#honey. when i was young i choked on liquid honey. i was so close to falling away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable.

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits.

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions.

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart.

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words.

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll.

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag.

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom.

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty.

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list.

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them.

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed.

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that.

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety.

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

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“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker.

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now.

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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently.

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking.

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave.

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto.

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on.

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say.

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home.

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped.

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out.

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty.

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late.

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening.

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding.

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away.

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking.

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice.

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name.

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position.

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good.

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark.

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan.

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely.

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good. Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed.

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly.

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room.

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down.

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?”

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response.

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth.

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?”

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks.

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip.

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth.

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input.

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips.

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries.

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more.

Intensifying.

Exhilarating.

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you.

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck.

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning.

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

just my type (spencer reid/reader)

Title: just my type

Request: kinda, not really

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (daddy kink, loss of virginity (reader), praise, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, after sex cockwarming, groping, heavy petting, tipsy sex, innocence kink, hair pulling, crying during sex (but the VERY end)), dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, Professor!Reid, age gap, aftercare, swearing, drinking, making out in public places, incredibly brief mention of necrophilia, mentions of absent father, ooc!spencer, professor/student, brief mention of drinks being drugged (not actually happening)

Word Count: 8,194

Summary: Reader sleeps with a man she met at the bar. The next day she finds out that man was her new professor, Spencer Reid...

A/N: this was writing for pom’s discord server fic swap! My partner doesn’t have tumblr, but their wattpad is babyleaf1! I took a few of her favorite tropes and prompts she likes and came up with this! It’s loosely based off the song campus by vampire weekend. Spencer and reader’s ages are undefined, but there is a gap between the two. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Going to the bar wasn’t exactly my scene. Sure, it was nice to kick back and have a drink after a long day. I’d rather be at home with a glass of wine and watching a movie. But when a friend I haven’t seen in a long time asks to go to the bar, I’m gonna go to the bar with her.

My eyes scanned the crowded room, searching for my friend who was no doubt already drinking. The room was filled with drunk people. I didn’t expect so many people to be drinking on a Tuesday night… who am I to judge though?

When I finally saw my friend, I rushed to her. She was sitting at the bar with a drink already in hand. I wondered how many drinks she had before I arrived.

The moment I appeared by her side, she let out an excited squeal before throwing her arms around my body.

“It’s so nice seeing you!” she squealed into my ears. I laughed as I carefully pushed her off my body, and tried to regain some personal space. “It’s been so long!”

“Yeah, yeah. Been busy. School and stuff starts this week.” I nervously laughed as I sat down on the stool beside her. She leaned over the bar as she called for the bartender.

“That’s right! School!” she exclaimed as she looked back at me. I looked away from the bartender and at my friend. “That’ll be fun!” she added, trying to sound excited, but epically failing.

“I sure hope it’ll be fun…. But it’s hard to say. You know, college,” I chuckled and looked down at the counter. The bartender placed the two drinks on the counter, pushing them towards us. My eyes widened once I saw the brightness of the drink. The brightness of the liquid was unnatural. So of course I was going to drink it. What’s the worst that could happen?

A couple hours had passed and the conversations between us seemed to flow fluidly. I was thanking God that that was the case because I don’t think I could do awkward drinks. I like to think I was concentrating on her and her words pretty well.

And then he happened.

A man walked up to the bar and looked right at the bartender. He held up one finger as he sat down behind my friend. He had an exhausted look in his eyes, which were hidden behind shaggy brown hair. Suddenly my concentration was out the window and I couldn’t take my eyes off the man. My friend definitely noticed too, but thankfully she didn’t comment on it.

Then he looked over at me, and I was met with honeyed hazel eyes. They were more intoxicating than my drink. A small smile grew on his lips when he realized he captured the attention from someone.

I just assumed he would have gotten his drink and returned to wherever he was sitting. But I was so wrong. Maybe the bar counter was where he was sitting and he just got here...

“So… What’s your type?” my friend asked, looking over at me with a small smile on her lips. I struggled to look away from the attractive man sitting just behind her. It was a relief when his gaze dropped from mine when my friend asked the question. But a small smirk grew on his lips as he, and my friend, waited for my answer.

“I… I, uh,” I finally looked away from him and down at my drink. The two black stir straws leaned against the glass, and I realized that I should probably stop drinking soon. My face grew really hot, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol I had consumed, or the thought of telling my friend my type in men I’m interested in, or even worse… That the type of guy I’m interested in standing right behind her…

“C’mon, can’t be that bad… Unless you’re like… A necrophiliac,” she laughed as she leaned closer to my body. I moved away from her before looking back at the man behind her. He was looking back at me, an amused smile on his lips. “Well,” she asked, slipping closer to me. I locked eyes on the man before licking my lips lightly.

“Older…” I made sure to be loud enough that I knew he would hear. I watched as he choked on his drink before looking over at me.

“Ooo! Girl,” my friend exclaimed as she moved closer to me, “How scandalous,” she whispered as she wrapped an arm around me, “How old are we talking?” she looked up at me. Her eyes were glossy, and I knew there was no winning this one.

“Is this really a conversation we… we should be having?” I asked, my voice shaky as I spoke. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“We talkin’ old enough to be ya daddy… if ya know what I mean,” she mused as she began falling into my body. The man behind her looked over at me, his smile telling me he was clearly listening in to our conversation. And he obviously enjoyed what was happening in front of him.

“Ye-No!” I cut myself off with a shout, “No! Not at all!” I continued, backing away from her body. I couldn’t tell if I was being serious or not, and something was telling me my friend and the man didn’t believe me either. “Wh-why are you suddenly…” I let my words trail off as my train of thought suddenly vanished.

“Because… You’re young, you’re single… And you’re… you know…” this time it was her words trailing off. I looked at her with wide eyes, my face getting hot again. “A virgin,” she said in a normal tone, even though I think she thought she was whispering. The man behind her choked on his drink again before slowly turning to face me and my friend.

“Will you shut up?” I whispered as I tore my eyes off the man and looked down at my friend. She sat back in her seat as she looked at me with a smile.

“OH!” she shouted as she looked down at her drink. She slammed the rest of it in one go before standing up, “I have to pee! Stay here! If I’m not back in 10 minutes, assume I went off with that hot guy.” She slipped off her chair before pointing somewhere in the bar. I looked over my shoulder and at a group of guys who were closer to our age than the guy behind her.

“O-okay,” my words stumbled as I carefully pushed her body off mine. I held back my chuckle as she stumbled away from me and towards the bathroom.

I turned back to the counter, my head dropping so I was looking at my drink. My fingers fiddled with the straws as I waited for my friend to return. The bright blue liquid sitting with ice wasn’t as good as it looked. Which was very unfortunate because I’ve had maybe two of them… Working on my third...

“Your friend… She’s rather excitable,” someone spoke from beside me. The seat my friend was once sitting in was now occupied by the man who sat beside her. I perked up and looked away from my drink. He was hunched over the bar, holding a small glass with an amber liquid.

I didn’t realize I was staring at him till he cleared his throat and looked back at me. I jumped, looking down at the bar. I didn’t exactly know how to respond to him, words not coming from my mouth properly as I struggled to speak. So, I shrugged and stared at him.

“Y-yeah, yeah she’s like that… Especially when she’s drunk… She doesn’t know how to hold her booze,” I laughed as I lifted my drink to my lips. I searched for the two mixer straws with my mouth, closing my eyes before taking a sip. “Y-you didn’t hear anything she said,” I asked, my words slurring slightly from nervousness, "Did you?" I added as I leaned on the counter. The man looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, erm,” he looked back down at his drink, not directly answering my question. I sighed deeply as I planted my face into my hand, leaning against the bar.

“She was being really loud,” I laughed as slowly slipped off my stool and into his body, “Oh, sorry.” I looked up at him as I held onto his arm, “I think I should stop drinking,” I laughed as I recollected myself and moved away from the stranger’s body.

“It’s okay.” The man looked at me, helping me get back on my seat, “I’m going to get you water.” He looked between me and the bartender.

“Listen, listen, yeah, whatever, like so what, I’m still a virgin… I just have my bar set way too high for men,” I started as I turned to face him, “I should lower that bar and my standards,” I mumbled as I leaned against the counter. The man looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. Why did I think my friend would be embarrassing to me when I can just do it myself?

“Definitely getting you water,” he laughed. After a moment of silence, the bartender placed two glasses of water on the counter in front of me and the stranger. The man looked over at me before pushing the glass closer to me. “Drink it, you’ll feel better,”

“Is it safe, right? Like…” I let my words trail off, hoping he’d clue into my worries. He looked at me with raised brows, like what I had said was absurd that I would even suggest something like that.

“It’s safe… just water and ice,” he returned, his tone telling me he was mildly offended that I'd think he drugged water. But to be fair, he's a random stranger in the bar, talking to a girl who's had a few drinks.

“Thanks,” I muttered before lifting the glass to my lips. The icy coolness of the water hit my lips and tongue and I already felt a million times better. I couldn’t help but let out a pleased hum.

“Spencer... by the way,” the man finally introduced himself to me. I swallowed roughly as I looked up at him. My eyebrows knit together as I stared at him, my words tumbling from my mouth as I introduced myself.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking around the semi-filled room of drunken adults.

“After work drinks,” he spoke softly. He didn’t sound too enthused by after work drinks. Part of me wondered why that was… Maybe all his friends ditched him too.

“Sounds boring,” I laughed as I looked back at him, “My friend wanted to get drinks… But she wanted to catch up and to… Well, just drink,” I sighed as I leaned my entire body against the counter, “As you can see, she ditched me… Like always,” I scoffed before looking over at where my friend actually was. She was standing beside the cute guy, leaning close to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d be gone with him the next time I looked over at her.

“Maybe it’s your turn to leave her at the bar.” Spencer watched as I lifted the glass of water back to my mouth. I nearly spat water all over the place with his words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as I moved my chair closer to him. He seemed content with where I was sitting, and how close I was to him. To be honest, I wished I could be closer to him.

“Could mean anything you wanted it to mean,” he replied with a shrug. I stared at him for a moment, slowly leaning closer to him, but not getting too close.

“You’re right.” I smiled as I stared at him. He looked away from his drink and nodded. “Like going home before her to go to bed early.” I laughed. Spencer returned the laughter and shook his head.

“If that’s what you want it to mean,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and shrugged.

“Nah, I don’t think I wanna go home yet,” I sighed, resting my head on my fist, and my elbow on the bar counter. We both stayed quiet for a moment, letting the silence carry our “conversation”.

“So… Older men…?” Spencer asked after the long silence. He looked down at me with a smug smile. I froze in my seat, my eyes on the glass of, now, ice in front of me.

“You did hear that conversation,” I lazily laughed as I looked up at him. I couldn’t help but nibble lightly on my lower lip as I looked at him. “Nah…” I looked up at him, feeling a small smile grow on my lips. Spencer looked down at me with a raised eyebrow and a sly smirk. “Maybe… Possibly… Definitely older men…” My head fell back in laughter. Spencer kept his eyes on me and his smile grew more amused than smug.

Spencer definitely met my standards in men. He seemed to be older than me, I wasn’t exactly willing to question that though. There was a certain… gentlemanly-ness to him that I infinitely enjoyed. He was definitely not like any other guy I’ve talked to. And he 100% wasn’t some 20-something-year-old guy who claims he has all the experience in the world but doesn’t. Spencer seemed very experienced, in what? Well, everything I guess. I could just sense it by the way he talked to me and the way he held himself.

“My last boyfriend was 10 years older than me, and the one before that was 7 years older…” I paused, staring at him. I wondered what he was thinking, and if he was thinking what everyone thinks… ‘This girl has totally got daddy issues.’ “I don’t have daddy issues,” I rolled my eyes as I gravitated closer to his body. I looked up at Spencer, my hand falling to rest on his thigh as I moved closer to him. His body tensed slightly at my touch. I felt a little bad at first, but when I went to move my hand, he stopped me. His hand reaching out to grab my wrist.

“Even if you did, I don’t think that would influence your taste in men.” He looked down at me. It was then did I realize just how close our faces were to each other.

“That’s good to hear because most people just automatically assume that I have daddy issues,” I murmured as I looked between his lips and eyes, “Although… It’s just a lie… I tell myself that because people always say women with daddy issues are sluts… But I’m not…” I whispered as I slowly moved closer to him.

“I didn’t think that,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, “And I’ve known you for all of 45 minutes,” he laughed as he removed his hand from my wrist.

“Good,” I laughed lightly. “Can I kiss you?” my voice was a murmur as I looked into his eyes. Spencer licked his lips before parting them slightly. He didn’t seem too shocked or taken aback by my proposition. But when he spoke he was a little… nervous.

“If… If that’s what you want,” he whispered as he looked at me. I took a deep breath, my hand resting on his leg shifting a bit as I moved closer to him. Spencer took a shaky breath as I looked up at him.

“Do you want it?”

“I… I’d be lying if I said no, but I don’t want to take advantage of a woman under the influence,”

“It’s what I want,” I leaned even closer, not even an inch between us. I could feel his breath through my nose, that’s how close we are. “And I’m not under the influence,” I spoke, losing my confidence with each word. It was also an obvious lie too. We both knew how many drinks I had. “I’ve had two glasses of water and a handful of bar nuts, and it’s been like an hour since my last drink. I’m okay,” I whispered as I leaned totally on him.

Spencer looked down at me, his face still as his eyes examined my face. He slowly brought a hand up to my face, resting it gently under my chin. I smiled, feeling my face heat up again. When he squinted his eyes, I felt my heart rate spike.

“Please,” I begged. The bar and world around me simply vanished as I became so involved with Spencer and everything about him. In that moment, I was obsessed with him. “Kiss me,”

Spencer let out a soft breath of air from his lips before pressing them to mine. If the cool water didn’t sober me up, this kiss sure did. But at the same time, it was so intoxicating. Sure I’ve kissed men before, but this time it was… Different. Something else was going to happen tonight, with Spencer. But I couldn’t exactly place what it was that was going to happen.

My free hand lifted from its place beside me and went to his head, my fingers getting tangled in his hair. My other hand stayed put on his thigh, my grip slowly hardening on his leg. I tried to be quiet as a moan came from me, but I obviously failed. Spencer moaned right back into my mouth. I suppose I was happy he didn’t have an issue with our volume. Thank God the music was loud enough to drown us out.

When I pulled away from him, I nearly fell into the bar. Thankfully Spencer looked at me, his hand going to my hip to keep me from crashing into the counter. I looked up at him, taking a deep breath to get my head clear. But it was hard when I went back to him, my arms wrapping around his neck as my lips crashed back into his.

Spencer’s hands moved quickly over my back, resting on my hips, lower back. Anywhere he could reach, he would touch. He turned more to face me, allowing me to stand between his legs.

“We… We should stop… Before one of us does something we’ll… We’ll regret,” he whispered softly. Spencer pressed his forehead to mine as he spoke. I took a deep breath, my chest rising and falling quickly.

“No… No, we shouldn’t.” I looked up at him, my hands getting knotted up in his hair again. Spencer looked at me, a certain softness on his face. “I think… You… You meet my standards, Spencer.” I blinked at him.

Spencer quickly looked over at the bartender before fumbling for his wallet. I looked at him, watching him pull out more money than needed and shoving it in the bartender’s hands. He looked back at me, wrapping an arm around my waist and guiding me out. I smiled as Spencer dragged me out of the bar.

For the first time ever, I was leaving the bar before my friend… And I didn’t care about her.

Spencer looked back at me as we stepped outside and the semi-cool air of the night felt really good against my hot skin. Inside I almost couldn’t breathe, but outside it felt like it just came to me. It was so… refreshing.

I didn’t realize Spencer had called a taxi till he was pulling me to the vehicle. I looked up at him, blinking slowly as he pulled the car door open. Swallowing down the sudden excitement and fear mixture, I slid into the taxi before him.

I wasn’t scared because I was having sex for the first time. No, I was scared that I was going home with a strange man. Anything could happen, honestly. What if he was a murderer?

“Where to?” The taxi driver looked up in the rearview mirror at me and Spencer. I was the quickest to talk, giving him my address before Spencer could give his.

Spencer glanced at me, watching as I nervously played with the hem of my dress. When I glanced at him, I noticed that he was turned to face me more, whereas I was still, facing the seat in front of me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft. I moved my head a little too fast as I looked at him.

“Mm, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ve never done something like this before, that’s all,” I whispered, looking at him as I bit my lower lip. Spencer nodded as he looked at me, watching as I shifted closer to him.

“We don’t… We don’t have to…” Spencer started but stopped when I maneuvered to straddle his legs. He looked up at me as he carefully rested his hands on my hips. I swallowed roughly as I looked down at him. My hands pressed to his chest to hold myself upright, and my head occasionally hitting the roof of the taxi with every bump we went over.

“I know... I know we don’t have to do anything…” My heart slamming in my chest as I stared at him. I moved my hands from his chest to gently cup his face. His cheeks were stubbly, prickling at the palms of my hands as I held his face. With one final deep breath of air, I pressed my lips to his, this time a lot more passionately than before.

Spencer pressed his lips down my face, and neck while his hands roamed my body. My hands stayed planted on his face, keeping me in place over his body. I was so into him just… touching me that I didn’t even realize his hand had slipped in the front of my dress. His fingers gently stroking the skin on my inner thigh.

My head fell to the side as he pressed his lips down my neck more before going towards my chest. A huff of air came from my lungs as I pushed my hands through his hair.

“Uh… We’re, uh… at your destination…” The poor taxi driver spoke from his spot in the front. I moved Spencer’s head away from my body and I looked down at him.

“You… you pay him.” I stared down at him, feeling a certain embarrassment grow in my stomach, and across my face. Spencer quickly fumbled for his wallet before pulling out more money than necessary and tossing it to the driver. After he shoved his wallet back into his pocket, he wrapped his arms around my waist before exiting the taxi. A squeal came from my mouth as he carried me out of the vehicle and towards my complex.

“Spencer!” I screamed as my arms wrapped around his neck. A dizzying feeling took me over as a hard bulge pressed between my legs. I almost couldn’t hold back a moan.

He laughed before putting his lips back on my neck, nipping lightly on the sensitive skin. And I couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, almost a whimper.

“Keys,” Spencer muttered into my neck. I took a deep breath, my chest pressing into his body more.

“Unlocked,” I gasped as he nipped my neck again. He hummed as he opened the door and entered my home. He put my back down once we were inside, door shut and locked. I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall towards my bedroom.

Spencer pushed the door shut and pressed me against it, pressing his lips to mine like I was the last woman on earth. His arms were propped up on either side of my head, blocking me between the door and his body. It’s a good thing I didn’t feel trapped because I otherwise wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.

My breathing picked up when he pressed his hips against me. A pit grew in my stomach, and I couldn’t tell if it was actually anxiety or excitement. I was willing to bet it was both.

As the anxiety slowly melted away, a new feeling took over. A feeling of want and hunger. It was the type of feeling that could be satisfied by another person, or by my own doing. But, I knew I wanted it from Spencer. I needed it from Spencer.

“I need to feel something,” I whimpered against his lips as he pinned me against the door, “Please, I need to feel you.” My leg wrapping around his waist to pull him closer to me. I almost couldn’t breathe, my excitement getting the better of me.

Spencer looked down at me, a hand slowly coming up to my face, resting gently on my cheek. My eyes blinked slowly as he examined my face. I wondered what he was thinking, and if they were good thoughts. I only wondered what he thought because of how he looked at me. His features were soft and gentle like he was a child holding a fluffy, white dandelion. But the way his eyes moved across my face… They were hungry. Unlike his soft facial features, his eyes wanted to destroy everything in sight…

And I liked it. It should have scared me, right? A man looking at me like he was about to destroy my life… But the way he did it… I liked...

While he kept one hand on my face, his other hand was high on my upper thigh. His thumb carefully moving back and forth on the soft skin. I wonder if he knew how desperate I was beginning to feel. And he only fueled my desperation the further up his hand traveled.

A sharp gasp fell from my mouth as his hand finally moved against my underwear. His fingers were gentle as they ghosted over me. I wondered if he could feel how aroused I was through my underwear. Probably, it was impossible to hide that…

The way his hands touched me and held me was weird. He was still gentle, but there was a certain hastiness to it that I noticed. Like he was trying to claim something that wasn’t his.

“Please,” I whimpered as he trailed kisses down my neck. My chest began heaving as he began tracing his finger over my underwear. Okay, now he had to know how desperate I was. Spencer groaned once he pressed his lips back to mine.

“You’re so wet, Princess,” he whispered as his hand on my face fell to my chin. Another gasp came from me at the pet name. He took the opportunity to pull on my lower lip with his teeth. “I’ve hardly done anything,” he moved his head away from me and smiled, “Hardly touched you at all.”

I looked up at him, my lower lip pouted out slightly. It was hard to say what his next action was, but I heavily anticipated it. He smiled softly as his thumb pulled down my lower lip. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I yelped when he pushed my underwear to the side, and carefully slipped a finger between my folds.

Spencer looked down at me with a pleased smile. It was clear to me that he enjoyed my struggle. I placed my hands on his arms to keep myself up. And even though my body was pressed against the door, and I braced myself against him, my knees still wanted to give out.

I’ve never had another person touch me like this before. My previous relationships didn’t last long enough for them to do something like this. And, I’ve never exactly had this feeling before. Well, let me rephrase that, I have felt this feeling before. I’ve never felt this way from another person. I’ve masturbated before, after all I’m lonely, not Catholic. But, the feeling happening because someone else is causing it.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Spencer whispered as he slowly pressed a finger into me. I looked up at him and nodded as I pressed my lips together. “Use your words,”

“Yes, it feels so good… s’good, Daddy,” I whimpered as I looked at him. I swear I saw the corner of his lips twitched slightly. Did my title for him do to him what it did to me? It was obvious he liked it.

Spencer stared at me for a moment before harshly pressing his lips back to mine. It felt as if he was taking the breath right from my lungs with everything he was doing. His hand between my legs moved a little faster, my hips grinding down on him in reaction.

“Say it again,” he murmured against my lips. The way he moved his face caused our noses to squish together. My heart was slamming in my chest and I could hear it in my head. It felt like at any moment it’d break out of me.

I softly yelped when he carefully inserted a second finger in me. His pace quickened slightly and I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

A tension grew in the pit of my belly, and slowly grew as the seconds ticked by. I wasn’t sure how long I’d make it till the tension cracked. I wondered if Spencer sensed that too.

I removed my hands from his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him closer to me. It was so hard to hold back the soft whimpers and moans I was feeling getting trapped in my throat. Although, Spencer seemed to enjoy my struggle.

It became more of a struggle the stronger the tension grew. It was close too.

“Say it again.”

“I’m s’close, Daddy,” I whined, my head involuntarily falling to my shoulder. Spencer looked down at me before moving to press his lips to my neck. His lips attaching to the base of my throat before sucking gently on the sensitive skin.

Again my body reacted by trying to get closer to him. The closer I got to him, the faster he went. I could tell that he was trying to bring me closer to the edge, to finish the moment.

“Let go, it’s okay,” Spencer whispered. I swallowed roughly, my head falling forward onto his shoulder before my body slowly fell into his. It was hard not to stay quiet, my sounds getting louder as I finally finished.

I stayed against his body, trying to recollect my breathing for a moment. Spencer rested a hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles on my shoulder. And after I had my moment, I stood back up, leaning against the door behind me.

Spencer looked back at me as he pulled his hand out from my underwear. He looked down at his hand, more specifically the two fingers he just had in me. I nearly lost my balance again when he put those exact fingers in his mouth. And it didn’t help at all when he moaned.

“You did so good, Princess.” He looked at me with a soft smile. Part of me was worried that was all we were going to do. Sure it was nice, but that was that the end of it?

He cupped my face again before pressing his lips back to mine. His arms were wrapped around my body before he led me towards my bed. But I didn’t realize we were going to my bed till the edge of it hit the back of my knees.

A breath of air was knocked from my lungs the second my back collided with my bed. I looked up at Spencer, watching as he fought to take his jacket off. But when he finally did get it off, he was back over my body, his lips on mine while his hands roamed my body. My fingers quickly unbuttoned his shirt, and his hands were pushing up my dress. His touch was like wildfire across my body, and it felt near impossible to breathe.

“Please, Spencer,” I whimpered as his lips reattached to my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as he gently sucked a spot on the base of my neck. His hands pushed the top of my dress down, making it sit around my hips.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he spoke against my skin.

"You… I just need you…"

It was really… strange. I had just met him not more than 2 hours ago… and I couldn't get enough of him. Even though I knew this would be the only time I'd ever see him, I never wanted the moment to end. I needed him more than I needed air, it felt like. I needed the night to last as long as possible.

Spencer looked down at me for a moment before getting off the bed. I had to hold back my laughter as he struggled to take his pants off. And after throwing his shirt to the ground, he was back over me, his body between my legs. My chest tightened, and at the same time, my heart sped.

I tried not looking further than his neck. But it was so hard. Did I want to see what he looked like before anything happened? Or would it make me want to back out?

I shouldn’t look...

“Will it hurt?” I brought my eyes to look up at him. I wasn’t exactly scared. I was more worried about it hurting than anything else, I think. I wanted this.

“Maybe for a moment, but not too long,” he whispered as he brushed his thumb over my cheekbone, “If it hurts too much we can stop… But you have to tell me,” he spoke so softly.

“I can do that,” I whispered, keeping his eyes on him. My arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed a soft, yet passionate kiss to my lips. His hips slowly started to lower towards my sex. That was when my breathing picked up, and my chest heaved slightly.

“It’s okay, you’re doing such a great job,” he whispered against my lips, “I got you.”

A soft wince came from my mouth when he carefully entered me. My fingers knotted in his hair, gently tugging it as he slowly kept going. I struggled to take a deep breath. My head fell back and my lips opened.

“Spencer,” I whined, finally allowing air to enter my lungs, “You’re so big,” I moaned as I pressed my head into my pillow. One of my arms fell from his body and landed on the bedding beside me. My hand gripped the bedding.

“You’re doing a great job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he grasped my hand and held it. I looked up at him and nodded lightly. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” I whispered and stared at him. After a moment, he carefully moved his hips, and soon after fell into a steady rhythm.

“Please… Please don’t stop doing what you’re doing,” I gasped. I slowly ran my hands up his chest to his shoulders before wrapping my arms around his neck. Spencer looked down at me, his eyes half-closed as he stared. “It feels so good,” I whimpered as he started to slowly move his hips.

My legs tensed for a moment when he bottomed out in me, and I could feel the wind being knocked out of me. Spencer looked down at me as he brought a hand to rest on my cheek.

Spencer grabbed my hand and moved it to rest against my belly. An unfamiliar bump hit my hand through my stomach and caused me to gasp and look up at him. Spencer smiled and nodded lightly.

“Do you feel how deep I am?” he whispered softly.

“You… You’re…” I took a deep breath as I stared at him. He pressed his lips back to mine. His movements hastened and he pulled his hand away from mine, moving it between us and to where our bodies met. A small whimper fell from my mouth, again, as he began rubbing a finger on the already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Daddy,” I whined as his hips quickened for a moment before faltering.

I cried out as an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout my body. Spencer moaned into my ear. My legs were wrapped around him, clinging to him as he rode out our highs together. And, as I came, I couldn’t help but moan out his name.

My chest was heaving as my breathing tried to catch up with the extreme movements I was just doing. I couldn’t move my legs off him. I wasn’t ready for him to leave me just yet.

“Don’t move…” I gasped, looking up at him, “Please, Daddy… stay inside me…” I cried as he began moving away from me. My hands gripped his arms, holding him above me. Spencer looked down at me, his eyes glued to the way I squirmed beneath him. There was such an intense gaze in his eyes as he looked at me, I wasn’t sure what to do.

He lifted his hands and rested them on my cheeks. The way he held himself over me without actually crushing me was impressive. What was even more impressive was how he carefully pressed his hips back to mine.

“It’s okay, I got you,” he whispered, brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb. I stared at him, my chest quickly rising, only to fall just as fast. It felt hard to breathe, my body still feeling full with him. “You did such a good job, Princess,” he pressed his forehead to mine.

I didn’t even realize I was crying till Spencer’s thumb moved across my cheekbone. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispered as he kept his eyes on my face.

“I’m good. I’m okay. I promise.” I wrinkled my nose and nodded. Spencer smiled softly and returned the nod. “I’m-I don’t know why I’m crying,” I laughed lightly before sniffling my nose, “I’m sorry.”

“Sex can be an emotional thing for some people. And since this was your first time, it was an emotional experience. You’re okay. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Spencer reassured. I stared at him and nodded, agreeing with what he said. “I’m going to get you water and a wipe or something.”

“Uhm… Yeah that’s okay… I guess. Bathroom is over there. I should have a cup in there. And there should be paper towels too.” I nodded as I gestured towards the bathroom. Spencer pecked my lips one last time before pulling away from me and leaving the bed.

‘It’s just a one-night stand,’ I kept telling myself just so I wouldn’t forget what this really was. And, in the morning, I’d never see him again.

{***}{***}{***}

My body jerked slightly when I woke up. An arm was wrapped around my middle, and the body that was connected to the arm was close to mine. Her head was resting on my chest, her ear right over my heart. She, and like my surroundings, were unfamiliar.

“Crap,” I whispered, looking down at the girl and her sleeping form. She hummed as she nuzzled her head more into my chest. I pulled on my lower lips as I carefully pulled her arm off mine. I had to be quick as I slipped out of the bed.

Usually, I wasn’t the type to just sleep with someone and then leave them the next day. To have a one-night stand, if you will. If today wasn’t the sort of day it was, I’d stay with this girl till she woke. But I had to leave to get ready for a new semester at the college.

I quickly grabbed my shirt and pants, throwing them on my body as I quietly and quickly left her apartment. My feet dragged quietly across the ground as I got closer to the front door. I pulled the door open at just the right time. Or maybe it was a bad time.

A young woman was standing with a carrier filled with coffee cups, her fist was lifted like she was about to knock. Our eyes locked before hers carefully looked down my body, lingering in spots that made me very aware.

“Holy shit,” she stared at me with wide eyes, “She wasn’t joking when she said she likes older men,” she stated, the shock in her tone was so apparent that it left me in shock. It was her friend from last night.

“I-I’m sorry.” I looked at her with furrowed brows.

“You’re old enough to be her father,” she spoke before pushing past me. I turned as she entered the apartment. “She’s got balls of steel to fuck a guy like you,” she spoke as she set the carrier on the coffee table, “But, I’m happy she did… Hope her first time was good,” she chuckled before winking at me.

“I-I have to go,” I nodded before leaving. I pulled the door shut. I tried not to linger in front of her home for too long. She’d probably be awake soon, and I really didn’t want to stick behind.

I kept my head low as I ventured on my walk of shame to the closest coffee shop. And then, from the coffee shop, I’d get a taxi to return home… To return to my home.

The second anyone finds out I had a one-night stand, I’m dead. I’m leaving. I could only hope it stayed between me and those two girls.

{***}{***}{***}

I looked over at my coworker and nodded, only half paying attention to what they were saying. Which, in turn, made me feel bad. This morning is not my morning and there were only so many reasons why.

Then I looked across the grounds, looking at all the new and familiar faces returning for a new semester of classes. My eyes landed on a familiar girl walking beside a friend. She was laughing and smiling at whatever her friend said.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I stared at the girl. Then she looked up and saw me. An embarrassed look grew across her face as her gaze fell from mine. I kept my eyes on the girl across the campus for a moment longer, long enough to notice that the friend she was with had spilled coffee over her shirt.

“I have to go…” I grimaced as I looked at my colleague. They looked back at me before slowly nodded. I kept my head low as I walked back towards the building and towards my lecture hall.

Thankfully I was the first and only person in the room. Enough time to prepare over everything. To free my mind of… of her and what we had done last night. But oh dear God, it was so hard.

I thought I had a lot of time on my hands, seeing as the class didn’t start for 5 more minutes. I thought it was bad when I saw her across the campus. Then she entered my lecture hall, clearing her throat to get my attention.

She introduced herself like I had no idea who I was. As if this was the first time we ever met. Maybe she forgot? But she definitely wasn’t drunk enough to forget. I wouldn’t have taken advantage of someone wasted as Luke or Derek would say. She was lucid, I know that much. Hell, she was able to give the taxi driver her address.

“Spencer… Reid… Professor Reid is fine... Reid... Doctor Reid. I'll-I’ll answer to pretty much anything,” I rambled, feeling as if I couldn’t stop myself from talking. She looked at me with a knowing smile, and I wondered if she thought ‘Oh, I know you’ll answer to anything… Daddy,’ That’s probably a bad thing to think, right?

“Oh! It’s wonderful meeting you, Professor Reid,” she kept talking as if she didn’t know who I was.

“Pleasure meeting… Meeting you too,” I paused with a forced smile at her, “Can’t wait to have you in my class.” I stared at her. The way she stared at me confirmed that she was pretending that she didn’t know me. I thanked God or whatever other Deity was out there that she was pretending. I don’t think I would have been able to survive if she acted like we knew each other.

“Can’t wait to be in your class.” She nodded at me before going to the first seat in the front row. I stared at her for a prolonged moment, noting the way she crossed her legs at her ankle, and looked down at her notes. She held her pen between her thumb and forefinger, the end of it just barely between her lips. I couldn’t stop hating on myself for just leaving her this morning.

Then I noticed she was staring back at me. She had a smug smile on her lips as she looked at me. It felt as if she was reading my mind as if she knew every thought that had passed my mind from the moment she entered my lecture hall.

‘Shit,’ I thought as the memories of last night forced themselves to the front of my head. All the things I said to her last night stood in the spotlight. The idiot part of me that said the stuff about impregnating her and how she kept calling me daddy stood out loud and clear. I broke this poor girl, and it was too late. And the worst part about it is… I’d do it again if I had the chance.

My pants tightened and my face grew hot. How the fuck was I supposed to get through the day? Let alone this semester?! That’s the thing I wasn’t supposed to do.

I was happy when the end of the class came. Everyone stayed in the room for a moment, bantering with each other for a moment before leaving.

I kept my eyes, and head, low as all the students filed out of the room. A few people stayed around to ask me their questions, or give me their comments. It was until the last standing student had exited the room did I realize someone was still at her desk.

“Is there something-” ‘I can help you with,’

“Why’d you leave this morning?” she asked, standing up from her spot. I looked up and away from the paperwork I was “working” on. Swallowing down my own pride and unnecessary fears, I stood. My fingertips resting on top of my desk. “Woulda made you coffee… Breakfast even…” she whispered with a shrug.

“Right…”

“You were hoping I was so drunk I forgot who you were, right? That’s what it is?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she spoke. I watched as she stepped around her desk and approached my own. “I thought… I don’t know what it’s like the morning after… But if that’s what it is… Then I don’t want it,” she scoffed as she stared at me. I didn’t mean to hurt her as much as I did. But it was already too late, and the damage was done.

“That’s not what it’s like. I promise,” I whispered as I looked at her. I wasn’t prepared to make up excuses and lies as to why I just left. But I also don’t think she’d believe my truth either.

“Then why did you leave,” she ask-No, she begged. Begged me for the truth.

“I-I, uh, I had to leave because of this. I needed to get ready for this class,” I tapped down on the hard surface of my desk. Her eyes dropped down to the desktop. I could see the range of emotions on her face as she looked at all the papers scattered on my desk. Maybe she would believe me. Again, I don’t think I would have been able to come up with a believable lie.

“You could have woken me up, still… I seriously would have made you coffee,” she muttered before shrugging, again.

“Next time then,” I swallowed roughly as I stared at her. Her eyes shot up from the desk and landed right on my face. I could tell she was trying to keep her sudden excitement hidden. But I knew she was excited because of the way the corner of her lip twitched up slightly, and the way she shifted her stance, and the way her grip on her books changed, and all the other things I could list off but won’t.

“Next time?” It was obvious she struggled to keep her voice low.

“I mean, never say never, right?” I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets. She looked at me with a smile as she hugged her books closer to her chest.

“Right… Never say never,” she whispered as she looked back down at the desk, “It was nice meeting you, Professor Reid,” she paused before looking up at me, a smug smile back on her lips, “And, it was nice seeing you again, Spencer,” she winked at me before walking out of my lecture hall. I swallowed roughly, staring at the space she once occupied.

Fuck.

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taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

Agent whisky (Teacher) x New agent (student). As you’re both fighting, you both get hot and bothered and reader throws him against a wall and the rest in folds. (Fem reader)

After Class [Jack Daniels x Reader] SMUT

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, creampie, choking, teacher x student, exhibitionist kink, implied age difference

Masterlist

He was insufferable. He was your teacher — and oh, you hated him. You hated how he'd come into class smelling like sweet, honeyed cologne, causing all the girls to swoon at the mere sight of him. It was laughable, really. He wasn't anything special. He was attractive, sure. He had the charm of a king and the politeness of a saint. But it didn't matter because you hated him, and you wanted him to know that you hated him. So you'd talk during his lectures and you'd roll your eyes whenever he tried addressing you directly. He had this know-it-all attitude, he had these deep, chocolate brown eyes that were so easy to get lost in. The Statesman Academy shouldn't have even hired him. It was so easy to get lost in those damn eyes.

His eyes were just a few shades darker than his hair, which he kept hidden under a cringe-worthy cowboy hat. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't dreamt of wearing it while you ride him. The dirty fantasies about Mr Daniels (though he'd have you call him 'sir') didn't become regular until a few months ago. Now it was every single class where you became hypnotised by his attractive looks.

You hated his perfectly groomed mustache and how the thought of it brushing against your cunt haunted you during his seminars. You hated the perfect curve in his nose and how you imagined it nudging against your clit as he performed the most life changing oral on you. If only he knew about the things that went on in that filthy little mind of yours.

You practically gasped out loud when Mr Daniels dropped your assignment on the desk in front of you, a circle with a big red 'F' marked on. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, before moving on to hand out the rest of the essays. No way— there was no way that your essay has been marked fairly. You might have been slacking just a little this semester (due to Mr Daniels obnoxious handsome looks), but not to the extent of getting an F in your finals!

"Well done class, we all performed exceptionally well this term. There is however one person I need to see after class, she knows who she is," Mr Daniels glanced briefly at you and you narrowed your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. "But have an excellent vacation and remember don't party too hard." He winked cheekily before dismissing the class. Once the students filed out of the room, and the bell rang, signifying the end of the day, Mr Daniels stalked back into the classroom. He said nothing, didn't even spare you a look. He padded over to his desk, sunk into his chair and began to go through paperwork.

You waited for something— anything. The silence was deafening, and you began to tap your feet against the floor impatiently. Why the hell was he holding you hostage in his stuffy classroom on the last day of term? You assumed it was due to your abysmal grade on your essay, but he hadn't even mentioned it. He was ignoring you and once again, you hated him for it.

You were staring him out with absolutely no shame, taking in all his features. You admired his broad shoulders and watched his bicep flex as he wrote comments on the work he was checking through.

He'd noticed your staring too. He always had. He tried to contain the blush that crept up on his cheeks as your eyes burned into his body, watching his every move. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. If he was going to speak to you about your essay result, he'd need to have a drink first. After a few more minutes of silence, he excused himself and left the classroom. Each professor at the academy had their own affinity for alcohol, Mr Daniels' beverage of choice being a glass of warm whiskey. He poured it into a small tumbler, admiring the amber liquid as he dropped a few cubes of ice in, letting it clink against the glass. The mere thought of you in his classroom, waiting for you, was enough to make his cock stir. He sighed, gulping down the liquid and made his way back to the classroom. It was the first time you and Mr Daniels had some one on one alone time. He hadn't drank enough to get intoxicated, but it was enough for him to lower his inhibitions.

He walked into the classroom and locked the door behind him, before turning to face you.

"Why am I here?" you asked with an unamused frown.

"You went from being a straight A student to getting an F in your most important exam of the year," Mr Daniels huffed with a disappointed shake of his head. You didn't care— no, you couldn't let yourself care about your professor. But seeing the despondency written across his face was enough to make your heart yearn with guilt for letting him down. "What happened?" he quizzed you eventually.

You considered his question. You weren't a dishonest person, and you knew exactly what had happened. You had been so distracted by your professor's ravenous demeanor, that you'd become too overcome with sexual desire to even focus the slightest in his lectures.

"You happened." you said, regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. Your voice broke slightly— you sounded pathetic.

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising both of his eyebrows in disingenuous surprise. You wanted to wipe the smirk that you saw creeping up on his lips. Your education wasn't a joke.

"I was doing fine in Agent Tequila's class," you acknowledged. "Maybe it's your teaching." you shrugged.

"My teaching?" Mr Daniels gasped incredulously.

"Oh quit playing dumb," you said, suddenly rising to your feet. Your chair scraped against the floor as you stalked over to your teacher. "I know my worth Mr Daniels, and it's not an F."

"Please, call me Jack." He hummed, reaching out and caressing your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into his smooth hand as his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your jaw. You hadn't even realised how close he had gotten to you as he admired your face, and the intimacy began to take effect down below.

"Oh, first name basis?" you spat sarcastically, pressing the palm of your hand against his chest, threading your fingers through the buttons of his white shirt so you could gently graze the skin of his tan chest. "How polite."

"Manners maketh man," he smirked, quoting the Statesman mantra, and you wanted to wack that dumb cowboy hat off his head. "Let me translate that for you," he pouted condescendingly, letting his hands fall to your own chest.

He squeezed your tits through your blouse, drawing a few wanton moans from you. "Wh- what makes you think I need that translated?" you asked your professor, trying to keep your cool. This is exactly what you had dreamt about for the past three months. His thumb rolled over your hardening nipples, pinching them now and again so he could watch you squirm underneath his touch.

"The F on your paper?" he shot back. Your eyes widened and you pushed him into the wall, his back slamming against the concrete as he groaned from the pressure you'd placed on him. He would be lying if he said it didn't feel good though. It was rare he'd have a lady take charge — especially not one as young and bright eyed as yourself.

"I hate you," you snarled as his fingers dipped under the hem of your short, pleated skirt. He chuckled darkly, sending a frenzy of butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"Oh sugar," he drawled, the smell of scotch lacing his breath as he pressed a soft kiss into your jaw. You couldn't contain the small whimper that escaped your lips. He smirked, knowing exactly what he could do to you— how he could make you feel. "Look at you… got me pressed against the wall. I'm your teacher." he reminded you with a small tut.

"You drive me crazy," you admitted in a fluster, your hand falling down his button up shirt and resting at his oversized belt buckle. The coolness of the metal stung your skin as you parted your legs slightly, rubbing what you could on his jean clad thigh. "When you stand up there, in front of the class, talking all that shit about, about-" you couldn't even get your words out as his fingers graced your cunt, feeling out your clit under the material of your dampening panties.

"What?" Jack murmured, his teeth grazing your jaw as he sucked softly against your skin. "What is it?" he urged you to continue, your breathing jumping as he continued to softly press his thick fingers along your aching core. You tried to answer but nothing except lewd moan came out, and you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "You joined the academy. You wanted to train as an agent. Maybe you'd prefer it if I transferred your classes to, let's say, Agent Champ? Or the sweet Ginger Ale?"

You curled your fingers around his leather belt. "N-no," you growled. "I want you," you revealed as you unclipped it and tossed it to one side. You groaned wantonly as you felt his erection press up against your thigh. It was clear that your professor wanted you too. "You know if- if Principal Champ finds out about this…" you moaned, working your fingers at Jack's zipper.

"He's not going to find out about this," Jack snapped, his harsh tone causing your eyes to snap open.

"O-okay cowboy," you bit your lip seductively, finally pulling his zipper down and freeing his hard, aching cock. You immediately wrapped your hand around him, smearing his precum down his length and started to pump at his erection, satisfied with the string of curses falling from his tongue.

"Fuck- so good," Jack praised as you worked his cock with your hands. "But I want more… I want to bury my cock in the warmth of your pussy. Would you like that baby girl?" he hummed, both his hands grabbing on your shoulders as he turned around and pushed you into the wall. You gasped as he ripped open your blouse in one swift manouver, the buttons popping and falling everywhere. His hungry lips pressed against yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you roughly and with passion.

"Someone could just walk in." you gasped as Jack yanked your skirt down, letting it pool around your ankles.

He groaned longingly as he played with the waistband of your panties. "Lace? For school? I knew you were a dirty girl." he chuckled darkly before pulling them down. He wasted no time, pressed two fingers into your weeping cunt and rubbing between your folds. He stroked tight and precise circles into your clit, desperate to pump an orgasm out of you before he even entered. Your eyes snapped shut as you pressed your fingernails into his still clothed back. "Oh, you like that don't you?"

"Mm don't stop," you begged, rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Is this what you think about during my lectures?" Jack cooed. "Or do you imagine my cock?" He pressed his blunt tip against the inside of your thigh, pushing himself in between your legs. "So fucking wet and all for me." your professor shook his head in slight awe. You pushed the hat off his head and tangled your fingers in his dark brown hair, tugging teasingly in attempt to gain a reaction out of him.

Without warning, two of his fingers pushed inside of you and began to scissor you open. "If you want my cock I gotta make sure you're able to take it," he whispered huskily.

His fingers worked like magic and it wasn't long before your walls tightened around him and you reached your climax. "Greedy pussy." Jack sighed, removing his fingers and sucking them clean.

"Please sir, fuck me," you begged, your hands cupping his face as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"I told you, call me Jack," he growled before pushing himself deep into your quivering hole.

"Fuck Jack," you whined once he was fully seated. He was bigger than you had ever taken before, and he set a brutal pace. The classroom filled with obscene wet sounds as every single thrust became harder and sloppier as his balls slapped against your dripping cunt.

Jack kept up his pace, not halting once. "You always- you always fucking answer back," he whispered, digging one hand into your hip and bringing the other to your neck, squeezing it just enough for your eyes to widen slightly.

"Mm you always give me a reason too," you shot back and Jack's grip around you tightened as he fucked you senselessly.

"Shit, gonna cum. Gonna cum inside you and you're going to take it— understood?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded in affirmation and it only took a few more messy thrusts before he spilled his salty seed inside you.

He carefully sat you down on the edge of his desk as you came down from your own high. "Are you okay?" he asked you as he tucked himself back in his pants and adjusted his tie.

"That better have earned me an A," you muttered, biting your lip and shooting a seductive glance towards your teacher.

"Fair is fair," Jack shrugged. "You can leave when you're ready. Have a nice vacation." he smiled, back to his usual polite professor self. It made you sick— the way he could just fuck you with no remorse against the wall of his classroom and then pretend like nothing happened.

You stood up, taking your clothes from the ground and lazily sliding back into your skirt. "I don't have a fucking blouse," you mumbled, your eyes following the abundance of buttons that trailed across the floor. "You ruined it."

Mr Daniels took his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked torso, buttoning it up gently so you were all covered up. "Do you need a lift home?" he asked.

You bit your lip, remembering your parents weren't home and smiled. "Actually, yeah please." you told him, wondering if he'd be interested in a round two.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut #kingsman

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

---

Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

#linked universe #wild linked universe #twilight linked universe #whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#blood tw #injury tw #violence tw #fanfiction #jin writes

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

In Name Only - Part 13

A/N: So...things are good for Oberyn and his Sunshine, right? They’re finally like a real married couple, and in love! Nothing to worry about now...Enjoy 💕 As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: None

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-«

It was the warmth of the light and the soft chirping of birds that stirred you from your slumber the next morning. Your eyes slowly opened as you stretched and rolled onto your side, expecting to find Oberyn next to you. Much to your chagrin, the bed was empty, and only a small strip of parchment met your hand.

Sighing lightly, you grabbed the parchment and read the elegantly scrawled note from your husband, finding it both endearing and apologetic; he’d been summoned for an early morning ride and had agreed to go more out of duty than anything else, but that he would make it up to you later.

Your face warmed at the mere thought of the promise as images of last night flooded your mind. Your first time with Oberyn had been worth the wait, despite the lingering soreness between your legs, and the marks you could and couldn’t see. You boasted them proudly.

You slipped out of the bed, still naked as the evening before, taking some of the water that had been left for you and heating it up on the small fire, deciding to take a quick bath before making an appearance. Once you were satisfied with the warmth, you slipped in some perfumed oils before getting in yourself. A small contented sound left your lips as you slipped under the water and let it envelope you completely, just as Oberyn had done the night before. Slowly washing your spent body, you couldn’t help the feeling that settled within you; you were happy - truly happy. It was a feeling you hoped that would never disappear.

Getting out of the water only once it ran cold, you dried yourself off before going to select a dress, wondering if you should opt for something that was more modest and covered, or if you should even bother with worrying. Deciding to settle in the middle, you pulled out a honeyed, golden gown, that was covered just enough to be appropriate, but still made you feel light and airy.

After you finished getting ready for the day, you left your temporary lodging quarters and made your way through the castle and to the dining hall to see if anyone was still there. People were bustling about their days, chattering excitedly, but making it a point to stop and greet you. It was nice, this ever present and welcoming atmosphere and you couldn’t help but wish this was how it had been throughout your childhood. If everyone was this good and kind, the world would have been a much better place.

When you entered the sunny, warm hall, you found Lady Dayne sitting there, a book perched in front of her as she leisurely broke her fast. A few people you had yet to meet were mucking about the hall offering you small smiles to which you responded with an even bigger smile. Walking over to Eleonora you sat down beside her, prompting her to close the book and give you her attention. She had a kind face, even if she appeared to be somewhat shy, you hadn’t received any odd feelings from her.

“Good morning, Lady Martell,” she said as she waved someone over to bring you some breakfast. You caught her eyes flicking to your neck for the briefest of moments before you cleared your throat and looked away. She giggled lightly before nudging your leg with hers, “there is no shame in pleasure - you mustn’t hide it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed with a wicked little smirk as you straightened up and relaxed slightly. A plate of fine looking foods was quickly placed in front of you, topped off with plenty of fresh fruit, much to your delight. As you reached for the pitcher of fresh juice, you were quickly stopped when a steaming cup of tea was placed next to you instead. You pulled your hand back and looked at it curiously, trying to identify what kind it was. You picked up the cup and smelled the liquid, finding it to be a mostly herbal concoction.

“Moon tea,” the young woman on your side quickly as you let the cup back down in haste. While you’d never had any, or even seen any in person before, you knew exactly what it was.

“I-I don’t understand,” you shook your head and gave her a confused look, “w-why?”

“Come on, silly girl. We both know what moon tea is for,” she stated as if it was obvious, pushing the cup closer to you, “you don’t want to end up with child, do you?”

A million thoughts raced through your mind at once, as you tried to figure out where to even start to unwrap this mystery. You looked back at her with wide eyes, opening and closing your mouth a few times, “what do you mean? I was with my husband...there’s no need.”

“Oh, you are a naive, sweet thing, aren’t you?” suddenly you realized that the girl you had met the evening before was far from an innocent, shy woman. She was quiet, but clever and cunning, “sure you were with your husband but do you really want a child by him? Do you trust him?”

“I-I don’t understand,” you frowned at the tea as a bit of fire sparked in your blood.

“Your husband is the male equivalent of a whore,” she proclaimed and you almost choked on the berries you were eating. It was a bold accusation, a bold statement coming from one for your husband’s allies, a bold accusation to make to his wife.

“You dare to-”

“Why are you acting like it is some sort of surprise?” she found it almost laughable, “everyone knows that the Prince sleeps with whoever he pleases. How do you think he ended up with eight bastard children? And if you didn’t know...then you must be more gullible than any could imagine.”

“That’s not...that’s not true,” you insisted meekly, trying to gather up that confidence and courage that your father had always instilled in you, but finding it difficult. Of course you knew the rumors, the whispers, and of course you knew they were true. Oberyn had told you the same, and had always been open and honest about it - but that had been before...before the two of you were married. The fact that she had brought his girls into it, the girls that you already loved and adored, made it sting even harder, “n-not anymore.”

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at you with an almost pitying smile on her face as she made a small hmm. She remained silent for a moment, drinking her own cup of tea that had been placed before her. Her eyes were on you the entire time as she downed it in one go, “what? Do you think I want children by a random man? Of course not. If I am to have a child it must be a true heir that no one can question. That will happen one day, but until then, I will have my fun.”

“That sounds like no marriage at all,” you said quietly, “to be sneaking around behind each other’s backs.”

“You are foolish,” she admitted, “that is exactly what a marriage is. It’s a game of give and take, not love. I was from the North once too - I thought you’d be smarter. That you’d understand what this is. My husband does not work to pleasure me, nor do I waste my time with him. We were married for convenience and to produce heirs. Do not mistake your duty for your desires. Love is not something that exists in this world. It’s a falsehood to keep you quelled when you are a child.”

“I did not...my marriage isn’t like yours,” you told her, but you were suddenly wondering...what if it was, but you weren’t privy to it? But...no. You shook your held to yourself and gave her a stern look, “I love my husband, and that entails all of him - his children, his family, him. And h-he loves me. I know he does...”

“Hmm,” she mused softly, the tension in the air was thick and palpable, “do you truly believe that? His left his whore of many years suddenly-”

“Her name is Ellaria, and she was never his whore,” you almost slammed your first on the table as you glared at her. You were liking her less and less with each passing second, “she was his equal, just like I am. And besides all of that, she was the one who ended things with him. Don’t you dare speak ill of her.”

“Whatever the story is,” she decided to pointedly ignore your little outburst, “they’re no longer together. And he found solace in you, you were a mere happenstance of perfect timing and need. How long will it be before he grows tired of you? The little Northern girl who knows nothing about anything? What then? He’ll toss you to the side, leave you with a babe you don’t want, while he goes on and does whatever he wants.”

“That won’t....he would never do such a thing,” you insisted firmly, feeling tears well up in your eyes at her accusations. They made you feel silly and dumb, like nothing more than a little girl, but you knew they couldn’t be true...they weren’t true. He loved you and you loved him, and that wasn’t going to change.

“I’m sure that’s what Ellaria Sand thought too,” she shrugged, pulling her back towards her. You felt a single tear run down your cheeks as you stared down at your plate, “all men are the same. They want one thing - once they get it, they will be satisfied for some time. And then? They go right back to how they were. It’s not your fault, not anyone’s fault, it’s just the nature of the beast, so do not take it personally. Once you are no longer shiny and new and young and pretty, you’ll be set to the side like so many others. It’s better to prepare yourself for that reality now.”

You remained silent, refusing to acknowledge her, your whole body feeling it was trembling with anger. She was bold in her words, and if you made enough of a deal out of it, you could easily have her in a world of trouble. Who dared to speak to the Prince’s wife in such a manner?

But before either of you could say another word, a handmaid came and called her. Eleonora stood up and brushed off her skirts, flouncing by you with a small squeeze of your shoulder. You wanted to hate her, to think her evil, but a part of you couldn’t. This was how she was raised, what was instilled in her from childhood. Perhaps you’d be the same if that had been how you were treated for years. But it wasn’t and your marriage wasn’t anything like hers. You remained there silently for a few moments, collecting yourself as you pushed away the plate still filed with food, having lost your appetite.

The small cup of tea was still staring back at you, almost if silently taunting you. Suddenly, in spite of your belief that you couldn't have a child, and that if you ever had a child it would be your husband’s, one that he would love, you grabbed the tea and quickly drank it all. It settled into your stomach, leaving you with an odd feeling as you sat there and tried not to cry.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Once you realized you were felt to your own devices, you decided to explore the grounds and gardens of Starfall, after they came highly recommended by some of the people who worked on them on a daily basis. You’d waited around for Oberyn for some time, but then he never made a return, and while a small part of you wondered if he was okay, you knew he’d be fine. But you couldn’t deny that the words from earlier were still floating around in your mind. You had no rational reason to believe she was right, but you also couldn’t help but wonder…

What if...what if you were just a shiny, pretty plaything for Oberyn until he got his fill of you and then left you by the wayside?

He’d never even given you an ounce of worry that would happen. He was the one that told you that you needn’t be his wife if you had no such desire. He told you he loved you...he had meant it. You knew he had meant it.

Groaning at yourself for getting so caught up in the folly of a woman who was no doubt disillusioned with life and bitter at her fate, you left the grounds and started heading for the waterfall you spotted upon your arrival the previous day.

It was peaceful here, more temperate than the rest of Dorne, with more green and cooler temperatures. You never thought you’d see this much green and plush foliage outside of the Reach. Taking the beaten path, you wandered in search of the waterfall, hoping you wouldn’t get too lost...surely if you did, someone would come looking for you...they had to. You hoped.

Pushing your silly worries to the back of your mind, you carried on, stepping over fallen leaves and branches, listening to the sound of all the wildlife around you. It was almost serene and a welcoming change from your morning. The sound of rushing water reaching your ears and you were pleased to find out that you had taken the correct way to get to the rushing water. You were almost here until you were stopped dead in your tracks by the sound of a branch snapping and your name being called out softly.

Your heart raced, immediately feeling like it was going to burst at the sudden intrusion. It was a voice you did not recognize, and you definitely would have noticed someone following you all the way from the castle. Swallowing thickly, you turned on your heel and looked around to find the source. Your eyes landed on a young woman, with wild, long black hair, and dark copper skin, wearing a blood red dress staring directly at you. You’d never seen her before but somehow she knew your name…

“Who are you?” you asked as you took a step closer to her, despite your mind telling you to stay away, “how do you know my name?”

“I know everything,” she said softly, her voice soft, but accented similarly to Oberyn, “I know your past, present, and future, Lady Beesbury...or perhaps you prefer Martell these days?”

“W-who are you?” you asked as she took a step closer to you and you could make out her beauty in the lowlight. She appeared almost ethereal as she watched you with interest, “are you following me?”

“It does not matter who I am,” she insisted sweetly, “I am not following you. You walked into the wood, this wood, where I happened to be. Just like you were meant to.”

“Meant to?” you stammered, getting more nervous with each passing second. She didn’t seem threatening, although neither had Eleonora earlier, and that turned out to be quite an ordeal, “I don’t understand.”

“I can sense that you have many questions,” she walked over to you and you didn’t stop. She took you in, her hand taking your chin gently as she studied your face. When you looked closer at her face, you saw that her eyes were milky, and almost completely clouded over. She leaned in close and inhaled your scent as you stood there, wondering what she was possibly going to do, “sweet, innocent, young Lady Martell, formerly of a great house that shamed her for everything she was, married into an even greater house that sees everything she can and will be. So full of hope and great expectations.”

“You’re blind,” you managed to stammer out as she released her hold on you, “h-how can you see me? How do you know? How could you possibly know all of this?”

“I cannot see,” she pointed at her eyes, “but I can see everything.”

“A soothsayer,” you concluded as a small grin tugged on her features.

“Of sorts. They’ve called me many things over the years, soothsayer being one of the kinder things,” she agreed, “you’re troubled by many questions you want answers to. Tell me, young one.”

She appeared to be barely older than you...then again, you wondered just how old she was. From the stories you’d been told over the years, you knew that people proclaiming such divine powers were often much older than they appeared. Maybe she was too...either way, it didn’t matter. You were already deep in her clutches, “how is the moon tea sitting in your belly?”

A flush of warmth immediately went to your cheeks as you hung your head, almost in shame. Letting out a long breath, you said quietly, “terrible. I shouldn’t have consumed it. I gave into such silly folly...but it matters not. I cannot have children...I do not know what possessed me.”

“It’s among many of the things that worry you.”

“Yes,” you gave into her, not even bothering to lie. You remained unsure if you fully believed in the idea of a soothsayer, fortune teller, oracle, whatever they wanted to call themselves, but you knew it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities. She had already stunned you by finding you and knowing your name...although those could have been easy guesses for her and yet…

“I can give you all the answers you want,” she said softly, “if you want to know them. Some people prefer the mystery of not knowing.”

“What’s the price?” you asked, knowing that something like this was likely not going to be free, “you’re giving me something, surely you want something in return?”

“I have no need for coin or other such worldly things,” she insisted as she brought an arm around your shoulders, leading you slowly over to the water. You stiffened slowly when she brought you near the edge, so you could barely hear anything over the rushing water. One wrong move and both of you would be tumbling into the roaring stream. How she trusted herself to be so careful you would never know, “sometimes knowing the truth is payment enough.”

“I suppose,” you mumbled as you tried to move back from the edge ever so slightly so you could breathe more easily, but she stood firm and resolute, not wanting to move. For someone with such a slight and waif like build she was rather immovable.

“Ask me,” she stated simply as you swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling nervous, “ask me about what’s plaguing your mind.”

“M-my husband,” you said quietly.

“Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell.”

“Yes,” you admitted, figuring that it wasn’t weird for her to know that. Almost everyone knew the prince, and they were likely to realize you were his wife, even if they hadn’t not see you before, “he loves me...I think he does...right? It feels so silly to question, but I just..”

“You’re only questioning it since you’ve spoken to Lady Dayne,” she concluded as you nodded slowly. You were so resolute and nonplussed by the opinions of others, but this had stuck with you, “it’s understandable. You are young, she is young, but she, however, is very unhappy in her marriage. But it does not mean you have to be.”

“Oh?”

“His love and devotion for you is true,” she promised and although you had no reason to trust her or believe her, you did. Your heart did a somersault in your chest before settling down and feeling easier than it had been. He loved you....he truly did. But you’d never really questioned that until it was brought into your mind over breakfast, “but that does not mean that it will always be easy. There will be times when you will argue, when you will want to scream at each other, but that does not mean your love is not real.’’

“I did not expect that it would always be easy,” you acknowledged; of course at someone point there had to be something here and there that you would disagree on. It was only natural, “but I love him and I’m always going to be willing to work things out. T-there is...one more thing…well several actually.”

“Ask to your heart’s delight, just know that you might not always like what you hear. Tread carefully…”

“Waylar,” you almost whispered his name as you stared at your feet, “I-I....I just want to know if he’s okay…”

“A young love lost quickly and tragically. He does not suffer anymore, and has not for some time. He does not walk the earthly realm any longer,” she stated immediately and you felt your chest constrict with pain as your breathing grew ragged and shallow. Your knees felt like they were going to give out at the simple answer, and you wished, you so desperately wished that she was wrong. That she was lying and a complete fraud, “he died shortly after arriving at the Night’s Watch. He died of exposure to the elements, and a broken heart.”

You knew she was being truthful. There was no way she could have known that Waylar had been sent to the Night’s Watch unless she was either some kind of stalker, or she really was what she proclaimed to be.

“No,” you said quietly, feeling warm, salty tears slide down your face. You couldn’t believe it, it had just seemed so wrong. You didn’t even bother to wipe away the tears, letting them flow freely, “he didn’t...he’s gone, and it’s all my fault. He’s dead because of me...the only thing he ever did was love me, and it cost him everything. I should have-”

“It does not do well to dwell on the past, on things we cannot change,” she insisted firmly. She was right...what was done was done. He was dead and there was no way to bring him back, not unless you resorted to some of the dark magic you had only rumors about from other lands, “he is gone and there is nothing to be done. Just realize that he did love you while he was alive. I told you that you might not hear what you want…”

“While we’re at it,” you threw your hands up meekly, ready for more pain and hurt. You only blamed yourself and your stubborn curiosity as you tried not to completely break down, “tell me...will I…will Oberyn and I ever have a child of our own?”

She studied you for a moment, her eyes flicked to your belly for just a moment before looking back at your face. There was an almost unreadable expression on her face as you met her milky eyes.

“No,” she said softly as you let the one word answer wash over you. You had been sure of that already, almost positive anyway, but it still stung to hear the answer. You would still make it a point to go to a Maester once you returned to Sunspear, but the little bit of possible hope you had clung onto was dissolving. But it would be fine - after all, you didn't need a child of your own and Oberyn had his girls. That was enough, more than enough, already so much more than you could ever have imagined. Then why didn’t it feel like enough? Why did it leave you with a deep longing in your heart?

“I-I didn’t think so,” you confessed quietly, “I was...admittedly not careful when I was with Waylar, so reckless and carefree. I knew there were times when I should have...I should have been with child. But it never happened so I had my doubts…”

“That does not mean you will never be a mother.”

“I am...a stepmother of sorts,” you shrugged, “my husband has daughters, and a few are very young still. I love them all very much.”

“Hmm,” she mused much in the same way as the vicious young woman from earlier.

“What?”

“There are many ways that one can be a mother,” she answered, “it’s not always just about carrying and birthing a child.”

You remained silent as you nodded at her, letting out a long breath as an influx of thoughts swarmed throughout your mind. There were so many questions that you still had, but the ones that had been loudest and most prominent were answered. Your main fear and worry was definitely quelled, with the reassurance that Oberyn did love you. Your other questions were answered...but still left you feeling unresolved.

“Having knowledge is not always easy.”

“These were things I would have found out one day anyway,” you shrugged your shoulders, “perhaps finding out the answers has lessened the blow.”

“Now you know,” the strange woman stated quietly. You had so many questions for her still, but you decided they could wait. Maybe you could see this strange woman again and ask her further questions, “but now you must atone.”

“I-I don’t understand-”

“Like you said yourself, nothing comes without a price,” your brows furrowed because you were sure that she had told you that there was nothing you had to do but live with your answers. You were about to say something else, but her hands quickly went to your shoulders and she pushed you back towards the edge of the waterfall to where you were just managing to hold onto your footing. Your whole body was shaking as you tried to push back and slip past her and to safety.

“P-please,” you begged as you grew worried that if you took a tumble into the water, that would be your downfall, “n-no.”

“You must atone,” she insisted and with that, she pushed you over the edge and you started to tumble into the water, letting out an ear shattering scream. You were flinging around wildly, groping around to try and grip onto something, but finding purchase on nothing.

You were going to die, you were sure of it. You felt nothing but sheer panic as you braced yourself for the hard crash into the water. When you did, it felt like you were breaking into a million tiny pieces as you finally stopped falling. Your eyes snapped open in the cold water, and you started to swim desperately to the surface to get some air back into your lungs.

The stance to the top felt like it was insurmountable as you swam towards the light, your lungs starting to feel like you were on fire. But you couldn’t just give up - no. So you kept swimming, kicking your legs as hard as possible as you felt the water getting warmer and warmer.

After what seemed like a small eternity, you broke through the water’s surface, taking in a large, long breath to try and get air back into your lungs. As you swam towards the edge, you were your name being called in a loud, worried voice. You wiped away the water from your eyes as you looked around and found Oberyn running to the edge, dropping to his knees as he held out his arms to help you.

“Oberyn,” you cried out his name meekly as you swam over to him, not bothering to stop him when he hooked his strong arms under yours and dragged to safety on the ground near the water’s edge. You were coughing up a storm, a hand clutching at your chest as you tried to slow and even your breathing. He sat in front of you, but kept a hand protectively on your waist. Warm tears had mixed in with the cold water on your face, making it hard to discern which was which. Once you steadied yourself, you took one look into his worried eyes before throwing your arms around him.

“What happened, my love?” he asked as he held you, his hand immediately going to rub soothing circles on your back as you nestled your face into his shoulder, “I returned and was informed that you had come out here by yourself. I’ve been looking for you for some time and I heard your scream. Please tell you’re alright…”

“Oberyn,” you pulled back and searched his face, holding it in your hands as if to make sure this wasn’t all some sort of dream. Luckily, he felt very real and lifelike in your touch, his warm breath fanning across your face. Before you could stop yourself, you crashed your lips onto his and kissed him an urgent hunger, trying to ground yourself and express just how much you loved him. He kissed you in return, but slowly, ever so slowly, pulled back and gave you a questioning look, “I love you, truly, Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he whispered back, trailing his thumb gently along your bottom lip, “what happened? How did you get so lost in here? And you fell? I was so worried - something horrible could have happened!”

“I just...I wanted to get some fresh air and came out for a walk,” you admitted, deciding to leave out the reason for your strong desire to get away. You weren’t in the mood to get into that whole situation right now, “and I was walking on the path further up towards the waterfall. I-I ran into a woman…”

“A woman?” he questioned, a confused look crossing his features as his brows narrowed, “what do you mean? There’s no one in this forest...the Daynes have people keeping an eye on it constantly....there’s nothing out here but animals.”

“I know what I saw,” you insisted, “I saw her, I spoke to her...she found me. She knew my name, she knew who you were…”

“A woman here in this forest knew exactly who were were and she found you?” he repeated as you nodded fervently, “you didn’t see her when you walked into the forest? She couldn’t have followed you in?”

“There was no one,” you promised, “I was alone, I swear it…”

“As much as I prefer to think only of positive things,” he sighed quietly, “we have enemies everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. I would never put it past someone to try and do something to us.”

“She didn’t...no,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “she wasn’t anything like that. I did not fear her...not until the end anyway. She was a soothsayer - she was blind, her eyes were milky and white.”

“A soothsayer,” he sounded skeptical but he didn’t sound like he was judging you for your belief in what the woman was, “I don’t think...I don’t think that’s what it was…it was probably just an old woman from the nearby town that wandered off and got lost in the wood.”

“Oberyn,” you wished he could have been there and see her with you, then he wouldn’t take so much convincing...although even you yourself could see that what you were saying sounded off the wall and ridiculous, “it wasn’t an old woman. She looked to be my age...she didn’t seem confused - she knew exactly who I was. She knew things about me that no one would know, no one besides myself or you.”

“What did she know?” he gently grabbed your face, cradling it in his large, warm hands and turned your face slightly, studying to make sure you had no wounds, no injuries on your head or neck area. He tutted lightly when he saw nothing, which relieved him greatly, but still didn’t completely alleviate all of his fears, “are you sure she wasn’t just saying things that seemed to answer questions?”

“She knew about us,” you said, “she knew about...about Waylar and the Night’s Watch...about…”

“Sweet sunshine,” he said softly, “I don’t want to alarm you or worry you in the slightest, but are you sure that you...actually saw someone?”

“W-what do you mean?” you asked pulling back and giving him a strange look, “of course I did. I know what I saw Oberyn, she...she pushed me into the waterfall!”

“She pushed you,” he was incredulous at your declaration as you nodded fervently.

“Yes,” you remained steadfast in your opinion, “she gave me answers to questions, and said I had to atone...and then she pushed me.”

“Honey,” the term of endearment was sweet…different from what he’d normally called you, but a welcome one. It brought a small smile to your face, “are you sure, I don’t want to make any assumptions as I was not there, but do you think it’s a possibility that you tripped over something and fell? Have you hit your head at all?”

“I didn’t...fall,” you said softly, although a cloud of confusion was now hanging over you. Maybe...maybe something had happened...and you had taken a tumble or.... Maybe there was something in the tea you had consumed earlier than had caused you to have some sort of wild, vivid hallucinations? With how cunning Eleonora had been at breakfast, you honestly wouldn’t put it past her to have done something of the sort.

The idea of imagining the whole encounter with the mysterious soothsayer was wild, but did the idea of her existence at all. If you were feeling the effects of something, who was to say that you couldn’t have made up the encounter in your mind and then trip and fell. When you really thought about it, none of it seemed out of the realm of possibilities.

Oberyn sighed softly as he touched your cheek before pressing his lips to your forehead, “whatever happened, I’m glad you are okay. I was so worried when I couldn’t find you at first and then I heard a scream. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”

“I’m okay,” you promised quietly, now wondering if you had actually met a mysterious woman or if it was real. You shook your head in a vain attempt to get her out of your mind, “I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t do much…”

“You did,” you promised, gently touching on his now damp tunic, “you helped, I promise.”

He just offered you a small smile as he held, kissing the crown of your head, “this woman...you said she answered questions you had...what did you ask of her?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted as you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, “it wasn’t anything important. Follies really…”

“If you’re sure,” he said softly as you offered him a gentle smile, “if anything...you know you can talk about anything to me.”

“I know,” you promised, “I know. You know...you know that when I say I love you, I mean it, right?”

“Of course,” he laughed lightly as he gave you a quick peck, “and I love you, something you never doubt, my sunshine.”

You simply nodded at him before burrowing into his chest. He loved you, you reminded yourself, he loved you. Just as you loved him.

“C-can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Can we return to Sunspear?” you asked, a small frown crawling onto your face as he seemed surprised at your sudden request, “we can take the long route home, but I think I’d like to be back home…”

“Did something happen?” he could tell that something did - otherwise you wouldn’t have made the request so suddenly. You thought about lying to him, about making some weird excuse, but you knew it was best to be upfront with him, especially in this situation.

“I don’t think everything here is as it seems,” you confessed, “things are not as serene as they appear. Lady Dayne made sure I was aware of that this morning.”

“What did she-”

“It’s no matter,” you promised him, “I’m just not sure how welcome we really are. Her words were not very kind this morning. I suspect that she does not think I would tell you any of it, but I don’t want...I don’t want anything like what she and her husband have. I like what we have. I like that I love you. And I like the man that you are, and what can be and will be. I like...us.”

“I like us as well,” he returned the sentiment, “we shall head back for Sunspear come the morrow. Does that sound okay? We shall be home within a fortnight. I’ll send a raven to let them know we are to return sooner than expected, and to prepare our room.”

“Our room?” you asked with a hint of a smile tugging on your features.

“Yes,” he gently, almost seeming shy, “I thought we might...share our chambers upon our return. Unless of course, you’d like to remain in separate quarters…”

“No,” there was nothing but excitement in your voice, “I’ll love that. Really - there is nothing I’d like more than sharing your bed every night, my moon and stars.”

“My sunshine,” he seemed relieved as he slowly up and helped you to do the same, “you make me happy like no other.”

“So do you, Oberyn,” you said quickly followed by a small oof as he swooped you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style. You kissed the tip of his nose before the two of you broke into a fit of giggles.

You still had a million questions floating around in your mind, but they could all wait for later.

Right now, nothing else but this moment mattered.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #in name only

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

give me the night

banner done by the fabbbbulooouss emotional support bud @chwepen

summary; minghao has long stopped clinging to the love you and him created years before. when he sees you however, new seeds are already sown. paring; photographer!minghao x student!reader (f) genre/warnings; exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff bc this couple is so shy n’sensitive, feelings of longing, pining, casual alcohol consumption w/c; 1.2k prompt; “i’ll meet you halfway.” a/n; for the cwc’s valentine’s gram event! this is for you yunn @starboywoo i hope u have a wonderful lovable weekend enjoy!! 🖤 🖤 🖤

He’s a sensitive soul. Junhui makes a point to always poke and prod at Minghao’s soft heart, calling him gummy and doughy and full of love.

Malta’s pretty. It’s muted, but delightfully charming. It doesn’t have the obvious romantic appeal that Paris or Rome has, but it’s still beautiful. It’s obvious due to Minghao’s constant clicks of his phone, his starry eyed expression when he sees the strung up lights at the pier, and the bounce in his soles when he stumbles upon road after narrow road of clunky cobblestone paths.

“She goes to school here, right?”

Junhui is walking backwards, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He’s smirking at Minghao, knowing how testy he gets whenever you’re brought up. It’ll only take one push for Junhui to stumble, Minghao muses. Then, he can go back to the townhouse they’ve rented and sketch, or watch television, anything other than drinking.

Mingyu has been waiting, pregaming and trying his luck with the pretty girls seated at the table opposite him.

It’s then Minghao chokes on his saliva and realizes that you’re seated in the very middle, unbeknownst to Mingyu’s apparent ogling.

Junhui immediately swivels Mingyu to his attention, forces Minghao and a seat, and orders a round for them in the matter of a minute. Junhui has a mission tonight, and it’s to not warble around and carry a broken heart (or two) home.

The tiny table you’re pressed up against is cramped to the brim, and you’re surrounded by a hearty group of friends. Your jewelry sparkles against the little tea candles in the centerpiece, cheering with a shot glass to some random thing a boy is shouting. The liquid spills across your bracelet, but you still drink eagerly. You’re beautiful, more beautiful than what the social media and his memory could remind him.

You left your home country for this prestigious study abroad program in the beginning of college, evidently ending your love story with your highschool sweetheart. Minghao’s over it, he really is. If anything that’s lingering in his heart, it’s the memories of having so much fun, so much love between each other. You two are far different now, and neither of you would be able to go back to that fleeting youth.

Honestly, Malta is one stop out of many for his spring break. He thought his two days here would be over in a wink, and he could move onto the other niche destinations Mingyu and Junhui planned.

Minghao underestimated the fact that Malta’s tiny, and you’re at the heart of it.

Just as fast as you’re there though, you’re getting ready to leave. The night is still young, yet you stumble to your feet like you’ve been out all evening. Your friends tell you to get a cab, saying it isn’t safe to walk home alone.

“I’m not walking home alone, a friend is here,” Minghao hears you say, and he wonders if someone’s waiting outside for you. Someone tall, handsome, potentially his replacement. It makes Minghao sink into his beverage, swallowing away his unwarranted jealousy.

Yet you come to his table with confidence, holding out a hand to him.

“Take me home?” you pose this as a question, yet the flicker in your eyes betrays your need for his immediate acceptance.

Everyone’s looking at him, he thinks absently. He can hear your friends whispering and giggling to themselves, while Mingyu is audibly drooling next to him. Junhui is reaching for you, clawing across his lap to invite you for one more round before you head off.

“Come for breakfast, Junnie,” you placate, tugging Minghao by the sleeve of his hoodie before he can catch his breath, “we should leave now,” you say, waving politely at Mingyu. You have no clue who he is because Minghao befriended him later in college, but from Minghao’s peripheral vision your eyes are pointed in minor affliction. He knows that look too well, like you have the urge to close his jaw and put him in his place.

“Sure,” Minghao follows you out of the tiny bar, and he subconsciously inhales at the sight of the full moon and the hint of fresh air.

His steps slow once he makes it outside, the heat feeling like honey as he trudges half a step behind you. His eyes linger from your casual spring dress, to the kitten heels that buckle at your ankles. The cobblestone is uneven, but you walk through it like a seasoned exchange student. He doesn’t know where you’re going exactly, but wherever you end up he’ll follow.

“You didn’t come over to say hi to me,” you say shyly, your hands fisting in your marigold clutch.

He can’t help but smile at your sudden meekness, knowing that confrontation, especially one where there’s only two parties, makes you nervous. Especially so, considering you made such a grand gesture of attention and now that you’ve gotten it, you're overwhelmed.

"You looked too pretty, I was intimidated," Minghao replies honestly, and his heart perks up hopefully at the heated flush that spreads across your face.

The two of you talk into the night, throwing back and forth each other's new lives. Your muses have changed, your happiness is dependent on your dreams, all as it should be.

Minghao thought he would run out of things to say, as he is the one who stayed home all these years. Yet, you ask eagerly about his studies, the amazing places he’s seeing and the work he’s proud of. You ask about the concrete city you can’t help but miss. He then asks about the limestone that encapsulates your world. The new kind of love that you’ve been craving, a love for yourself and the investments you’ve made in your successes.

It’s different. It isn’t quick or to the point like your relationship once was. This one grows, a seed buried in the night sky. This one is a new relationship waiting to be tended.

The walk home went fast. Even though you two stopped for gelato and admired the passing ships, the journey felt too short to Minghao. You live in a boarding house with other foriegn exchange students, a nondescript townhouse that’s warm and soft and oh-so perfect for you.

"Thanks for taking me home," you murmur, in fear of your neighbors overhearing you, "even though I kinda didn't give you any choice in the matter."

"Always," Minghao shakes his head, unable to think of a scenario in which he'd ever say no to you, "I'll always meet you halfway."

He can’t bear to look into your eyes anymore. They still glow like before, a sparkle that reminds him of city lights and now, the lit-path down a cobblestone road.

Before he can second guess the signs he turns to leave, but your figure curls around him like a warm blanket on a Sunday morning. Your nails curl into the soft cotton of his heathered hoodie, clutching him like he'll evaporate on the spot. Your cheek nuzzles fondly into his back, and he instinctively relaxes into your touch.

"Stay the night," you request, already pulling him back into your room.

As always, he can never say no to you.

#caratwritersclub #cwcvg2021 #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #minghao x reader #svt fic #minghao fic #the8 fic #the8 x reader #minghao scenarios

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thebadboyfanclub · 3 years

Text

Protect The Queen Pt.1 (Geralt x Reader)

This is just becoming addictive at this point, I love writing about this cause there are so many different scenarios and possibilities you could write about. Also there might be a part two for this so please let me know if you would be interested in it. Enjoy!

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, it was almost time for her to take her future in her own hands, to rise to the occasion and take back her life. Her gaze fell to the ring she was wearing, it was passed on to her when she married the king of Orkney, she barely had taken a step into womanhood at the time her parents announced her marriage to her, such a shame that she spend such youthful years in a castle with a man that didn't even think about her, it was pure and also embarrassing for (y/n) to look back at her naive and selfless younger self.

“Oh, you are awake”

“I was waiting for you my dear”

She answered to her husband, her voice dripping honey for the first time in years. Their marriage was far from happy, (Y/n) had thought since she was to become his wife he would treat her with kindness, unfortunately that was not the case, he saw her just as a vessel for his children, when that seemed to not happen he fell to the arms of concubines and commoners, making her become this cold, distant wife he deserved. Sometimes she would wonder if maybe she had given him the heir he craved that maybe his behavior would change, that however was crushed by gratefulness she felt for her womb for not bring a child in this loveless household. She would have never forgiven herself if she raised a child that did not see their parents share at least one hug.

“What’s the cause of you lingering in our room (y/n)?”

“To celebrate, here my king”

She offered him the glass of wine she was holding on her left hand, it was filled with his favorite wine. Her husband took it and gave her a puzzled look, whenever he would sleep in the same room with her- which wasn’t often- he would find her asleep.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday dear”

He was left confused at her smile and statement. It couldn’t be, they held a public celebration for her birthday every year, it was protocol for the queen to allow the public in the castle for her special day. The clink of the glasses echoed around the room, she brought the glass to her lips and took a light sip

“Come on dear, drink up. You were never one to shy away from a glass of wine”

She pushed the glass from the bottom up to his lips. He did not understand the cause of all this, yet whatever the case was she was right, the moment he tasted the delicious wine he took three gulps and the glass went from full to half empty.

“Excellent, I’m glad you enjoyed the wine my king, careful,.. the choking will probably start any minute now”

“My queen, we have been waiting for you to... rise for so long”

“Perfection takes time”

She answered to her most trusted confident,her coronation was something that would remain in history for centuries, she was adored by the public so when she inherited the crown after her last husband, everyone knew they were in safe hands. That does not mean the rumors did not arise to the situation, the late king was a healthy young man, it was very suspicious how he fell to darkness overnight.

She meant what she told him when she mentioned her birthday, that day she shed away her foolish acts and was reborn, a woman that stood strong in the field of womanhood, ready to take what’s hers whether people liked it or not.

She looked around the room, seeing her people enjoy their night and drink to her name felt so natural to her, she was meant to lead.

“Excuse me just for a moment, I want to get closer to my people”

“As you wish my queen”

As she started going around at a slow pace she did her best to observe her people, they seemed to enjoy themselves, they acted like the king never existed, like the soil on top of him had been thrown decades ago, she smiled at herself while thinking that she acted in a way her people wanted, pleasing them and herself with just a few drops of that special liquid.

It was then that she noticed the back of a tall man, his long white hair and his armor stood out from the others, she also took note that he was accompanied by a much smaller and probably younger man that was holding a lute. It couldn’t be? The infamous white wolf and his barb at her coronation?

“What are we doing here Jaskier?”

“Celebrating the queen officially getting the crown after her husbands oh so sudden death”

Jaskier was fascinated by her history, a princess known for her noble nature and beauty, he reminisced of the song he had heard about her, she was the master of horses, the late king had met her when she rode the most stubborn and difficult horse in the royal stable, married to the king at her prime and failing at giving him an heir.

He was surprised she got to kill him first before the late king did, not only that but she is now the one sitting on the thrown after the kings death under some suspicious circumstances.

“sudden death? hmm, I believe the king found out that his destiny was a woman in a harsh way”

“Every mans destiny is a woman.... Witcher”

As he heard the voice from behind him he turned around to see to whom it belonged to. Jaskier’s mouth formed a big “O” when he was met with the queen, Geralt figured out who she was by the crown sitting on her head. The first thing she noticed was his yellow eyes, she found them so captivating, unique, she had never seen a witcher from up close, it was also just her luck that brought her the most handsome one.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, he was at her celebration, talking badly about the queen herself, he knew the consequences he just didn’t know if the queen would choose torture or immediate death as the penalty

“Queen (y/n), my apologies, Geralt has had a bit too much to drink, please spare him”

Jaskier might be a bit overly giddy at the wrong time, however that did not mean that what Geralt ha implied could make the queen want his head right then and there. As Jaskier bowed at her, she only let a small smile appear on her lips, softening her features towards the men that both looked distressed, she had to admire that she felt a bit of pride of making the witcher eat his words, judging by his reputation that did not happen every day.

“It’s alright, I know what the people are saying about me, it’s understandable”

“Understandable? Shouldn’t the queen rush to protect her reputation?”

“That’s what kings do when they feel their ego getting bruised, look around you Geralt, what do you see? The same people that have spread those accusations are dancing and yelling “long live the queen”, if anything my new found reputation is more promising”

Geralt was immediately interested, it wasn’t often that a queen would be alright with rumors and of such kind being passed around, as well as taking it as an advantage and being pleased about it.

“Elaborate please”

“The kings of other towns will hear those rumors, now who would dare come and threaten the woman that killed her own husband for power? Only a mad man would risk coming to my home”

She was smart, cunning. Geralt had met people of royalty and understood exactly what she meant when she talked about fragile egos. On the contrary, she stood tall and proud, took advantage of the people that gave her a new source of power without them even knowing it. The essence of her as a human being could only be described as being royal, a woman of luxury that men would probably kill for just a glimpse of her naked skin

It only made him question the late king, how could he have wronged such a woman? was maybe her standards that were two high? or was it an act of revenge? Geralt felt the need to puff out his chest as an act of bravery, she was a quite tall woman and if you match that with the way she carried herself, it was a death mix, the late king was already one of the victims of it

“You mean that you are going to become other kings destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny, what destiny is varies depending on the people you ask, for my parents my destiny was to become an obedient queen and give birth to the heir, a child that shared the same blood with my late husband”

She said mildly disgusted, as a widower she would probably have to grieve, linger in her room and cry behind close doors at the loss of her love. It seems like nobody even noticed how she did none of that, like it was normal for her to through a celebration a few weeks after his death in her name, not only that but the people seemed to love it. Geralt gave her a smirk at her smart and a bit intriguing answer.

“Then what do you think is your destiny”

“To be in charge of my and my peoples future, destiny and fate are nothing in front of the power of a woman”

The way she talked about destiny showed how she truly embodied confidence and stability, she feared nothing, not even her future self, she only relied on her power. As she talked to him he couldn’t help but let his eyes look mostly towards her lips, her painted lips that moved in such hypnotic way, he felt compelled by her.

Jaskier just stood there watching the two people talk like they are long lost friends. The queen so many people felt uneasy just by her presence was now having a casual conversation with the witcher. Geralt was slowly but surely gaining respect for her, she was a woman of power, a woman that used her brain and situations to her advantages and held herself accountable for her future, she was a true queen.

Geralt smiled at her genuinely, he had met her late husband in the past, he recalled him being stubborn and stuck up, raising his nose at others that he thought were less than him. If he was alive there was no way he would find him walking around commoners

“hmmm, Well queen (y/n), I am sure your people will be safe with you leading this land”

“I hope that in the future I can count on you for aid”

“About what?”

“Danger of course”

She took one step closer to him, still keeping eye contact with Geralt. As he took in a deep breath he could smell the scent of lavender off of her, her hair shined underneath the light of the flames and her eyes glistered with confidence and pride, she was the definition of strength, just her look brought Geralt into defense mode, waiting for her words and thinking how should he respond correctly to her before she even opened her mouth.

The skill of demanding attention and respect so silently was one that the very few of people that did had it were considered blessed, even though he was aware of that skill, still he had yet to meet one... until he met her.

“Loneliness can be an awfully dangerous thing”

She whispered just loud enough for only him to hear, as the other villagers laughed and sang around them, not even noticing that their queen was standing a few inches away from them, as well as being promiscuous to a witcher.

“I would be honored to protect the queen”

“I’m glad you feel that way, I’m sure you could be a great ally for me, geralt of rivia”

PART 2

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gdcee · 3 years

Text

Road to Nowhere

Pairing: Loki/Sigyn - mild, might have to squint to see it.

Summary: Loki and Sigyn talk while she escorts him to Kid Loki's Kingdom.

Warnings: Panic attack.

=================

"You know I'm only going to keep pestering you until I have the answer."

"I wish you luck in your endeavour," Sigyn returned coolly, stepping lightly as she began to climb the massive pile of garbage blocking their path. "Nevertheless, my lips remain sealed."

Loki huffed, a slight quirk at the corner of his lips which was not quite a smirk. He set off after her, determined to be the first to the summit of Rubbish Peak.

He had to admit he was quite intrigued by that tantalising crumb of information this Sigyn (so very like and yet not quite like his own) had dangled before him. Of course he was curious about the identity of the lucky bastard who had won her fidelity.

All he had was a preferred pronoun. That at least eliminated half of his (admittedly rather short to begin with) list of possible lucky bastards.

After he had gone through the list (which did not take long because as stated earlier, it was really quite short), he started throwing out random names to see if any of them got a reaction.

No such luck.

His attempts to tease and fluster the information out of her had been just as ineffective.

Her reaction to his puppy dog eyes routine had been...perplexing. He'd gotten one soft, achingly tender smile before a heavy melancholy had descended upon her. Like the dark shadow of a mourning veil stealing the brightness from her eyes and the colour from her cheeks.

She had not reprimanded him, but he made a note not to pull that trick again anyway. Besides the practical reasons for keeping her goodwill (survival, information, mental stimulation), the simple fact was that she was Sigyn.

He didn't want to be the cause of her unhappiness. Not anymore.

Being a harmless annoyance and pest was still perfectly acceptable though.

He stood atop the great mound of refuse, his hands and face smeared with oil and other liquids of questionable origin, grinning triumphantly down at Sigyn. He vanished the grime he'd accumulated before gallantly holding out his hand to her.

Sigyn huffed a soft little laugh, the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Without any hesitation, she reached out and allowed him to pull her up.

Loki glanced down to where they had started and noted that it was a long drop. Not nearly enough to kill an Asgardian or a Frost Giant, but enough to hurt.

Trust.

It made him feel as giddy as the first time he'd tasted the enchanted, heady liquid gold that was the mead brewed from honey harvested from the hives of the talking bees that resided near Iðunn's famous apple orchards.

"Ahem."

Loki realised with no small degree of embarrassment that he was still holding Sigyn's hand. He hurriedly worked a spell to remove the dirt under her fingernails and let go. Then to cover up his embarrassment, he resumed pestering.

"I don't understand why the identity of your beau necessitates such secrecy," he sighed with the lightest touch of a pleading whine, "Do you think I would object to your taste? He can't possibly be worse than Theoric."

"I think my life choices are none of your business."

"Exactly! You should forget about my opinion. Shout his name to the world and damn the naysayers and killjoys."

"I would but sadly, Alioth has a sense of hearing."

With that, she picked up a flat sheet of metal lying loose and proceeded to slide down Rubbish Peak on the improvised board. Despite being only at most a quarter Ljósálfar on her mother's side, she moved with their characteristic effortless grace.

Loki peered down, did a couple of quick mental calculations and snapped his fingers. He disappeared from the summit with a flare of green light and reappeared at the bottom no more than a second later in similar fashion.

"Good to see your teleport still works," Sigyn tossed her wind-mussed hair out of her face, "Why didn't you use it earlier to get to the top?"

"Too much debris and no decent eyeline. I didn't want to risk getting stuck under a foot of garbage." He frowned, pondering. "Still works?"

"Not a reference to you personally," she moved forward without looking behind to see if he followed, "Just something I noticed about some of the other Lokis around here."

"Power loss? Nothing to do with you and that coven of other Sigyns whose domain I and the other Lokis are forbidden from entering, I presume?"

"No, I've seen it even in Lokis on their first trepass - if something is limiting their power it's not us. In any case, we would never do anything to permanently disable a Loki's magic. There's just some things you don't do to a fellow mage, you know?"

"You just rough them up a little and kick them off the property?"

"More or less. Except for the kid and alligator."

"Do I want to know how one instance of me ended up as a semi-aquatic Midgardian reptile?"

"You can ask him yourself when we get to the Kid's Kingdom," she paused for a moment, as if she'd just remembered something, "Or maybe not, I think only the old man you knows how to talk to him."

Loki blinked.

"There's an old me?" He asked, disbelieving, "As in a wizened, wrinkled, looks like your grandmother me?"

"Eh, not quite as old as Grandma Hretha. Maybe about 4,000? 5,000?" She shrugged, "Either way, your vanity may rest easy; you look perfectly fine as an old man."

"Thank you for that milquetoast endorsement of my future self's good looks," Loki said dryly, "I was more perturbed about...something else."

Curiouser and curiouser.

How had the aged variant escaped their destined end? How had he managed to grow old before the TVA arrived to arrest him for cheating his final death?

He thought about the tape featuring all the TVA approved highlights of his life.

He thought about that other Loki, the Loki who had played out the role assigned to him and how very young (the same face as his own) and terrified (the same fear as his own) he had looked with the Mad Titan's monstrous hand around his throat.

Loki swallowed thickly and pulled at the collar of his TVA issued office shirt which suddenly seemed far too tight. The tie impeded his work and as he struggled to loosen it he could feel his terror rising up to choke him.

there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you

inevitable

you think you know pain?

Inevitable

HE WILL MAKE YOU LONG FOR SOMETHING AS SWEET AS PAIN

He felt his legs buckle and his knees hit the ground as if it were happening to someone else.

"Loki!" Sigyn's voice was close but he heard it as if a great distance separated them, "Loki, breathe."

"What do you think I'm doing?" He wheezed.

"I am going to remove the tie and unfasten your collar," Sigyn continued as if she had not even noticed his rudeness, "I will need to touch you to do this. Alright?"

Needing help for such a pitifully simple task was galling. But he didn't want Sigyn to leave him. Loki managed a shaky nod. He let her ease his trembling, sweaty hands from his shirt collar. With quick, brisk movements she pulled the tie loose and tossed it somewhere to join the rest of the garbage.

"Follow my breathing now." Her voice was clearer to him now, more present. She was kneeling next to him, so close and warm and oh, her hair did still smell like apple blossoms. He watched the regular rise and fall of her chest and tried to match it. "That's it. Very good. Nice and slow."

Her fingers were at his throat for a mercifully short time. Just long enough to pop the top button loose and push the starched fabric away from his neck.

"Stay with me. You're doing very well. Breathe with me. In. And out. In. And out."

Without really thinking he grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against the centre of his chest. Perhaps he was possessed by some irrational notion that the pressure against his breastbone could keep his thundering heart from beating right out of his chest.

She didn't try to pull away. Her hand was warm, even through the shirt fabric. She moved a little, and one of her dainty fingers slipped into the open gap of his unbuttoned collar and brushed against the dip between his clavicles. His breath caught in his throat for a moment before Sigyn's gentle prompting had him matching her rhythm once more.

"Feel better?" She asked after what seemed an eternity.

"Yes," he breathed, "Yes, much." His chest still felt a little tight but the worst of that dreadful episode was over.

"Good." She lifted her hand from his chest and patted his shoulder firmly - a gesture that he had seen Týr bestow upon struggling Einherjar recruits after they'd passed the final leg of their training. "You did very well."

He didn't feel like he'd done anything worth praising. He'd collapsed like a pack of cards. This wasn't the first time he'd experienced terror but every time before now he had been able to push past it - stamp it down through sheer force of will and that primitive, animal part of his brain that knew that danger was never far away.

Why had he folded now? Now - when he was probably the most at ease he'd been in ages (months? Years? How long had it been since New York?) and the threat of Thanos was no longer an issue-

...a terrible thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Just out of curiosity," Loki tried to sound nonchalant, "Have you ever come across a fellow by the name of Thanos here?"

"Thanos?" Sigyn's brows drew together in a frankly rather adorable expression of pure befuddlement.

Ah. Well, at least he could place whatever nexus event had led to her pruning as occurring before Ragnarok and Thanos's massacre of half the Asgardian survivors.

"Big purple fellow," he explained, "Quite ugly, enormous chin, has rather disturbing ideas about resource management."

"Uh, no, I can't say that I've ever met anyone like that here."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "I can swear on my magic if that would reassure you."

Sigyn had always been very leery about oaths, especially ones bound with magic. Most mages worth their salt were.

And yet...he couldn't really explain why, but he'd always felt like her issues with them were less about best practices and more about some personal grievance.

That she would offer him such a thing...

Loki felt completely undeserving.

"No," he said hurriedly, "No, no, it's fine. I...I trust you."

Sigyn smiled. It was the first real smile he'd seen so far and it was like watching the sun come out from behind a cloud. He didn't know if it would last - if that melancholy from before would snatch away the sweetness of this moment.

So Loki ruined the moment before it could be stolen from him.

"...even though you refuse to tell me about your paramour."

Sigyn scoffed, all exasperation but it was better than seeing her sad.

"You are insufferable."

"Thank you, I do try."

She snorted and shook her head. "Alright, come on, you goose," she helped him up, and even though his legs were slightly shaky, he stood and did not fall. "Our first rest stop is about 20 feet...thereaboutish-" she waved vaguely in the direction of a mostly empty grassy knoll upon which a gaggle of the oddest creatures scurried. They resembled iridescent headless chickens with little purple spheres hovering over their severed necks.

"I still think we should have taken the car."

"Ugh," Sigyn wrinkled her nose, "Cahrs. Nasty, noisy, smelly things. I swear, Midgard really went downhill after those monstrosities were invented. "

#loki #sigyn #mcu #logyn

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babbysquid · 3 years

Text

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 2

Author’s Note: Oh my goodness thank you all for the positive feedback on NAWD! I’m really enjoying writing this and living out my own fantasy. The DRAMA begins in the part after this so prepare yourself for that!

Warnings: mild cursing

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

Sunday had passed by quickly and it was now Monday at 8am. Your interview was at 9. You studied your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing the outfit that Parker had helped you pick out but had the shirt buttoned all the way up. Grabbing your bag you and throwing on your shoes you looked at yourself one more time. Chewing the inside of your cheek you took a deep breath.

“Fuck it.” you whispered to and you unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt, just as Parker had done previously.

You stood outside a tall office building and looked up. It looked modern and new, but not imposing. Swallowing hard you pushed your shoulders back, raised your head up, and strutted through the front door. Fake it til you make it as they say.

“Hi I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” you said to the receptionist at the front desk. “I have an interview with Mr. Daniels.”

“Ah yes Mr. Daniels has been expecting you. Give me one second and I’ll take you to his office.” said the receptionist.

“Ah it’s okay Sara, I got it.” said a voice from behind you.

Turning around you saw a gorgeous woman. She wore a white button down and black slacks. Her short haircut was modern and cute. It suited her face really well. Thick glasses sat on the edge of her nose. She gave you a kind smile. Looking at her outfit and her appearance in general you suddenly felt self conscious. Maybe you should’ve stuck with the fully buttoned up shirt.

“I’m Ginger.” she said, extending her hand.

You took her hand in yours as you introduced yourself and the two of you walked to the elevators.

“So you have an interview with Jack?”

You nodded.

She laughed a little and it almost seemed like she was taking pity on you.

“He’s a good guy, but he’s definitely a character. He means well though.”

You smiled back. New York City was definitely filled with interesting and strange people. Your mind quickly thought back to the cowboy you met on Friday.

The elevator dinged and stirred you from your thoughts. Ginger guided you to a pair of mahogany doors.

“Well. This is where I leave you. Good luck Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath you knocked on the door and waited. A second later you heard some footsteps and you mentally prepared yourself for whoever was inside. The door swung open and your jaw dropped. You couldn’t help it.

Before you stood the same cowboy that had prevented your fall. Quickly you snapped your jaw shut. He was just as handsome as you remember, if not more handsome. He was still wearing his black stetson. Instead of the long camel coat he wore when he was in the park he was wearing a blazer with matching slacks. The blazer had a classic cowboy look but was still somehow modern. You flicked your eyes down to confirm your guess, he was wearing cowboy boots. He was wearing a pair of simple wire glasses and they looked good on him.

“Well isn’t this a coincidence?” said the man, “Come in, please.”

He stepped aside allowing you to enter the office.

For as modern as the building appeared, Mr. Daniels’ office felt lived in and warm. It was covered in mahogany and leather. An old globe sat on a shelf and other bits and bobs decorated the office, including what appeared to be a cow skull. You didn’t realize you were staring until Mr. Daniels’ honeyed voice made you blink.

“It’s real if that’s what you’re thinking.” he said.

You turned and realized he was much closer than you thought, practically close enough to touch you. You swallowed hard. He smelled good.

“Well let’s get started, shall we?” he said, stepping back and motioning to a chair that sat in front of his desk.

Wordlessly you moved to the chair and sat down. The whole act of confidence you had suddenly vanished. Mr. Daniels was slightly intimidating and holy hell was he attractive.

“Now Y/N — you don’t mind if I call you that?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“Y/N is fine yes.” you said, slightly unsure about the familiarity. Your previous job you were never addressed by your first name, it was always Ms. Y/L/N.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, swiveling in his chair to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from behind him.

You smiled, appreciating the offer but politely declined.

“I’m actually not a whiskey drinker.” you said. Mr. Daniels laughed loudly as if he knew something you didn’t.

“I know it’s odd that I’m here interviewing for a whiskey company Mr. Daniels—

“Please, call me Jack.” he interrupted.

“…Jack,” you said slowly “but I promise I’ll be dedicated even if it’s not my drink of choice.”

Jack smiled and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. Leaning back in his chair he studied you. Feeling his gaze on you, you gave him a small smile, trying to convince him that you really would work hard.

“Well Y/N,” he said after a second, “you got the job!”

Your brows furrowed. There was absolutely no way he was serious. He only asked if you wanted a drink, the company’s drink no less, and you said no. No interview questions, no asking for documents or recommendations. Nothing.

“I know you might be surprised but here at Statesmen we like to do things a little differently. And don’t worry about not liking whiskey. Who knows though, you may warm up to it.” he said, giving you a wink.

“This certainly was the easiest interview I’ve ever done.” you whispered under your breath. But according to the booming laugh that came out of the man sitting in front of you, your whisper wasn’t quiet enough.

“I assure you Y/N that you’ve already gone through an extensive interview process. The company has contacted past employers of yours and done copious amount of research and background checks into your resume. It may have been easy on your end, but not on ours.”

‘Certainly the weirdest interview I’ve ever done too.’ you thought.

“Well!” said Jack, clasping his hands together and standing up from his chair. “You start tomorrow. Let me give you a quick tour so you can settle in easy tomorrow.” In a flash he was around the desk and holding his hand out to you, a million dollar smile on his face.

Letting out a short breath you pushed away your anxiety and trepidation. If this was gonna be your new job you may as well start acting like your normal self. You grabbed his hand with assurance and stood up from your seat.

Neither one of you moved.

Standing there your eyes were glued to the sight of your hand being dwarfed by his. Slowly your eyes moved up to meet Jack’s. They were the most gorgeous shade of brown. Dark but still with a warmth and spark that drew you in. The glasses he wore framed them perfectly. Subconsciously you lightly bit your bottom lip. You blinked and the trance was broken. Slowly you removed your hand from his, but your palm was still tingling from the skin to skin contact.

“Thank you by the way.” you said breaking the silence.

Jack gave you that smile again and it felt like your internal organs had been turned to soup.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’. I’m quick on my feet and happened to see a beautiful young woman in need so I helped.”

You almost choked at the words he spoke.

“Let me show you to your space.” said Jack, his hand moving to lightly sit on the middle of your back.

In any other professional circumstance if someone did this to you you’d immediately call HR. In this instance however Jack’s gesture felt comforting and gentlemanly, not creepy and an intrusion of personal space. To summarize, you enjoyed his touch.

The two of you strode out the doors and walked a short distance down the hall to a door. Leading you inside Jack explained how this would be your personal office. You had never had a private space just for yourself in your workplace. You laughed softly.

“Something funny?” said Jack, looking down at you, hand still on your back.

“Never had my own space before. This place is almost bigger than my apartment.” You looked up at him with shining eyes. Jack swallowed thickly. Your big eyes were something else and certainly affecting him.

“Hah. Well I just hope you don’t move in here! Gotta have a separation between work and play.” said Jack, winking at you.

You could feel your face heating up at the comment as Jack led you out of the room and your heart was beating faster than it should’ve. Unbeknownst to you, so was Jack’s. He wasn’t expecting his new PA to be the gorgeous girl from the park. Admittedly he had thought about you a couple times since, beating himself up for not inviting you to coffee or something.

Outside of your new office stood Ginger.

“Ah sweet Ginger!” said Jack, removing his hand from your back. You silently mourned the loss of contact.

“This is my new peach of an assistant Y/N.”

“I know Jack.” said Ginger, rolling her eyes. “How do you think she found your office?”

“Always one step ahead Miss Ginger.” said Jack, flashing his smile again.

“Come with me Y/N and we’ll get you put in the system.”

“Pleasure meeting you darlin’ and I cannot wait til tomorrow.” said Jack, winking one last time before turning on his heel and sauntering back into his office.

“Is he always like that?”

“He’s always been a ladies man. You may be his assistant but make sure he knows who’s in charge. Keep him on a short leash.”

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

“So how was it?” Parker asked, taking a bite out of her pizza. She had come over to eat dinner with you and get all the juicy details about the job interview.

“Weird. I mean I got the job, but it was still weird.”

“First off yay! Secondly, what do you mean weird?”

“Well the building was way more high tech than I expected but the thing that was the weirdest was the interview itself. The only thing he asked me was if I wanted a glass of whiskey.”

“To which you said no.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off.

“I know that look Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

“Jack Daniels is the cowboy from the park.”

Thankfully Parker had swallowed her bite of pizza before hearing this, otherwise there’d be a chewed up wad of cheese on your floor.

“WHAT?”

“He was acting kind of flirty too.”

“So you did unbutton the shirt!” Parker said, a look of pride on her face.

“Parker that’s not the point. Afterwards when I was talking to the head of networking and media she explained that Jack is like this with every woman. The hat I need to show him who’s in charge, even if he is my boss.”

“That’s hot.” said Parker taking another bite.

“Shut up he’s my boss.” you said, pushing her shoulder. “I get what she’s saying though. I’ve dealt with guys like that before. Admittedly they were in their 20s and went to the same college as me and weren’t actually adults who I worked with.”

“How old does this guy look anyways?” Clearly Parker had a different agenda than you.

“Parker…” you gave her a glare.

“Okay okay message received.” she put up her hands in mock defense.

You looked down at your pizza slice and picked at the bit of cheese that had slid off of it.

“So how’re you gonna fend him off while still creating a good relationship?”

“Guess I gotta use that stubbornness you were talking about earlier.” you said giving her a small grin.

taglist: @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #not a whiskey drinker #NAWD

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Text

You Are My Sunshine

From the MoonBrella Academy

Warnings: some angst and fluff A/N: Honey and Leon are left with the aftermath of Klaus's decision to tear apart another timeline by rescuing his infant self from the same childhood he endured at the hand's of The Monocle. Selina, though, couldn't be any more delighted.

Part 1 Sweet Child O Mine

Honey stood full of bewilderment in the middle of the living room. The flash of blue light temporarily blinded her making the 27 year old lose her bearings. She stumbled, caught herself and clutched the bundle to her chest out of instinct. It began to cry.

The young mother remembered herself then. In her daze, she had proffered a pinky finger to the infant. He accepted and sucked on it hungrily for only a few moments.

Honey knew in her very soul that the man from the portal, the man from outside the abortion clinic in 1968 and the man in the FBI posters from 1963 were one and the same. That he and this baby she cradled and Leon were identical but not. His name was Klaus. Nicklaus. Sunny. Their Sunny. He came from her. From Leon. WAS Leon. She saw that in his eyes. His cheeks. That all too brief gummy smile when Klaus had reluctantly handed the baby over.

Annoyed with only a finger to suck on, the baby started to wail. Not cry. A bone rattling scream that Honey never once heard from Selina. She stared at the little boy who had freed an arm to tug on his ear. He moved into a full-bodied tremble while his lip quivered.

“Shhh,” Honey cooed. She swayed back and forth to soothe the screaming child. “You know when Leon gets upset, his lip does that too?” She used her index finger to wiggle Sunny’s as a distraction.

He inhaled with a violent shudder. Wild green eyes locked with Honey’s before he cried at the top of his lungs once more. His eyes never leave hers except occasionally to gaze downwards over her chest. She knew Sunny was starving as the tears spilled down her own face. There weren't any bottles or formula or anything for him available. Selina never used one anyway. She went from the tit to the sippy cup.

Now he curled his little fingers around the muslin of Honey’s shirt. She cocked an eyebrow as he tugged trying to free her breast from its covering.

“Cheeky little pervert! You must be Leon?” she giggled and separated Sunny’s fingers from her shirt. The little boy screamed again this time louder. He yanked at her and wailed like a banshee. Honey covered her ear with one hand, “Jesus! You'll wake the dead!!”

Almost on cue, Sunny's tiny fist balled tight around Honey’s shirt began to glow. It shined a brilliant blue that matched the portal Klaus had stepped through. Because she wasn't offering her breast to him, the little one shoved his free hand into his mouth. It shone with the same light.

“What in Saint Jude?” Honey used her fingertip to spread his little fist open. She traced her nail along his now opened palm, fascinated. “This is beautiful..”

“Hey Gracie.”

There was a voice behind Honey. One she knew but hadn't heard. That thick Brooklyn accent. The scent of whiskey and cigarettes. The tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she turned to look. To see her Uncle Lenny that she missed every day. That she longed to talk to about her life. But Sunny went back to his screaming, and Honey knew Lenny was gone.

“I CAN'T FEED YOU! I WASN'T PREGNANT WITH YOU SO I'M NOT EQUIPPED. PLEASE STOP CRYING! I'M SORRY HE TOOK YOU AWAY FROM A VERSION OF ME WHO COULD PROVIDE FOR YOU!”

Honey began to weep now. She felt helpless. Disconnected from the infant she rocked gently without thought. As if a tiny part of her brain that beat her down and told her she failed Selina. There was a reason the little girl preferred Leon to her. That Honey just wasn't good enough.

Now here she was unable to do the simplest thing, calm a crying infant. Her big fat tears poured onto Sunny’s face, and his crying ceased immediately. He blinked those indescribable eyes a few times before inhaling as deep as his little lungs could manage. She braced herself for another brain piercing howl. Instead he exhaled a coo wrapped up in a smile while staring directly in his new mother’s own eyes.

And there it started, a tether from Honey’s heart to the little boy’s. He tangled his fingers around her hair that brushed over his cheeks as she started to laugh. It trickled down to Sunny and through him. He responded with giggles that lit a fire in Honey’s chest. Quite literally.

Her breast and nipple felt like they were ablaze. She winced and gasped at the pain before taking one in her hand and held it tightly. The searing took her breath away before it spilled out on to her grip in the form of liquid. Honey's breast started leaking.

Without thought or hesitation she freed herself, finally, from her top. Sunny’s eyes became a bright green the moment he saw her offered breast and latched on. He sucked hungrily, little eyes rolling back in his head as he tightened his grip on Honey's hair. The baby opened and closed his fist as he ate. Honey hummed.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray,” she sang and swayed as if she were dancing with the baby. “You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.” Honey bent to kiss Sunny’s forehead. He heaved one more great sigh and fell asleep.

The clock on their mantle struck 3pm, and Honey panicked. Selina’s dance class.

-------

Honey slipped past the other parents to the empty seat Leon had saved between himself and Tom and Ella. Her giant suede purse slung around her body more like a satchel. She sat down rather gingerly, greeted the Kidmans and let her long hair fall loose from under her beret. She smiled at her husband, all flushed cheeks and bright brown eyes.

From Leon’s angle as he kissed her hello it looked like a babydoll sticking out of her bag. Instead, to his shock, Honey carefully pulled a human baby from inside bundled up to its large eyes. Familiar ones that held Leon's gaze as she unzipped the little winter jacket that had been Selina’s.

Honey removed the tiny tossle cap. Underneath it was a baby boy (as beautiful as Selina) who released a satisfying coo. Then the little one turned to reach for Leon; to Honey’s dismay, he recoiled. She sniffed her displeasure while Sunny dove face first into her chest. Not for a breast, but simply a snuggle.

“The least you could do is hold him,” Honey’s tone was icy as she faced forward.

She caught her daughter’s eye from across the room and they waved at each other with enthusiasm. Selina pointed with sheer delight at the bundle in her mommy’s lap. Honey nodded and made the baby wave at his sister who bounced around in her tutu before the teacher took her hand and gently guided Selina back in line. Honey mouthed she was sorry.

"I'm just trying to figure out why my missus has got a baby that she wasn't pregnant with a few hours ago? Care to explain, love?”

Leon’s eyes were filled with worry as he looked at Honey. The tone of his voice was more tender than accusatory as he took one of her hands and squeezed it. Honey melted as she often did when it came to Leon's touch.

"A magical door opened up in our living room and that fake American cousin of yours, you know the one from the abortion,” she whispered this, “clinic?” Honey took a breath before continuing, “And I'm pretty sure he is our son from the future. He was in those FBI posters too. Back when we turned ourselves in. Anyways, he said his name was Klaus? Nicklaus. Nicklaus, Leon. He said well, this is ALSO our kid,” she presented the baby to Leon again, “from the future."

“I think you need to stop taking that blooming fertility concoction my mum and aunts made for you in Greece last summer. It's doing your head in because you sound like a bleeding nutter.”

"Leon, he’s our Sunny. Just like you predicted. You believed me then. I promise. Just hold him. Believe me again, please?” Honey pleaded with her husband.

“I quit drugs cold, and you've gone barmy. Then nicked some poor punter’s baby.” Anyone could tell Leon didn't even swallow one word spoken just now.

"First off, that concoction is cinnamon, honey, nettles and primrose oil. Nothing with drug properties. You're the one on maca, tribulus fruit and asparagus. Suck your own cock and see how it tastes." Honey stuck her chin out in defiance.

Tom choked on the cigar he was smoking. Meanwhile a knowing smile crossed Ella’s face. Her eyebrow raised in amusement at the direction this was headed. The Kostas couple were incredibly sexy when they argued. Honestly, they felt the same about each other.

"That's because you're not supposed to give me head, I'm supposed to put it in you. Remember that's how babies are made? Bloody hell.” Leon sighed and gave into his wife. He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. Then he held out his arms, “Fine, just give him to me for cuddle”

Honey handed Sunny over to Leon who held him aloft. The baby had his fingers in his mouth. They glowed the softest hint of blue to the elder’s fascination. Then he let his little lips drop open to reveal mostly nothing but one lone tooth poking from the bottom gum. That tiny hand shot out to clench a fistful of Leon's goatee with an excited squeal.

Honey bit her bottom lip until she was certain it was going to bleed. A giant lump in her throat made it hard to swallow as she choked back tears willing Leon to get it. To see Nicklaus. Or Klaus. Or Sunny was theirs. She tightened her grip around forearm that she didn't realize had been in her grasp.

She wasn't a woman who prayed, not usually. To a Saint here and there, but quietly now she did. She wanted to convey to her husband that her body just couldn't get pregnant again naturally for whatever reason. Honey had started to bleed heavily before she left the apartment. Another miscarriage as the baby from the future sat wrapped up in Selina’s pink snowsuit. He was a gift just like Sugar no matter where he came from.

Leon studied this little boy. His nose, oddly curved like Leon's even though that was done much later in life. Those big, color changing eyes that moved in all shades of blues and greens in a matter of moments were also Leon's. It was like he held himself in his hands.

“Lovely little muppet.” Leon’s head swam. Sunny kicked his legs a bunch of times and contorted himself so he could suck on Leon's wrist. He let out a ragged breath just as the baby had done with Honey. “γεια, η μικρή μου ηλιοφάνεια,” Leon whispered. Hello my little sunshine.

There wasn't any part of Honey in Nicklaus, not the way there was in Selina. Her mummy’s attitude and defiance and brown eyes that took in the world and sought how to knock it down and start again. Leon shut down the part of his brain screaming REPLICA!

“That sadistic Monopoly man from the FBI or CIA did this, didn't he. Reginald Hargreeves.” Leon wasn't asking Honey, he was telling. He suddenly held Sunny close to his chest. His chin rested on the little boy’s head protectively. Leon kissed his curls as he had done a million times with Sugar and his wife.

She nodded because even her bones sang with revelation. They couldn't speak further because just then Selina burst into view along with the other little girls. She sprung into the air and onto Tom's lap, not her papa’s. He grunted then smiled in his Kidman way which was unnerving to the untrained eye. The little girl patted his cheek then kissed it. Ever one to tame the savage beast.

“Mommy baked me a baby!” she cried.

“She sure did, dollface.” He wouldn’t question a thing for the rest of his life.

Now she forsook Kidman to crawl across her mummy to gawk at the baby nestled into Leon's chest. “Hello, poppet. Papa calls me that.”

Sugar wedged her finger in Sunny's grip. They considered one another with fascination. Then Sunny screamed and giggled happily before putting her finger in his mouth.

Now Selina squealed with excitement and yanked it back. They played a game of offering and sucking for a few moments before the little girl declared that Sunny belonged to her. She stuck up her chin with a look of pride and contentment with herself. With the situation.

“He's my baby. Ok?” Neither Honey nor Leon would ever argue with that.

----

Winter of 1973

Honey sat cross-legged on the floor beside the Christmas tree. Her impossibly long hair hung over her shoulder and wrapped around Sunny who sat in her lap. He absently sucked on a thumb while his free hand flexed and twisted around his mother’s thick mane. Little hands flickered their occasional blue while Honey hummed a carol under her breath.

Leon was stationed in a large comfy chair, his one foot slung over the side. His foot wobbled anxiously. A handful of old journals and papers spread out over his lap. Books that had showed up one day without a messenger. Papers Tom had smuggled out of the CIA from insiders. All leading back to the nefarious billionaire with a monocle that studied the husband and wife and claimed if they paid him in return, they would get off scot free. Even keep the cash.

Selina danced around the tree. The lights reflected off of the dress Honey had fashioned, at Leon's insistance, from the gift she made just six years ago. It matched the tiny vest Sunny now wore as he bounced and wiggled rhythmically so desperate to dance with Sugar.

“Mummy?” Selina spun in a circle and tossed garland at the tree haphazardly.

“Yes?”

“Sunny’s coming.”

“What? Coming where? He can toddle about like a drunken sailor.”

“Mummy! Not my baby brother. Big Sunny. He's coming for a visit. He looks so much like Papa, but sad.”

Honey and Leon exchanged frantic glances. The traveler, from the future. But how did Selina know? Her papa asked as much.

“Silly! Sometimes he sees us through the windows. He likes to watch you be Mummy and Papa to Sunny. That you are good to him. I saw him and he talked to me. He very much likes Mummy in a.. Daddy way? But also in a me and Sunny way. I told him be here for Christmas. Is he my Theíos? His name is Mouse. Mummy is that..”

“Topolino. His name is Klaus. Nicklaus like Sunny and Pappou. You are too little to understand, Sugar.”

Honey scooped her up too and cradled both of her children in her lap, kissing their foreheads. She looked at Leon who knitv his eyebrows in thought. Mouth agape with just the slight bit of perturbed on his lips. But a shock of wind and blue and magnetism outside the windows on the fire escape startled the Kostas parents into attention.

“HE'S HERE! TOPO IS HERE!” Selina bolted to the window which Klaus tentatively tapped on. Without permission from her parents, she let him in. She held his hand tight and dragged him to the center of the living room.

Klaus stood uncomfortably in front of Leon and Honey. His hair was as long as Honey’s and his beard to boot. He wore giant rose tinted sunglasses and a starfish necklace dangled against his bare chest. His clothes were blue and white, pants striped with it, and very.. ritualistic. Religious almost. Honey told herself he looked like Jesus had fucked George Harrison in Elton John’s closet.

“Happy Christmas?!” He held up a bottle of wine. “I came bearing a gift!”

“Ain't you a little early in The Savior’s journey to be looking like that?” Leon quipped.

“What? Oh this? I had to.. disperse an alternative lifestyle community.”

“A cult?” Honey questioned.

“A commune,” Klaus and Leon said simultaneously.

Honey shivered. “Either way,” she crossed her arms, “we've been expecting you. For two years.”

Tag: @neuroticpuppy @magic-multicolored-miracle @bisexualnathanyoung @forenschik @nightmonsters @vonkimmeren @maerenee930 @elliethesuperfruitlover @070188 @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private @messengeronthemoon @emelieislasheehan @super-unpredictable98 @frogs--are--bitches @duck-noises @the-freckled-luba @a-ghoulish-tale

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fic #moonbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #leon x honey

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

When the World is Free

“There'll be love and laughter, And peace ever after, Tomorrow, When the world is free.” — The White Cliffs of Dover, Vera Lynn, 1942

The world is free again, the war has ended, life starting anew. But for Claire, it’s all over. Jamie’s plane was shot down, leaving her pregnant out of wedlock with nowhere to go. But John made Jamie a promise in their bleakest moments, and he intends to live up to it.

An Echo/MOBY retelling set post-World War II.

Chapter 1: Carry Me, Carry Me Now

Read on AO3

It was a marriage of convenience for them both.

John’s bride was quite well aware of his sensibilities, his preference for the non-female sex. And he was quite well aware of the precariousness of her situation. The tragedy of it as well.

Even if he could forget, it would have been impossible. She was constantly twisting the silver engagement ring she’d been given, constantly resting her hands on her stomach, whether she realized she was doing it or not.

Perhaps the bloke signing their marriage license at the courthouse noticed as well, because he smirked at John with a raised eyebrow when she stroked her flat abdomen for perhaps the millionth time since they’d arrived. John had pursed his lips together for an uncomfortable smile. His assumptions weren’t incorrect, of course, but there were many pieces missing.

The child, for one, still invisible and yet still so enormous in its mother’s heart already, was not John’s. And neither was the ring that lived on her right hand, something he would never ask her to remove.

The wedding band on her left hand seemed to weigh her down, like a ball and chain pulling her deeper into the black depths of her sorrow.

He drove them home from the courthouse to his flat, or rather their flat. He should start referring to it as such. It was her home now, after all. Their home, the three of them.

Well…four of us, really.

He hung between them like a thick cloud of smoke, solid as a brick wall, at all times. They didn’t speak of it aloud; they didn’t need to. He lived in these rooms rent-free without even needing his name spoken into existence.

John knew that the man who was gone had been the love of her life, her one great love.

And John knew that he was his as well.

He’d confessed it in the black of night, half-buried by rubble when he was sure he would die. They’d gone through basic training together, becoming good friends almost instantly. He’d defended John’s honor when the teasing started; he told him that John was more manly than those other clotheids would ever be. John kept those words, and the gentle touch of his hand that came with them, close to his heart.

“I love you, James Fraser. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my life.”

Unfortunately, he hadn’t died.

John had recovered rather quickly from his injuries and proceeded to avoid Jamie at all costs. Jamie was angry as a bull when he’d finally confronted him.

“D’ye think I give a damn, John? D’ye think it’s ever made a difference to me before? I bloody knew before ye said something, ye damned fool.”

John hadn’t realized he’d been that obvious.

“I’m only sorry that I canna be what ye want me to be, a charaid.”

Jamie held him while he cried, and if he hadn’t been mad, he could have sworn he felt Jamie’s tears soak into his hair as well.

Sitting at the kitchen table in his flat across from his new bride, John teared up at the mere memory.

He’d been so ashamed…and Jamie hadn’t given a damn. He was actually sorry that he couldn't return his affection. Instead of John’s confession wrenching them apart as he’d been so terrified of, it brought them even closer.

He watched his bride stare into her teacup as the liquid inside quickly chilled in the November air.

“Are you cold? Should I put on a fire?”

Her hands remained fastened around the teacup and her eyes remained locked inside it as she nodded silently.

God, she had changed.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her was only in a photograph, and even then he’d been astonished by her beauty.

“This is her,” Jamie said as he produced the small photograph that he kept in an inside breast pocket at all times, his face melting into an adoring gaze that took John’s breath away. “My Sorcha.”

She was giving the camera a smirk, eyes sparkling even in black and white, wild dark curls blowing in the wind.

She looked so alive, and that was just a photograph.

When he’d finally seen her in person, he understood quite well why his friend was so drawn to her. She was exquisite, even in her combat nurse uniform. She was radiant, so full of love and life. Her eyes were liquid honey and solid amber all at once. When she laughed, she tossed her head back and smacked whoever was closest, usually Jamie.

If they were beautiful apart…they were a glorious masterpiece together.

Even in the dirt and smoky haze of the camp, when John looked at the pair of them, he could have been looking at a painting. The rest of the world fell away when Jamie had his Claire back in his arms.

It was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen.

A woman was a rare thing in camp, being that most men met their wives elsewhere when they were on leave. But Claire had to be on leave as well if she wanted to see Jamie, and being that they were not yet married, the army wouldn't be bothered lining up their leaves.

And so they’d followed each other. They’d travelled from one battlefield to another, from one hellscape to the next just to be with one another. Even during what was meant to be a reprieve, Claire could be found tending to all sorts of illness and injury around the camp, Jamie trailing beside her like a lost puppy.

Jamie had told John they’d been handfast the night he’d been drafted, an old Scottish tradition that allowed young couples to be married in every sense of the word except in the eyes of the law. There hadn’t been time for a wedding before he was to leave, so that was the best they could do. What mattered to Jamie most was their marriage being seen by the eyes of God, and handfasting accomplished that to his liking. And so for all intents and purposes, Jamie and Claire were married. John could hear it quite well when she was in camp; she was not exactly very quiet about it.

When John returned from starting a fire in the hearth with the intention of leading her into the room to warm herself, she’d replaced her teacup with a glass of whisky and was tossing the entire thing back. She topped her glass off again and then filled a second one. She handed it to him with a sardonic smile, her eyes hooded. There was no trace of that lively youth she’d had when he met her.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said warmly. “The fire is ready, if you’d like to move.”

“Thank you, John.” She stood up and made her way out of the kitchen, taking the bottle with her. Apparently, his bride did not intend to remain sober today. He wondered if she thought that he was going to force her to consummate this marriage, which was just about the last thing on his mind. She should know that he was more than capable of pretending for everyone else, but perhaps he should make himself clear.

“Claire,” he began as they settled into opposite armchairs in front of the fireplace. “You know that I don’t plan to — ”

“Jamie said he kissed you.”

John felt like he’d been smacked in the face with a frying pan. He cleared his throat.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He said that you shared a moment together, and that he kissed you.”

She was staring at him intently, but she didn’t look angry or accusatory. If anything, she seemed possessed by nothing more than morbid curiosity.

“Well…yes. That’s true.”

“We kept secrets, but we didn’t lie,” she said softly, taking a sip of her whisky. “I saw the way you looked at him from the very first time I met you.”

“I’m sorry — ”

“Please don’t be.” Her eyes held such sincerity that he almost wept as he had when Jamie had said just about the same thing. “I just…I wanted to know. That…that last night. The night that we…conceived.” Her hand rested absently on her abdomen again. “I asked him if anything had ever happened. And he told me you shared a kiss.”

“It…didn’t go any farther than that. I wouldn’t have let it, even if he wished it.”

“I know,” she said, taking another sip. “I wasn’t angry. I’m still not. I understand the need for that intimacy in such a hopeless place. And I understand that you…you were very close.” Her voice tightened, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “I was glad, really. I was grateful to you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

John didn’t know what to say. He nodded curtly and took a long drag of his whisky.

“What did it feel like?”

He almost choked on the liquid.

“I know it sounds mad. But I…I want to hear you talk about it.” Her chin trembled, but she maintained her strong facade. “I want to hear because I…I want to remember with someone. What it was like to…to love him.”

John blinked back his own tears and ran a hand down the length of his face. He needed a bit more liquid courage before he dove into the details of how Jamie tasted and how he felt beneath his hands. Claire seemed to understand, because she allowed a long silence to pass between them before John finally spoke.

He poured his heart out to her, detailed the feel of Jamie’s lips like he was dictating poetry, described the way Jamie’s short-cut curls felt between his fingers, recalling the way he smelled.

“Like...silver from the gunpowder...but he also smelled vaguely of...aftershave. I remember wondering how on earth he’d come into possession of such a thing. I breathed it in so deeply it made me dizzy.” He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, and he could swear he smelt it again.

“And then the rest of the world fell away...even the gunpowder and the smoke...and I just smelt...him.” Eyes still closed, his tongue farted out to lick his lips. He’d wanted so desperately to run his tongue over Jamie’s lips, but he’d been afraid, paralyzed with shock that it was even happening.

“I was so overwhelmed by the...the feeling of him. His lips were so warm and so solid and so timid...and it was over so quickly, but I...” He opened his eyes, blinking back tears. “I saw an...an entire lifetime between us in that kiss. I wanted to...to fold myself into him and stay there forever.” His voice broke, and he anxiously ran a hand through his hair.

He could almost see the man right in front of him again, could almost feel him warm and alive in his hands again; he could feel the shuddering whisper of whisky breath on his lips and chin and nose, and he brought trembling fingers to rest over his mouth, as if to trap the feeling there. He looked up, seeing the real world again for the first time in several breaths, and his heart leapt into his throat to see that Claire was shuddering with silent tears.

“Claire…” he choked out, leaning onto his knees with his elbows, terrified that he’d gone too far. “I’m…I’m sorry…”

She shook her head, putting down her whisky on the table beside her chair. “That’s…that’s exactly it.”

He blinked dumbly at her, and she abruptly leaned forward with a tiny sob, clasping his hands in hers.

“That’s exactly what it felt like,” she said, something in her eyes that was almost desperate. “Thank you…thank you.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to their joined hands, hot and soft and wet. She kept her face atop their hands in John’s lap, and she fell apart. It wasn’t long before she slipped out of her own chair and was kneeling before him, sputtering hysterically into his lap, squeezing his hands until her knuckles were white.

John was stunned, but he did the only thing he could do: he gave her comfort. He stroked her hair as she wept, rubbed her back, squeezed back on her hands. Somehow, he ended up on the floor with her, leaning against the seat of the chair and holding her trembling form to his chest. His own tears dissolved into her curls, and soon he was holding onto her for dear life as well.

“We are the only two people in the world who share this pain,” Claire said against his neck, her voice thick with hours of tears. “This pain…of losing Jamie.”

John nodded fervently, tightening his grip on her tiny body yet again.

“We’ll carry it…together,” John whispered into her hair, and then pressed a kiss there. He felt her nod into the crook of his neck and nuzzled in closer.

More and more hours passed, and more and more whisky emptied from the bottle, and then a second bottle, and then a third. It was well past suppertime, but neither were capable of preparing anything to eat in the state they were in, and their empty stomachs only served to send the alcohol straight to their already muddled brains.

They spent hours going back and forth talking about the mutual love of their lives, weeping and clinging to each other, and then they would laugh their drunken heads off, Claire swatting at him as she howled.

John had loosened the top buttons of his shirt and removed his belt, and Claire had undone the top buttons of her dress as well.

“God…I’m melting…” Claire sighed, pulling her dress over her head and revealing the tiny white slip underneath. “You don’t mind?”

John burst into hysterical laughter, and Claire soon followed.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” Claire sputtered. “Of course you don’t bloody mind. I could be stark naked and you wouldn’t bat an eye!”

They howled again, and she swatted at him.

“Not to mention I’m bloody married to you!”

They howled a bit more until Claire had spilled her whisky onto the rug and fell over into John’s lap.

“I think we should get you into bed, my dear.”

She giggled, biting her lip, and John was briefly mesmerized by the way a blush bloomed down her neck and into her chest. He heaved her to her feet, and they laughed together as they both swayed their way into the bedroom.

“You’re going to have quite the hangover tomorrow.” John was attempting to make more lighthearted conversation, but as he looked down at the woman in his arms, he was taken aback to see something he could only describe as hunger in her eyes.

“Would you…” He struggled to think through his drunken haze. “Would you like a nightgown, my dear?”

He made to pull away from her and go to the wardrobe, but she fisted his shirt in her hands, not ready to release him. She pressed her face into his neck and hummed, vibrating the skin there, and it gave him gooseflesh.

“Claire…” His tone could have been a warning, or pleading. He wasn’t at all sure.

Her small tongue darted out of her mouth and traced a line from the bottom of his neck all the way up to where his jawline began, and he shuddered violently. She giggled all the while her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, creating a lusty, wanton sound.

John gently took her face in his hands and pushed her away just enough to look in her eyes. They were hooded with drink and glassy as a porcelain doll’s. He thought he detected the slightest bit of fear, and it broke his heart.

“It’s alright. We don’t…we don’t have to.” He gently took her hands off of his chest and held them loosely between them. “I didn’t expect you to. We don’t have to.”

She gave a heartbreaking little whimper and began nuzzling her face into his chest, practically leaning her entire body weight on him. “Please.”

He didn’t think he’d heard her properly at first.

“Really, we can just…go to bed. On separate sides.”

“Please.”

It was almost a moan in its intensity. She began pawing at his clothing, pressing desperate kisses into his neck.

“I need you,” she groaned. “I need this. I need you, Jamie.”

His blood ran cold, and it would appear hers did as well by the way she froze completely. She practically went cool to the touch.

“Claire.”

He firmly took her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him.

“I’m not Jamie.”

She could hardly stand on her own, could hardly focus her bleary eyes on him.

“I’m not Jamie,” he said again, more gently, moving his hand off her chin to cup the back of her head. “I can’t…I won’t have you like this. You’re drunk and…you’re not thinking clearly.”

She welled up with tears, looking very much like a wounded animal in response to his apparent rejection.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I know how much you’re hurting.”

God, did he know it.

“And you know that I…well…you know me.” He didn’t feel the need to speak it aloud again.

“You want to,” she sputtered. “I can feel it.”

She very suddenly and very firmly palmed him, causing him to jolt. And damn him, she was right. For some reason, some ungodly, horrific reason, he was aroused.

“It’s…it’s not you, Claire,” he said softly after regaining his composure, though he made no move to remove her hand. “It’s…it’s him. I’m standing here wishing it was his hand.”

“Good.” She tightened her grip, and he groaned involuntarily. “Because I’m standing here wishing it was his cock.”

She kissed him then, sloppily, heavily, lapping her tongue over him.

“Make love to Jamie, John,” she panted between kisses. “You make love to him, and so will I.”

“It’s not…it isn’t right.” He firmly seized her wrist and removed her grip from him, pinning her hands away from him.

Hands or no, Claire was never one to give up. When she wanted something, she would get it, consequences be damned.

She began gyrating her hips against him, and God help him if it didn’t make him even harder. It wasn’t long before he released her hands and finally surrendered to her, allowing her to pin him to the bed and have her way with him. He could have stopped her if he’d truly wanted. He could have tossed a bucket of water over her, given her a light but firm smack, shouted at her, gone to sleep in the living room. But, God…he wanted this, needed this as badly as she did.

He reached out and sought purchase in her skin as she rode him, soft in all the places where Jamie was solid. She was wild, a mad look in her eye as she tossed her head back in delicious ecstasy, and yet she was entirely lucid, he was sure of it. Perhaps the moments leading up to their joining were hazy, but now she was more than aware.

Her hands were all over him as well, small and yet hard and demanding. She even gripped his hands at one point and directed them exactly where she wanted to be touched.

She cried out for Jamie as she came around him, and God help him if he didn’t do the same as he spilled into her.

It was filthy, it was shameful, and he was disgusted and confused and terrified.

But when she collapsed onto his chest and wept like a broken child, everything faded but the need to comfort her, to protect her.

“I need ye to promise me something, John.”

“Anything.”

“If anything should happen to me…”

“God, Jamie, please don’t talk like this.”

“Ye said anything, man. I need ye to mean it.”

He looked into those steel blue eyes, his pupils shrunken to tiny pinpricks. John nodded, though his heart hammered with terrible foreboding.

“If anything should happen to me…I need…I need ye to promise me that ye’ll look after Claire.”

John took a moment to blink back his shock.

“I ken she’s strong as a stallion and stubborn as a mule. She’d have ye think that she doesna need any help. Truth be told, I ken she doesna. But just…fer my peace of mind. Will ye swear to me that ye’ll look after her?”

John swallowed thickly, unable to stop the rush of tears.

“She means more to me than anything in this world. And I’m entrusting her to ye, my dearest friend. And in return, if ye want…I would be willing to…”

John's eyes widened, unblinking.

“If ye want.”

John’s mouth hung agape, and he stammered incoherently for a moment.

“Are you actually offering your body to me in payment if I promise to look after Claire?”

Jamie’s jaw hardened, and he nodded once. “Aye.”

“Dear God…” John shook his head, and he actually started laughing. “That I should live to hear such an offer!”

Jamie blinked rapidly, and John could have sworn he saw tears gathering there. “Ye dinna want me then?”

“I shall probably want you ’til the day I die!” John exclaimed, and then lowered his voice to a whisper, remembering that tents were thin, flimsy things. “But tempted as I am…do you really think I’d accept? I should feel my honor most insulted, save that I know the depth of feeling that prompted it.”

Jamie wet his lips and nodded, averting his eyes and staring at a stain in the tent. “Aye. I’m…I’m sorry. I didna mean tae insult yer honor. I just…I thought to…to give ye something of what is most precious to ye in return for protecting that which is most precious to me.”

John placed a comforting hand on Jamie’s knee, desperate for his friend to not feel ashamed. “I understand.”

Jamie nodded again, and then forced himself to look at John. “Besides, I…I wouldnae ha’ offered if it wasna something I could bear.”

Despite how fiercely John blushed, how much he wanted to tear his eyes away, he didn’t. He held Jamie’s gaze as he whispered, almost inaudible: “You could…bear it?”

“Aye,” he said without hesitation. “I could.”

Then before John knew what was happening, Jamie’s lips were on his, and his soul ignited. It was sweet and chaste, and gentle and beautiful.

Jamie was beautiful.

He pulled away after about three seconds, and the two men maintained their intense eye contact.

“You have my word, Jamie,” John whispered fervently. “God forbid you are taken from us, I will keep safe what you love most. And I am…most grateful for such an honor.”

“Thank ye.” His steel blue eyes welled up with tears, and he clutched at the back of John’s neck. “Thank ye, John.”

John had sworn it with everything he had to give in his heart and soul. She was the most precious thing in the world to Jamie, and he’d left her to his care. It felt like an honor he was not worthy of. He was not worthy of the man as he lived, and he was certainly not worthy of the woman he’d loved and the child she would bear. Perhaps Jamie hadn’t meant for him to marry the woman if something should happen, but what else was he to do? Leave her unmarried and childless in a world so cruel?

No, he’d sworn on his honor that she’d be safe with him, forever and always.

And as he held her, naked, broken, and sobbing to his own naked form, trembling like a leaf with the force of her tears, John could feel her seeping into the cracks that Jamie had left in his heart. He could feel her already becoming as precious to him as she’d been to Jamie…as precious to him as Jamie had been to him.

Don’t fret, Jamie, love. I’ve got her.

I’ve got them both.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #John Grey #Lord John Grey #JC #JJC #John x Jamie #John x Claire #John x Jamie x Claire #throuple #ot3 #outlander au

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Akio

CW: References to the death of a friend, grief, suicide, murder

Sequel to Found Out and this past flashback to Oliver Branch

The sound of thin, breaded pork cutlets frying in the big pan on the stove fills the air, and Akio breathes in the familiar smell where he lays on his back on his parents’ gigantic cream-colored sectional couch, stretched out across the whole length of it on one side. Not that he’s all that tall to take up all that much space, really, but what matters is that he would definitely have fallen asleep by now if it weren’t for holding his phone up over his face.

It fell on him, once, and he’s pretty sure no one noticed. Emi, his younger sister, hasn’t even looked up once from her own phone, except once to triumphantly announce that no one caught her and they all voted someone else off the ship. Then she looked back down and never looked back up.

Akio frowns, looking at his own screen, tapping his thumbs as he writes out an answer to the person messaging him. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” His mother looks up from cooking, her eyes moving through the big open space right to him. They’d knocked down all the walls when they bought the house, open-concept-something-something. Akio didn’t care, but it was apparently deeply important to his parents. Something about family togetherness.

“You remember Tristan Higgs, right?”

Aimi pauses, tucks a bit of her short black hair behind one ear to get it out of her eyes as she flips the pork cutlets on by one, to get the other side nicely browned, too. The sizzling ratchets up in volume and then back down again. Next to her sits four bowls already filled with rice, and the table already has the vegetables ready to go. “Of course, honey. Oh, the anniversary’s coming up, isn’t it? I have an alarm set on my phone… did you want to go to the cemetery next week to see Ronnie and Paul?”

“Ew, no creepy graveyards for me, thanks,” Emi says, eyes still glued to her phone.

“We wouldn’t take you anyway,” Akio says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t even remember Tris or his parents.”

“I do, too. I was like seven. He was really nice. Mrs. Higgs was really nice, too. Mr. Higgs was weird.”

“Wow, what a stellar eulogy that was, Emi. I can see why you want to be a writer when you grow up. The description there was just incredible.”

“Oh, go drive into a lake,” Emi says, without any particular rancor in her voice.

“If you’re going to fight, I’m going to send you two upstairs so I at least don’t have to listen to it,” Aimi says, moving the cutlets to rest on a paper plate with paper towels lining it while she heats mirin, soy sauce, and… some other stuff in a different pan. Honestly, Akio has no idea exactly how katsudon happens, all he cares about is that it’s the perfect after-practice food and he is starving.

Except he keeps getting distracted by this guy on Insta. “Anyway, Mom, um, about Tris. So… yeah, I do want to go out and see his parents next week, yeah, but-... there’s this guy on Instagram who keeps asking about him. That’s… that’s weird, right?”

Aimi looks up, blinking. “Asking about Tristan? What is he asking?”

“Just like… he says he saw the video I put up on youtube, and he’s asking, like… what was his birthday, and did he like fried chicken, was he autistic, and… did he like musical soundtracks. This is weird stuff to ask a total stranger, right?”

“A little.” Aimi pauses while she watches the pan, and then pours a small bowl with beaten eggs into it, watching them spread and start to lighten to a puffy yellow as it cooked in the already-boiling liquid mixture. “Did you ask why he wants to know?”

“I did, but he just said he’s doing some research or something. But, like… research on what?” Akio taps on the guy’s little profile photo, bringing the profile itself up. “His username is benthebadmagician. Okay that’s-... that’s kind of cute.”

Aimi’s voice turns sly. “Is this Ben cute?”

“Ugh, gross, Mom. That’s not-... I mean he’s kind of-... that’s not important.”

“Ooooh, eyeballin’ the insta-hotties,” Emi singsongs. “Aki’s gettin’ desperate. Just get a freaking dating app like everyone else.”

“Already on it, Emi.”

“Then why exactly don’t you get any dates? Oh, right.” Emi sits forward and grins. “I forgot about your personality.”

Akio throws a throw pillow at her and the big orange poof misses by a mile. Emi laughs, getting to her feet and wandering over to the fridge, pulling a can of soda out and popping the top. “Aren’t you an athlete, how the hell did you miss that?”

“Language,” Aimi warns, waving a spoon at her daughter. She gently places the cutlets into the cooking eggs to finish up. “No swearing under my roof, young lady.”

“Aki swears all the time!”

“Aki is twenty-four years old,” Aimi says, almost primly. “And he doesn’t swear where I can hear him.”

“What, so it doesn’t count if you don’t hear him?”

“Of course it doesn’t, how do I know if I don’t hear him?”

Akio smiles, faintly, but he’s scrolling through the Ben guy’s instagram feed now. Just looking at the grid of squares, photos and videos. Lots of coffees and food, people laughing, photos of a girl with really pretty hair. Photos of Ben the Bad Magician himself. Nerd, Akio thinks, but cute nerd - definitely nose-in-a-book type. Nice brown hair, nice smile.

“Oh look at that face,” Emi says, eyebrows raised. “Ben the Insta-Weirdo actually is cute huh?”

“Go eat slugs.” Akio keeps scrolling down and down, not sure what he’s looking for. Autism awareness banners - he checks those to learn the Ben guy’s got an autistic little brother, and his friend Christopher is autistic. There’s a couple slides, and he swipes his finger to what he assumes is a photo of the Ben guy with the little brother, who looks almost exactly like him, just a whole bunch younger and looking, unsmiling, off to one side while Ben grins at the camera.

Akio doesn’t bother checking the last slide - it’s probably just whoever the Chris guy is. He backs back out to the grid of thumbnails. Maybe he just picked up on the stuff Tris always did when he was excited, and got curious? Maybe his little brother liked the video? Akio’s gotten a couple comments from people saying they liked seeing an autistic kid just be fucking happy in public without getting shit on for it, and that used to be a big deal for Mrs. Higgs, too...

The question about musicals keeps snagging at him. Tris loved musicals, went through cycles with them. He and Akio had a whole routine done to a song in Hairspray, just for fun, when Tris was obsessed with that for a while. And then they were going to do the Time Warp as a routine once...

Akio keeps scrolling, only vaguely aware of his sister and mother talking, and Emi leaving the room to go call their dad in for dinner.

Emi stops in the doorway and turns back. “Don’t forget to get his phone number, Aki. You can definitely trust strangers on the internet creepily interested in your dead best friend, right?”

Akio looks up, then, blinking at her. “Emi, that’s-...”

She seems to catch herself, and gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Aki. That got bitchy.”

“Language,” Aimi reminds her. “But I appreciate you apologizing. Does anyone even hear me say to use nice language any longer?”

“No,” Akio and Emi say in unison, and then Emi disappears down the hallway, bellowing for their father in her loudest voice even though she could easily walk up the stairs and not have to yell at all.

Akio looks at his mother and deadpans, “Your daughter is really weird.”

Aimi matches him tone for tone. “Your sister is weirder.”

She places the cutlets on top of the rice bowls with the egg just underneath the meat, carrying them one by one to the table, setting them each down in their place, and then grabs her glass of wine, patiently waiting for her while she cooked. She pads on bare feet across the hardwood floor over to the pale white rug, soft as down underfoot, and stands next to where Akio is laying down. “Are you looking at the profile?”

“I am, yeah. I don’t know what I’m looking for, really, just… hey, wait.” Akio stops at the thumbnail preview for a video, tapping to open it up. It starts with a blue-haired boy smiling, and his smile hits Akio all odd, makes his throat tighten and his heart start to race. The boy in the video puts up a finger and backs up, glances over his shoulder at a TV screen behind him playing the tango scene from Rent.

Akio blinks as the boy holds out a hand and a girl with really gorgeous long wavy hair takes it, the two of them moving effortlessly into a perfect mimicry of the dance on screen. The room they’re in is mostly empty, furniture shoved to the walls to turn what looks like some kind of lobby into a dancing space.

“Wow, that kid can really dance,” Akio murmurs, but the smile catches him, tugs at the back of his mind. The blue-haired boy can’t keep the grin off his face, it has to hurt to smile so big for so long, and the last person Akio thought that about was…

“You got this, Chris!” Someone calls from offscreen, and for a second Akio hears Tris and catches his breath, but no, no, they said Chris. Someone else claps for Mari - that must be the girl, maybe.

They continue to dance, and Akio can’t tear his eyes away. “Mom? Do you see this?”

Aimi looks up from straightening some magazines on the coffee table and leans over, sipping her wine absently. “See what, honey?”

“Look,” Akio whispers. His throat is closing up, he can’t manage anything more than that.

The two do a spin, and then burst out laughing, and the Chris boy stands back up straight, throwing his arms up like he’s just hit a perfect landing-

“Oh my god,” Aimi says next to him, her own voice strangled and choked, and Akio feels his mother’s hand suddenly clutch onto his shoulder. “Aki, is-”

“He’s dead,” Akio whispers. “He killed himself after his parents-... he’s dead, Mom.”

The Chris boy looks right at whoever was filming the video, shoots them a brilliant, shining smile, and then starts rocking, his hands moving through the air and twisting at the wrists, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Akio’s breath is shuddering in and out, and his heart pounds, trying to break out of his chest. “He’s-... Mom, he’s dead.”

“His aunt had him cremated,” Aimi says, but her lips are barely moving and the wineglass is loos in her fingers. “After they found him. She didn’t want a funeral.”

“He’s dead,” Akio repeats, thinking of the smile, the movements, the shy way he ducks his head at the end when people clap him on the back. He backs up to the wall again, keeps scrolling, looks for more pictures of the blue hair. He opens every single one he can find, searching for something, some sign that will tell him he’s not seeing what he knows he’s seeing. “His aunt took his phone away after like three months and then he was dead a month later, wasn’t he?”

There’s a pause.

“Mom? Mom, didn’t he kill himself like four months after they died? Didn’t he?” Akio’s voice sounds weak and is getting weaker. “Mom, please-... please answer me, didn’t he-”

“He left a note,” Aimi whispers. “His aunt-... she said he left a note, that he couldn’t live without them. It’s-... I never thought-... I never thought to question her, Aki, I never-... she was Ronnie’s family...”

He clicks another video.

“You’re a fucking mess, Christopher,” The girl from the dance video says, sitting in a tank tops and shorts on the edge of a bathtub. “Letting your roots grow out like that. But don’t you worry, Madam Mari is here to help!”

“Please don’t, don’t don’t-don’t call yourself Madam. Please?” A voice says, uneasily, and the blue-haired boy moves into the screen. “For, for, for me?”

“Yeah, no problem, Chris. Why’d you let it grow out so bad, anyway?”

His hair’s not blue in this one - or it is, but only about half of it. Pale and faded, but the top of his hair has grown back in for about three inches, and it’s coppery strawberry blond. He turns to the camera and gives a sheepish smile. “I, I got distracted and for, um, forgot.”

Aimi’s wineglass slips from her fingers, hits the floor, sprays wine like blood across the pristine white rug.

Neither of them notices.

“I… I cried for him for like a year straight,” Akio chokes out, and he finds more pictures, more videos, more more more. He opens them up and then backs out of them again, unable to stop himself. Every photo shows him some shard of the mirror reflection of a dead boy all grown up - a sparkle of green eyes, happy motions in the background of a video, more of that familiar sunny smile. “I kept-... I kept all the stuff he left in my room, I saved all h-his text messages from before he d, disappeared, I-”

“This can’t be him,” Aimi says in a fierce whisper. “It can’t be, Aki, it can’t.”

Akio taps on another video.

The boy ties his long blue hair back in it, glancing sidelong at the camera, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And, and, and you’ll, um, you’ll buy the, the, the-the-the nachos?”

“If you can still do it? Yeah, absolutely. Seeing that’s worth a plate of nachos to me. I’ll even buy you those fucking margaritas you like.”

“Chris just likes the sugar,” Someone else says, and Chris sticks his tongue out at them.

He takes a few steps back, rolling his shoulders, shaking out his arms.

Akio tells himself that if the Chris on the screen doesn’t nail this, it can’t be him, it can’t be him at all.

The boy puts his hands up, then down at his sides, back bowed briefly in a motion Akio knows too, too well, knows better than he knows breathing. The boy takes off across the grass without hesitation and-

Akio and Aimi both exhale.

-he jumps forward, dips at the waist, catches himself on his hands and does a perfect set of three backflips across a big grassy lawn, stumbling the landing but his feet pop right back into final position, and he throws his arms up with his chin lifted, and someone offscreen shouts, “Perfect Ten, Stanton!”

The boy laughs, shakes his head, says, “I’d be, be, be dinged for the, um, the landing, but-... but, but good, right? I did good? Laken?”

Someone with the coolest hair Akio has seen steps into the screen and they hug, kiss briefly, and then Chris apparently can’t handle the happy emotions because he backs away to start bouncing up and down, grinning.

He looks back at the camera. “Want to see me, me, me... me do it again?”

“He’s not dead,” Aimi says, and her voice sounds like someone closed their hands around her throat. “Oh, Ronnie-”

“What the fuck happened to Tristan fucking Higgs?” Akio’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the video starting over. “He’s… he’s not dead. He’s not dead, Mom, he’s not-... he’s not dead, Mom, he’s not dead and he’s right-... that the university, right? He’s not dead, and he’s, has he-... has he been here the whole fucking time?”

His mother doesn’t chide him for language this time. Her hand tightens on Akio’s shoulder as red wine soaks the rug beneath her feet and she whispers, “Give that Ben boy your number. Tell him to call you.”

Her fingernails ache where they dig into his skin through his shirt.

“Now.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #hidden whumpee #found whumpee #trauma recovery #parental death mention #death mention #suicide mention #angst #bbu #box boy #box boy universe

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