this alone.”

You stare at him as he sits sleepily on the edge of the bed and yawns, the backdrop of the neighboring buildings obscured by the flakes of snow fluttering wildly outside but doing little to distract from his perfection.

“Bucky.”

“Doll.”

He gives you a lopsided smile and crooks his finger at you before patting his thigh.

You walk between his legs and sit, curling against his bare chest, still warm from sleep.

“Just need a hug before we go.”

You hum happily into his skin with a soft inhale.

“I should call out…”

“You should.”

“But I have to get this project done.”

“I know baby doll.”

“Alpine?” you ask and peek over Bucky’s shoulder at the white fluff sprawled out on the bed.

The cat doesn’t even lift his head up.

“We all know his answer,” Bucky chuckles. “He’d stay in bed all day.”

You place a soft kiss to Bucky’s neck and nuzzle closer.

“Honestly. Hugs were the best and worst idea. I do not want to get up,” he says. “Ever again.”  

“Yeah, I know. Now I’m extra comfy and in my happy place.”

You feel the satisfied rumble that moves through his chest before he presses his thumb under your chin and tilts your face up to capture your lips in a toe-curling kiss.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his mouth.

“Uh huh, I know,” he sighs, kissing you again before he gently sets you down on the bed.

“Gimme five to wash up and change and we’ll go.”

Once Bucky is dressed he appears in the living room and looks you over.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asks.

“Yup!”

He crowds your space and pulls your hat down over your ears before tightening your scarf.

“Lunch?”

“Yes Bucky,” you answer sweetly and pat your bag.

“Snacks?”

He then pulls your gloves from your jacket pockets and motions for your hands.

“Of course,” you reply.

When he has your gloves secured he gives you one more check and nods approvingly.

“Ok, let’s go.”

He gets himself dressed, of course with fewer accessories than you, and holds the door open while reaching out for your hand.

“Bye Alpine,” you yell.

Bucky walks you to the train station, takes the train with you and then walks you to your building before kissing you until you’re overheating. He watches you get inside and waves through the large glass panes until you disappear into the elevator.

The day flies by thanks to all that you have to do but you’re productive and manage to finish early. With excited steps you walk toward the elevator, contemplating calling Bucky to let him know you’re leaving. He insisted on coming back to get you and take you home but you want to surprise him and decide you can make it home just fine on your own.

Your trip back is uneventful and when you reach the door to your apartment you can already smell the familiar aroma of your favorite comfort meal. With a smile you unlock the door and walk inside, softly calling Bucky’s name.

When he doesn’t answer you toe off your shoes and whip off all your warm weather garments then walk to the crock pot on the counter and lift the lid, inhaling with contentment.

The bedroom door is wide open and as you get closer you can see Bucky’s bare foot dangling off the edge of the bed. You inch closer with quiet steps and find him laid out on top of the comforter in nothing but his black boxers.

The curtains that normally cover the large window next to the bed are pushed haphazardly aside, allowing the soft brightness of the snow to bathe the room in a white glow. Everything you can see outside is lined with a neat new edge of dazzling crystals.

As pretty as it all is your eyes quickly move back to the bed and Bucky.

His metal hand is curled around your pillow and his face is smushed into it. Alpine is laying in the small space between Bucky’s bent leg and his arm with all four legs straight out and his furry belly gently rising and falling with his even breathing.

You stare for a few moments before taking your phone out and snapping a photo.

“New lock screen?” Bucky mumbles as he slowly shifts and opens his eyes.

“Definitely,” you giggle.

“How come you didn’t call me doll?”

His voice is stern even though his face is half hidden in your pillow.

“I was done early and wanted to surprise you…surprise!”

He grumbles something about ‘next time you better call because blah blah’ and trails off.

“Get over here doll.”

“That’s my pillow,” you tease.

“Smells so good,” he murmurs with one last nuzzle before holding out his arms and making grabby hands.

You curl into him and after several kisses you ask, “did you fall asleep reading again?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I got the food in the crock pot, had a snack or two then decided to read while I waited for you to call and well…”

“Thank you for cooking. It smells so good.”

“Of course baby doll. It’ll be ready soon.”

“Mm. I don’t want to get up yet.”

“Me either.”

“Meow.”

Alpine stretches and presses himself closer into Bucky while lightly kneading the comforter.

“Hi furball,” you giggle. “Did you help daddy cook?”

Bucky scoffs playfully and tugs you closer into his embrace.

“He’s been in the same spot since you left!”

“He’s living the life!” you muse.

Bucky slides his face closer to yours and holds your gaze while he delicately traces a finger along the curve of your jaw.

“It’s the best life,” he murmurs against your lips.

@lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @kmc1989 @haileygarciasunshine

[tarot-archives]

please imagine laios who just came to the island. no connections. no background. he has his sister, a few coins in his satchel, and a dream. but it wasn’t easy. finding a job is tough. most of the time, it’s falin the other parties want, not him. they don’t have money to spare for extra weight.

laios the big brother. laios the supposed provider can’t even feed his sister proper food. he does odd jobs outside the dungeon for a good meal then they sleep under the stars. feeding was hard enough so a room was out of the question. they eventually joined the wanderers who sleep in tents and was kind enough to spare him a blanket.

in his job hunting, laios can’t help but be distracted from the inviting smell from one of the inns. his nose leads him to a dark alleyway, thinking that maybe if he ate his hard bread while smelling the aromatic food, his meal might be better mentally.

laios spots a dog from the back door. the puppy was had a rope on its neck as a leash to keep it tied. he couldn’t help but smile. laios squats down and plays with the puppy, a reminder of his past with having so many dogs and a cat. the black puppy enthusiastically barks and barks. it’s happy to have someone to play with after a while of staying in the cold. laios had the urge to steal him away. no one should leave a small thing like him in the dark.

the frequent barks caught your attention. it might be an intruder or your puppy was causing trouble so you had to go and check. your eyes land on a man, thin and possibly malnourished, playing with potchi, your dog. you don’t miss the way this strangers shined once the light hit his eyes at first. he quickly stood, towering over you in fact. despite being a tall-man yourself, your smaller height doesn’t testify your race.

this man was apologetic at first, then enthusiastic as the conversation continues. he talks about your dog, then about his experience with dogs, then he lectures you about dogs. needless to say you were interested. he was a walking archive, knowledgable and charming in his own way. he seemed harmless compared to the men who frequent the inn. big, burly guys with a bad attitude just because they can enter the dungeon and kill monsters.

his eyes however doesn’t meet yours. you followed his stare to the plate of food you had at the table. and on cue, his tummy rumbles.

“are you hungry?” you asked. he doesn’t deny his hunger and immediately says yes. his actions were like potchi during his meals. he’s cute, endearing, and excited. if he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “here, as thank you for the dog information.”

you bring him a plate of hot food (a bit of extra from todays pot) and he gobbles it up. save for a good portion he says it’s for his sister.

cute, endearing, excited, and thoughtful… he has this appeal. and goodness! don’t you know not to entertain men who play with puppies and have bright eyes. too much of those heart felt romance books warn about men like him. but you shoo your thoughts away.

“listen, you can finish up your plate. i can give you another serving for your sister,” you offered.

“thank you. you’re so kind… er…” i scratched his head. “i don’t even have your name.”

you tell him your name as he told you his. laios… you test it on your tongue. you don’t know why your heart is at ease just speaking his name out loud. you say it again with an offer this time, “come to the inn tomorrow, at 4 am if you can. we need extra hands to bring in new items. i’d pay you with food though, will that be fine, laios?”

he smiled brightly for a man previously starved. a new excitement bubbles within him with the promise to meet you again tomorrow.

“bring your sister too okay? food is better served hot after all,” you smiled. laios took you hand as he shakes it. his energy seeping into you through his hold, but the coldness of his fingers concerned you. “tell me if you need anything okay? us tall-man have to stick together.”

laios wanted to hug you. wrap his arms to show his appreciation, but he knows when to stop. he’s not that clean after all. so he settles with a hand shake, noticing how warm you are body wise and not just through your personality. “thank you! i’ll be here on time! i promise.”

soon after, you waved a final good bye to laios. excitement blooms within you as you wait for tomorrow to come as quickly as it could.

requests? open.

[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

[monstersandgenderqueers]

Little Gifts (Part One)

Loki, a new resident in the compound, sparks your interest. You decide to give him a gift in secret, hoping he might cheer up just a little bit. Well, it didn't work out that way.

Pairing: Loki x neurodivergent!reader

Word count: 2200

A/N: Look, I really wanted to read a fanfic about an autistic reader but alas, there are so few. So I made one myself. Yes, this might just be a self-insert, but everyone's experience with neurodivergence is different, and it felt simpler just to make the reader's neurodivergence similar to mine. This series will mostly be exploring neurodiversity and Loki's reactions towards it, hopefully fluffy?

Part Two| Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

I think he's gone, now's my chance!

You peek around the corner, hugging the little terracotta pot to your chest. Nestled inside is a tiny little staghorn fern, tucked gently inside some damp moss. You wait for a moment, listening for footsteps or voices.

Boisterous laughter echoes down the hall, forcing you to freeze with your back against the cold wall. The voices subside, and you dare to dart from around the corner and toward the door just in front of you.

Quiet as a mouse, you reach his door. After another quick look, just to be sure no one is watching, you place the fern carefully on the floor, and a card beside it. You'd handwritten detailed care instructions, ensuring that even the most notorious plant-killer could still keep the little thing alive.

Well, maybe.

You twist the pot just a little. There. He will love this… right?

You bought him this fern as a sort of housewarming gift. Or maybe a "welcome to the compound" gift or… a "be my friend, please" gift. Most likely the latter.

Often, you trail behind him on his escorted walks outside. He likes to stop and stare at the trees, or sit down on the bench and watch the undergrowth. You hope this gift isn't too far off the mark, but since you were so uncertain, you intentionally left your name off the card. Afterall, you don't want him to think you're too desperate to be his friend, even though you definitely are.

When you first moved in, you were just the same as he is. Self-isolating, restless, temperamental, and just downright rude. His reasons seem more concrete than yours did, though. 

Loki is forced to stay. His magic is restricted, and he isn't allowed to leave without either Thor or an armed escort. No one trusts him, but at least Thor trusts in whomever decided Loki should be punished in this way. You aren't privy to that sort of information, so you only have your assumptions for now.

Your excuses for your behavior are based on just… who you are. Different. Change is hard, and moving to the compound to live with some very intimidating people and surrounded by people at all times was devastating.

You'd gotten more comfortable in the time since, but it's still challenging. At least you're not a total jerk anymore. You still ask, sometimes, if it appears like someone is ignoring you on purpose or they get an attitude. Did I say something wrong?

Or maybe that was just all in your head.

Regardless, you see a kindred spirit in Loki. There are so many things you do differently because of your neurodivergence, and he seems to do them, too. Like masking, for one. Your masking is for the purpose of looking normal, to hide everything that makes you stand out, and from your perspective, it seems like he is also trying to hide himself away behind indifference and snark.

You really, really hope the fern will work.

Tiptoeing away, you make it all the way down the hall to your assigned quarters, and close the door shut quietly behind you. You're tempted to peer out from your door and keep an eye on it. You could just barely see his door if you poked your head out from yours. That'd be too obvious, though, and he might think you're a creep.

You pick up your plushie, hoping that if you squeeze something tight, your anxiety might just ebb away and you can go about your day as normal without constantly ruminating on Loki and whether he likes the fern or not.

It doesn't work. Now you're just pacing, second-guessing and triple-guessing yourself, new thoughts popping into your head with each stride down the length of your bedroom.

What if he thinks it's weird? What if he thinks I'M weird?

So? He doesn't know I left it, right?

But what if he does? What if I accidentally wrote my name on the little card?

What if he realizes it's me because I like my plants and I talk about them all the time?

What if he saw me walk in with it?

What if someone else did and they tell him?

But how would he know it's from me otherwise?

He won't be angry with me, right? Right?

What if he actually likes it and tries to figure out who left it but he finds out it's from me and then he gets upset because it's me?

You toss your plushie onto your bed, and then yourself right after it. With a deep groan, you smash your face against the comforter, trying to release some of the tension.

You hope he's at least a little bit like Thor when it comes to receiving gifts, polite and gracious even if the gift is really weird or random. You're horrendously terrible at figuring out what people want or like, and figuring out Thor is still something on your to-do list. 

Giving gifts is one of the few ways you know of to get people to notice you, so it stings a bit when gift after gift is ignored or set aside, even the things that don't really seem like gifts. Like for Thor, you noticed he developed a craving for sugary, processed foods shortly after joining the Avengers. So, you got him a variety pack of the most unhealthy types of cereal. You knew it was a stupid idea the second he patted your head and placed it on the counter without really looking at it. It hurt it a bit when you saw others eat it, but at least that gift was used by someone you know, which you can't say for everything else you'd gotten others for birthdays or holidays or "I just like you" days.

Your gifts are always ending up in junk piles or in the trash.

Maybe the fern would break that pattern?

After what felt like years of waiting, you get up and open your door as casually as you could make it look. You walk down the hall and around the little corner you were hiding behind before, and face Loki's door.

You try not to make it obvious when you look down, so you turn and keep walking by and just barely glance downwards.

It's gone! That means he saw it, right? Does he like it?

You can't help the smile that breaks your mask. He likes it, right? Just the thought of him smiling sent unfamiliar giddiness up from your belly to your chest. If you saw him smile in real life, your heart might just fly away.

But, instead of flying away, it breaks. Just as you enter the common room, you see the bottom of the terracotta pot sticking out from the garbage bin in the corner, the orange color drawing your eye towards it.

Oh.

The room is empty, so he probably just tossed it the second he saw it. Hearing laughter again, you walk towards the window and see a few people outside, enjoying the sunshine. Thor is the one laughing, chatting with Steve about something you couldn't make out. Loki is there, too, standing to the side with his arms crossed and his brows knit together so tightly they might snap off.

He glances briefly in your direction. You swear he's making eye contact, but there's no way he can see you through the dark tint of the glass.

You sigh, shuffling your feet a bit as you turn back around. Plucking the fern from the trash, you gently shake it to get the plastic off that stuck to one of the leaves. You carry it back to your room with you, berating yourself for getting teary-eyed and for the too-much bad feeling that fills your belly like lead.

After finding the fern a home next to your already mature staghorn fern, you sit and wait for dinner. If your memory is correct, the chef who makes all the meals for everyone is making something familiar to you tonight, so at least there is something to look forward to.

Loki glares at you as you take your seat across from him. Months ago, you claimed a chair where no one sat across from you on the long dining table purposefully. You hate when people watch you eat, or try to engage you in conversation when you have food in your mouth. Then Loki moved in and claimed the opposite chair.

The dining table was never packed, since there were always at least a few people absent for various reasons, so it was quite alarming when Loki chose that seat and stared at you with his icy eyes until you finished your meal. It was like he wanted you to get up and move, even though you sat down that day before he did.

Since then, he's given up on intimidating you into moving. He still sits there, of course, so it's extra awkward now that he's back to glaring at you after your failed attempt at friendship.

He knows, doesn't he? Why else would he be looking at me like he's trying to make me explode through the force of his glare alone?

Thor sat down to the left of Loki, his plate already mostly empty. He makes some comments about how the dish tastes like something from Asgard, but it's hard for you to make out with everyone else talking and scraping cutlery on their dishes.

Unfortunately, Thor must've asked you something, since he's looking at you like, "well?"

Even worse, Loki looks interested in your answer.

You swallow your bite. "Uhm… could you repeat that?"

Thor repeats himself, "I asked if you enjoyed the sunshine today. It has been such a welcome reprieve from the storms as of late." He winks, as if he had something to do with the storms, though you know he doesn't care enough to mess with the weather here. After elbowing Loki, he continues, "Even Loki basked in the sunlight this afternoon."

Loki doesn't seem to care enough to retort. He just keeps…. staring.

"Uhm… I went out this morning before the clouds parted. So… no, I didn't really enjoy the sunshine…"

Thor's eyes dart to Loki quickly before he looks back at you. "Oh? Where did you go?"

"Uhm… to town. For some shopping." You hope that's enough of an answer, but with the way the brothers just keep staring, you know it's not. "I bought some stuff for my room."

Thor brightly smiles. "Perhaps Loki could join you on your next shopping adventure. His room is still bare."

You hope you hide your disappointment well enough. Since you tried to get something for Loki's room, it hurts all the more knowing that he's actively looking for things and he rejected your gift. "Yeah. Maybe next time…"

Loki looks at you oddly. It's a subtle expression, one you hadn't seen on him before. Your mind ran through every instance you've seen an expression like that on someone else, but there was nothing. You hope it isn't disgust.

You trip your way through the rest of Thor's agonizing small talk then bring your plate to the dishwasher. Loki follows you, scraping his plate off into the compost bin. His elbow brushes your side ever so slightly, making your eyes widen. "Uhm, excuse me…" you say, as if you had bumped into him. You slot your dishes in the washer and walk away, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and your ears.

As you're walking to your quarters, a thought comes to mind.

Maybe he's just picky. Maybe a plant was the wrong gift. Books? He likes books, right? I've got hundreds stacked on my floor, at least one has to be interesting to him…

With a new goal, you quicken your pace and head directly to the stacks leaning precariously every which way against one of the walls.

Ah hah!

Without toppling anything over, you manage to snag the complete Lord of the Rings trilogy. This one is a cheap copy, one that you'd dog-eared and written in and highlighted. You think about buying him a new copy, but your impatience is winning.

If I put this in front of his door now, it'll be less obvious than giving it to him after another shopping trip.

Similar to earlier that day, you made sure everyone was still in the dining room before placing the book against the wall. You stick a little heart-shaped sticky note on the cover:

"I know you don't like it here much. I know what it's like to feel like everyone hates you. Maybe this might take your mind off it? Anyway, please don't throw this one away. It's actually mine, but you can keep it if you promise you won't damage it further. If you don't want it, maybe just put it in the common room?"

Like before, you leave off your name, hoping it might save you a sliver of embarrassment later if you find the book lying about elsewhere or in the trash.

You go to bed shortly after, forcing your anxiety to settle down as you anticipate the morning.