#the other things people know about it is that is sounds like a mildly naughty swearword and 6-year-olds have fun saying it

[oworiio]

taiju's toy

milk is typing. . .

summary: nsfw headcanons & situations with taiju shiba<3 (extra prn vids cus i'm so horny for this man) characters: taiju shiba x fem!reader content: 18+ mdni, various kinks— 1 being dark so feel free to skip the last kink if you're not comfy with cnc/drugging.

a/n: TAIJU FUCKERS RISE UP !! you guys are lying when you say he isn't hot, stop lying to yourself. (this is kinda for @/brattywhor3 since she basically inspired me to do this)

Taiju is nothing but a professional business man— always sporting a tailored suit with an expensive watch to accessorize. Standing at a 6'5" he had no problems with no one ever acknowledging his presence. His stern deep voice matched well with his extremely intimidating aura collided with the smell of his mature cologne. You could tell he obtained anything he desired with the snap of his fingers.

basic information

Taiju possessed what you like to call an illegal weapon, wielding a whopping 7.5-8 inches. Not only was his dick long, but he had a bit of girth to it too, giving him the power to stretch your tight pussy and make you feel like a goddamn virgin again, every, single, time.

Anytime Tai had a hard on anyone in the room could tell he had something otherworldly going on. Don't get me started on when he's wearing infamous sweatpants boner or not, he most definitely shows.

When he's extremely turned on he has a thick long vein showing on the top of his shaft, pulsating and throbbing.

He has a slight curve; going up

He's circumcised and has an extremely nice-looking cock— little to no discoloration, tip a little smaller than girth (but he's pretty thick and it's unnoticeable), nice full balls to go with it too.

Taiju never has an untamed bush, he frequently trims, hair leading up to his happy trail.

He isn't as leaky as others that look like they've creamed their pants but he's definitely a heavy producer

Every load he's shoots is warm and thick full of sperm; he's extremely fertile.

Did I mention he cums a lot? He doesn't like pulling out and cumming on your body as much as he loves filling you up, you swear Taiju's cum is like a meal in itself.

He tastes mildly salty, but it's 'an acquired taste' that you very soon learn to love.

his kinks

⌗ Breeding kink Don't shoot the messenger but Taiju loves filling you up, it's like an internal instinct he has whenever he's about to cum— he always thinks to fill you and your empty womb with some fresh warm seed. Just one load and snap, You're impregnated! You can tremble and whine all you want with that dumbfounded innocent look on your face, "Taiju! don't come inside me! I have somewhere to go!" and every reply is just a 'Tch', or a "Shut up." right before he goes back to finishing his release, cum oozing out of your used cunt, a string of white following his tip. He loves the thought of you being filled to the brim and now having to deal with his cum leaking out of your pussy for the rest of the day.

⌗ Exhibitionism/Public sex Hear me out on this one. Taiju owns a restaurant, what's hotter than getting fucked mercilessly in his office knowing anyone especially his employee's could walk in or even some of his customers hearing the naughty noises you both make? Exactly. "But Tai, we shouldn't do it here.. what if someone hears us?" "You scared of people finding me pounding that slutty cunt of yours?" His words come out like a taunting grin, making you effortlessly more wet, "My, my what a view they'd see." Taiju would honestly let you suck him off while he's in an important business call, trying your hardest to conceal the sounds of you salivating all over his length, rewarding you with soft pats and groans that only you could hear.

⌗ Rough sex/Domination This was no surprise, It's so clear he's such a dominate man. It gives him an extra rise when he finds out all of the degrading names and things he calls you flat out turns you on. "You like being Master's little fuck toy?" Yes, god yes. You nod, "Good. Show me how badly you want to be used." He loves to spank you, using various objects like his hands, his belt, even a paddle if he truly feels like you deserve it. Hair pulling is an extreme must, your walls clench against his cock each time his grip strengthens. When Taiju comes home from a stressful day of work, seeing your oblivious face makes him want to furiously destroy your little pussy. And he does without any sort of remorse— pushing your head down to the mattress as your back arches more for your Master's dick, slamming in your gummy insides. Tai doesn't have the energy to give one ounce of a fuck for your pleasure, fucking and dumping you immediately after. In conclusion Taiju is very much disrespectful and will spit on your face without you asking, and you love it.

⌗ Mind breaking Taiju has one hell of an ego sometimes; these time include when he legit fucks you silly, leaving you a moaning and crying mess— only knowing his name. One day Taiju's libido was so high, you've came about 6? 8 times? you can't seem to remember as another load painted your walls white for the fourth time leaving your mind even hazier than before. You gripped onto what you assume was Taiju as the pleasure you felt made your puffy clit throb, "Poor baby, you're nothing but a silly little cock sleeve for me, aren't ya'?" He groaned, "One more load, be a good girl for me." Taiju's so cruel sometimes.

⌗ Sensory deprivation/Edging Okay, okay I know this kind of contradicts Taiju's kink for mind breaking but Taiju can't help but get weak and get addicted to your pleading whines as you beg more and more for Tai to touch your neglected clit/fuck your desperate little hole. "Please, please please," you say, "I'll do anything Tai! anything! I've been so good Taiju, please!" you bribe empty promises in hopes for any kind of reaction for him to give you what you so hopelessly needed. And when he finally does decide to touch you it feels like pure heaven until it comes to your release, he's yet again a cruel man immediately stopping any movements as he sees any sign of you reaching your high. He can't help it, it's sadistic to just laugh at your stupid fucking face as he toys with you over and over again. He knows what you exactly need but is he ever willing to give in so easily? Hell no, earn it.

⌗ Size kink For a man his size, kinks like this is a definite turn on for him, not only does he hold so much power over you, but it's so easy to pick you up, flip you, and destroy your now corrupted cunt. And jesus christ does it turn him on when your belly has a huge apparent bulge, clearly from his ginormous cock— seeing how petite you are each time he impales you, holy fuck he could cum on the spot. It feels like you're a real life cock sleeve whenever you easily bounce on his dick each time he picks you up just to drop you, you're so fragile in his eyes and it opens something inside him, something telling him to fuck you mercilessly. "You're gonna break me! Taiju, fuck-" you curse as he hits an extraordinarily new spot, he groans "I fuckin' should."

⌗ Bondage It's occasional (frequent at times) when Taiju bounds you from anything, usually only does it just to punish you or when he's just trying to fuck you and you're doing nothing but being an annoying bitch, he has to put you in your little fuckin' place. Using cuffs, light shibari, gags, and rope. Taiju has grown a skill for tying things up because you can't help but misbehave, are you secretly enjoying it?

⌗ CNC/NON-CON Taiju loves the idea of having a toy he could use any time, any place. Why should he ask for permission when you and him both know that he fully owns you. You should be nothing but grateful he's even allowing you to see his cock let alone touch it and have it inside of you. Taiju is extremely into somnophilia— he can't help it. The way your heaving chest makes your tits jiggle lightly, and that face, god that innocent unconscious face makes him want to paint it with his cum and just stuff your cheeks with his huge monster of a cock. Taiju has admittedly drugged you once and awhile to make sure you're sleeping soundly as he passionately thrusts into your warm inviting cunt. Fucking your sleeping body is one of his guilty pleasures, though he was never really guilty in the first place. Once, Tai was testing a new medication sneakily entering you without any sort of permission, it faltered. You woke up to Taiju desperately pistoning into you, Needless to say Taiju was at least happy that you were happy. (Yes, y'all have a safeword, chillax)

extra

⌗ Favorite positions Mating press: It's just the perfect primal position to breed your empty hole— not to mention it also makes his dick hitting even more spots, deeper inside your sloppy cunt. (Also loves kissing you!) Full nelson: A perfect position to fold you and hold you from running away from his cock, easily pick you up to thrust with maximum efficiency. Open access to choke you as well. From the back: Definitely the most used position, kind of the best of the best in his book. It's just, your ass looks amazing when it's jiggling because his dick is slamming against you. And when you're acting up Taiju could easily bound your hands and push your head down to the mattress, making any words or moans you try to cry out into inaudible sounds.

⌗ Aftercare Even though Taiju is a ruthless man during sex, he still has some sorta decency and no doubt has love for you. He shows it with aftercare, even light stuff when he's tired like cleaning your pussy and wiping all of the juices/cum with a wet rag and putting your panties back on before tucking you in. If you've guys really a made a mess he runs a warm bath for you both, washing your body and lightly praising you about how good you were for him, he definitely dresses you after too.

⌗ Rewards Taiju does reward you, when you've been a good little housewife, doing your chores, taking care of him and not stressin' him tf out or when he's in an extremely good mood. Taiju usually rewards you with eating your pussy out real good, slurping and sucking your little clit until you're squirting all over his face. Or even just choosing what sex position you guys are doing, it's small but it's something better than punishment. . .

⌗ Punishment You most definitely did something extremely bad to make Taiju angry. What was it? Were you bending over and being a little fan service slut to his customers? Or being a little bit too eager with his friends? Whatever it is Taiju definitely has something in store for you. He immediately rips off your clothes, replacing them with ropes as he bounds you from touching yourself or crying, begging for help, dragging your ass to the living room to watch loops of you both fucking, specifically videos of you making the most embarrassing noises. You can helplessly plead for Tai to stop but he doesn't until he's satisfied; Neglecting you, leaving you just begging for attention. Taiju keeps video's of you both having sex, just for this reason, keeping you in check whenever you think you could do anything to upset him, reminding how good he can make you feel and how he could easily take it away from you in a millisecond. "Oh? but you were so eager to talk to my friends, next time you wanna use your fuckin' mouth like that again, remember this." Taiju curtly spits on your face. Or completely marking your body in any way he can, biting and sucking on your plush skin, or using rough measures like spanking to make your little ass pink and purple. Better not misbehave again, doll.

⌗ Videos link link link link link link

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #taiju x reader #taiju shiba #taiju shiba x reader #taiju smut #taiju shiba smut

[kthynes]

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

#chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans

[shinichiro-scigarette]

Happy Birthday, Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N and Keisuke eats lunch at the school rooftop and invites you to his house after classes so you guys could hang out and eat peyoung together.

Story contains: Slow Paced Story, Wholesomely lovey-dovey bonding, kissing, hickeys, mentions of sex, and fingering. This will be female Y/N and in third person POV (for most of the time, I'll put careful indications).

Author's Note: it's my first time writing like this so please bear with me >\\\<, what inspired me to write was the image uploaded here, I wondered how would Baji be if He had a girlfriend, after all the wild smut I've read, I thought if writing some adorably wholesome bonding moments with my favorite guy, Keisuke while having intimate moments with him, I'll only be writing mild (maybe? Idk) sex scenes since the whole focus should be wholesome moments with Baji.

PART 2 COMING SOON IF PEOPLE ACTUALLY READ THIS

Chapter 1

I missed you

It's been so long since you and Keisuke or Kei (which you prefer calling him with) had hung out with each other since he was busy with other things in his life, you always understood him since toman is so precious to him, it's been actually just 2 weeks but you guys used to go out at least 3-5 times a week, it just made you lonely although you guys eat lunch together at the rooftop, just the two of you.

While you were busy thinking of Kei and the upcoming exams next week, you didn't notice that it was already 5 mins after the bell rang for lunch time, Keisuke has been waiting outside the door for you in his usual neat school get up.

You get startled as you feel a light pat on your head, you slowly turn your head and you are greeted with a smiling nerd

Baji: "y/n, is someone bothering you? Want me to beat them up" he says in a sarcastic manner with a grin on his face then chuckles as he clenches his fits

Y/N: You look at him as you pause for a sec and burst in to laughter "Now, didn't we already talk about that?" You wipe your laughter tears away "Can go to the usual spot now?, I bet you're starving, cuz heck yeah I am!" All of a sudden, you were a radiating light to Baji, you jumped out of you seat and you kiss his cheek, He smiles softly and pats your head.

Baji: "you're really f*cking adorable when you do that, y/n, that's my girl" he slides his free hand to your's as your hands intertwined, he was carrying something on his other hand, it was mostlikely food. "I love you. Now let's get outta here!"

You grabbed your lunch box tightly because you already know what's going to happen, while he was holding your hand, you guys sprinted out of the classroom like kindergartens on a playdate as you guys laughed, you always both get the student president on his nerves as you guys ran to the hallways, but at this point, he grew tired of telling you guys what to do, but he'd always grins his teeth in anger as he sees you guys

You finally reached the rooftop, you guys were mildly sweating, but you guys didn't seem to mind.

you pull out a towel from your pocket.

Y/N: "Kei, look over here" you say as you were both catch your breaths, he slowly turns to you "always so naughty, you get us into trouble!!" You say with a strict voice as you grabs his chin, you start wiping the sweat from his forehead while he looks at you with a pout. "But I love getting into trouble with you" you kiss his forehead, even though he was sweaty, he still smells nice.

Baji: while his eyes closed, his pout transitions to a chuckle, he then straitens his back "y/n" he takes off his glasses and puts it in a case inside the bag he was carrying as he unties his hair and loosen his necktie, your heart would race everytime you see him like this, it was always like when you guys make out at his house.

your thighs would tighten, you were turned on by the way he looked right now.he looks at you and notices your reaction, he'd always tease you like that because he damn knew you liked, no, you LOVED that whenever he does that, your face, your eyes, your lips says it all, it reminds you of the times he fucks you.

Baji: "oh-, silly girl, we're not doing that here" he chuckles as he corners you to the wall "you're so caring and loving, it turns me on" he says in a seductive voice, your back bumps softly on the wall as it meets you, he places his left hand on the wall and his other to your chin "I missed it, I missed you, y/n" you look at him in silence, as you notice the empty sadness behind his facade

You lean forward holding his face with both of your hands as you kiss his lips softly, he reciprocates as both of your eyes closed and passionately kissed eachother.

After that, you guys smiled and ate your lunch, he pulled out the thing inside the hand bag he was carrying, you were curious from since earlier since he doesn't usually carry anything except his lunch, he looks away for a second while blushing.

Baji: "Uh... I don't usually do these kind of stuff but uhm.." he shyly rubs his head still looking away, his face was turning red.

Y/N: you would chuckle as you find his behavior quite adorable, he rarely acts like that, I could only remember him acting like that was when he was confessing/courting me, our first kiss, and our first time having sex. "You look fucking adorable when you're like that" you tease him as you boops his nose.

Baji: "shut it!!!!" He grits his teeth and regains his composure "I made you something." he passes you a small container as he turns aways completely leaning his head against the wall.

Y/N: "Ke-Keisuke!"

you blush and investigated it, it was a black rectangular tub made out of plastic, it was meant to store food, you were a bit curious of whatever it was so you'd open it

Baji: "so what do you think?" He still wasn't facing you but he'd peak so he could see your reaction, he was acting cool and tough.

Y/N: "AAAAH!! KEIII! Are you serious?!" Baji would look at you, he got startled by your reaction, [shit, was it that bad?!] He'd look at you with a concerned look with his fangs showing.

your eyes would glisten as you were met by your favorite food, you would giggle though, since it was obviously homemade, you'd assume that your boyfriend made it for you since the icing and the written words were all wonky but you found it adorable anyways.

You would take a quick taste with the spoon that was placed on top of the lid.

You were amazed by how delicious he made it since it was the first time that he gave you food that he made, expect for peyoung, of course. you weren't really expecting anything like this.

You were indulging it as he watches you eat it , the white cream from the cake each time you lick it would turn him on, he was getting hard already, of course, knowing your boyfriend, you'd know how he would feel about this or how he'd react, but he respected you to do any sudden movements while you were doing something, except for exceptional times.

Y/N: you'd look at him, you'd see him wanting you on him right now, you'd take another bite but you wouldn't swallow it just yet— not until- "mhhh hmmm" you'd stand up, you'd go to his front, and he raise his brows.

You went crawling to his legs and sat on it.

Baji: "agh, my girl's doing hot girl shit. You do know how to turn a man like me on" he grins in a naughty manner while you guys make eye contact and not breaking it, you'd slowly sat on his lap while you loosely place your hands on his shoulder as you made naughty faces.

You'd feel his hard bulging cock clothed , on your cunt that is covered by your underwear. You'd lean in for a kiss, he'd reciprocate. You both were comfortable of doing stuff like that.

You both shared the cake that was on your mouth, as disgusting as it sounds, keisuke was in to that shit. He'd grab your waste and the other on your boob, you'd make moaning quiet noises as he chuckles while both of you were passionately kissing with cake, you felt so aroused that you didn't notice that your cunt was fucking wet already, it would leave a mark on his pants, it would look like he pissed on himself, yet, he didn't care, he'd just take of his coat and wrap it around his waist.

Your alarm would ring (10 mins before the bell)

You two break from kissing, you guys were fucking messy, with hints of the carrot cake on the side of your mouths but he loved the look on your face right now. He snickers and grabs your neck pulling you towards him.

Baji: "Mine" he'd whisper to your ear, it would leave goosebumps all over you, you loved hearing those possessive words, he would never cheat on you but you love getting verbal and physical reassurance.

He'd slightly loosens a button on your uniform and opens it slightly, he would dig in to your breast and sucks it slightly hard as he leaves a mark in between your breasts, arching your back towards him as your chest collides to his face even harder, you'd make cute noises.

Baji grabbed both of your breast and slowly slides to button your uniform again and tidies it leaving a soft kiss as he murmurs "mine" repeatedly

Y/N: "keisuke." You'd leave a small moan as you look at him hugging you with his eyes closed

Baji: "Happy Birthday, Y/N, I want you to come with me later, I missed you so much." You'd level with him as he looks at you, he gives you a forehead kiss "meet me later okay? Outside, after classes."

You'd find this entertaining and attractive, you'd just want more of him, but what holds you guys back was you were within school premises, and you didn't like the idea of fucking anywhere near the school.

Y/N: you'd only blush, giving him a nod "I love you, Kei."

Baji: He caresses you "I love you more, Y/N, we only have 5 mins left, don't want them losing their shit after they catch us like this" he chuckles.

You both tidied yourself up and went back while holding hands.

You guys wave good bye as you went back to your own classrooms.

#baji smut #keisuke baji #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #fem reader #roleplay #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers fanfic #baji keisuke

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @thermaflute​

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Being a slayer, Kyojuro knows how wrong it is to be absolutely whipped for a demon. It’s not his own fault that you give him mind-blowing sex. -

warnings: NSFW, teasing, degradation, overstimulation, ahegao, handjobs, dom reader

words: 2k

-

There’s just something about saving the day and being a hero that really, really gets Kyojuro. Of course, it’s his job for gods’ sakes, but to have people looking up to him, swooning over him? There is nothing like it. So yeah, he may or may not have a hero complex. What’s the big deal? It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong.

Well… Except for the fact that he is.

Nervousness and guilt chew away at Kyojuro’s insides as he stalks towards the manor; above him, the pitch black sky twinkles with thousands of stars, all of them distant diamonds. The full moon shines bright, an iridescent yellow compared to the rest of the nighttime sky. A chorus of crickets and croaking frogs surrounds him; everything is too peaceful, too idyllic.

The first time he came to this very manor, he expected the place to be surrounded by bones, both old and new. Human heads would be perched on stakes, their mouths forever open in a silent scream. He truly anticipated the absolute worse. However, as he quickly realized, everything was the exact opposite.

He shouldn’t even be here. A demon resided here – you, specifically – and he hunted demons for a living. You’re a dangerous person with sharp teeth and even sharper claws; you can kill him in an instant if you truly wanted to, and yet you didn’t. The same could be said about Kyojuro. He’s killed so many other demons before, so it’s not an issue, but he hesitates whenever he thinks about bringing his blade down on your neck.

This is the same thought process he goes through every time he visits. He always stands right outside your door, gazes up at the mere size of the manor, and wonders just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. If anybody were to learn about his late night rendezvouses with a demon, he’s done for. Hell, he thinks Oyakata-sama might even be the one to slit his stomach.

He doesn’t even bother to wait for you as he enters the place you call home; much like the outside, the inside of the manor is impeccably clean and furnished with mahogany pieces and fine China. He can tell you’ve been collecting such magnificent furniture throughout your long lifespan; it always makes him awestruck to be surrounded by such wealth. He’s careful to take off his setta, silently setting them to the side as he steps up into your home.

His tabi-clad feet hardly make any noise as he ventures into the manor, looking for any signs of life. As far as he knows, there hasn’t been any other human to step foot inside this very manor while he was present. It’s when he’s away is the problem. You’re a demon, after all – you need as much sustenance as he does, maybe even more.

Before he fully realizes it, he’s walking the familiar trek to where your bedroom is. It’s almost second nature to him, always trying to find you. He shouldn’t be so eager to see a demon in the first place; it’s just plain wrong. This whole situation is wrong, but something about you brings him back, attracts him like a moth to a flame. The need to see you boils in his blood. He wants you to be by his side constantly. It’s only human nature, wanting to spend time with someone you’re attracted to, but this situation isn’t exactly what Kyojuro had in mind.

As he slides the door to your room open, the sight of your bare back greets him. Perched in front of a vanity, you dabble makeup onto your face; brilliant red smudges cover the outer corners of your eyes and your plush lips. Kyojuro can only guess how expensive the product must’ve been, judging by the hue alone. Your hair is entirely pinned up, revealing the entirety of your neck and shoulders. You look positively stunning, magnificent. Kyojuro’s throat goes dry.

“Hello, my darling slayer,” you say, a seductive lilt to your tone. You’ve always sounded like that – like fine wine mixed with smoke and honey. Setting your fine point brush down, your glowing eyes meet Kyojuro’s through the mirror. “How may I serve you tonight?”

Glancing down, Kyojuro is greeted by the sight of your perky breasts reflecting back at him. Licking his lips, he looks back up to your eyes. You smirk at him. “I wanted to see you,” he mutters. “You look beautiful.”

You coo at him, your fingers slipping the fine material of your kimono up and around your shoulders. Kyojuro is mildly disappointed by the lack of skin, but then you turn to him, your chest only partially covered. His brilliant gaze follows the curve of your waistline, how it seamlessly widens at your hips and turns into luscious thighs. Crossing your legs, the silk of your kimono flutters against your skin.

“You wanted to see me?” you purr. Slowly, you draw yourself to a graceful stand. Like this, your front becomes entirely bare under his eyes. “Kyojuro, you naughty boy.” You bat your eyelashes sultrily at him. “Get on the bed,” you husk, pointing a clawed finger to the oversized mattress. Like most of the furniture you own, it’s made of a deep mahogany, the frame standing on four sturdy legs and raising high to form a canopy. Delicate silks hang from the top, all a dainty white. It’s behind those very curtains that Kyojuro’s taken you many, many times.

Doing as he’s told, he removes his cape and sets it to the side before taking a seat at the end of the bed. The softness of the mattress beckons to him, calls for him to lie back and fall asleep. And, he will, eventually, if this is going where he thinks it is. You walk over to him, your long, confident strides making him stare at your legs. You slither on top of him, straddling his waist and linking your hands together over his shoulders. Kyojuro inhales sharply, the scent of your perfume intoxicating.

“And why did you want to see me?” you say, dragging a finger over the sharp line of his jaw. Kyojuro trembles beneath your touch; your index taps against his lower lip, a knowing expression growing on your face. “Is the big bad Flame Pillar falling for me?” you purr.

The way you flutter your lashes causes something inside of Kyojuro to snap. Instead of answering your question, his lips land on yours in pure desperation. The kiss is heated from the start; you quickly worm your tongue inside his mouth, licking up against the roof of it and Kyojuro lets you. He lets you do anything you want every time he sees you because he simply cannot get enough.

You swallow his soft groan as your hands travel down his chest, making quick work of unbuttoning his uniform’s jacket and his shirt underneath. Kyojuro’s skin has always been deliriously warm, beautifully bronzed and freckled by the sun. He sighs under your touch; it quickly turns into a slight whimper as you pull at his nipple. Your teeth tug at his bottom lip as you continuously feel up his chest, your hips gradually working into a steady rhythm against his hardening cock. He’s always been easy to work up, but with you, every single ounce of self-control he possesses flies right out the window.

“Dirty whore,” you murmur, drawing your lips away from him. “Coming back again and again to a demon. What would the others say, huh? What would they say if they could see you now? They’d see me full of your cock, fucking you stupid. You’re so bad, you filthy slut. They could kill you for this.”

At your words, a throaty groan bubbles from Kyojuro’s chest. He knows you’re absolutely right, but that’s what’s good about this whole thing. If his fellow slayers could see him getting so thoroughly used by a demon, he wouldn’t live to see another day. He grunts as you press him to his back, your luscious breasts pushing against his muscular chest. His cock tents through his hakama, the cloth growing wet from both his precum and the slick dripping from your cunt.

“Let them do whatever,” Kyojuro pants. “You’re the – fuck – one that I want.”

You mewl at his words, your sharp nails scratching at his skin. “Is that a confession? Does my little slut love me?” You laugh at the whole ridiculousness of a slayer falling in love with a demon. You move down his chest, your lips running over the ridges of his muscles and leaving stains of red all over his skin.

Kyojuro chokes on a groan as you palm him through his clothes. Ripping his belt off, you make quick work of yanking down his pants and undergarments. His cock kicks and slaps against his stomach, the head an angry red and leaking precum. Your gaze hungrily takes in the protruding veins, the neat thatch of dark pubic hair. He looks absolutely delicious.

“Tell me, Kyojuro,” you bite, your fingers wrapping around his thick cock, “do you love me?”

He doesn’t want to say. He shouldn’t say it, save himself from the impending embarrassment, but then you twist your wrist and fuck does it do something magical to him. “Y-yes,” he stutters, tongue flicking out nervously. “You’re so ­– shit, ah – wonderful and I really, really like being with you!” He keens as your other hand gently fondles his balls.

“Is that your dick talking?” you taunt. “Are you saying that because you’re a filthy whore?”

Kyojuro furiously shakes his head. His face has well surpassed red, his lips turning swollen from how much he’s chewing on them. “Even when we’re not fucking! Gods, (y/n), I love you!” He cries out as he abruptly cums, thick ropes of white shooting onto his stomach and your fingers. He pants from the force of it; his eyes widen, then, and realizes that he just came immaturely.

You click your tongue. “You got off on that?” Despite your annoyance, Kyojuro can hear the lust laced in your words.

“Yeah…” A punched-out breath fills the air as you swiftly lower your pussy onto his cock. Kyojuro’s hands make a desperate reach for your hips, but you quickly take hold of his wrists and pin them by his sides.

“So what, I don’t get to have any fun?” You flash him a mock pout. “Come on, love, show me what you got.”

Hearing the endearment roll off your tongue has Kyojuro’s cock stirring to life back inside you. Swiveling your hips, you mouth at the underside of his jaw, your teeth just barely scraping against the tender flesh. You set a steady pace, barely giving him any time to breathe while you bounce on his cock. His hips buck frantically to match your relentless pace; he whimpers from overstimulation, but fuck your cunt is so hot and wet and he feels like he’s going to explode.

“Oh, gods, please, please,” he babbles, his tongue trying to collect whatever saliva spills from his mouth. You’re fucking him so good that he’s seeing stars. He can’t control the way how his eyes roll into the back of his head or how his tongue sticks out in pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good-“

“Am I fucking you stupid?” you ask him. Arching your back even further, your breasts drag against his torso. “Look at your pathetic face. You really are a slut, you know that? With a body like yours, it’s no wonder you bend over for anybody.”

In his euphoric state, Kyojuro shakes his head. “No, no, only for you, I promise,” he rambles. He moans loudly as the head of his cock pushes in even deeper and slams right into your cervix.

Your velvety walls suck him in with every stroke, desperate to have him inside and fuck you silly. “Who’s fucking you so good, Kyojuro.”

He groans. “You are…”

You clench even harder around his cock. “I said who.”

“You are!” he yelps, kicking his head back and spraying his cum all over your insides. You ride him through his orgasm, delighted in the way his cum seeps out around his cock and spills onto the both of you.

“That’s my good little slut,” you purr. Letting go of his wrists, you press open-mouthed kisses all over his sweaty chest. “Now make me cum, love.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #kny kyojuro #commission #thermaflute

[biscuit-buddy]

kuzumochi. (18+)

Endeavor x Reader (Smut, Birthday Fic, 3.1k)

A/N: holy shit guys this got so much longer than expected i’m sorry if it drags at all i just had so much i wanted to get out! Also its 11:22pm so its technically still his birthday. ha. 

What do you get for the man who could already have whatever he wanted at the snap of his fingers? Being the number one pro hero meant that Enji already received truckloads of expensive things, tickets to exclusive events, and the newest technologies simply because of his status. You knew this because everything he received went through you after being thoroughly checked at security. Eight months as his personal secretary offered you a glimpse into his extravagant world and honestly left you with a small bite of bitter jealousy. Some of the things that passed over your desk could pay the rent in your measly apartment for the next year, and you were sure he never gave most of it more than a second glance. 

Your pen tapped lightly against your bottom lip as you stared at the pad of sticky notes on your desk, nothing more than illegible lines, dots, and scribbles covered the top one. With a sigh of frustration, you detach it from the stack, crumple it and toss it in the trash. Today was the first day of August, and the mental countdown to your boss’ birthday plagued your thoughts. While your job was comfortable as is, the cold treatment from the man you worked for grated on your every nerve. You’d think after nearly a year in his employment he’d begin to warm up to you, maybe even bother to remember your name. This was your chance to finally stand out to him if only you could think of something that the hero could possibly want for his birthday. 

As much as he’d probably like a break or a vacation, you were in no position to provide that for him. He obviously didn’t want for anything material either. Does he even have a sweet tooth? You wondered silently as the tapping of your pen resumed against your face. I can’t even imagine a guy like him eating a cupcake. You know what? Actually I can and it’s hilarious. I bet his mustache would burn the frosting and-

“Ahem” Well, speak - or think- of the devil and he shall appear. Endeavor himself stood at your desk with an impatient look on his stern face. The goofy smile you’d been developing at the thought of the massive man eating sweets was quickly wiped off and your back straightened at an uncomfortable pace. 

“Daydreaming on the job?” he asked, but you got the feeling he didn’t really want an answer, so you just bow your head in apology. In an embarrassed mumble, you replied, “Sorry sir, won’t happen again” and he gave a huff in response, not unlike that of a great dragon. You held back another smile at the fleeting thought of smoke puffing out of his nose in discontent, as he handed you a manila envelope stuffed to the brim with some kind of paperwork. 

“I need this hand-delivered to the Hawks Hero Office immediately. This is sensitive information I’m trusting you with.” You gingerly accepted the packet, but couldn’t avoid the brief touch of his massive hand sliding past yours. You noted briefly just how warm they were, though you shouldn’t really be surprised. Courier work isn’t exactly in your job description but lately, you’ve been desperate to suck up anyways, plus some fresh air couldn’t hurt. You stood and gave one more quick bow, “of course sir, I’d be happy to deliver it” He seemed content with your answer and turned to walk through the frosted glass double doors that led into his office without so much as another word. 

Honestly, that had gone better than most of your interactions in the past. Pleased with the slight development in your relationship you gatherers your purse and the envelope and headed for the elevator. Floors passed monotonously as you continued to float gift ideas around in your head, this was looking to be harder than you initially thought. 

Once the lift reached the lobby you made your exit, pushing past a crowd of workers who seemed to just be returning from lunch. They laughed boisterously and made no notice of you squeezing around them. Finally, you made it to the front door of the Endeavor Agency and swiped your employee ID  badge on the terminal next to the front door alerting the system that you had left the building. Fresh warm air tickled your skin as you made your way onto the sidewalk and began the trek to Hawks’ Agency. It wasn’t particularly far, only a few blocks away and the route was dotted with storefronts boasting all kinds of wares from cake to clothes to flowers.

In theory, one of the displays you passed should have given you an idea but once more you found yourself coming up blank as you approached your destination. The young man at the front desk smiled politely when you entered  “Hi there, do you have an appointment?” his eyes flickered between you and the computer screen in front of him. 

“Actually I’m here on delivery for Endeavor” you waved the yellow folder a bit to accentuate your statement “something about sensitive information?” This really wasn’t part of the job you signed up for. Face to face interactions with strangers is so damn awkward. Luckily the receptionist probably dealt with people like you all day and didn’t bat an eye before saying

“Of course, his office is on floor 22 but if he’s not in there, try the roof. I’ll let security know you’re heading up” and he began tapping at the keyboard with one hand while making a ‘go on’ gesture toward the elevator with the other. You thought about boarding but instead made your way to the staircase. I already walked this far, might as well make it a cardio day, and give myself a good excuse to order takeout for dinner. You were truly a genius, maybe it was time to apply at NASA instead of working your ass off for Mr. Hothead. 

Twenty-two floors was a bit more of a workout than you thought it would be, and when you finally arrived at the top you were mildly sweaty cheeks ruddy and more out of breath than you’d like to admit so you take a moment to calm down before opening the doors and walking past the security guard. He gave you a sideways glance but kept his mouth shut as you knocked twice on the office doors. 

The lack of a verbal response clued you into the fact that he was likely on the roof just as the receptionist had said, so you hung a left and let yourself sprint up one more flight of stairs. Once you made it through the door marked ‘rooftop’ you spotted the winged hero perched near the railing. You announced yourself so as not to startle him,

“Excuse me, Mr. Hawks? I’m here on behalf of Endeavor, he asked me to deliver this to you as soon as possible”

He wheeled around at the sound of your voice, and his eyes lit up with amusement at your disheveled appearance. “Hey, thanks! I was kind of expecting the big man himself but you’re certainly a nice surprise” he winked and took the folder from your hands “Nobody told me Endeavor hired such a cutie to be his secretary, ya think I have any chance of poaching you from him?” Despite your earlier thoughts about NASA, you had no intention of leaving your current position so you just laughed. 

“I’m flattered but unfortunately I’ve got some oddly placed sense of loyalty for him” 

“Oh I get it” he cocked an eyebrow “I would too if I was you, the guy’s a size queen’s dream after all. Gotta love the whole naughty secretary dynamic too”

You sputtered at his bluntness “Oh god no nothing like that I-”

“Aw, I’m just teasing kid, how couldn’t I when you come up here looking like that” He gestured to your flustered appearance and you immediately regretting taking the stairs moments ago “Besides, I’d be surprised if you got him to warm up to you enough to remember your name let alone bend you over his desk” He was spot on, you had to sigh at that. 

“You’re right there, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even notice if there was an entirely different person sitting at my desk tomorrow” 

“Heh, yeah, sounds like him. But you know, his birthday is coming up maybe a gift will put you in his good graces” another effortless wink was shot your way and despite him being the one with wings, the attention really ruffled your feathers. It’s like he had a secret mind-reading quirk or something. 

“I thought of that, but I have no clue what a guy like him would even want. It’s not like shopping for your mom, where you can just give her a picture frame that says ‘Live Laugh Love’ and she cherishes it forever ya know?” Hawks snorts in amusement at your comparison. You’re right and you’ll defend that if he asks, but he doesn’t. 

“In that case, I’d be willing to let you in on a little secret, some little known Endeavor lore, a true exclusive if you ask me”

“I’m not a tabloid Hawks, just tell me already” this guy messes around a lot for being the number two hero, its an incredibly stark contrast from his only superior.

“Okay, okay, you gotta lean in though, he’d kill me if I leaked something so personal” you lean in closer as instructed and he whispers into your ear, “his favorite food... is kuzumochi” You pull back in visible disappointment. 

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, he goes crazy for the stuff. Honest to god I’ve seen him inhale an entire batch in like five minutes. You want him to notice you? Then this is the best possible way, trust me.” and for some crazy reason you do. This could actually work, if it’s really as much of a secret as the blonde claims, you’d certainly stand out among the other gifts he’s sure to get. 

You thank Hawks and turn to leave with a newfound confidence in this new plan, but not before he makes you promise to tell him how it goes after the big day. As you exit the winged hero’s agency building the work phone you were assigned chimes with a new email letting you know that you can go straight home after the drop-off, and your grin widens. Even better, now you have time to stop at the grocery store on the way home, the decision already made to go big or go home. You were bound and determined to make the kuzumochi from scratch, and it was gonna be the best damn thing your boss had ever tasted. 

*******************************

The rest of the week dragged on in a painfully average way, the only thing keeping your mood afloat was the surprise dish you had been working on every night. You’d gone through multiple test batches, determined to get the flavor and consistency just right. The work paid off on the night of the 7th, just in time when you completed your best batch yet. With a content sigh, you washed your hands and packaged up the kuzumochi like a damn professional. Finally, you were able to take a long hot shower and climb into bed early with the anticipation of tomorrow bubbling in your chest.

Morning came quickly and your daily routine was done with care, then you grabbed the gift and began the short commute to work. Brain on autopilot, it seemed like no time at all until you were seated at your desk and logging in to the company’s computer system. The pristinely packaged gift was nestled into the corner of your desk, waiting for the perfect moment. 

This moment came just before lunch when a mildly scuffed up Endeavor breezed past you in a huff and headed straight into his office. This is it you thought Sure, he’s a little pissy at the moment but this’ll cheer him right up. And with that, you knocked once on the office door and peeked in. The sight of him slumped in the leather office chair in front of the massive floor to ceiling window, eyebrow cocked at your intrusion made your heart jump just a little. How can one man be so damn intimidating? You cleared your throat and began to speak with entirely false confidence.

“Sorry for barging in sir, I just wanted to give you a birthday gift. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll accept it” the whole situation reminded you of confessing to your crush with a box of chocolates in middle school, and it’s funny how some things never truly change. You presented the box to him and to your surprise he actually reached out to take it. 

His scrutinizing glare never let up as he untied the silky ribbon and lifted the lid, but once he recognized the contents his expression shifted quickly to one of surprise. 

“Is this... kuzumochi?” His gaze fell on you and it had nearly physical weight.

“Yes sir, I have it on uhm, good authority that it’s one of your favorites” should you admit that Hawks told you this bit of information? 

“Why?” 

“I’m sorry? Its… well, it’s your birthday, right? I wanted to get you something that would stand out.” It felt silly to admit to his face. 

“And why would you need to stand out, Y/N?” You had to keep your jaw from hitting the floor when he so casually dropped your name, the name you were sure he hadn’t even known. He decided to let you mull over the question as he took a bite of your carefully crafted treat, you could hear a small satisfied hum in his throat and it gave you chills. He beckoned you closer, “it’s delicious, would you like a taste?” when you hesitated he added, “it would be awfully rude to refuse your boss on his birthday, especially after all the trouble you’ve gone to making these”

A heavy step carries you over to his desk, like lead weights attached to your ankles. As you approach he rises out of the chair, a new unreadable look replaced the one of irritation you had been so used to all these months. “Come closer,” he said when you stopped just short of the desk. He’d never spoken to you like this before, and it sent chills down your spine. A few more steps took you around the desk to where he stood, and you barely flinched when he placed a large palm on the side of your jaw, the other held a piece of kuzumochi near your mouth. His intent was clear, he was going to feed it to you by hand. “Open” he commanded softly and you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to, so you complied.

The sweetness melted over your tongue, you truly had outdone yourself here. And once the piece was securely in your mouth, a warm thumb brushed over your bottom lip where his eyes also happened to be resting, completely content in watching you chew and swallow. The intimacy of the situation wasn’t lost on you. You recalled something that Hawks had said about a ‘sexy secretary dynamic’ and once again he was right. When the taste had completely faded from your senses, you looked up to finally meet your boss’ eye. The intensity in them shook you to your very core.

“I’ll ask you again, why do you think you need to stand out?” at this, his hand dropped from your lip down to your waist “Were you hoping for some kind of special attention?” the depth of his voice made your thighs clench, knowing full well where this conversation was heading. He noticed the action and quirked his lips into the faintest smile, one full of mischievous intent. One large step forward for him pushed you back onto the sturdy wooden desk. “I can’t possibly disappoint my favorite little employee then, can I?”

You barely had time to brace your arms behind you before his hand moved over again to res on the top of your thigh, and the one that remained on your jaw guided you into a kiss. It began soft, Endeavor was no fool. He tested the waters, your willingness, before jumping right in. The second you started to kiss back it was full speed ahead. The man was experienced for sure, he knew exactly how to coax your mouth into a dance with his own. Once his tongue pushed into your mouth it was all over for you, you’ve become a slave to the feeling.

All too quickly he broke the kiss, and you had half a mind to whine at the loss of contact. When you opened your eyes you noticed he was leaned over towards the box of kuzumochi that started everything. Odd time for a snack but okay. And when he returned to face you he did have another piece in his mouth, as well as the red ribbon you used to tie it in his hands. Your mouths met once again, this time he pushed the food into yours with his tongue. While you’re distracted with the odd sensation of kissing and eating at the same time you hardly notice the way he pushed both your arms up above your head and deftly tied your wrists together with the ribbon. When he was sure they were secure he let them drop and find a home around the back of his neck.   

You swallow the kuzumochi just as he turns up the intensity, completely claiming your mouth with his own. This time, he pushes you even further back until you’re laid completely flat on the desk. His fingers rake up and down your sides while his hips press against yours. You can feel his growing excitement pushed up against you and the feeling has you nearly moaning. Nearly isn’t good enough got the number one though, and he starts trailing kisses down your jaw and further until he reaches the junction of your neck where he bites and sucks like his life depends on it. This finally brings forth the noise he was chasing, and when you go to cover your mouth from embarrassment is when you finally realize that your wrists are bound. 

Your boss’ attention is directed elsewhere though, as he reaches a hand under your skirt, past you panties, and begins to stroke your folds. You both realized how wet you’ve become at the same time, and now it’s his turn to moan. One large digit enters you as his mouth travels further south, now nipping at your collarbones and chest. Your wrists slip from around his neck and his free hand strokes upwards from your side to push your arms up over your head. Completely exposed to him he continues to ravish your skin and curl his finger in and out of your cunt. Quickly you come undone around his finger and he removes his mouth from you long enough to drag the digit along his own tongue. 

“You’re even sweeter than the kuzumochi, here” he pushes the finger into your mouth and you diligently suck the rest of your juices from it. “Good girl.” The praise itself makes you moan once again. When he’s satisfied with your work he begins to remove his pants and you finally get a glimpse of what you’re working with. You nearly get up and walk out right then, because the man is massive.

“Just relax, I’ll start slow” he reassures and stays true to his word. After a long moment of adjusting he’s fully sheathed inside you and you swear this is what heaven feels like. The moment he begins to move you know you were wrong. If that was heaven you must have finally ascended even further, to wherever gods go when they die. Endeavor fucks you hard and slow against his desk until your eyes are rolling back in your head and you can see every constellation on your eyelids. And when it’s over, you’re shaking like a leaf.

He pulls out, not giving a second glance to the fluids leaking out of you and onto the floor, and begins to untie your wrists. Both of them are red and raw from the friction of the ribbon, and he places a tender kiss on each of the marks. One more kiss on the bruised patch he left on your neck, then he’s hoisting you upwards in a sitting position. Still unsteady but slowly coming back down to earth, you feel a soft tissue wipe at the mess between your legs while a strong hand continues to keep you upright rests at your side. 

When you look up to meet his gaze, your confidence is no longer an act. “Happy birthday,” you say and for once he breaks out a genuine smile that makes him look ten years younger.

As he rests his forehead against yours he replies, “It’s not over yet” but before you can question his meaning the intercom system next to his computer rings and a voice announces “Mr. Hawks is on his way up, sir” and you choke. You did promise you’d tell him how things went. 

#endeavor x reader #endeavor #enji x reader #enji todoroki #bnha #mha #happy birthday endeavor

[megan-is-mia]

Since Rook's SSR is coming soon, can i request nsfw for him with manipulative yandere prompt 8? Also with hunter and prey stuff?

8. “You’ll be safe as long as you stay with me.” (Yandere! Rook Hunt x Fem! Reader) (WARNING NFSW AND NON-CON AHEAD) She should have felt honored to be invited. Night Raven College’s Fall Ball was only for 3rd years and honor-roll 2nd years. So there should have been no reason for (Y/n) to find herself at the prestigious event. Yet for some reason that she could not figure, the Pomefiore vice-dorm leader Rook Hunt had asked her to be his date. She should have refused and if she’d known what would happen she would have. Instead she’d been so flummoxed that the older boy had asked her, that she simply accepted his proposal. Now she was here, at a party where she could not recognize a single face. Not even her own face looked like hers under all the make-up that had been caked upon it. The petticoat under her dress itched and her shoes felt too tight. This night was turning out to be miserable and worst of all Rook seemed unaware of her plight. The blonde seemed to only be focused on the gayety of the event and couldn’t stop smiling like a Cheshire Cat. It wasn’t until (Y/n) squeezed his arm tightly that he seemed to remember she was accompanying him at this gathering. “Where are my manners? I shouldn’t let my mind and eye wander so when I have such a lovely thing on my arm” Rook said directing his gaze on (Y/n) and grinning. “Would you honor me with a dance Mademoiselle?” he said already pulling (Y/n) towards the dance floor regardless of her answer. Mercifully the music was a slow waltz, allowing (Y/n) to simply sway to the beat as Rook’s hand rested on her waist to guide her. In another situation it might have felt romantic but all (Y/n) could think about was how she must have stuck out compared to the other students. Her thoughts were interrupted by Rook’s arm suddenly tightening and pressing her flush against his chest making her forehead bump against his collarbone. (Y/n) went stiff as a board at this move, hardly breathing for the risk of breathing in the blonde’s cologne. Regaining control over her limbs at last, (Y/n) abruptly shoved at Rook’s chest to escape his grip and scampered out of the ballroom with many judging eyes on her fleeing figure. Wandering down the hallway to the bathroom she slipped inside and collapsed against the sink. Staring at her made-up reflection (Y/n) frowned and began frantically scrubbing away at her face. Using a combination of water from the sink and paper towels she was able to clean her face of most the makeup. Sure her skin was rubbed raw in a few spots but she felt like herself again and smiled weakly. Stepping out of her itchy petticoat and tight shoes brought a bigger smile to her face and a deep sigh of relief left her lips. After a few more minutes of collecting herself in the bathroom went by before she stepped back into the hallway and received a nasty surprise. “I thought you might do that” Rook said from his spot leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway to the bathroom. “Sorry for overwhelming you, why don’t we get you home (Y/n)” he added standing straight and offering his arm to the girl. “I can get back to (F/d) on my own thanks” (Y/n) said shaking her head and trying to put her foot down on the third-year’s offer. Ignoring her words, Rook took her hand anyways and began walking to the building’s exit. “Nonsense, it’d be bad behavior for a gentleman like myself to let my date walk home alone” Rook said cheerfully giving (Y/n)’s hand a squeeze as they walked. (Y/n) let out a defeated sigh and resigned herself to enduring the blonde’s presence for a little longer. They walked in silence until the girl had an abrupt revelation. “Hey this isn’t the way to (F/d)... where are we going Hunt?” (Y/n) said mildly perplexed and tried to pull from Rook whose grip became iron as she tried to move. “I’m not kidding let go of me! Where are you taking me!” (Y/n) said continuing to struggle frantically. The boy’s grip remained unforgiving as he came to a sudden stop. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been watch you (Y/n)?” Room said quietly as he gazed down at the girl. “I’ve been very patient you know, an entire year of being patient and climbing the ranks so I could invite you to the Ball without interference. And now I intend to take you back to Pomefiore so we can finish our first date with a bang” he continued with a low-pitched chuckle, the double meaning of his final sentence obvious to the frightened girl. “However since I am a gentleman, I will give you a chance to refuse. If you can make it across the forest back to your dorm without being caught I’ll leave you alone, forever if you so choose” Rook said lightly. “However if I catch you, I get to take you back to Pomefiore, and you’ll transfer out of (F/d) come tomorrow” he added squeezing her hand again. “Although if you give up now and come back to my dorm willingly I might be willing to let you stay in (F/d) instead of transferring to Pomefiore. The choice is yours” Rook went on with a grin as he wrapped a hand around (Y/n)’s waist. Without a moment’s hesitation, (Y/n) wriggled away from the blonde and started running cursing the fact her shoes had been left at the dance hall. “Ah, so you intent to try and make a break for it? Wonderful I love a good hunt” Rook called out after her. He did not immediately give chase, afterall it was more fun when his prey thought they stood a chance of outwitting a hunter like him. After a long moment he sprang into action with an excited grin on his face. For a long time the only sound (Y/n could hear was the sound of her own thumping heart and twigs cracking under her feet. But here was another sound barely acknowledged by her frightened a whizzing sound that turned out to be crossbow bolts flying by her head before becoming embedded in nearby trees. Rook wasn’t just hunting her in a metaphoric sense she suddenly realized, he had magicked up a crossbow and was legitimately trying to hunt her. Another bolt went flying and there was an abrupt rush of pain in (Y/n)’s leg as the projectile lodged into her flesh. The girl toppled over, the bolt having hit a vital spot that made her helpless as the hunter drew closer. “Oh (Y/n) how I do hate to see you cry” Rook drawled lowering his crossbow before returning it to its holster on his back . “But don’t you see? You’ll be safe as long as you stay with me, just let me take care of you and everything will be fine” he went on scooping (Y/n) up and cradling her her in his arms as they made their way out of the forest and up the front stairs to Pomefiore then inside. (Y/n) was in too much pain to fight back as Rook set her on his bed and retrieved a first aid kit to treat her wounded leg. However once he was finished patching her up, his grip did not loosen on her leg. In fact he began kissing up the length of it to the top of her thigh under her dress. “Now will I have to rip this pretty dress of yours up or will you take it off willingly for me?” Rook cooed resting his cheek on (Y/n)’s thigh and grinning up at her. Reluctantly the girl reached back behind her to try and undo the buttons of the dress but her fingers shook to much to achieve anything. “I can’t get the buttons to cooperate!” (Y/n) squeaked out fearful that Rook would take her actions as resistance and destroy the dress. However he only smiled again and sat up reaching around to undo the buttons without looking. As the dress fell off (Y/n)’s shoulder and came to rest around her waist Rook buried his head between her breasts. “Naughty girl, not wearing a bra to such a classy event” Rook purred kissing the skin between her boobs almost reverently. “I’m thankful you didn’t go commando too, I don’t think I could stand the knowledge of all those people seeing you without underpants” he went on continuing to pepper kisses against her skin. “It wasn’t like that! The dress had a built-in-bra! I’m not that kind of girl!” (Y/n) protested trying to weakly push Rook away her cheeks flushed a vibrant pink. The blonde ignored her good-naturedly as he lifted her hips up to slide the dress down to her thighs and then off onto the floor. “Of course you’re not, you’re my kind of girl is what you are” Rook said looking down hungrily at the panties concealing (Y/n)’s last shred of decency and licked his lips. However he restrained himself and underdressed himself down to only his undergarments as well. He noticed with satisfaction that (Y/n)’s eyes couldn’t help being attracted to the bulge in his boxers. Rook hooked a finger under the waistband of (Y/n)’s panties dragging them down her legs as his mouth latched onto one of her tits and he sucked. The hand that had removed her underwear returned to poke and prod at her cunt to loosen her up for his cock. The other hand took up residency on her other breast pinching and teasing it relentlessly. (Y/n) tried to keep her voice down, not wanting to have anyone find out she was here and humiliate her further. Unwillingly she began bucking her hips down on Rook’s finger as it was joined by the rest of his fingers as he stretched her carefully. Once her muscles had mostly relaxed he pulled his hand free to discard his boxers and used her fluids to lube up his cock before he lined himself up to thrust into her. “Try to breath for me (Y/n) and stay relaxed this will only hurt as much as you make it” Rook drawled as he began to sink into her pussy with a low groan. Almost immediately she tensed up against him before going limp and allowing him further entry. The blonde pressed kisses to her cheeks and lips in an effort to keep her distracted from the pain until he bottomed out in her. Rook’s thrusts were slow and steady forcing (Y/n) to feel every minuet sensation of the experience. At first her hands were clenched into fists and her nails dug into her palms as she twitched in agonizing pleasure until Rook forced her hands open. Placing one on his back and holding the other with his own he grinned down at her. “If you’re so determined to dig your nails into something why don’t you try me hmm?” Rook purred, his thrusts picking up speed a little but remaining steady and pleasure giving. Obediently (Y/n) dug her nails into the male’s flesh making a painful spike of pleasure go through his system goading him into speeding up again until the bed was shaking beneath them.

To her credit (Y/n) remained quiet through the whole endevour even as her head lolled back and her mouth hung wide as an orgasm rolled over her and was soon followed by Rook’s cum filling her as he came as well. The blonde pulled out of her and cleaned the both of them up before slipping under the covers with her held close to his chest. “Of all the beautiful creatures I’ve hunted you are the most satisfying catch I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to show you off to my dormmates tomorrow at breakfast” Rook said sleepily as he nuzzled the back of (Y/n)’s neck and drifted off to sleep. The girl did not find rest until well after midnight when her eyelids finally fell shut and she had peace for a few hours... THE END

#Yandere Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt

[flowerfan2]

Hey friends, I know you’ve probably seen posts go around about how important it is to creators on this site for people to reblog their work.  So I am straight up asking you, pretty please, to reblog this post.  

This chapter features David and Patrick’s first full-on sexytimes since they got back together (after more than three years apart), and mildly angsty hurt/comfort (not at the same time).  I hope you enjoy it!

David x Patrick, 4400 words this chapter, 45k so far.  A03.  Read from the beginning here.  Posts on Fridays.

Chapter 14

It’s Friday, almost two weeks since they arrived in Florida, and four days since David jumped into the pool in an attempt to douse the flames of his surging emotions with chlorinated water.  Patrick never did find out exactly what his mother said to David, but it obviously shook something loose in him, gave him some insight into how Patrick was feeling, enough to help David lower some of his defenses and let Patrick in.

Over the past few days, David has been more physical with Patrick, his hands always sliding down Patrick’s arms, touching the small of his back, finding his hand to tug him along.  It’s like it used to be, back before they broke up, easy and safe and sure.  They haven’t gone any further, still just kissing and being close.  And it’s lovely, it is, but Patrick can’t help hoping for more.  If David’s ready.  Only if David’s ready.

Patrick wants to let David take the lead, this time, given his botched attempt to seduce David the previous week.  And he’s really hoping that tonight will be the night.

While David was working today, Patrick went to the store, wanting to put together a dinner that communicated “I’m totally ready and I think you are too, but it’s fine if you’re not.”  It’s a big ask for a bouquet of flowers and some pasta.

There’s a part of Patrick’s mind that keeps wishing they could have a bottle of wine, or a few fingers of whiskey, and use the socially acceptable crutch of alcohol to ease the way.  But David isn’t drinking, and Patrick not only respects that but knows it’s not a bad idea for himself either.  So they are just going to have to man up and deal with their inhibitions.  It’s a little bit scary when he thinks about it, how many times he’s used alcohol to avoid worrying about sexual encounters which while consensual, he might not have been thrilled about.  This is different, though, and important.  And Patrick can do it, even if spaghetti carbonara might not have the same effect as a good merlot.

Later that night, he thinks that he might not have given the carbonara enough credit.  David has been attentive, hanging over Patrick’s shoulder while he cooked, snatching bites of bacon out of the pan.  They eat at the kitchen island, sideways so that they face each other, knees knocking together.  David’s wearing a camel-colored hoodie with sort of layered sleeves that flow down his arms like a waterfall, but they slide back as he lifts swirls of pasta to his mouth, leaving his forearms bare for Patrick’s enjoyment.

Mariah is playing softly in the background, and David has barely finished his last bite of the meal when he’s surging forward, his mouth slanting over Patrick’s, licking into it and kissing until the taste of cream is merging with the taste of David, eager and hungry for Patrick.  David’s arms go around Patrick’s shoulders and he stands, moving between Patrick’s legs and bringing their bodies close.

Patrick slides his hands around David’s back, feeling his muscles flex under the thin fabric of his sweater.  David hums approval and tilts his head, kissing along Patrick’s jaw and back under his ear.  It feels amazing, like Patrick’s entire body is lit up from the inside, and Patrick lets out an appreciative groan.

David pulls back and Patrick winces.  He’s gone too far.  “Sorry,” Patrick says.  “Sorry.”

“No, wait.”  David grabs his arms as Patrick tries to turn away to clear their plates, wash the dishes, distract himself from the arousal pulsing through him.  “We don’t have to stop,” David says, his eyes bright.  “If you don’t want to.  But we could relocate.”

They stumble down the hallway and fall into to the bed, somehow still clothed, like they forgot the order the steps are supposed to go in.  David grins shyly at Patrick and reaches over to him, unbuttoning his shirt so slowly Patrick thinks he might combust.  David helps him shrug it off, then pulls Patrick’s t-shirt off over his head and kisses softly at his collarbone.  

Patrick leans back and lets himself enjoy the attention, then slides his hands up under David’s sweater.  “Come on, this too.”

David sits up and takes it off, folding it and setting it on the floor.  Then, with a sideways look at Patrick, he takes off his jeans and adds them to the pile.  Patrick quickly does the same, except that he just throws his off the bed.  He doesn’t know how David retains the brain power to care about his clothes at a time like this.

They move together again as they lie down, just their briefs on, still not quite touching.  Patrick runs a finger down David’s chest and follows it with his mouth.  He remembers this with David, remembers the first time he kissed him here, his chest hair tickling his lips.  Patrick lets out a contented sigh, and David wraps his arms around him as he lies back, pulling him over until Patrick’s body is pressing down on him, his hands curled at the sides of David’s head.

Patrick knows how much David likes this.  He always said it made him feel grounded, to have Patrick all around him.  It was another thing that had been new for Patrick, the heaviness of a man’s body on him, and he had taken a little while to get used to it.  But David had never made him feel dumb about it, never made him feel bad, as he learned all the ways that being with David could be so very wonderful and different from what he had experienced before.

They kiss for a while, David’s hands ranging up and down Patrick’s back, caressing his ass and pulling him in firmly against him.  Patrick can’t help but whine at the pressure, his hips thrusting forward.  “God, David,” he murmurs, and David grins into Patrick’s mouth, loops a leg over Patrick’s calf to snug them even closer together.  

Patrick doesn’t want this to end yet, so he flips them over, his ribs twinging in protest, and sits back, straddling David’s legs and smoothing his hands down over his chest.  David is wide eyed and panting, hands finding Patrick’s thighs and holding tight.  Patrick gets his fingers under the waistband of David’s black briefs, and when David nods in agreement, eases them over David’s straining cock.

“It’s polite to stare,” David had said to him years ago, a smile tucked into his cheek, when Patrick couldn’t help but take a moment to examine and admire the sight in front of him.  Patrick does the same now, and then with significantly more grace than the first time he did this, he leans down and takes David in his mouth in one smooth movement.  

David groans and grabs at the sheets, barely keeping himself from arching up into Patrick’s mouth.  “Oh my god, Patrick, warn a guy.”

Patrick slides off with a pop.  “Want me to stop?”

David shakes his head and Patrick sinks back down, loving the weight of David’s cock in his mouth, the feel of it on his tongue.  David is making the most wonderful sounds, every <i>oh</i> working Patrick up too.  Patrick can feel how close David’s getting, and David knows it too, his hand brushing over Patrick’s hair and cheek.  “Wait,” David says, “I’m too - I don’t want to-”

Patrick slurps off of him and sits back, his hands gentling along David’s hips as David sucks in a breath.

“Would you – I’d like you to-” David stutters out, reaching up to pull Patrick down by the back of his neck.  He kisses Patrick, licking into him hard and sloppy and dirty.  “Fuck me, Patrick,” he whispers into his ear.  It’s unfairly sexy, and Patrick has to take a minute to get himself under control before he can even start to contemplate granting David’s request.

It doesn’t take long.  Patrick had rather optimistically left lube in a nearby drawer, and David opens easily for his fingers.  He doesn’t have to stop and check in with David, who is loudly and enthusiastically assuring him of how good he feels every step of the way.  Patrick is pathetically grateful that they had the necessary conversation already (neither of them have been with anyone in ages, both tested, both clean) so there’s no need for a condom.  When Patrick finally pushes in David is shaking and flushed, demanding and lovely.  Soon Patrick starts moving, and David urges him along, hands running up and down Patrick’s back and squeezing his ass in time to his thrusts.

Patrick gets a hand on David’s cock but he’s barely touched it before David is spilling between them, and the agonized pleasure that erupts from David’s throat has Patrick coming a moment later.  David tugs at Patrick’s side and his arm, anywhere he can reach, pulling him close until Patrick’s face is tucked into the side of David’s neck.  

“Love you,” Patrick pants against David’s chin, drawing in deep gulps of air.  “Love you so much.”  

“Mmm, love you too.”  David slides his hand around the side of Patrick’s head, and he holds him close as he kisses him, again and again until it’s just a touch of his lips, dancing along Patrick’s.  Patrick grins into it, happy and overwhelmed in the best possible way.

*****

The weekend is bright and warm, matching the sunshine Patrick can feel pouring out of him whenever he looks at David.  They sleep in on Saturday morning, David forgoing his run in favor of rimming Patrick until he forgets his own name, and then lazily cleaning up with a shower that lasts until lunchtime.

They finally get dressed and drag themselves out of the house, going for a walk at a state park where they get lost among the shrubs and palm trees, David pretending to be upset until Patrick pulls him off the path and gives him a quick handjob that leaves them both giggling with naughty delight.  At night they engage in the tried and true pastime of fucking around on the couch while ignoring a movie, followed by more sex in bed.  By Sunday morning they’re both a little sore, although they muddle through another round of blow jobs just because they can.

As Sunday afternoon comes around, reality starts to set in.  Patrick still doesn’t have a job, he still hasn’t done anything about seeing a therapist, he still doesn’t have anything to offer David except his broken-ass self.  He finds himself whispering his fears to David while they’re curled up together on a lounge chair by the pool, and David strokes his head and offers reassuring words that segue into self-deprecating tales of David’s own trials and tribulations, finally making Patrick laugh so much he almost falls off the chair.

The next day Patrick is at the kitchen island, laptop open, when David comes out of the office.  

“You sent me an email,” David says, his face carefully neutral.

“Yes,” replies Patrick.

“Why are you sending me an email?  I’m right here.”  David puts a hand on his hip.  Patrick wants to grab him and put his own hands there, over David’s soft white sweater, run them down his capri-clad legs, but he’s determined to keep his mind off sex and on business today.

“Did you read it?”

David looks affronted, and possibly nervous.  “Just tell me.”

Patrick does stand up then, and put his hands on David – his arms, not his hips, and he gives him a soft, quick kiss.  “There’s nothing wrong, David.  It’s not a scary email.  I was just sending you my revised resume.”

David relaxes in stages, his body moving towards Patrick even as his face remains uncertain.  “Are you asking me for a job?  Because while I have proven my worth to RMG as far as creative input, I don’t have any hiring authority for any position you would possibly want.  Stevie is really the one you should be asking.”

Patrick laughs and rubs David’s arms.  “No, I’m not asking you for a job.  I wanted you to read over my resume and help me get it ready.”

“Oh.”  David blinks and steps away, looking around and then going to the refrigerator where he stares at the bottles of water.  “Are you sure?”

“Why not?”

David closes the refrigerator without taking anything out.  “I mean, I’m not really good at that kind of thing.”  

“Why would you say that?”

“Well,” David says, “you gave me plenty of shit about not knowing how to describe my store, why do you think I’d be any better at describing anything else?”

Patrick laughs.  “It’s not at all the same.”

“Fine, I’ll read it over, but… you know who you should ask.”

Patrick doesn’t really think that Johnny is the best one to advise him on how to seem relevant, but he has had a wealth of experience.  Still… “I don’t need your dad to know every detail of my lackluster performance over the past few years,” Patrick says.

“My dad?  No, oh no, no, that is not what I meant.  You need Alexis to look at it.”

Patrick doesn’t much like this idea either, if for different reasons.  He goes over to the couch and flops down.  David follows and sits close, his hand gliding over Patrick’s shoulder.

“She’d help you,” David says.  “You guys are good now, I heard you talking with her the other day, when she called and I was coming out of the shower?  She wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s not it,” Patrick says.  “Or, it’s not all of it.”

“Then what?”

Patrick sighs.  “I have to figure out how to explain what happened with my last job, and why I haven’t done anything since.  And why my professional trajectory hasn’t exactly been the most impressive.”

David erupts with laughter, and Patrick glares at him.

“Oh my god, Patrick, have you met her?  It’s like you’re describing Alexis’ most marketable skill.  There is no one better at turning grocery store lemons into rosemary lemonade cocktails than my sister.  I’m calling her right now.”

*****

A few days later Patrick double checks his calendar, grimacing when the entry for his doctor’s appointment shows up that afternoon.  He puts it out of his head for most of the day, and is considering skipping it altogether, when David comes into the living room and tilts his head at him curiously.

“Why aren’t you ready to go?  Google maps says the doctor’s office is twenty minutes away, and you know you should arrive early in case there are forms to fill out.”  David gives him a little wink, probably in acknowledgement of how Patrick feels about filling out forms.

He’s not sure why David thinks he isn’t ready, other than the fact that he’s lounging on the couch like a person with no intention of getting up anytime soon.  Patrick looks himself over.  He’s wearing gray joggers and a green t-shirt.  He’s not <i>not</i> ready.  “I’m not going to change clothes to go to the doctor’s office.  And there’s plenty of time.  No need to kick me out of the house just yet.”

David frowns.  “Studies show that doctors treat well-dressed people better.  Frankly studies show that everyone treats well-dressed people better.”

“I don’t think this particular casually dressed white guy is in any danger of biased treatment.  Plus I’m guessing I won’t be wearing any clothes by the time the doctor sees me.”

“Fine.  But I’m changing, doctor’s offices are always chilly and this sweater is too light.  I’ll be right out.”  David heads off towards the bedroom, and Patrick realizes what this means.  David is coming to the doctor’s office with him.

Later, as they pull into the parking lot of the nondescript medical center, Patrick stops David with a hand on his.  “I appreciate you driving me over, but you don’t have to come in.”

“Do you not want me to come in?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that you don’t have to.”

David sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and considers Patrick.  “What’s going on?”

“What?”

“You wanted me to come to the dentist with you, back when – you know.  You always said you hated doctors’ offices, and you felt better when I came with you.  Has something changed?”  David takes a breath, his eyes going wide.  “Is something wrong?  Is there something you don’t want me to know?”  His hands fly to Patrick’s shoulders, holding tight.

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong.  But it’s just a check-up on the state of my ribs, and how this is healing,” he motions to his head wound.  “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to, that’s all.”

David stares at him for a moment, then gets out of the car and leans down to see Patrick when he doesn’t immediately get out.  “Come on.  Let’s go.”

Patrick walks up to the counter to check in, while David takes a seat in the bland waiting room.  Most of the room is done in shades of tan – the walls, the chairs, the curtains keeping out the bright sunshine.  He watches David silently judging the fake floral arrangements, and the clashing plastic Christmas tree on the corner table.

The receptionist greets him politely enough.  She’s probably wondering why Patrick is here.  They probably don’t get many thirty-somethings, at least not without an elderly parent in tow.  Certainly Patrick has only ever been here before with his mom.  

Patrick has barely sat down next to David when they call his name and he stands back up again.  David looks at him inquiringly, but Patrick shakes his head.  “I’m good.”  It’s one thing to have David come with him, it’s another to need him holding his hand in the examination room.  “Why don’t you go get coffee?  I think there’s a place in that strip mall we passed.”

David smirks.  “Which one?”  He’s not wrong, this stretch of road is nothing but strip malls, all with their own Publix supermarket holding down the fort.  But David sits back and crosses his legs one over the other.  “I’m fine here.  Go.”

Patrick follows the nurse and sits in the examining room where he’s told to wait.  He finds the little tub of citrusy lip balm in his pocket and puts some on, thinking about David ordering a gross of custom product just because Patrick said it smelled like sunshine.  <i>After</i> they broke up.  He breathes it in, letting it distract him from the antiseptic odor of the doctor’s office.

The nurse returns, introduces herself, and directs Patrick to strip down to his briefs and wait, again.  When she reappears she does the expected weighing and measuring (he’s not sure why this couldn’t have been done before he was mostly naked), and then has him sit on the examining table while she asks him a million questions.  

She’s readying a syringe of some type, wrapping an elastic band around his arm and telling him to make a fist, when Patrick suddenly feels the room closing in on him.  His vision narrows to the point of the needle in her hand, and he can’t hear anything over a harsh rushing in his ears.

He can’t breathe, everything is dark and his chest is on fire and he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t know what to do, it all hurts and there’s no air, no air anywhere.  Then there’s something soft and warm against his face, and a hand rubbing his back.

“Hey, Patrick, you’re okay.”  He hears a voice – David – and he holds on, David’s fuzzy black sweater under his fingers, his rumbling chest against his cheek.  “You’re okay, just breathe, honey.  Try to relax and breathe.”

Patrick doesn’t think it’s possible, but he hangs on to David and listens to his voice, presses his face into his body.  He tries to do that breath matching thing but it’s not working, and he thinks madly that David will have to take him to the doctor but then remembers they’re already there, and the pain in his chest and his head threatens to overwhelm him.

“Patrick, can you hear me honey?”  David has one hand on Patrick’s cheek, and the warmth of his chest is gone, and Patrick blinks open his eyes to see David looking at him with eyes full of concern.  “There you are.  Come on, try to take in a deeper breath.  You can do it.”

Seeing David right in front of him, present and worried and as beautiful as ever, somehow seems to help, and Patrick sucks in a stuttering breath.  “That’s it,” David says, somehow proud.  “Another one, now.  Slow.” Patrick tries again, and again, in tune to the rhythm of David’s words and the firm pressure of the circles he’s drawing on his back.

Patrick finally feels like there’s air in his lungs, and he lets himself look away from David.  He’s still in the same room where the nurse brought him, but now David is sitting on the examining table next to him.  He straightens up, David’s hands falling to his waist.  He feels shaky and ill.

“How are we doing?”  Someone in light blue scrubs pokes their head in the door, and Patrick feels his heart thump against his chest.

“I’m fine.” His voice echoes in his head as he speaks.  He’s not convincing anyone.

“Give us another minute, please,” David says firmly, and the door is closed again.  Patrick sags down against David and closes his eyes.  Now that he can breathe again he’s beyond embarrassed, sweaty and miserable, and yet David is still holding him, stroking his back and running a hand over his head.  

“I’m okay, really,” Patrick says a few minutes later.  

David pulls back and considers this.  Patrick doesn’t know what measure he’s using, but David apparently decides that Patrick isn’t going to expire from lack of oxygen, and his shoulders relax slightly.  “Shall we get out of here?  There’s a Dairy Queen half a mile away, and they’ve still got the Girl Scout cookie flavors.”

“Is that what the doctor ordered?”

David rolls his eyes.  “Ice cream is always necessary after a doctor’s appointment.  What, were your parents monsters?”

“You’re telling me Moira took you for ice cream after your doctor’s appointments?”

“Well, someone did.”  David squeezes Patrick’s shoulders encouragingly.  “Come on, I’ll drive.  You can check google for a pizza place.  I think you deserve both.”

“David, as much as I like the sound of your plan, they haven’t examined me yet.”  

David frowns.  “Is it really necessary?”

Patrick wants to say yes, of course, because the doctor he saw in Toronto told him to get checked, just to be sure, in case something isn’t healing right, he always listens to his doctor’s instructions… but what are they going to say?  Gee, looks like you’re healing just fine, must be all of that invigorating sex exercise you’ve been getting?  Maybe they can just bolt out of here after all.

Just then there’s another knock on the door.  The scrubs-clad doctor is tall, with a friendly expression and a head full of curly gray hair, and he waits for their permission before coming into the room.  He has a reassuring demeanor, and he doesn’t say a word about David staying in the room, which is just as well because Patrick can tell from David’s quick inhale that challenging him would lead to some rather snippy responses.

The doctor convinces Patrick to let him do a quick exam.  Patrick agrees, and David slides off the table but stays close, hovering just next to Patrick.  David keeps darting a hand out to touch Patrick, on his shoulder or his arm, and the doctor doesn’t object.

The doctor asks Patrick to stand and go through some movements to assess his range of motion, and Patrick can feel David’s eyes on him as he stretches and bends.  It’s all good, he has hardly any pain, and he’s not surprised when the doctor tells him that he’s healing well.  

When he’s finished, the doctor looks at the two of them, David with his hand on Patrick’s shoulder again, and nods.  “You’re doing just fine, Patrick.  And you’re very lucky, to have someone to count on.”  A shadow passes over his face.  “You remind me of my son.  Good luck to you both.”

The doctor then leaves the room, suggesting that Patrick make an appointment to have his ribs x-rayed in the next few weeks.

David turns to Patrick, eyebrows in motion.  “What do you think that means?  About his son?”

“That I remind him of his son?”  

David shakes his head.  “That look – ugh, I don’t want to know.  But it’s not good.”

Patrick gets dressed while David pretends to read a poster on the wall about cardiovascular health, and then they check out.  

“Does the doctor know how you got hurt?”  David asks as he slides into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors before he pulls out of the parking lot.

“I don’t know.  The nurse didn’t ask.”

“I suppose fractured ribs and a head wound tell their own story.”

They drive in silence, and Patrick wonders what happened to the doctor’s son.  If it was something like what happened to him.  The comment, along with how accepting the doctor was of David being all over Patrick during the exam, makes him think the answer is yes.  It’s a reminder that even while he and David are holed up in their little bubble, taking shelter from reality in their comfortable suburban nest, the world keeps on moving along.

He’s surprised when they pull up to the Dairy Queen, although he really shouldn’t be.  David doesn’t joke about dessert.  They debate their options for a few minutes with a seriousness he doubts most people would appreciate when considering what candy to swirl into soft serve.  Despite the presence of the Thin Mints Blizzard, David decides on one with raspberries and chocolate pieces, and Patrick picks peanut butter cup.  

Later that night, curled up safe in bed with David’s arms around him, Patrick thinks back on the doctor’s words.  He is very lucky – immensely lucky - to have David to count on now, and the terrible irony is that if Patrick hadn’t been beat up and then fled to Florida to nurse his wounds, he might still be alone.

#David x Patrick #Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #SC fic

[robinofinashiro]

- request from anonymous: “loving your writing style, especially the yandere alphabet. you’re doing great btw. i was wondering if you can do bokuto from haikyuu yandere alphabet with non-con. but you don’t have to add the non-con if you don’t want to. Lol. Thank you if you get the chance to do this!” 

- request status: open

- pairing: yandere bokuto x fem! reader

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Bokuto is INTENSE with his affection. he is all about physical, emotional, and verbal affection. you cannot get away from this man and the way he is with you. you are everything to him and he shows that in every single way he can. 

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

honestly, Bokuto doesn’t seem like the type to want to get messy and he’ll use it as a last resort but if he sees that someone is trying to get close to you, he will be on the lookout and will not hesitate to start killing someone. 

C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

he’ll pamper you. treat you as though you have been in love with him since you first saw him. Bokuto is a very heavy delusional yandere. he thinks that he’s the only person in your world and that no one else matters. 

D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

ummm, he wants kids. a lot of them. he wants to make an entire team basically. if he sees that you don’t want kids, adoption is always an option. but regardless, he will get kids whether you want to your not. also will unknowingly track your phone. 

E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

oh, poor Bokuto. he thinks that you really care about him. he straight up thinks that you love him like he loves you and will tell you everything about his life. he doesn’t care. again, very delusional so he doesn’t really see the fact that you don’t care for him. 

F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Emo mood like no other. he has to get Akaashi wrangled up in his relationship but honestly, he can’t bring himself to physically hurt you. i see a lot of people trying to make Bokuto some aggressive yandere but I personally can’t see it.

G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

no, this is nothing of a game to Bokuto. he needs you. he can’t live without you. he’d get so upset if he saw you trying to escape. there’s no joy for him on his end. i can imagine he’d probably spiral if he watched you leave. 

H - Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

probably when he first kidnapped them. the kicking, crying, screaming, and all of that hurt him so bad. Bokuto didn’t know how to calm them down and you were screaming so loudly. thankfully he actually installed sound proof walls. 

I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

he wants kidssss and so manyyyy. like dead ass. he wants an entire team and you will give it to him. he wants what some of his team members have and not only that, he wants to see you at his game with his jersey on and you screaming his name. 

J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

very easily jealous. lowkey one reason why he doesn’t want you around his team. he knows he has some very attractive teammates ( AHEM HINATA, SAKUSA, AND ATSUMU ) and if he saw any of them even tempting to flirt with you, so sad that they’ll suddenly lose a teammate. 

K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

he’ll be all up on you. he doesn’t care. he’s all about the PDA. if he wants to kiss you, he’ll do it. if Bokuto wants to hold your hand, he will. if Bokuto sees you’re looking extra cute, he’ll smother you. if he gets to a certain point, he’ll even skip a practice to be with you. 

L - Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

he’d try to court you but he gets too anxious and will take you right after a few weeks. in this yandere universe, he’d probably have Akaashi as a voice of reason to wait but god damn it, he couldn’t. he probably took you out on like one date before taking you. 

M - Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

everyone knows how expressive Bokuto is. they also know how he acts so a lot of that transfers over at home but turn the dial up to eleven. he’d def be more clingy to you and tbh, a part of Akaashi feels bad for you bc he knows the real Bokuto. 

N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

when Bokuto punishes, he PUNISHES. no holds bar. you have to absolutely push him to the edge tho bc he’d try not too. again, he would rather have Akaashi punish you but if Akaashi can’t or he wants to be the one to do it, he’d break a leg. leave marks on you. the whole shebang. 

O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

most of them. you don’t have car rights, phone rights, outside privileges, NOTHING. Bokuto is very paranoid you’d try to leave so he’d do everything in his power to strip you of your rights. and if you are online, he watches everything you do. 

P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

very patient! he’d take everything you’d do and try and justify it. he knows he pushes the limit on the slip ups you do, however; once his patient does wear thin, he’ll def not hold back or even ask Akaashi not too. but overall consensus, very patient. 

Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Bokuto will k word himself. no doubt. you are his life. you are above volleyball. you are above his friends and family. if you die, he does as well. if you escape, LMFAOOO, you’re not. he keeps your home secured and that isn’t even a thought. 

R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

nope! very delusional yandere so he doesn’t see his actions as wrong. he’s a ray of sunshine that sees nothing even mildly weird about kidnapping you. again, the chance of you leaving is a NO. you’re with him until you or him die. 

S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

honestly, probably curiosity. he sees other yanderes and their darlings and instantly craves it. as far as we know, Bokuto has no depressing or sad backstory so it’s just his thoughts that bring him into kidnapping and keeping you. 

T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

see letter H.

U -Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

again, the whole physical punishment thing is not really his favorite thing to do. he’d rather let someone else do it or have you punish yourself in the sense of self isolation. he wants to keep you alive so he won’t starve you or anything.  

V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

honestly, probably his depressive episodes. that’s their best chance but that probably won’t work out. he knows what to tell you and what not too so you can’t exactly exploit something in specific. just the depressive episodes are your best bet. 

W - Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

see letter H.

X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

all the fucking time. he worships you like a god. you are his god. he’d do anything and everything for you. he’d kill someone for you. he’d go to the ends of the earth for you and he’d do it right by your side. like his obsessive streak with you is not one for games. 

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

he’d watch you 25/8. stalking is a big thing. he’d pick up anything that you threw away or accidentally dropped. probably has a shrine of your small trinkets. 

Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

probably psychologically. he won’t hesitate to fuck with your mind. he sees it as the only way he could hurt you without actually having to physically put his hands on you. once the stockholm syndrome settles, ITS GO TIME BABYYYY.

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #anime x you #anime #anime imagines #sports anime #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou imagine #yandere haikyuu #yandere bokutou kotarou

[ignisentis]

There’s A TV, Joe!

For Paperstorm, one of my very favorite people, on this, the day of her birth. Happy birthday, my dear!

Or read it on AO3.

“We are usually a better judge of character,” Nicky says, and Copley puts on his best blank face. He has a job to do, and he’s not going to let Nicky get under his skin. 

“I suppose you are taking us to the person who paid for your betrayal,” Nicky continues, and okay. Copley will give him that one. 

“This’s a nice plane,” Joe says as he’s pushed up the stairs. He sounds surprised and almost...excited? That can’t be right. Copley feels his lips start to turn downward, and right then Nicky calls out from inside the plane, “there’s a TV, Joe!”

“Champagne?” Joe responds, like he isn’t in leg chains and flex cuffs and doesn’t have armed guards ready to shoot him in the face. Though, Copley muses, that last part really wouldn’t bother him all that much. 

Keane turns towards him with the same look of “who the fuck are these guys?” Copley’s sure is mirrored on his own face. 

Copley makes his way into the plane behind Keane, greeted by an incredibly sarcastic “ah, there he is! The man of the hour!” from Joe. 

“My heart,” Nicky says, pulling Joe’s attention back to him, “what do you want to watch? There are so many channels on this TV, I don’t know why anyone would need so many.” The man is frowning at the television like it’s also betrayed and captured him and is about to deliver him to scientific experimentation, and Copley finds himself mildly impressed by how nonchalant they’re acting about this whole thing. 

“Oh, is the football still on?” Joe asks. “It was early in the first half when we were so rudely interrupted, I think there should be some time left in the second half.”

“Let me see,” Nicky responds, flipping rapidly through the stations. 

“There!” Joe calls out, but Nicky doesn’t stop in time and there’s some baking show playing instead. 

“Oh, look, the chef is making a lovely fruit tart. Let’s watch this instead.”

“Nickyyyyy,” Joe whines, honest to god whines. “The football!”

“Ach,” Nicky scoffs, flapping his cuffed hands in Joe’s direction. “You watch so many games, and there will always be another one.”

“Your fruit tarts are already better than anything this chef could make! You don’t need to watch this!”

“Of course I do! Perhaps there’s a new tip I could pick up.”

“Fruit tarts have been fruit tarts for centuries, they aren’t going to change that much in half an hour on a baking show!”

“One never knows unless one watches,” Nicky says imperiously, and Copley has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the groan Joe gives in response, clearly knowing he’s lost this well-worn argument yet again. It makes Copley think of his wife and how effectively she could finish all their fights, too. 

“What if I sat with you? Would that make it better?” Nicky coos, making his way to the couch where Joe’s sitting across from the TV, and sits down on Joe’s lap, his back to Joe’s chest.

Joe grunts and lifts his arms up and over Nicky’s head, settling them around Nicky’s waist. Joe presses a kiss to Nicky’s neck with a grumbled “I suppose.” 

Nicky snorts at him and twists around so he can kiss Joe on the mouth softly, once and then twice when Joe chases his lips. Copley looks over at Keane and the other guards, who look like they’ve been sucking on lemons, and yeah, it’s official. He’s starting to like these guys. 

“Knock it off,” Keane growls at them, and Joe looks up like he’d forgotten the man was even there. Which...is entirely possible. 

“Or what?” Joe goads. “You’ll kill us?”

Nicky gasps and puts his hands over his mouth in the most incredibly exaggerated manner Copley has ever seen. It draws a laugh out of him that he can’t quite cover with a cough. Keane glares at him before turning back to Joe and Nicky to glare at them instead. Joe laughs in response and presses a kiss to the side of Nicky’s neck. 

“My love,” he says. 

“Yes, my heart?” Nicky replies. 

Copley looks over at Keane, who’s about five seconds from blowing a gasket, and wishes he had some popcorn. He should probably step in at some point, but he’s more curious to see what Joe and Nicky are going to do next. 

Besides, he definitely likes these guys. 

“Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?” Joe asks. 

“Mmm, no,” Nicky hums. “They haven’t.”

“Perhaps we should help them along, then. How many ways do you know to crash a plane?” Joe asks, and wow, okay, that is so not where Copley thought this was going. 

“Oh, tesoro, there are so many ways to crash a plane. It depends on how much time I have to plan and what materials I have to work with,” Nicky responds. 

“How many can you think of off the top of your head, right now, with the restrictions of leg chains, zip cuffs, no weapons, four armed guards, one ex-CIA agent who’s been a very naughty boy, and a pilot?”

“What are my assets?” 

“Only me,” Joe tells him, punctuating the information with another kiss. 

“Ah, that is more than enough and the only thing I ever need.” Nicky kisses him again before straightening up to look Keane in the eye. “Under those parameters, and without more time to plan, I can think of seven ways to crash this plane.”

“Did you factor in Bucharest, ‘33?”

“Ah, I did not. Thank you for the reminder. Make that eight.”

Copley feels his heart start racing, he can hear his blood pulsing in his ears. He flicks his eyes to Keane, and the man has gone absolutely still. His face is whiter than Copley has ever seen it. 

“And who, my dearest love, out of the passengers of this plane, would survive if we decided to rip it from the sky?” Joe asks, his voice dripping with fake concern. 

“You and I are the only two who would walk away from such a tragedy, my heart.”

“That’s right!” Joe grins. “We are!”

Copley feels his stomach twist around itself as he holds his breath, waiting to see if they’ll actually do it. 

“Of course, that would be a waste of a perfectly good plane,” Nicky continues after an entirely too long pause, and Copley exhales sharply, suddenly understanding the message they’re trying to send. 

“These seats are so comfortable!” Joe agrees. 

“And the wood trim is so finely worked. I would hate to see such craftsmanship go to waste,” Nicky adds. 

“Think they’ve figured it out yet, Nicky?”

“Hmm,” Nicky hums back, looking around the fuselage before making eye contact with Copley. “He has.” Joe looks up expectantly, a twinkle in his dark eyes. 

“You aren’t trapped in here with us,” Copley answers them. “We are trapped in here with you.”

“That’s right!” Joe beams at him as Nicky claps his hands to his chest like a proud father. Joe winks at him before pressing another kiss to Nicky’s neck. Nicky sighs happily and turns back toward the TV. 

“Oh, Joe, look how thickly she sliced those pears!” He exclaims, scandalized. “They’ll never finish cooking before the crust starts to catch!”

“And why didn’t she use apricot jam as a glaze? Her tart is going to be so lifeless and dull!”

“Oh, no, this is going to be a disaster,” Nicky giggles, actually giggles, as he wiggles on Joe’s lap. Joe shifts his legs around and pulls Nicky in closer, gleefully awaiting the reveal of the disaster tart. 

Copley chances a glance at Keane, whose face is all red and twisted up in anger. Joe and Nicky are probably going to pay for this later, but now? Right now?

There’s absolutely no doubt about it: Copley loves these guys. 

#the old guard #joe x nicky #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #POV James Copley #Trolls will be trolls #And then a little badass #And then trolls again #As one does when one has had 900 years to perfect their trolling #And a partner who loves trolling too #A gift for my dearest paperstorm

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 2

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 9.7k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, anal play (male receiving), praise kink, degradation, mentions of cross dressing, brief orgasm denial, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of birth control, dirty talk, pet play, cum play (kinda?), voyeurism, group sex, anal sex, pheww I think that’s it

this one is,,, twice as long as pt 1 eye-

anyways thank you for all the love for physcom! I’ll do my best to make this series ruin everyone’s lives hehehe  the best it can be! ^^ <3

-------

“...What are you two doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit-

Emergency sirens are all you can hear in your brain and sheer panic floods your veins, leaving you frozen with fear. You know you shut the door, you had to have shut it, right? Why the fuck wouldn’t you have shut the door?

Surely this is the end. You’ll be exposed and all the reasons that you gave Taehyung not to do the thing you just did come flooding back to you now, echoing in your head like ghosts and mocking you in your own voice. Contract terminated… stigmatized… left with nothing... shadow of disgrace...

“What does it look like?” Taehyung answers without hesitation, drawing you back into the present moment. One of his eyebrows lifts minutely, as if he’s only mildly irritated by the witness to your transgression. If he’s nervous, you can’t tell.

Jimin’s eyes narrow suspiciously at Taehyung’s sarcasm. “It looks like you were-”

“Our lovely PhysCom was just helping me get off.” Tae interrupts him, his tone implying the obvious.

It’s then that you realize, Jimin only saw what you two were doing, not the reason behind it, or what you were feeling... this lie might actually work.

“Then why were you just kissing her? Why wasn’t she touching you, or something?” Jimin is not so easily fooled, and he peers around to confirm that neither yours nor Tae’s genitals are exposed.

Taehyung gives a shrug. "Kissing is my new kink."  His eyes sparkle with the private joke, and he sends you a wink. “See you later, jagiya.” With that, he ruffles his hair back into place and heads out of the room, leaving you alone with a skeptical Jimin.

You're a little ticked that he left you to glue all the pieces of your cover story back into place, but you turn to Jimin regardless. "Sorry about that. Master Kim has been… experimenting,” you supply, trying to fill in any holes in the story, but sounding uncertain even to your own ears.

"I don't like that he calls you that." Jimin says, a frown on his lips as he stares after the direction Tae went.

You furrow your brows. "What?"

"Jagiya.” His gaze shifts back to you. “You know what that means, right?"

It’s rare for the boys use a word or phrase in their native language that you don’t understand. You don’t speak Korean, but the chip in your brain does. It’s hooked up to an audio-translation app in your ComGear, and automatically translates what you hear, so your brain perceives it in your native tongue.

Conversely, the chip also tracks your thoughts, so as you go to speak, it overrides the synapses in your Temporal Lobe and Korean comes out of your mouth instead. Such a device is considered standard among newly licensed PhysComs.

It didn’t used to be that way, and often PhysComs that were hired from foreign countries had no way to speak to their clients except through body language and learned commands. But the industry quickly realized that full communication is key to avoiding issues with consent, not to mention it's much more convenient, and so the best PhysCom networks provide their employees with proper translation equipment. Though there are still some smaller networks that can’t afford the technology and therefore, they usually only hire trainees who speak the same language as their potential clients.

On occasion, there will still be a word which has no exact equivalent in your language, such as hyung or jagiya, so the app doesn’t attempt to translate it. But usually you can pick up the gist of it through context, and Namjoon has been very helpful in providing you with articulate definitions before. You still remember the funny look on his face when you asked him about jagiya - the term of endearment Tae calls you.

"It's used between lovers, isn't it?” You ask, recalling Namjoon’s definition to be an approximation of darling or sweetheart. “Technically, I am his lover."

Jimin’s frown creases his brow. "Yeah, but you're a lover for all of us,” he says, a pout forming on his lips. “He shouldn't get to act like you're just his."

Normally you would tease him for sounding jealous, but his concern in this case is… founded, and another pang of guilt hits your gut. You don't know if you'll even be able to eat the dinner you made at this rate.

You try to change the subject. "Anyway, how can I help you, Master Park?"

"Oh, right.” His concern seems to melt away to embarrassment, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I sent you a message this morning. I don't know if you got it… then I messaged you about ten minutes ago, asking if we could… have a quick session."

Right. You haven’t looked at your ComGear since the incident with Taehyung, and you feel even guiltier. First you were lying to your client, and now you’ve accidentally ghosted him. Thankfully Jimin doesn’t hold a grudge, especially not with you. All he needs is a little personal attention and validation, and he’ll be purring.

Time to get back to work.

"Sorry, master.” You assume your persona and saunter over to him, running your hand up his arm. “I was so excited to hear from you, I forgot to reply,” you chuckle, your fingers dancing up his neck and combing through the hair at his nape. He visibly relaxes under your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you card through his silky locks.

“It’s okay…” he mumbles, shyly avoiding your gaze. Honestly, Jimin can be too cute for his own good. He and Taehyung are the same age, but they're like opposites in a way. They both exude the same level of charm, but one is effortlessly seductive while the other is effortlessly endearing. You have witnessed those roles reverse in them before, but no matter which way you look at it, they’re still two of the sexiest people on the planet.

“I did get your message this morning, master. Quite a scandalous outfit…" You click your tongue and raise a well groomed eyebrow at him. Jimin loves to be teased, and chastisement really puts him over the edge. “Why did a good boy like you send me such a naughty picture, hm?”

He looks away, a blush rising to his cheeks. "I was wondering if… if you could…"

You don’t try to finish his sentence for him, and lift one polished fingernail beneath his chin, coaxing him to look at you. "Yes?"

"If you could make me wear it?"

Oh. Another surprise. Jimin is a hell of a flirt on stage, and anyone would think he’s dominant in the bedroom, even just judging from how often he sticks out his tongue while dancing, or how he thrusts his hips to the encouraging screams of thousands. But that’s on the stage, when he’s in his element. By himself, in private, it’s a much different story. Jimin’s not exactly sure what he wants from you.

You had read up about all this in his file, and you’ve been working with Jimin to help him explore his sexuality in a way that’s comfortable for him. You’ve tried a myriad of things so far, and recently, he’s been enjoying more submissive pleasures. During your most recent session, he even asked you to penetrate him.

You had complied of course, but the experience seems to have inspired him to go further, to a kink you didn’t even know he had. Cross-dressing and the usual praise-filled humiliation? Oh, this will be fun.

“Chim?” Your tone is scandalized as you use the name he prefers when being submissive, and his cheeks turn scarlet. “You want to be dressed up in that outfit?”

He nods, turning his face to nuzzle his cheek into your hand. “Is... is that okay?”

Your heart melts, and you smile at him, brushing your thumb along his soft cheek. “Of course it’s okay, baby.”

He grins, his eyes turning to crescents, and you suddenly feel compelled to give him the entire world if he so desires.

You click your tongue once more and ruffle his hair affectionately. “We’ll have to order it first, okay? Then we can dress you up, Chim.”

“Okay,” he says, and you swear his smile could light up the night sky. “Until then… could you, uh… play with my butt again?”

You chuckle and nod. “Yes, I most definitely can. We still have some time before dinner.” You grab your ComGear, take his hand, and lead him out of the room, being sure to shut the door this time. “Come along, baby.”

As the two of you head off to his room, you’re almost able to forget the situation with Taehyung. That is, until you open your ComGear to pull up the picture of Jimin’s outfit and see all the missed messages from him.

I’m really sorry. My feelings got away from me. Please don’t ignore me, jagiya. I don’t want to lose you. Jagiya? I’m coming upstairs.

Shit. Feelings? A sinking feeling claws at your heart and you have to wonder just how serious Taehyung is about you. How deep do these feelings of his go?

“Everything okay?” Jimin’s voice clears your mind and you slide your ComGear back into its holster. His eyes are full of concern at your probably tense expression, and you have to push the guilt away again.

“Everything’s fine.” You aren’t sure that’s true, but maybe if you say it enough, it’ll manifest. Regardless, you don’t have time to worry about Taehyung right now. Your client needs you.

“Come on, baby boy. Let’s go make you feel good.”

-------

Jimin’s room always smells good, like fresh linen. You aren’t sure how that’s possible, when 80 percent of the time, the place is a mess. But you aren’t complaining. He keeps his bed made neatly, and that’s all that matters for your job.

"Take off your pants for me, Chim." Your voice is gentle as you start the scene and lock the door behind the both of you. Jimin wastes no time in following your orders, and strips his lower half down to his underwear. He’s about to take off his top too, but you stop him. “You should leave that on. It’s cute.”

He looks down at the oversized shirt, the long sleeves covering most of his hands, and the rest of the soft blue fabric hangs loosely around his torso. He smiles shyly and gets onto the bed, assuming position and laying on his back as he had for your previous sessions.

"What a good boy. Oh, look how hard you are already,” you purr, undoing the belt of your robe and slipping it off, leaving your body bare save for your utility belt. It feels good to put aside your worries and focus on work for a while.

Before you begin, you change a setting on your ComGear to let the other boys know you’re currently in a session. If you’re busy and they want to fuck, they have the option of joining in - if your current client allows it - scheduling you for directly after, or fucking one of the secondary PhysComs their company employs and keeps on call.

You’re their Primary Physcom. The secondaries are alternate fuck toys for when you’re unavailable, if you get sick, on your days off, while you’re sleeping, etc. For as long as you’ve worked for Bangtan, not once have they called a secondary PhysCom.

It does boost your pride a bit, but to be fair, you’re the only one who knows them so well.

Sure, they could go call another PhysCom to play with if they get super horny at three in the morning, but the secondaries are practically strangers to them. They’ve all expressed that they’d much rather wait, if it means they can get their hands on you instead of some random substitute, which is just the way you like it.

You’re their girl, and you know, better than anyone, how they like to fuck. Besides, if anything, them having to wait for you builds up the anticipation and makes them even hornier. In a way, you view their favoritism as job security. It’s only practical to stay in their good graces and develop trust and build connections with them.

You see the lust and excitement glittering in Jimin’s eyes as you climb onto the bed, facing him and sitting beside his legs. Your hand runs up along his inner thigh to tease him, and the bulge in his underwear grows a little more prominent.

“Now then. Have you been thinking about our last session, Chim?” You make your voice calm and soothing as your fingers skim up and down his thighs, giving an occasional squeeze to his soft skin. God, his thighs are thick… perfect for riding.

He nods. “Yes.”

You flick the thought away. He didn’t ask you to ride his thighs. Your fantasies are not relevant. “Good. And how do you feel about it? Did you like it when I played with your pretty little hole?” Your nails graze over his length, and he bites his lower lip. You like to do regular check-ins with your clients, in case they want to experiment, or something isn’t working for them. But with Jimin, everything so far has been an experiment, so you’ve been checking in more frequently. In a way, you’re kind of like a sexual therapist to all of them.

“Yes. I loved it,” he replies, gripping the sheets below him to avoid moving too much. “It felt so good.”

You hum in delight, happy that you two seem to have found a path to follow to pursue his pleasure. “Excellent. And if something doesn’t feel good, what do we say?”

“Calico.” Jimin murmurs, one sleeved hand coming up to cover his face. God, he’s a natural. His shyness is going to kill you. You set up safe words with all your clients, just in case. It shows your professionalism. You even have one, though you’ve never had to use it.

“Good boy. Always tell me how you’re feeling, okay?” You can feel his cock twitch at the praise, and you love being able to make him so happy.

He nods, a blush already rising to his cheeks. “Please touch me.”

How can you deny such a request? You hook your fingers in the waistband of his (no doubt very expensive) boxer briefs, peeling the fabric down his legs and off his body, to be discarded at the foot of the bed.

“Oh my…” You shift positions, spreading his legs apart and perching yourself between them. “What a pretty little cock. Look at that.” You would make a show of it even if it wasn’t pretty, but fuck, in this case, the praise is well deserved. Jimin’s cock is smooth and pink and perfect, just like his lips. Frankly, you think putting your mouth on either one would be just as pleasurable. The only fib about his cock would be the ‘little’ part - Jimin sports a fair five or six inches - but it’s all a part of the fantasy, for his benefit.

You hum to yourself as you snap on a pair of plastic gloves, as much for safety reasons as for his pleasure. Even though you all get checked frequently for any sort of sexual diseases and infections, you’re still having sex with multiple men every single day, and there are certain precautions one should take.

Hygiene is one of the many intricacies of your job and you follow your hygienic routine religiously. For anal and vaginal sex, PhysComs have various cleansers that can be inserted nightly to prevent anything nasty from taking root overnight. For Oral sex, there are specialized mouth washes that can be swallowed if needed.

But hands are a little trickier. Nails and cuticles aren’t as easily to clean thoroughly, and can trap all sorts of bacteria, so with something like fingering your clients, it’s safest to use a barrier to significantly decrease the risk of infection or contamination.

Now fully protected, your fingertips start to trace over his beautiful cock, skimming along his inner thighs, and teasing his precious little hole, building up his anticipation. He gives a small whimper, looking away as you tease him just enough to make his hips buck up into your capable hands.

Eventually, you take his length and slowly pump it in your hand, catching his gaze whenever he looks to you. “Does Chim want to be filled up? You want me to play with your ass?”

He nods emphatically, still hiding his face.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes! Please p-play with my ass.” His face is positively scarlet, and you smile with satisfaction.

You let go of him, and reach beneath his bed to pull out his little chest of treasures. Anal beads, plugs, vibrators, nearly everything can be found inside. You think he might have even added to the collection since last time.

You select a small ribbed plug with a jewel decorating the base and grab the lube from your belt. You spread a generous amount over his hole, gently massaging it in. As you carefully push your forefinger past his puckered rim, he moans. You slide your finger gently in and out, stroking his silken walls, and he writhes beneath your touch, already overcome with pleasure.

“Are you ready, baby?”

He nods again, then remembers to speak. “Yes. I’m ready.”

You ease the tip of the plug past his rim, and soon the whole thing is nestled comfortably inside him. He lets out a whine, his thighs clenching as you slowly work the toy in and out of his hole. “Good boy… such a pretty cock.” You pet his thigh soothingly, then start to squeeze his cock, pumping it slowly in time with the plug.

It doesn’t take long before Jimin is moaning and squirming, his length rock hard and leaking precum. His moans get whinier, his breath more shallow, and you can tell he’s on the edge.

With a kiss to his hardened dick, you ease the plug out of his ass and cease all contact. Orgasm denial is something he’d brought up last time, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to test the waters. "I think such a good boy can hold his cum in until dinner…"

"No! Please! I-I can't." He covers his face with both hands, writhing desperately for some friction to his aching cock, his pink hole puckering cutely at the sudden emptiness.

So freaking cute.

"Oh? You want to cum now?" You chuckle, teasing the toy around his rim. "But then how will you fuck me along with the others at dinner if your little cock is all sad and empty?" You trace your fingernail up along his length, barely touching him.

He whimpers in reply, his member twitching in pleasure.

"Can you cum again for me tonight, baby boy? Promise me. Otherwise this little cock is going to stay hard." You grip him by the base of his shaft, tortuously brushing your forefinger over the leaking head of his cock.

"I promise I can! I'll cum for you at dinner, I-I swear it…"

You grin. You don’t expect to hold it to him, but you know it’s the looming threat of punishment that’s what’s most effective here. "I have your word, baby boy."

Your hand pumps his length to completion while you grab the toy and fuck it back inside of him, and he cries out in ecstasy, quickly cumming in spurts all over your hand, a few drops landing on his shirt while his body trembles from his climax.

"Good boy,” you coo, milking him through his high.

-------

It doesn’t take you long to clean Jimin up, as well as cleaning the toy for next time, and then you pack everything away. He’s still breathless by the time you’re finished, laying on the bed as he recovers from his orgasm.

You’re about to get up and grab your robe from the floor when Jimin finds his voice.

"Why were you really kissing Taehyung?"

Your stomach sinks at the question. You’d been hoping he’d forgotten - as you were trying to do - about your little bend of will earlier. How the hell are you supposed to answer that? Honesty. Always go for honesty.

Well, as honest as you can be without losing your job. "He commanded me."

"Is that all it takes?" Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up and he props up eagerly onto his elbows. "Kiss me, too."

You curse the flutter in your stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You know for a fact that it's a bad idea, and out of the question, but damn if Park Jimin doesn't have the most luscious lips you've ever seen. The temptation is there, for sure...

"Just a little kiss?” He clasps his hands together, his eyes pleading. “It's only fair. You were practically making out with him."

Well, shit. Now what? Technically, not kissing clients is only a self-imposed rule on your part, plenty of PhysComs divulge in the act. You chose to restrict it for your own sanity. But, what now? Do you lie to yourself and stick to the book, even when you've already broken a cardinal rule? Or do you… see what's beyond the confines of its cover?

Fuck. You need to stop talking yourself into these things.

But to be fair, nothing bad happened last time, apart from Jimin walking in on you. You glance at the door, which is shut tight and locked, as is standard during a session. No risk of being interrupted.

Jimin’s eyes dart down to your lips as he chews on his own, waiting for your decision. Seeing his teeth tug at the plump pink skin has your heart skipping a beat despite your best effort to deny his effect on you.

Fuck it. Park Jimin is begging to kiss you.

"Okay, fine. One - very small - kiss." You pinch your fingers together to demonstrate.

“Yes!” He smiles brightly, and suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. He sits up fully, scooting closer to you.

Why is your heart beating so goddamn fast? Why are you nervous about this? "But, look, you can't tell anyone, okay? I’m making an exception since this isn't really in my job description."

He nods eagerly and seems happy to agree to any stipulations. “Just this once, I promise. It’ll be our secret.”

That makes it sound even more condemning somehow, but you don’t have time to second guess it as he cups your cheek and pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is like some sort of paradise, it leaves your mind feeling fuzzy... his lips… how are they so thick and soft? He’s hypnotic, sweet, addictive… like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

Before you know it, he's laying you out on the bed, moaning as he licks into your mouth, his tongue breaching through the kiss while he gropes your breast. Fuck, you shouldn’t have agreed to do this naked. But he tastes so sweet, you can’t think of a reason to object, too intoxicated by his lips. He breaks away from your mouth and starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, and pretty soon he's mouthing at your inner thighs, his fingers skimming the base of your pussy plug.

Oh, shit. Wait, no, how did this happen?

"Master Park." You start to say, but then he's twisting the plug free, and you gasp at the unexpected stretch as it pulls out. "J-Jimin!"

He stops, his eyes wide at the use of his first name as he looks up at you from his lewd position.

"What the hell are you doing?" You ask, too flustered to rely on your usual formalities.

"Saying thank you." He replies simply. Then he leans down to kiss your clit, and begins mouthing at it devotedly.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the electric contact. Fuck, no one's gone down on you in a year at least, not since your training. Your body is screaming to let him continue, but you know it’ll lead to nowhere as he laves over your sensitive and neglected bud with his tongue, and you find yourself scooting up the bed and away from his blissful mouth. "Jimin, no. Stop."

You grab the plug from him and insert it again before anything can leak out, distress making your fingers tremble.

His face scrunches with concern. "Did I do it wrong?"

Damn it, why does he have to look like a heartbroken little puppy?

"No. No, it felt really good,” You assure him distractedly, trying to contain the frustration bubbling up inside you.

"Then why can't I-"

"Because!" You don’t mean to lash out, but your temper bursts before you can help it. "God, first Taehyung and now you, why is everyone trying to fuck with me today?"

His face falls, and he looks hurt. "I wasn't fucking with you."

"No, Jimin…” This day just keeps getting better and better. “I know you weren't. I'm sorry." You extend a hand, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It’s not his fault that you can’t seem to follow your own fucking rules. "But please don’t go down on me, not ever, okay?"

"Why not?” He frowns, and you feel even worse for letting this happen. “You deserve it. You do so much for us."

You pause, wondering whether you should lie. Always going for honesty hasn’t worked out too well so far... But looking at Jimin’s eyes, full of concern and confusion, you can’t bring yourself to lie to him. "Because I can't orgasm."

His brow furrows. "Just because it’s not a part of your job, doesn’t mean-"

"No, Jimin." You draw your knees up to your chest, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable for letting your guard down so easily around him. "I literally can't. I'm incapable."

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. This is not something you expected to have to talk about. "Do you know anything about modern birth control?"

He cocks his head to the side, unsure of where you’re going with this. "There are pills, right? And condoms too, I guess."

"There are also implants,” you explain, wringing your hands in your lap.

Jimin blinks, clearly confused. His gaze slides down to your chest for about half a second.

You sigh again. "Not that kind. It's like a piece of plastic they put inside you that emits a hormone. It stops ovaries from creating eggs. They're over 99% effective at preventing pregnancy."

He still looks confused. "Yeah, but why would that make you-"

You shake your head. "That's how most of them work. There's a newer, more tailored kind of implant for PhysComs that's 100% effective." When the technology was discovered, it was a hot item for PhysCom networks. Of course, some people developed negative side effects to it, but if one’s body was compatible with this new miracle form of birth control, it boosted their advantages in the field exponentially.

You let go of your legs and look to him, resignation in your gaze. "It puts the reproductive system into a comatose state and ceases all function of the ovaries and uterus apart from lubrication."

"Oh." Jimin looks shocked, and you don’t blame him. Barely anyone outside of the sex work industry has even heard of the technology. Who else would sacrifice their own pleasure for ensuring zero chance of pregnancy?

You’ve tried to climax before on your own, god knows. But the implant leaves you in a perpetual state of mild arousal with nowhere to go, like constantly revving an engine. Clitoral stimulation feels good at first, but with no resolution, it soon becomes tortuous.

You can put up with it for short periods, like if one of the boys starts to rub you while they fuck you. They mean well. But you’ve learned to convincingly fake an orgasm before it gets to be too much. Most of the time it’s not an issue, since your pleasure doesn’t enter into the equation.

"That's how all of you can cum inside me all the time. It's how I can keep it plugged up in me without any fear of getting pregnant." You laugh humorlessly, tapping the plug at your core.

Jimin stares at the plug, as if it’s presence has taken on an entirely new meaning to him. "I never thought about that."

You actually do laugh at his naïvety. “I’m sure no man would look that gift horse in the mouth.” You realize from his puzzled expression that the idiom might not translate well. “No man would question such a privilege.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess…” A shadow crosses over his face, and you decide to draw this uncomfortable conversation about your reproductive system to a close.

"There is a way to turn it off, in case of emergency side effects. But I can't just turn it off for fun. You have to understand that.” You rest your hand on his shoulder again, hoping he now comprehends the reason for your earlier outburst. “It's a part of my job."

"I understand. Sorry,” he says, giving you a small nod. He twists his mouth to the side, chewing over the revelations. "That must really suck. Not being able to cum."

You laugh heartily this time, your spirits lifted from his sentiment. "Yeah, it does sometimes." You give his thigh a pat and get up to go find your robe. "But I get to make all of you cum for me, so doesn't that make up for it?"

He shrugs, that pout appearing once more. You feel bad for bringing his mood down. You’re supposed to be lifting him up, making him feel good.

You tie the belt of your robe and come back over to him, your finger tracing under his chin.

"Come on, baby. Let's go order that outfit for you."

His spirits seem to lift a little at the proposition and you smile to yourself. Jimin truly is one of your easiest clients to please.

-----

A while later, you stand in Seokjin’s bedroom within his walk-in closet, admiring yourself in the full length mirror. You‘re wearing a gown more expensive than a house, and jewels decorate your throat and hair, elbow-length gloves adorning your hands.

“Are you ready for dinner, darling?” Seokjin purrs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, his hands lightly gliding up your waist.

“Yes, Master Kim.” Your answer is obedient and full of gratitude. You gaze at his reflection in the mirror, letting him take in your appearance.

“My, my, my… look at how lucky I am to have such a pretty pet, hm?” He chuckles, one of his hands skimming gingerly up your ribs and settling on your breast, squeezing you through the silken dress.

“Yes, master,” you sigh, leaning into his sinful touch and playing along with his fantasy. Seokjin's pleasure seems to hinge on your luxury. The more extravagance you’re dripping in, the hornier he gets. Which he often likes to complement with your unique position in the house...

“Such a pretty pet. I bet you’d gladly have us all fuck you on the dinner table, wouldn’t you?”

You shiver. Seokjin’s dirty talk was good when you started working for them, but it’s only improved over time. "Of course, master. I love to be your little fuck toy." You smile at him in the mirror, and then turn around in his arms, placing your hands on his chest.  "Please use me tonight, any way you wish."

“That’s the plan, darling.” He chuckles, taking your hands and bringing them up to his mouth, languidly kissing each and every knuckle. His eyes burn with unbridled passion, and you wonder if tonight he’ll be in the mood to fuck you before you even make it to dinner.

Seokjin looks gorgeous, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit, with his hair styled perfectly, not a single strand out of place. Anyone would fall to their knees if they received a look like the one he’s giving you now.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet.” A smile tugs at his lips.

You gasp in delight, your eyes wide and innocent. “I’m so lucky! What is it, master?” You know what it is. He gives you one once a week, every Friday night, when it’s his turn to call the shots.

“Close your eyes, pet.”

You obey, and feel a slim piece of leather grace your throat. In a few moments he tells you to look in the mirror again, and you see a decorative collar circling your neck.

“Oh, master…” You don’t have to pretend to be impressed. Though Jin collars you every week, he never uses the same collar more than once, and this week’s purchase is a decadent, lacy display, with tiny jewels inlaid in its surface. “It’s beautiful.”

His hands are on you again, skimming up your waist while he noses your neck. “A perfect fit for my beautiful slut,” he breathes, and you feel a flutter in the pit of your stomach. Jin is just as charming as the rest of them, and It would be easy to underestimate him, but that would be a grave mistake. He gives off a certain aura of power that’s unparalleled by any other man you’ve met.

“How many?” He asks in a husky whisper, one hand slipping down your back to ease over your ass.

You shiver. Jin gets satisfaction on his night of control by knowing how much cum you’d collected inside you over the course of the day. “Sixteen.”

His hand comes down in a hard spank, rubbing you ass afterward to calm the sting. “Fuck. So greedy…” he rumbles, his voice thick with lust. “That’s more than two rounds each… Did you beg for them to fill you up, like the little whore you are?” His voice is soothing and elegant, a stark contrast to the filth coming from his beautiful mouth.

You nod, biting your lower lip. Anything to hear his silken voice in your ear again.

“You’ll eat well tonight, my sweet…” his voice lilts as he kisses up your neck, his hands slipping up once more to your tits, squeezing them possessively.

You moan softly, leaning your head back to expose more of your throat. Jin’s presence feels secure and thrilling all at once. You know he’ll never hurt you, but the effortless brand of posh dominance he wields keeps you on your toes.

“How do you feel towards Taehyung, pet?”

Your blood runs cold. How did he find out? Did Tae tell him what happened? Fuck. You try to keep your voice even, try not to let yourself become stiff in his arms. “Why do you ask, master?”

Seokjin shrugs one shoulder, more concerned with peeling down the bodice of your dress to reveal your breasts. “He requested the first taste of you tonight. I obviously won’t grant him the privilege of touching my pet if he’s done anything at all to fall out of your good graces.”

You swallow. You don’t know why Tae requested to go first, and you’d rather not give him any more ground until you’ve had a chance to talk to him. To make sure he knows the kiss was a one-time thing. To make sure he hasn’t gotten any ideas about those feelings of his.

“I… I would rather have someone else go first, master.” You say quietly, knowing that refusing Tae’s request could be just as condemning as going through with it and whatever he’d been planning to do to you.

Jin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question you. You remind yourself to calm down. For all he knows Taehyung could have eaten all the breakfast cereal. He doesn’t have to know why Tae’s not in your favor right now. “Very well, pet. I’ll choose someone else.”

“Thank you, master.” You visibly relax, and let Seokjin play with your tits. He circles his thumbs over your nipples, and they quickly become erect under his touch.

“Do you know why I gave you this collar?” He murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he licks up your neck.

You know. “Why, master?”

“Because tonight you’ll be passed around and fucked by all of us. Every member of this household.” His words are crisp, in delicious contrast with his soft hands massaging your breasts. “You’ll be our dessert course. I want them to remember that you’re mine and that I’m granting them the privilege of fucking my sweet little toy and having a taste of you.” He nips at your neck, sucking gently before pulling away. “And I want you to remember that you belong to no one else in that room but myself.” He rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging at the sensitive buds. “You obey me, and me alone. Is that understood?”

You whimper and nod. “Yes, Master Kim.”

“What a good little slut.” He smiles serenely and gives each tit a light swat before tugging your bodice back over your chest.

There’s a moment of tender silence as he observes you in the mirror. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s set his act aside for a brief moment. “You know, you’re really good at this.” He smiles appreciatively, giving you a warm hug around the middle and nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh at his break in character, laying your arms atop his. “It’s my job to be good at it,” you reply with a fond roll of your eyes.

He straightens his posture and adjusts his cufflinks, resuming his role seamlessly. “We’ll be starting the main course in thirty minutes. Be prepared.”

You nod obediently, and he hovers close to you once more. His tongue darts out to lick up your cheek possessively. “Be good while I’m away, pet.”

You watch as he leaves the room, the door shutting softly behind him. Well, you have half an hour of time to kill before they’re ready for you.

Pretty soon after you were hired, the boys’ company decided it would be a good idea for them to take turns living out their wildest fantasies with you. One night of the week is dedicated to each of them, and during that night, whoever’s in charge can do whatever they want with you, and the other boys have to either watch or join in. Their company said it’s good for group bonding, and for healthy sexual expression. The boys decided who would have which night through rock, paper, scissors, and Seokjin got slotted for Fridays.

Something about Seokjin’s banquet nights always give you jitters, as if you’re about to perform onstage. Well, if you count a tabletop as a stage. Regardless, you always find ways to relax before the show, so to speak.

Tonight you’ve decided to kill the time on your ComGear, with the few limited apps you’re allowed to have. You’ve become a master at solitaire and minesweeper, and as you take a seat on the chaise lounge, kicking your feet up, you select the hardest difficulty mode.

Honestly, you haven’t played a good game of solitaire in several weeks. But last banquet night you finished the novel you’d been reading and you’re now suffering from a severe hangover from the detailed and colorful universe the author had crafted. The next book in the series isn’t set to release for a few months, so until then you’re back at the games.

Easy. You beat the game in under ten minutes. There have to be some more difficulty levels. You switch to the settings menu and scroll until you find the gameplay options.

Huh. Strange. An option you don’t remember seeing before. ‘Connect and play with your friends!’ Psh, what friends? Did your network forget to disable the useless feature? Curious, you tap on the button and are greeted with a spinning circle, indicating that the game is probably trying to find your non-existent friends from your non-existent contact list. ComGears are so heavily restricted, they might as well be walkie talkies. All you’re allowed on there is messaging and scheduling between you, your clients, and your handler. Plus the games. But you’d requested those.

After several moments, you give up waiting and put the Gear away. You have more pressing issues on your mind, and solitaire isn’t enough of a distraction.

Why had Taehyung requested you first tonight? In fact, why had he disappeared right after the… kissing incident? He hasn’t messaged you since then, and the lack of closure is starting to make you antsy. You can trust him, right? Yesterday, you would have said so, undoubtedly. But you also wouldn’t have guessed that he had anything more than platonic feelings for you.

God, men are so complicated.

You groan and stand up, spending the rest of your down time doing your stretches, going through your positive affirmations, and trying not to worry about Taehyung. He’s under Jin’s control tonight, nothing bad will happen.

You hope.

-------

The dining room of the house is enormous, with high ceilings, chandeliers, and ornate paintings on the walls. Seokjin goes all out for his banquets and makes the room seem even more opulent with the addition of candlelight, a trained wait staff, and vases full of roses found on nearly every surface.  Formal dress is required, and all the other boys are dressed just as fancily as Seokjin, though not all of them can pull it off quite as elegantly. He makes sure to hire a string quartet, the most elite caterers, and he even calls in the secondary PhysComs to assist during the meal.

You see, Seokjin has a very specific type of kink he likes to experience. It has to do with food, but it’s not exactly considered foodplay. Jin loves to combine fine dining with sexual acts.

During the first course, PhysComs are beneath the table, sucking off each member while they taste their soups and salads. They’re not allowed to cum until desert, so the PhysComs are only there to get them hard and ready.

The second course marks the beginning of the voyeurism. A fish course is served while a PhysCom is strapped down to the table and teased with at least one vibrator, moans and whimpers filling the room in harmony with the string quartet. Seokjin encourages the boys to talk about their week so far for some family time, largely ignoring the sinful sounds coming from their overstimulated centerpiece.

During the third course, sex is performed on the table by any number or gender of willing PhysComs, while the boys are forced to watch while they eat the stew you made. Jin often likes to give commentary on the PhysCom’s forms, or occasionally direct them around.

Lastly is the dessert course, where you make your grand entrance. All their hungry, lust-crazed eyes are on you, horny as hell from all the buildup. A maid brings you in on a leash, attached to your collar. You walk past the cluster of secondaries, and they aim stares at you, some jealous, some of admiration. You don’t care. Your eyes are on Seokjin. Your owner for the evening.

He stands as you enter, his eyes burning with barely contained lust. “Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you, our dessert.”

The other boys rise as well, and you can sense Taehyung’s stare burning into you, but you avoid meeting his gaze. Your eyes are locked on Seokjin. He orders the maid to help you up, and soon you’re standing atop the table, all eyes upon you. She hands the leash to him. You await his orders.

“Take off your dress, dear.” Seokjin says, sitting back down, and the other boys follow suit. His voice is quiet, but the atmosphere is so charged with sexual tension, you could hear a pin drop.

You reach behind to undo your zipper, the noise simply sinful as your dress falls to the tablecloth, pooling around your feet. You hear a few inhales of breath from around the table.

“Bring the bowl.” Jin’s voice commands again, and a butler hurries over with a jewel encrusted dish, setting it at Seokjin’s right. After that, he dismisses all the other people in the room. The only ones left are you and the seven men around the table.

Jin takes the dog bowl, holding it up to the light and watching the way the crystals shimmer and gleam. “How many loads did you take today, my pet?”

“Sixteen,” you reply obediently, and you see Yoongi’s jaw clench from the corner of your eye.

Jin makes a rumble in his throat, like an affirmative. “So much cum to fit in such tight little holes.”

You nod, awaiting his instructions.

He licks his lips and places the bowl at your feet. “Empty yourself out for me, darling.”

You smile. Kneeling down over the dog bowl, you carefully remove the plug from your cunt, and moan as you feel their cum start to trickle out of you.

You can feel their eyes staring, faces flushed, lips bitten, as their combined releases drip into the dish, slowly coating the bottom.

Seokjin’s hands are tented in front of his face, hiding all but his glittering eyes from view. “Now your ass,” he murmurs huskily, and they all watch as you twist that plug out too, and even more cum joins the rest. Sixteen loads from throughout the day fill the dish, and you look to Seokjin, awaiting further instruction.

“Jimin.” He says, and the boy’s ears perk up. “Would you do the honors of fucking her first?”

Jimin scrambles up, as if unable to move fast enough. He climbs onto the table and unzips his pants, his hands shaking. Meanwhile, Jin orders you on all fours and pushes the dish closer to you. “Why don’t you enjoy your dinner, my pet? It’s been cooking all day.”

He takes such filthy pleasure in scenes like this, it makes your core clench just from the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. “Yes, master.”

You lean down and start to lap at the bowl. You can feel Jimin’s hands on your ass, but… something’s wrong. Why isn’t he fucking you?

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at him, a “what the fuck” look on your face for interrupting the flow of the scene, and see something unexpected. Hesitation colors Jimin’s expression, and he looks between you and Seokjin, seemingly torn.

Everyone’s eyes are on you.

Jimin leans over to speak privately, his tone lowered so only you can hear. “Do… do you want to be fucked right now?”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. Why the hell would he be concerned about that?

Seokjin realizes that something isn’t right, and he snaps his fingers. “Jimin, sit down. Hoseok, go fuck her.”

Hoseok is always a good fuck. He grins and climbs on the table, fishing his cock out of his dress slacks. “Ah, look at this ass. Pretty as always,” he chuckles and gives you a light spank before lining himself up with your entrance. He pushes into you with a heated groan, his hands groping you appreciatively. “So wet, baby…” Soon he’s snapping his hips into you at a good pace, filling you up with his length.

But you can’t focus. You stare at Jimin, sitting shamefully with his head bent. You look to Taehyung, sitting across from him, only to see a smirk on his face. What the hell is going on?

Taehyung subtly catches Jimin’s attention and mouths something to him, but of course it’s Korean, so you can’t make out the words as Hoseok pounds into you. Jimin’s eyes widen and his grip tightens on the stem of his wine glass, his knuckles white as his expression changes to one of anger. Tae merely smirks and sits back in his chair, a challenge in his eyes.

What the fuck is happening? Is this about you?

Your heart sinks through the floor. It has to be. You and your damn lips are the only common denominator in this equation.

Hoseok grabs your leash from Jin and tugs on it, the collar forcing your head back. Your neck feels like it might snap from the sudden strain of trying to keep watching their silent conversation, but it’s no use from this angle, and you give up, forced to stare at the ceiling as your legs quiver and anxiety washes over you, a sense of foreboding starting to build in your chest...

Someone jumps to their feet, their chair scraping back from the force, and something crashes to the ground with the unmistakable noise of breaking glass.

“Jimin!” Seokjin’s voice cuts through the sound of Hobi fucking you, and he halts his thrusts. You’re able to see again, pants of breath from Hoseok filling the silence as Jimin looks down, frustrated at being reprimanded. “What’s gotten into you? Sit down, now.”

Taehyung chuckles, seemingly satisfied with himself, and Jin looks to him with narrowed eyes. “That goes for both of you. Stop fucking around.”

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung merely shrugs. You can see Jungkook place a hand on Jimin’s arm, his eyes wide with concern as he helps him calm down and return to his seat. Namjoon shoots Taehyung a look, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, his eyes still fixed on Jimin.

Seokjin’s attention turns back to your display, sighing from the interruption, and he gestures for Hoseok to go harder on you. Hoseok is all too happy to comply, chuckling as he pushes down on your back, forcing your face into the bowl of cum as he pulls out of you and starts fucking into your ass instead.

Normally this is part of the proceedings. But this time you aren’t prepared, too distracted and worried by Taheyung and Jimin to focus properly, and you gasp into the bowl, choking on the pool of stickiness and sputtering on cum as you turn your face away to try and catch your breath.

Seokjin has no reason to sense anything is amiss with you, as you would sometimes struggle for show. He hums and pets your hair as you’re fucked into the table. You try to inhale, but your lungs won’t work.

You feel suffocated by the weird tension in the room, and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You know this is your fault. The other boys all look uncomfortable. Jimin’s shooting daggers at Taehyung, and Tae is glaring right back. This isn’t right.

You just need a minute to think, a minute to sort this out, to fucking talk to them and clear this up. Fuck, you want Hobi to stop. You want everything to stop. You feel overwhelmed, you can’t take it anymore, and you’re flooded with shame as tears spring to your eyes.

“Bulletproof!”

You cry out your safe word, a sob wracking your body. “Fuck! I’m sorry...”

It takes Hoseok a split second to realize what you said before he pulls out of you, his eyes wide with worry. The others all look just as shocked, and Jin jumps to his feet in an instant, helping you off the table. “What can I do, darling?” He asks with concern, grabbing a napkin and carefully wiping the cum off your face.

He doesn’t question why you broke character, he only wants to help, and that makes you want to cry harder. But you pull yourself together, inhaling deeply to keep any more tears from falling. There’s only one person who can help you clear your head, and your gaze turns to him, your voice wavering. “I need to speak privately with Kim Namjoon.”

All eyes fall on their leader, who looks just as surprised to be requested. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.” Namjoon gets up, his high backed chair scraping against the polished wooden floor as he circles around the table to you.

Namjoon is the conduit between them and their company. An ambassador of sorts. If anyone could help you sort this out, it would be him.

As he comes over, he takes off his suit jacket, draping the garment over your shoulders to help cover your naked form. “We’ll just be a minute, guys,” he calls over his shoulder, one supportive hand on your back as he guides you into the other room, leaving behind a different sort of tension, one of fear and worry.

-------

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Namjoon says softly, shutting the door behind him. He’s taken you to one of the larger bathrooms, with a few areas to sit in addition to a toilet, soaking tub, shower stalls, and a few sinks. “Is everything okay?”

Clearly it isn’t, but him trying to bring some normalcy into the situation makes you want to cry all over again. “No, it’s not.” You sit down on a cushioned bench, covering you face with your hands. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

“No, no. Shh… it’s okay, honey, really.” His hand on your back is more of a comfort than you’d care to admit, and you find yourself wishing he would hold you, wishing you could cry in his arms.

But no, damn it, that’s what’s gotten you into trouble in the first place.

“Mr. Kim, I-”

“Please, call me Namjoon. I don’t mind.” He gives you a small smile, and his willingness to be informal with you adds another layer of comfort.

“Namjoon.” You start again, and he looks to you with sincerity. “I, uh… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this.” You give a rueful laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” He rubs your back soothingly, offering you a tissue from a nearby box to dry your eyes.

“Thanks.” You blow your nose, and a part of you feels self-conscious, letting him see you this way. You haven’t been this out of character in front of him since you were hired. “Um… okay. So, earlier today, two of the other members kissed me. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did...” It tumbles out of you in a rush, and you glance down nervously. Damn. This the third time you’ve lowered your walls in front of them today. What the hell is happening?

He seems to chew on your statement for a moment before proceeding, his tone cautious. “It was against your will? They forced themselves on you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No! No, they didn’t- it wasn’t like that. It was… nice.” You’re ashamed to admit that you took pleasure in breaking your own rules, but you can’t let him think they were forcing you to do it. “I enjoyed it.”

He looks more confused. “So, you did want it to happen…?”

“Not at first! I mean… ugh, I shouldn’t have let it happen at all.” You grouse, still kicking yourself for being so unprofessional. “I think at least one of them might… have developed feelings for me.”

A moment of clarity lights his eyes. “You’re worried about keeping up boundaries.”

You nod miserably. Thank god someone in this house understands your limits.

“Who was it?”

“Huh?” Your gaze snaps to him.

He repeats the question. “Who kissed you?”

Your eyes lower to the floor. You feel bad dropping names, but he probably has a good reason for asking. “Taehyung and Jimin.”

His mouth stretches into a thin line. “I see.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like they’re trying to breach my professional boundaries. But... I like it. But I shouldn’t!” You groan. “Fuck, I have to keep this job...” A weary sigh leaves your throat and you try to keep your tears at bay this time.

Namjoon makes a noise of understanding. He seems to ponder the problem for a moment before speaking. “Those two are young. They’re still figuring out their feelings.” He says it to comfort you, you’re sure. But you decide not to point out that he’s only a year older than them. “But I think I know how to fix this.”

You sit up straight. “You do? How?”

Namjoon smiles, his dimples poking through. “Like I said, they’re young. They want what they can’t have.” He smirks. “You made kissing off-limits, right? So they want it now.”

You’re following his logic so far. It would make sense that something off-limits is more tantalizing… that’s certainly how you felt when kissing them.

He continues. “Look, if you liked it, then that means it’ll happen again. No offense, but willpower is damned when it comes to matters of the heart.” He gives a wry chuckle.

“Remind me how we’re fixing the situation?” You ask skeptically, wrapping his jacket around yourself and nudging him with your arm.

He smiles. “It’s simple, really. I think you have to desensitize them to kissing. We need to show them it doesn’t mean anything that they kissed you. You’re still just their PhysCom.”

You blink, still at a loss. “How do we do that?”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and he has that same tender look in his eyes as he does right after you would get him off.

“I think we should go out there, and I should kiss you senseless, sweetheart.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts fic rec #jimin x reader #jin x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #the other boys will get more screentime dw <3 #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

[imnotwolverine]

It’s a 50/50 thing

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: A little bit of cute fluffy fluff. I’m also slowly adding more imagery to my stories, since I realise they do get a bit lengthy every now and then. Hope you ladies and gents enjoy that. Have a nice Thursday!

Word count: 2.420

Disclaimer: fluff

---

This is part 10 of the Tea for Two story. 

Find the Masterlist here. 

---

< Go back to part 9

The end credits rolled over my dark laptop screen. It was evening and the house smelled of our activities today. Meaning: sweat, sex, pizza, in that order. We had not even bothered to put on any clothes today - Henry had simply slipped in my fluffy pink robe when Kal needed a pee break - and right now we had ended up more then satisfied and mildly sleepy, in my bed, watching a movie. Or should I say our bed? I looked over at Henry, who was scrolling through some memes on his phone, smiling occasionally. Cute dork. And as if he hadn’t completely bruised me with his love making yet, I once more felt my loins fire up. Gosh. We were like horny teenagers who’s parents weren’t home for the day. 

Thinking of…parents. Hmm. My eyebrows knitted together at the uneasy thought of meeting his parents next week. At the fucking London premier of this Witcher season. Talking of a bad moment. But I guess we might as well get it over with…

‘What are you thinking? I can almost hear the cogs and wheels turning in your pretty head dear.’ Henry hummed, finally looking away from his screen. He looked so devilishly beautiful with his dark long curls messily framing his strong features, those satisfied, loving blue eyes lingering on my face. His body was propped up against some pillows, the duvet barely covering his private parts. Henry raised an eyebrow as he saw my eyes linger down his abs. ‘Again?’ He purred, chuckling softly. ‘Oh..oh no. I was just..thinking of meeting your parents.’ I said, sucking in my lips - something I did whenever I felt a bit uncomfortable. ‘Hmmm.’ Henry rolled on his side, pulling my face closer so he could place a kiss on my forehead. ‘Are you nervous?’ He asked honestly, looking down into my eyes. GODS why did this man smell so good. Okey brain. Not now. ‘I ..eh..think so. A bit. That’s normal right?’ I rolled onto my back, looking at the ceiling. ‘Especially since it’s going to be at the ..premier.’ I added, sighing softly.

Henry let a hand travel over the soft skin of my arm before finally resting it on my hand, which I had folded over my belly. He hesitated a moment, putting away his phone on the night stand, then propping up his head on one arm. ‘I eh…maybe we can…’ He halted his words, studying my face as I kept looking at the ceiling. ‘Are you upset?’ He said softly. I looked back at him, a reassuring smile playing softly at my lips. ‘No…I know you can’t help it. It just happens to be the way it is.’ I shrugged, staring back at the ceiling before closing my eyes, breathing out softly. ‘Sweetheart..’ His hand cupped my face, turning it towards his in a gentle manner before placing his hand back on my belly. I kept my eyes closed. ‘Hmm?’ I hummed. ‘Look at me.’ He begged softly. I instantly opened my eyes, seeing a flash of insecurity and hurt in his eyes. ‘Bearr…’ I whispered, also cupping his cheek. ‘Oh!…You do know I really want to meet your parents? And that other then a slight inconvenience, it really isn’t the end of the world that I’ll be meeting them there?’ I searched his eyes, but saw he had closed off his emotions again, trying to be strong. Why did he keep doing that? What happened that he got so insecure about this?

I sighed as he remained quiet, then continued; ’You know. I’ve had some rather..interesting meet-the-parents moments with my exes. The best one yet is probably when I met the parents of a german ex boyfriend. He was a musician and I had, on a whim, decided to join him to one of his shows in Germany. He had said his parents weren’t home that night, so we’d be staying at his parents place. It saved us a whole night of driving, so that seemed like a solid plan. Little did we know that his parents were to be having a family brunch the next day, and they’d be bringing grandma and some aunts and uncles..you guessed it; at his parents house. We had been sleeping in since we’d gotten home around 4-ish..and just while I wanted to go pee - wearing only his shirt - I was welcomed by his grandmother who also wanted to go to the toilet. MAN. That was…embarrassing. Yes. Embarrassing.’ I smiled, remembering the look on that grandma’s face all too well. Henry chuckled, nodding. ‘I’ve once introduced a girlfriend to my parents, just hours after finding out she was leaking pictures of us to the press, spreading lies about us being betrothed. I don’t know if that was wise..but..I didn’t want to ruin the night. She didn’t even know that I knew. Gosh…’ He sighed, looking down at his hand down on my belly. ‘That sounds pretty fucking awful.’ I sighed in turn, looking at his face as the heavy furrow in his eyebrows slowly released, his face relaxing. He looked back at me. ‘You sure have had some..interesting girlfriends huh?’ I said.

‘Interesting..yes.’ He sighed again, before wrapping his hand around my waist to pull me closer. ‘Oh sweet Lisa. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.’ He hummed in my hair, placing a few kisses on my temple. I chuckled, wrapping my arm in turn around his large body, our other arms now trapped between our bodies. ‘Dinosaur arms.’ I laughed, wriggling the fingers of my trapped hand. He laughed in turn, wrapping his fingers around mine before his other arm pulled me even closer, almost crushing me against his chest. I continued, the sound slightly muffled by his chest: ’And you deserve every bit of happiness and love, dear bear. You are a kind and gentle man. You are patient, smart, funny. You show you care about the people around you. And you always give more then you take. Sometimes too much maybe. Sometimes you don’t even allow yourself to have needs.’ I spoke. I felt his breath choke up a bit, but I couldn’t move away to see his face, his arm keeping me flush against his chest. ‘You okay?’ I asked softly. He nodded, hiding his face in my hair. ‘Thank you.’ He said, before finally easing his arm into a loose embrace, his lips brushing against mine. ‘Thank you for being here with me. And thank you for being yourself. I guess I can get a little insecure and try to push these memories away by keeping myself busy.’ ‘Well..you sure are a BUSY man, mr. Cavill.’ I smiled, before laying another kiss on his lips. Our eyes met for a quiet moment, just looking at each other, our arms entangled. ‘Thank you for telling me.’ I whispered, keeping my gaze on his eyes. He nodded before rolling on his back again, looking over his right shoulder to find a softly snoring Kal.

‘Let’s go to sleep.’  

‘Yea..let’s.’

——

It was Friday. Henry had barely been at home. And if he was, he was constantly calling or reading and writing emails. I on the other hand had little to no work. The Witcher project was wrapped up for this year and my next job wouldn’t start ‘till the beginning of the new year - a whole month from now.

Instead I had busied myself with meeting up with friends here in LA. It felt like ages since I last spoke to them. One of them had gotten a girlfriend..which in the nerd community is HUGE, and another had just started a new job. I had paid them a visit last night, soon finding the whole friendgroup cramped up in a small dungey apartment. It had felt so good to be around them again. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have no cameras constantly pointing at me. Just drinking wine, playing boardgames and chatting. Life with Henry sure was weird, when I came to think of it.

I heard the front door click open and looked away from my laptop. It was about 4 pm and I hadn’t thought I’d see Henry again until we were actually at the premier here in LA. Kal sprinted off to greet the friendly intruder. ‘Honey, I’m home.’ Henry chanted from the small hallway, before appearing in the doorway of the living room. He was smiling from ear to ear. ‘Hey you.’ I said, moving my laptop to a spot next to me on the fluffy couch. I sat up to get a better look at Henry. ‘What are you doing here?’ I said, raising a surprised eyebrow. ‘We wrapped up a little earlier then expected and I just wanted to see you two…’ He gave Kal another ruffle through his fur before he stepped into the small living room, leaning over the couch to kiss me. His eyes were dragged to my laptop screen. ‘Shopping huh?’ He chuckled, picking up the laptop and taking the seat there, before placing the laptop on his lap. ‘Yea..I had thought that that one fancy dress I own would be more then sufficient for this whole Witcher premier thing. But alas..I suddenly got myself into attending TWO Witcher premiers. Surely the fashion police will have my head if I appear in the same dress twice..in less then a week’s time.’ I chuckled. Henry smiled.

‘Found anything you like?’ He said, mindlessly scrolling through the page - had I ever seen a man shop for women’s dresses? - I chuckled. ‘A few, you can go to the checkout. I’ve added some dresses there so I can make up my mind later.’ I moved in closer, hooking an arm around his and laying my head on his shoulder. I could feel the gentle flexing of his arm as he moved his fingers over the small trackpad of the laptop. ‘Why don’t you just get all of them?’ He asked genuinely. ‘Oh, Mr. Cavill, I don’t feel like dragging around 10 dresses in my tiny suitcase, thank you very much.’ I laughed, before moving up a bit and kissing his cheek. ‘Well, in that case I’d say the black and white one.’ He nodded, as if that was his final decision. ‘Yennefer would approve.’ I smiled, moving my hand to close the laptop and get his attention.

Henry sighed in mock annoyance, then put the laptop on the coffee table before patting his lap. ‘Come sit.’ ‘Me?’ I asked, a bit confused. Had I been naughty? ‘Yes you.’ He said, finally glancing over at me, a playful grin on his lips. I obediently climbed on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to steady myself. ‘Well daddy..what is it?’ I quipped playfully. His grin grew wider. ‘I have…’ He looked me in the eye. ‘..A proposition.’ I felt his hand snake around my waist. ‘I have been discussing a lot with my management team. Discussing about ..the future.’ I felt my stomach do a summersault as he spoke. Future? I remained quiet, looking expectantly at him. He however didn’t seem phased by my silence, as he continued: ‘I wish to make a bit more room in my schedule, so we at least have a good chance of ..making this, us, work.’ His eyes searched mine. I felt my cheeks flush. ‘What are you trying to say Hen?’ I asked feebly. ‘I’d like to say that I want to split our schedules. We both have jobs we love. Both have time consuming, very demanding jobs. So how would you feel about going 50/50? Half of the year you’d follow my footsteps. The other half of the year I follow you.’  

It took a good few seconds before it sank in what he was saying. What this would mean. What he was sacrificing. ‘Oh my.’ I finally stammered, the surprise in my face more than evident. He smiled, one of his hands languidly caressing my back, giving me the time to mull it over. ‘…Really?’ I asked, still not completely believing what he just said. ‘Really really.’ He laughed happily. ‘Will you agree to that?’ He asked, his eyes searching for an answer in mine. ‘Heck yes! Uh..well… at least…only if your managing team has not set out a murder for hire contract to get rid of me.’ I smiled, wriggling in excitement on his lap. He laughed out loud. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll have to get past me first.’

—

I remember when I first met Henry. I had caught Kal somewhere in the Hollywood hills, his leash dragging behind him through the rough bushes. I had called the number on his tag and not long after Henry had shown his face. I swear, within those first 20 minutes of knowing Henry he had shown me more than a hundred facial expressions. So cute. But my favourite facial expression of his was still the dorkily staring one. The one I had first seen when I had looked around one last time before disappearing behind the steep curb of his house, that first day we met.

It was tonight that I was once more graced with the presence of THAT face. The exact moment being when he finally found me standing far away in the crowd of the premier’s reception. He was mid-conversation with one of the scenario writers when his eyes caught a hold of mine. The way his breath kind of halted, his mouth slightly drooping and his eyes glazing over with admiration.

I waved.

Gosh. What is wrong with me. I don’t know why I waved, but I guess I waved. You know, the type of silly, excited waving that is totally not appropriate for the situation. And just like that he awoke from his silent stare, only to break out in such loud laughter, I think half the room looked up to know what was so funny.

It was then I realised we were both just silly dorks. Like two peas in a pod. And I was more then a little glad that he was willing to be my other half. The 50% to my 50%.

Henry had made his way over to me. ‘Hi.’ He smiled. ‘Hi.’ I smiled in turn, still feeling a blush on my cheeks, before feeling his fingers gently tug up my chin, his body pushing closer to mine.

It was the first time he kissed me at a public event.

--

Part 11 > 

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #fanfiction #bed #snuggles #fluff #fluffy #henry cavill #50/50 #sharing #season premier #the witcher #witcher #teafortwo

[slashiest-slasher]

Could we get a part two for Polly Billy and brahams please

anon

you made me write *checks watch* 3.6K holy shit (( ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )) this is fine everything’s fine

readmore, for obvious reasons, warnings for getting nsfw between billy and s/o, and brahms and [REDACTED], and mildly dubious consent (brahms agrees after someone cops a feel, but isn’t comfortable with what happens after agreeing)

Brahms was very much, entirely, and completely not happy with the current situation occurring at Heelshire manor, his God damn home.

Before, it was just him and his lovely, handsome nanny who seldomly raised their voice at him, cuddled him whenever he wanted, made him his favorite foods for dinner when he was good, constantly babied him, and most importantly of all, loved him wholly and without restriction.

But if there was one thing Brahms loathed more than anything, it was sharing his things. And yes, you might hate it when he calls you one of his things, but it’s the truth, right?

Ever since you insisted on that Billy creep stays here in his fucking house, the amount of attention he was getting plummeted. And that smug Billy knew and relished in it.

He was always watching you, or demanding your attention, and curled up in your lap. That was Brahms’ place! That was supposed to be him laying his head in your lap and getting his hair soothed and played with. Brahms had to settle with sitting on the floor so you could rest a hand on his head and give his scalp scritches. Which wasn’t awful, but Billy was stealing all your attention away.

Billy’s actions bore a striking resemblance to his own, but at least he had the common decency to not make those unbearable noises! Billy was always snorting, giggling, or muttering to himself, and when he talked with you, his voice was rarely calm. Always shrill or ear piercing, saying such disgusting things to you. Always propositioning you and grabbing you in lewd ways that you shrugged off like it was nothing. It always made Brahms’ blood rush to his head.

He would punch Billy for it, but the last time he had attacked that scrawny freak and gave him a split lit, you withheld all affection for an entire month! No goodnight kisses, no hugs, no cuddling, no handling. Nothing! All the while, that Billy got everything!

Brahms could, of course, always kill Billy and tie you up to your bed, but his heart ached and his gut twisted whenever he did something that made you cry. And that would certainly make you hate him forever.

And then there was Billy’s insistence on teasing Brahms! He would say the same disgusting things to him that he would to you, and when he was especially spastic, would paw at Brahms’ chest and thighs when he tried to extend his cuddling and hugging to include him.

You would it endlessly entertaining of course, and that was the only reason he didn’t snap Billy’s neck. Yeah, Billy made his skin crawl, but you lit up whenever you saw them hugging. And maybe there was something about holding Billy, fragile, moments from fracturing Billy, in his arms that made his heart thump.

You called him and Billy “your boys” and that made Brahms’ heart thump a certain way he couldn’t explain.

But all of that, Brahms could deal with. What really got him going was whenever Billy starting switching between his voices and muttering about Agnes or a baby, or naughty Billy. It doesn’t matter what you were doing, you would always drop whatever you were doing to rush to his side.

The worst part was that Brahms couldn’t even be mad at you or Billy for that. He knew there was something serious messed up with Billy, something that happened to him, something you wanted to figure out. And it was in those fits when he was at his worst and you needed to hold him to stop the tears and the tantrums he would throw through them.

If it were any other scenario, Brahms would have found and odd kind of kinship with Billy. Bad parents, living in hidden parts of a house, clinging to anything that gave them a moment of happiness.

But Billy was stealing you away, and Brahms couldn’t let that happen.

So he tried everything he could think of. When you wouldn’t even look at him because you were so wrapped up in whatever Billy was doing, he broke vases and plates and potted plants. He stole your clothes, your /underwear/, he let his rats play in your bed. But all that got him was ban on goodnight kisses and an angry lecture that made the bad feeling in his stomach worse.

Then he tried being an extra good boy. He showered every night, did the dishes without you asking, made his bed (and even yours and Billy’s!), dusted, and surprised you in bed with breakfast. Which got him the sweetest and warmest hugs and kisses that made the lust he felt for you grow exponentially. There were some nights he could hardly control it, and would have to sneak away to take care of himself before you tucked him into bed, or certainly he would do something unsavory that would make you extremely angry.

So, while there was no downside to being an extra good boy, it didn’t take any of your attention away from Billy.

The final straw was when you were late to tucking him. Five minutes to be precise. You were never late, ever. Even with Billy moving in, you always came in at the same time every night to tuck him him, run your fingers through his hair, and give him a goodnight kiss. On his lips too, not his mask anymore!

Brahms gets up from where he was sitting on his bed, and pads down the hall to your room. There’s a chance you could’ve dozed off (and in that case he could tuck you in!), or, and Brahms shudders at the thought, you were talking with Billy again. That creep rarely slept, so at night he was entirely yours. The mere thought made his skin itch.

He could clearly hear the moment he stepped out of his bedroom what exactly was holding you up. He could hear the disgusting, wet noises Billy was making, and you desperately trying to muffle yourself, but still moaning his name. He knew what was happening, and it made the rage inside him rise, but he needed to know for certain.

The moment he peered into your room, he immediately jerked back and pressed himself to the wall, eye shut tightly. It does nothing to settle his heart, which feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

Billy didn’t have his shirt on, and in the lamplight each and every scar was visible. His head was between your thighs - your bare thighs - and Brahms couldn’t exactly see what he was doing, but whatever it was, it was making your back arch, legs tremble, and your face to be twisted in pleasure as you watched Billy intently.

You were absolutely gorgeous, warped in ecstacy and making some of the most beautiful noises Brahms had ever heard. If it weren’t for the cold dread settling in his stomach like a weight from Billy, the entire situation would have been a page out of one his wet dreams.

“Fuck!” you muffle the moan into the crook of your arm. “Oh Christ! Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy! Please!” you whine, thrusting towards his mouth. As you get louder, you clasp your hands over your mouth, letting your body rock against the erratic, but brutal, rhythm Billy set for you.

There’s a part of Brahms that wants to storm in there, throw Billy off, and have it be his name that you were moaning. Another part that wanted to throw a fit, and another that wanted to kill Billy where he stood. But he followed the impulsive tug in his chest to lead him back to his room, and start throwing clothes into a bag.

Fine, you wanted Billy instead? That’s what you were going to get. Who cares that this is his own fucking house, he’s going to leave, and you’re going to miss him and realize how bad you fucked up. How you should be showering Brahms with all this attention, instead of Billy.

How you should have just let him love you how he wanted, and if you had then Brahms would still be here.

He changes out of his pajamas into some, as you called them, “normal people clothes”: a t-shirt, jeans that were a bit to clingy than what Brahms was used to, a hoodie, and a sturdy pair of sneakers. You had wanted to go take him walking into town one day, once he was comfortable, but that was long out the window with Billy around.

He throws what he can think of into his bag; another change of normal people clothes, his normal lounging and sleeping clothes, multiple changes of underwear and socks, a tiny stuffed rabbit he absolutely could not live without, some polaroids you had taken of the two of you (he shoved those in bitterly), and a wallet with about £400 of various bills and change in it. That was what he needed to sustain himself, right?

As he starts crawling out of the window, backpack slung on his back, he decides to leave his mask on his bed, and scribble a note out on a piece of paper saying he was leaving and never, ever coming back.

Climbing down the walls of the house was pretty, and scaling the front gate wasn’t too difficult, but Brahms understood why exactly you insisted on a decent pair of sneakers. The nearest town was about a four hour walk. Which would have been fine if it hadn’t started downpouring 20 minutes after he left the manor.

The long, winding road that lead to the manor eventually connected up to a busier road after an hour after it started raining. He had seen it in some of the movies you had watched with Brahms - curled up around each other, petting his hair and feeding him popcorn - and stuck out his thumb and waited until a beat up car pulled up beside him.

“Where you need to go mate?” asked the man driving the car when he climbed in, eyeing him up.

“Nearest-” when his baby voice came out, Brahms cleared his throat. “Nearest bus stop, thanks.” He looks down at the water dripping off of him and onto the seat, and forming puddles on the floor. Being kind and polite will get you anything you need, says a distinctly you sounding voice in the back of his head. “I’m sorry- about the mess.”

The man driving the car shrugged, and kept his eyes on the road. “Not a problem. I would be out of my mind if I didn’t stop to help someone out in this storm.” Brahms eyed him up from his peripherals. He looked kindly and neat, like the kind of man that wouldn’t look out of place in the archives section of a library. His hair was tidy, and there were spectacles that he consistently kept pushing up.

The man is quiet for a long while before he pipes up. “So why exactly was a heart throb like you hitchhiking on a deserted road?”

Brahms bites the inside of his mouth when his heart skips a beat. In a poor attempt to be inconspicuous, Brahms runs his fingers along the heavy burn scars on the side of his face. “Issues at home, don’t really want to talk about it that much.”

The man nod, and smiles. “No problem, I understand.” He doesn’t say anything for a bit, before speaking up again. “You a fan of early literature?” he asks, only taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance over at Brahms, who nods.

“Mother insisted on having me read classical.” Brahms settles into his seat, the high strung tension seemingly having melted. “Except Oedipus Rex, of course.”

The man chuckles, and pushes his glasses up again. “Oh it was the same with my teachers when we were younger. Something we should really be reading once we were older.

And it’s all something so comforting and alien to Brahms that he can’t ever really recall. Just a casual conversing with someone he barely knows and will likely never see again.

They continue chatting amicably for a a while before it teeters off into a comfortable silence.

"What about you, why are you out here in weather like this?” Brahms asks, the question having been rolling around in his head since the man had asked.

He thrums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Oh, out to clear my head. I’m sort of in the same boat as you, issues at home I need to escape.”

Brahms waits a few moments before retorting. “Bit of shit weather to be doing that, isn’t it?” It makes the man chuckle.

A few minutes later, there’s a hand on Brahm’s thigh, heavy and warm like being under the covers for too long. He jumps at the contact, but keeps his breathing under control.

“I think the company more than makes up for it.” His voice is low and deep. He glances over at Brahms, searching his eyes. “Just another lonely soul, adrift and looking for any port in the storm.” He only lets his hand drift up further and press firmly when Brahms gives him a nod.

Well, you wouldn’t give him this. You were seeking out other people to get off. Why couldn’t he?

When his hand creeps up his thigh, and massages his crotch, a similar, but colder, dream sinks in his stomach. The man continues to watch the road and smile as if nothing was amiss. The same tense, barely there trembling comes back.

He bites his bottom lip and lets his head fall back against the headrest when the man undoes his jeans and pulls his boxer just down enough to free his dick and stroke it. Brahms’ nerves rattle in a way that makes him nauseous. He couldn’t help but buck into the warm hand wrapped around him, and let out a deep whine at the friction.

This felt so, so much better than his own hand. He hadn’t even realized how sensitive he was until now. Short, panting breaths come from his mouth, and he moans for more, please, you-

It hit him like a punch to the chest that he didn’t even know this guys name. That he had only known him for less than an hour. Brahms hand snapped from his side and gripped his wrist tight enough to grind his bones.

“Actually, could you pull over. I’ll walk,” he tells him.

The man thankfully retracts his hand while Brahms fixes his boxers and jeans. “Sorry, I must’ve misread the situation. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you the rest of the way? It’s a long walk.”

Brahms pulls his backpack into his lap, and nods, hugging it close. He’s not a fan of the biting cold and rain when he steps out of the warm, dry cab, but he couldn’t stay in there for another minute. The man gives him a curt nod before the door is shut and he’s driving away.

Brahms waits until the lights of the car are no longer visible before he sets off in the same direction.

By the time he makes it to the bus shelter, the sky is just only being lit up, and the rain is still coming down in sheets. He plops down on the swollen bench, and rests his head against the wall. All the muscles in his body ache, and he dozes off thinking he could be home right now, in bed, certainly angry, but he wouldn’t be shivering like a wet cat.

But if this teaches you a lesson that you need to appreciate him more, then so be it.

Brahms is awaken by the slam of a car door, and someone familiar yelling his name. The sun isn’t any higher in the sky, and it’s still coming down hard. But he sees you, desperately trying to shield yourself from the rain with a jacket.

“Brahms, what the hell!” you yell over the rain pattering against the bus shelter. You grip his upper arm tight enough to bruise when you sit down next to him.

He doesn’t even dignify looking you in the eyes.

You grab him by his face, and force him to look at him, shushing him and rubbing your thumbs across his cheekbones when he tries to jerk away. “Brahmsy, do you have any idea how worried you made me?” you ask gently, scooting closer to him. He tries to look anywhere but at your face. “You can’t run away like that, don’t you know how much it would hurt me?”

Billy crawls out of an open car window and sits at Brahms’ feet, resting a cheek against his knee. “Pretty Brahms, you sc-scared us,” he shift his voice slightly, slightly off but still close enough to his. “Where’s Brahmsy? Billy what did you do with Brahmsy?” He clutches Brahms’ calves tightly, digging his fingers into his wet jeans. “Brahms, where the hell are you! Brahmsy!” he yells.

When you go to run a hand though Billy’s hair to calm him down, Brahms intercepts it and laces your fingers. Always taking everything away from him.

Your eyes go wide when you put two and two together. “Is that what this is about?” you almost have the gall to giggle if Brahms hadn’t been looking down at Billy with such vehemence.

“But you let him do things to you,” Brahms grumbles, closing his eyes. “You won’t let me do those things. And he get all your good cuddles. And it always holding your hand.”

Your cheeks turn pink when he brings it up. “Well, I’ve known Billy for longer, since before I knew you.” You stumble across your words, trying to get them out. “But Brahms, you know I have two hands right? Both you and Billy can hold my hand.”

“But you’re mine!” Brahms whines, slipping into his childish voice. “I don’t want to share you!”

“I do,” says Billy quietly. He leers his gaze over to you. “Can we share pretty Brahmsy? Please? So sweet and I want him, we can both share.” He asks so sweetly that Brahms doesn’t know what to say.

You smile, and free your hand to lean down and grab Billy’s. You place it in Brahms’ palm, and Billy seems quite content. His hand is bony and only slightly warmer than Brahms’, who has been in the cold rain for the better part of the night. But it feels oddly right.

“It’s not sharing, it’s the three of us, together. Billy’s quite taken with you, and you know I adore you. Will you give it a chance? Letting both of us love you.”

Brahms can only nod as tears well in his eyes. He hides his face in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” he cries into your shirt.

Both you and Billy wrap your arms around him, Billy seating himself in his lap. “C'mon Brahms, let’s get you home and get us into a nice bath, then we can all get some sleep.”

Brahms nods shyly, and lets himself be led by Billy into the back seat while you climb into the driver’s seat. Billy wastes no time getting Brahms out of his wet clothes. It was a struggle normally with you, but Billy’s odd noises, lewd comments, and groping certainly don’t help. Brahms puts up a fight at first, until Billy starts nuzzling each inch of exposed cold, damp skin.

His heart flutters a bit when Billy grabs a fluffy towel from the boot of the car and rubs Brahms’ hair wildly. Brahms, naturally, swats at him, wrangling the towel away to dry himself off, but Billy simply grabs another and contributes, and tries to shimmy Brahms’ wet jeans and boxers off.

“Hmmm, mmm, pretty Brahmsy, all mine, wrap my lips around you pretty pink coh- huh, hmmmm…” Billy devolves into more humming as he moves down to dry Brahms’ legs. He leaves the towel draped across his lap, letting Brahms finish drying himself off while he rummages around in the boot for something.

Through the rearview mirror, Brahms can see your squinty eyes, and though he can’t see your mouth, he knows you’re smiling. So he puts up with it when Billy drags out a heavy quilt and bundles Brahms up in it, and pulls him to lean against his chest.

Billy twitches entirely too much for it to be comfortable, but having a pair of arms wrapped around him is more than soothing. And the fingers that run through his tangled, damp hair are rough, but the massage to his scalp is worth it.

Something white is flashed in front of him, and Brahms can just make it out in the dim light.

“Pretty Brahmsy want it? I’ll give it to you if you fuuuh- kiss my m-mouth.” Billy doesn’t wait for an answer, and leans down for a quick, burning kiss, certain to press his tongue up against Brahms’ lips before pulling away and placing Brahms’ mask in its rightful place.

Billy’s maniacal laughter makes him grumble, but he simply fixes his mask, and nuzzles his head against Billy’s chest.

It may not be what Brahms wanted, but he supposes it fine enough. Better than being being alone.

You turn the radio on low to a classical station, looking back on them fondly, and Billy makes quiet shushing noises and pets Brahms’ hair when he grumbles too much at his fingers pulling against the tangles.

Yeah, way better than being alone.

#brahms heelshire #billy lenz #brahms heelshire x reader #billy lenz x reader #lemon #black christmas #the boy #brahms hc #billy lenz hc #Anonymous #bb polyship

[aurora-teez]

|Chapter 7| Utopia~ An Ateez Fanfic Story~

Emerald’s POV

Well...I am very surprised that I have not lost my entire mind right now. I mean is it normal for Poseidon to visit you and say that you are supposed to overpower the sea with a trident? NOOOO!! It is not!!! Oh my goodness, I feel like my head will explode. But at least I have Jongho keeping me calm, and he is very...mmmm...sexy as heck. I mean a man has never made my knees weak as he does. He is extremely sweet too.I mean all my life men have not been drawn to me for who I am but what they can get from me. I love how Jongho looks like me.I can tell he loves chocolate. Well my skin is more of a milk chocolate with caramel but anyways he still loves him some chocolate lol.milk He looks like a muscular cherry. Haha...don’t tell him I said that. 

“Wait a minute...wait a whole dang minute! What is going on? A few days ago, I was a normal woman. A captain, a best friend, a girl living in a life she would not imagine having. Then now what? I’m supposed to have the power of a god to overpower something that is more powerful than him? This is insane”, I yell walking and pacing up and down the deck. 

“Listen to me Emerald. I understand your confusion but like i said before. You are not normal. You are destined to do this. It brought Jongho to you. You are a precious jewel just as your father and mother named you after”, Poseidon says.

“Wait why do you know so much about me and my family?”, I ask sternly. 

“Well...then I guess it is time to explain somethings”,He says. “Your father was a wonderful sailor. Before Pirate got their negative demeanor, pirates were known as sailors seeking the treasure that is the sea and hoped to discover all of it. In his youth, he was handsome and strong, He met a woman who was quite peculiar to most. The town had never seen her before but only knew she was noble descent and her eyes were 2 pairs of Emeralds. Your father fell in love with her and they got married and eventually had a child. You, my dear. You were very drawn to the sea always going to the water. But your mother was not only a noble but her family was from the sea. Your mother was from my home, Atlantis. A mermaid of strong power. Her family volunteered to go on land to see how it would be but she could not return back. Her power transferred to you but would only activate once you met your soulmate. Your father was her soulmate since he saw her and now Jongho is yours.”

“Are you telling me that my mother is a mermaid? That they kept this from me my whole life?!”, I say yelling.

“Oh god!”, Violet says still in shock as well

“I understand you are upset but please listen..”, I cut him off.

“LISTEN TO WHAT?! MORE LIES!”,I hold my hands out and I can feel the power coming from them. 

“Umm..Emerald. I think you should put your hands down”, Yeosang says lookign terrified. 

“Please tell me why no one told me this for over 10 years! You know why because they think i was fragile and weak or I could not take it! Well guess what? I have learned how to deal with all the pain of losing my father and mother! I still feel that pain everyday of my life and now I have to deal with this monster of a sea!”, I am full of anger and I notice that everyone is moving back slowly.

“Em. Baby, please look at me and let your hands down before you drown us”,He says smirking at me trying to calm me down. 

I look behind me and I see a large wave of water hovering behind me in the ocean. 

“Oh my god”, I gasp and out my hands down gracefully making the water still and calm. 

I notice that some water was splashed on Jongho and his caramel abs are shown through his shirt that he just buttoned up after showing us the coordinates on his back. I bit my lip as he runs his hand through his cherry red hair. His caramel skin glistening with the few droplets that passed throughout the fabric   

THIS MAN! 

Poseidon waves his hands and suddenly, drys everything on the deck and all of our clothes. Dang I was enjoying the view. 

“Well I see that your water manipulation is used by your emotions. That’s interesting”, Poseidon says smiling. 

“Listen, I am sorry for yelling. It’s just a lot”, I say softly and Jongho wraps his arms around me.

“There is one more thing. The reason why you are so powerful is because you are the goddess of the sea. The first and only one ever’, Poseidon says.

“Whoaaaaaa!”, Violet says in shock.

“That’s why she is so beautiful”, San says smiling.

“Hey.Watch it”, Jongho says

“Jong, I am just saying. No harm done”, San says and everyone laughs.

“Well this is a lot to process. I think I need like to rest for a while”,I say holding onto Jongho’s shoulders and whisper in his ear and winks at him.

“Ahhh well Emerald would like to rest now”,Jongho says to Poseidon.

“No problem but I will be back soon. I bid you all goodbye until next time”,Poseidon says and disappears into the ocean. 

“So shall I start making dinner as you rest?”, Violet says winking at me.

I smile at her. I swear she can read my mind like a telepath. 

“Sounds great. I will be in my chambers and no one disturb me for the next 2 hours”, I say pulling Jongho with me. 

“Yes Captain”,Everyone says laughing. 

Jongho’s POV 

Well I can see that she is very stressed out. Hmmm maybe I should help her relax a bit. She pulls me into her room and locks the dooe behind her. Hmm.. getting naughty is she now? 

“Oh so you are locking doors now huh?Very Kinky of you, captain”, I say as I put my hands on her waist and kiss up and down her neck.

“Well considering that, I have been told I am a goddess of the sea. I feel really stressed out”, She says moaning at my touch. 

“I see why you are so beautiful but even if you were not a goddess, you wil always be so beautiful. Especially your skin. I do love chocolate a lot you know?”, I say moving her hair to the other side exposing her neck even more. 

“Jong-Jongho. Please don’t tease me”, She moans as he stutters between moans. 

“Anything for you Captain”, I say as I sit on the bed. 

Emerald’s POV 

“Em... come here." I hear Jongho's voice call out to me softly, my body responding almost automatically. 

 His form is relaxed as he sits on my bed, his gentle eyes meeting mine, although a slight darkness seems to flicker in his irises. His arms wrap around my waist when I seat myself on his lap.

 "Jong, what-" He interrupts me with a finger on my lips, quickly replacing it with his own lips in response to the mildly confused look I give him. 

 I practically melt into his embrace, my eyes falling closed as he deepens the kiss and I allow him to slip his tongue into my mouth while his hands move to rest on my hips. I whimper quietly against Jongho's lips, hardly noticing that I started grinding against him while the kiss grows heated, and I pull away briefly to speak, but he shushes me with a shake of his head before I even say anything.

 "I'm helping you de-stress," he whispers

"Just let me take the lead." I barely manage to nod before he crashes his lips to mine again, my fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

 I suddenly hear a quiet noise on deck, not paying it any mind until it sounds again, louder this time, and I break away to glance at the door.

“Hmm someone better not have dropped my glass kitchenware on the floor?!”, I yell running up the stairs to the deck. 

“What the heck is going on?-”, I say and I see 2 people on my deck, next to Poseidon. 

“Umm- what is this? Who are they?”, I ask Poseidon walking towards him and the 2 strangers.

“They are Mer-Warriors. Part of my Aquatic Army. They are here to train you in controlling your water manipulation and how to use a trident properly”, He says. 

I see 2 women standing before me. They have unique eye colors and simmering skin that glows in the light. They both kneel down and bow to me saying “Your majesty”

“Umm how do they know of her?”, Yeosang asks confused. 

“Well i forgot to mention this too. You are a prophecy that we all have waited to come about. All of the sea has been waiting for you, my dear.”

I look at them wide eyes. Why me? How could I be able to control the sea? What is the big picture about my father? I don’t understand...

Author’s Note: Hello Everyone! Hi! Hi! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. More will come soon hehe. I would like to give 2 shout outs to 2 friends who collaborated and helped some ideas in this chapter. @hanatiny wrote the amazing makeout scene between my character, Emerald and Jongho. She is so sweet. Thank you! @ceopjy me with the idea of Jongho’s abs being exposed when he get splashed with water. Her ideas and mine are always in Sync sometimes hehe. I love ya’ll. Please check out their writings too! I have such amazing friends here! Look out for the next chapter. 

Taglist: check out these amazing Ateez Blogs aka my friends hehe- @yun-reads @yunhoiseyecandy @ateez-angel @multidreams-and-desires @moongaera @twancingyunhoe @hanatiny @hongjoong-a-holic

#ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez yunho #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #jongholover #jonghosoulmate #pirateking #piratelove #utopiaateez #treasure #atiny #ateezsmut #ateeznsfw #ateezstory #ateezfanfic #love #drama #romance #kpopfanfic #kpopsmut

[kd-holloman]

The Traveler’s Gift Deleted Scene

It’s funny how writing works sometimes. I thought for sure this deleted scene was going to make the final cut. No-so-spoiler alert: it did not. So, have some fun, non-spoilery deleted content in which Louis may or may not be jealous of his roommate’s flirtatious attitude. 

Harmon hills psychiatric Hospital was an ancient, sprawling brick building on the outskirts of Chicago. Ivy clung to the weather-worn brick, the windows were barred, and on the first two floors the majority of the lights had been turned out for the night. 

Louis had been here before, but the last time he had seen the ancient sprawling grounds, he’d been walking away from it instead of toward it. He tapped his fingers on his thigh. Maybe he could talk Slater into waiting a minute so he could have a smoke. 

“Do it now,” Slater said. 

He blinked and looked at the other man. “Do what?” 

“Suck on your cancer stick. You might as well do it now because once we’re inside for the night we’re stuck there.” 

He looked at him for a long moment. He knew he hadn’t said that out loud. “How did you know?” 

“Your fingers twitch when you want to smoke.” 

He didn’t waste time. “So,” he asked, the unlit cigarette between his lips, “how did Rick get his hands on a place like this?” 

The flame of his lighter was winked back at him in Slater’s reflective lenses. “Papa O’Brien’s funds allowed for the hospital to stay afloat a few years back. In exchange for the money, Rick gets to keep some of his assets here without too many people asking questions.”

Of course. Somebody like Rick would have the finances and power to pull something like that off. As long as the doctors who worked at Harmon Hills stayed content and quiet with their hush-money, he had no reason to fear betrayal. 

The scent of lemon floor polish hit him sinus-clearing force as soon as they stepped across the threshold. A massive chandelier reflected light onto the shining floor. Potted plants stood at attention in the corners, a bust of a man—the founder of the hospital—sat next to a large desk. 

A woman in a uniform sat at the desk. “Excuse me,” she said, stopping them. “It’s past visiting hours.” 

“We’re not here to visit.” Slater leaned on the desk and gave her a charming smile. “Peter called, do you know him? He wants us to come and relieve him. His relief is out with an injury and we’re here to save the day.” 

She blushed and flicked a piece of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear. “Really?” 

“Would I lie to you…” he paused to lean closer so he could read a name tag clipped to her shirt, “Julie?” 

Despite their obvious ten—if not more—year age gap, she gave him a bashful smile. “I suppose not, Mr.…” 

“O’Brien.” 

“Do you know where to find Peter?” 

“Yes, sweetheart.” He pushed easily off the desk and flicked an invisible piece of lint off of the black t-shirt. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Jill?” 

“Julie. I’d like that.” 

He winked; behind his glasses, the gesture was just a twitch of his cheek. 

Julie turned even more red, if it were possible. 

The entire interaction left Louis feeling mildly uncomfortable. He tried to recall a time he’d seen Slater flirting with somebody, aside from someone at the bar, and he was drawing blanks. Sure, he and Virginia sweet-talked to each other, but it was more friendly banter than it was actual “flirting”. 

By the time they got off the elevator, any signs of Slater’s easy and flirtatious demeanor was gone. He seemed more agitated and angry than anything else. He jabbed a button on a box that sat mounted next to a set of double doors. “Open up, Pete!” 

There was a pause before the doors slowly swung open.

Louis remembered Peter. He remembered his thinning gray hair, the way his round glasses sat low on his nose, and the way his face had been creased with aging lines. He knew better than to be fooled by Peter’s age. He remembered how swiftly his old bones had moved to shove a needle in his neck. 

Peter waved a hand and motioned for them to come in. “It’s been one hell of a day, boys.” 

Slater had no patience for small talk ninety percent of the time and he had none to spare for the older man. “How many of them are there?” 

“Four.” 

“What was the last time they were dosed up?” 

He squinted at his watch through his bifocals. “About two hours ago. They’ll need it again around two in the morning. Dottie will be up to take care of that.” 

Louis remembered the old woman, her hair cropped short and her saggy earlobes weighed down by heavy earrings. He left Slater and Peter alone to hash out the details, drawn to the doors of the padded cells. 

He peered through the window in the door.

Whoever was on the other side looked to be asleep. He was wearing the same blue paper-like clothes he’d worn when he’d been held here. He was curled up on the narrow bed, the blanket kicked to the bottom of the bed next to his bare feet. 

“That one,” Peter said as he came up next to him, “can imitate any sound.” 

That one, like they weren’t people. Like he and Slater weren’t people. It was like they were objects, animals, inhuman. 

It was sickening. 

Louis moved to the next door and looked inside. Just like the room before, this cell’s occupant was sprawled out on the narrow mattress, mouth open as he slept. 

“He can make it windy as hell. I thought he was going to cause a twister when we brought him in. He was hiding in the middle of Tornado Alley, that smartass.” 

Louis stopped in front of the third door. He was surprised to see that the cell’s occupant wasn’t asleep. 

A woman was sitting up on the bed, her hair a matted and tangled mess. She had scratches down her cheeks, like she’d clawed herself in the face. She rocked back and forth on the bed, her mouth moving as she muttered something too quietly for him to hear. She looked like she had missed a turn on the road to sanity. 

“What about her?” 

At the sound of his voice, she snapped her gaze to him. Her face lit up, her eyes were feral, and a smile stretched slowly across her face. 

Louis’s eyes widened. 

It wasn’t a smile he’d anticipated to see from someone so thin and frail. It was the smile of a killer, a predator that had tasted blood and was looking to sink her teeth into another kill. Her teeth weren’t normal. Each tooth ended in a savage point. They were completely inhuman. 

“Oh, that one.” Once again, he said it the way a teacher talked about a naughty school child. It was the same way his father had talked about a particular member of his congregation after he’d been arrested for theft. “Keep that bitch drugged. She took half of Deuce’s hand off with those fucking chompers and she’ll take yours off too if she doesn’t get dosed up with Quench every few hours. It’s like she’s part shark or something. I mean, look at her teeth!” 

Louis could see them, alright, and the thought of them biting into his flesh left him feeling uneasy. 

“Dottie is stupid enough to get close to her?” Slater asked from behind Louis. He was close enough that his breath ghosted across the back of Louis’s neck as he spoke. 

“Stupid or brave. I haven’t decided which.” Peter stepped away from the window and grabbed his jacket. “Well,” he said as he tugged it on behind the U-shaped desk in the middle of the wing, “it’s been fun, boys. I’m going home to get some sleep.” 

Louis filed all of this information away for later. He wasn’t ready to make his move against Rick yet, but when he was, this place was a good start if he wanted to make it hurt. He wanted to get his hands on Quench. It seemed as though without the drug to suppress the superhuman abilities of his “assets”, he would have no way of holding them. 

With the scent of Slater’s leather jacket in his nose and the tickle of his breath on the back of his neck, he was hyper aware of the other man’s silence. “What’s your problem?” 

Slater replied with silence. He plopped himself in the chair Peter’s windbreaker had previously been occupying. 

Louis perched on the dusty countertop a few feet away. He kept one eye on the entrance to the wing with in eyesight and didn’t take his attention away from the four cell doors for long. The very thought of the ferocious woman getting loose and ripping out his throat with her shark teeth was enough to make him want another cigarette. 

He was used to his silent companionship with Slater, who seemed content playing a game on his cell phone to occupy his time. However, there was only so much silence Louis could tolerate while he waited for something—or nothing—to happen. “What are your side-effects like?” He asked. “I know what they are, but what is it like experiencing them? I mean, you know how I feel every time I use my gift. You’ve experienced it. What about you?”

Slater’s fingers stopped tapping the screen of his phone. He sat back, seeming to contemplate whether or not he wanted to answer. He paused for so long that Louis thought he wasn’t going to reply until he said, “It’s like popping a zit.” 

He scrunched up his face. That was a gross description. He supposed, Slater’s powers could be equally disgusting if he chose to just blow someone to pieces instead of keeping it contained inside of their skull. 

“When I want to use my powers I feel an insane build up of emotions—anger, mostly—and there’s a rush. Then, after I use them there’s just...nothing. It’s satisfying like popping a zit or lancing a blister. Get it?” 

It was a gross visual, but it made sense. “Do you genuinely not feel anything at all? You can still use your powers after you’re experiencing the side-effects.” 

“I feel things, but they’re dull. It’s like the memory of a wound. The wound doesn’t actively hurt anymore, it’s no longer there, but if I try hard enough I can feel a flicker of something. That is, if I care enough to try.” 

From the sound of it, Slater’s powers were emotionally draining because it took so much emotion for him to be able to use them. It wasn’t that he became apathetic, because he still had feelings. It was more like he’d used the majority of his emotional energy trying to feel things after such a powerful wave of emotion that his emotional “battery” needed time to recharge. 

Louis were impressed that Slater was opening up enough to talk to him about his powers. He decided to push his luck a little further. “How did you learn that you had abilities?” 

“Like most people do, by accident. What about you?” 

“I had a panic attack,” he had admitted with a soft laugh. It seemed silly now, but it certainly hadn’t been funny when the bombs had been raining down on him and the earth had been shaking apart. “During the war,” he added, “we were under attack. I thought I was going to be buried alive.” 

“Such a shame,” he teased dryly. He opened a few drawers next to his leg and produced a deck of cards. “Care to play a few hands?” 

Louis slid from the countertop to sit in an empty chair. “We might as well. We’re going to be here all night.” 

Tag List: @tricksexual, @wildler, @ganseyboii, @surrealirist, @obsessionandstuff, @pertinax--loculos, @pe-ersona, @a-curator-of-nonsense, @angelolytle, @aslanwrites, @aurumni-writes, @andrewminyardd, @lordkingsmith, @gloriafrimpong

(Ask to be added/removed)

#the traveler's gift #Deleted Scenes #Louis Elijah Mahoney #slater michael o'brien

[paellaplease]

Revali x OC. Unpublished, additional scene to Chapter 5

Hello everyone,

A big thanks to the OG readers and newcomers to my blog and my botw fic: Firebird. Love you all. I wrote this scene some time ago in 2019, around the time when there wasn’t even a clear Ch.3 yet. Unfortunately, it had to be omitted due to pacing and plot. 

Now you all get to read it, enjoy!

Warning: firebird spoilers under the cut. 

[Context: It’s time for a tour. Revali is flying, Maiya is on his back. They are high-up in the air, gliding with a full view of Rito Village next to them.]

  Squinting her eyes, Maiya could see the movement of the Rito and other travelers of Hyrule as they went about their business. Some seemed to be waving goodbye or closing shop, and she realised belatedly how late in the day it already was.

The Enchanter’s gaze flicked up to the sky above her. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the bright expanse in oranges, pinks and greys in one of the prettiest sunsets she’d seen in a while. The colours of the sky reflected off the crystalline lake surrounding Valoo’s Spire, painting it in the same way as if it were its own canvas. The sight made her want to sigh dreamily. It really was beautiful.

"Wow." She whispered.

"Yes, I know," Revali's voice broke through her thoughts, reminding her of exactly who she was with right now. "Witnessing my unmatched skill in flight is always sight to behold."

Maiya’s easy smile sunk faster than a faulty boat on an icy lake as she regarded the blue Rito beneath her. "Not you dummy, I'm talking about your village!"

“You said a bad word,” a high-pitched voice chirped next to her.

Maiya jumped, nearly slipping and plummeting to the ground below. “Holy crap!”

(Revali sighed, tired with her clumsiness, complained as he immediately tilted to resteady her. “Like trying to keep a sinking boat afloat.”)

“Look! Cree! She did it again. That’s three times now! I think...”

Maiya looked to her left. Following the sound of the voice, she was soon face to face with a bright yellow Rito child, her little wings beating rapidly at her sides like an excitable bumblebee.

“Oh, hello…,” Maiya scratched the back of her neck in confusion. Where did she come from?

The Enchanter wasn’t the best with children. Not that she hated them or didn’t like having them around, but more so that she wasn’t very used to it. Having grown up in a village primarily of a rotating cast of seniors and Gorons (the latter’s average lifespan outnumbering hers by generations) she always found herself as the youngest in most given situations.

“Uh. Were you flying there the whole ti-”

“Are you a witch?” The child blurted.

What?

“Also why do you only have one glove? Didja lose the other one? And why does it smell like burnt moose?”

What?!

“Inti!” Another voice piped, this time lower-pitched and a little nasally.

It was from another Rito child. He was just as small, peeking out shyly from behind his yellow feathered friend. Maiya guessed that this was probably ‘Cree’.

He was jet black in colour and slightly bald. New feathers sprouted from the top of his head, giving him an overall messy appearance. Like most Rito children, his eyes were round and wide, carrying a gleam of wariness as he peered at her. His irises were a startling blue, reminding her of someone familiar.

Cree let out a surprised chirp upon noticing that Maiya had spotted him, moving to hide behind Inti again. “P-papa said it’s r-rude to interrupt p-people…,” she heard him mumble.

“I wasn’ being rude, Cree!” Inti squawked. If there was a floor beneath them, she would have stamped her talons. “I was just asking a question. Also, why do ya keep following me?” The yellow Rito flew to the right, exasperated when Cree did the same.

“D-don’t you remember that s-scary s-story old Yieni told us?” 

Inti giggled. “You really believed him?”

Her snickers turned into a belly laugh as she somersaulted through the air. “He said that enchanters had snakes for hair and would turn naughty Rito children into frogs-

“-and then eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner!” Cree finished, sounding horrified.

Maiya was speechless. Dear Hylia, what do I say to that?

Inti shook her head, “You know he’s just makin’ that up! Enchanters don’t really do that, right Revali?”

Maiya was surprised as Revali angled his head to look at her, dramatically narrowing his eyes as he made a show of assessing the Hylian for any ‘frog-magic capabilities’. She returned his scrutinizing gaze, resisting the urge to bare her teeth in challenge.

He smirked, “Oh they don’t, but this one definitely does.”

If her face didn’t feel like a furnace before, it definitely did now. “I absolutely do not!”

“By Valoo, look how red her face is! She’s just about ready to attack. Don’t worry, children. I, Revali: the most accomplished fighter of the Rito...’

More like the most god-awful and arrogant of the Rito.

“...cannot be beaten by weak magic such as hers.” With that, he struck a dramatic pose in the air, making Maiya yelp as she was jostled to the side.

The Hylian scowled, fists clenched. She was seconds from snapping back when a quiet laugh she hadn't heard before stopped her.

Cree's shoulders were shaking, trying and failing to hide the little snorts and giggles that escaped from his beak. He lifted his wings, adorably imitating Revali’s pose in the sky. 

So lost in his joy, he didn’t notice that he’d manage to detach himself from Inti’s side, moving closer to the two.

A gust of wind blew past them, reddening the tips of Maiya’s ears and softly caressing the ends of her messy bandana. Cold as it was up here, the breeze was mildly comforting. It swirled and whistled around them, seeming to disappear in an instant, taking her anger with Revali along with it.

It gave her an idea.

“I’ll prove it.”

Straightening her posture and anchoring herself to Revali with her dominant left hand, Maiya used her free arm to reach behind her head, picking out a few pins and untying the knot that held her bandana together.

The two young Ritos paused in their laughing to look at her, curious as to what she was doing.

After a few strong tugs the knot loosened, allowing her to yank it down to her neck and free the hair bundled up underneath. Everything fell messily over her face and shoulders. 

The wind chose this as a terrible time to pick up again, sending her uneven dark locks waving wildly in the open air. It was like a blanket of midnight or coal, a dark shroud contrasting against the lavender sky of twilight.

“Pfffft, okay I didn’t think that through,” Maiya said, batting a few locks away that managed to tangle and land in her mouth, “But see! No snakes.”

Worryingly, the group went quiet. After a moment, she began to wonder if her plan had backfired. Maiya bit her lip, smoothing her hair back, feeling dejected as it returned to waving chaotically above her like before. 

How dishevelled did she look right now? Was she weird? Scary?

Truly arsed it now, Maiya. This is what happens when you try to lighten the mood. Is the truth any better than the stories, anyway? Turning things to ash and burning anything that so much as startles you. The destruction at least was consistent.

Slightly disheartened, her gaze fell to both her hands. Her first few years in the forge were...tumultuous. She could recall the many times Teacher told her to stay away from the other smiths before she finally learned how to control her emotions and stifle the flames from the overreacting rune. Her left hand twitched at the memory, feeling prickly as if she was running her palm over sandpaper. A small hint of blue leaked from the glove’s burnt holes and scratches. “I…”

She looked up, about to dismiss her actions with a bad joke, when Inti reached out.

Maiya froze. A small wing gently brushed past a messy section of her hair, strands flowing over the young Rito’s feathers like a dark river over a field of rye. The little Rito gasped, marvelling at the way it twisted and turned in the wind. “It’s so soft,” she whispered. “And black like the nighttime!” 

The yellow Rito flew closer, careful to dodge a few rogue strands as she picked up more hair and laughed. “It’s pretty, just like your feathers, Cree!”

Her friend hung his head bashfully, secretly smiling from the compliment.

Maiya felt the knot in her chest unwind, slowly disappearing as she gazed fondly at the two young Ritos. These kids are too sweet. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she felt slightly better as she turned her attention back to Revali, noticing that he was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Believe me, now?” she teased.

Revali blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever trance he was in. Hilariously, the feathers surrounding his neck puffed up. 

Ha! Maiya chuckled, smoothing down the ones closest to her in pity. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes at her, opening his beak to reply-

“INTI! CREE! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

The group flinched as a shrill voice echoed from the village below.

“Uh oh,” Inti said, “that’s my mom.”

Cree rushed back to the yellow Rito’s side, nudging her back towards the village in a panic. “We w-were supposed to b-be b-back ages ago!”

“Okay, okay! ‘M goin’!”

“Bye, Revali! Bye-uh…,”

“Maiya,” she supplied helpfully.

“Maiya!” Inti chirped. “I’ve never met an Enchanter before, but you’re nice!” She turned around then, letting Cree lead her back home. The two little Rito’s whizzed away, flying further and further till they were just black and yellow blobs in the distance. Maiya sighed, shaking her head.

She and Revali were alone in the sky once again. A comfortable minute of silence settled between them, only to be broken by the blue Rito letting out an obviously fake yawn. “It’s late. We should head back. I’ve already wasted enough time playing tour guide for you.”

“Technically you haven’t done anything, other than getting me up here.” Maiya huffed, pointing to the village below, “You haven’t even told me the names of most of these places, how am I supposed to know how to get to the blacksmiths tomorrow?”

Revali tsked, “Very well. I’ll give you the abridged version on the way to Swallow’s Roost.”

“Thanks. Also,” her voice darkened, taking on a cutting edge that she rarely used in most cases.

“What in Din’s Name was that? Diving off the ledge? Was it really necessary?”

*

#revali #revali x oc #rito #botw #firebird botw #maiya #extras #alas whilst this was fun to write i totally get why it didn't make it to the final

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - Secret Rendezvous

Summary: As a Prince, Loki isn’t really allowed to join plays in the common Asgardian theatre. Some rules aren’t to stop the god of mischief, who sneaks out to join you at practice. Only you knew the talented actor was actually Loki. The two of you share a passion for theatre and often end up in some tricky situations. Then one day, Loki doesn’t show up to rehearsals and you decide to find him. He never misses rehearsals. Author’s Note: Screw the Marvel canon! This is before Thor 1 and Loki is happy. That’s it, enjoy this and if you do, please leave some feedback. Thank you :D  Word Count: 4,3K Warnings: fluff, angst, vulgar language, more fluff

Your POV

“William Shake-speare? Shakes-peare? Shak-es-peare?” Loki tried to read the name of the man whose name was on a black book he was holding. We were on a little trip down on Midgard and we ended up in a big, beautiful library here in England. We weren’t in our Asgardian wear, of course not. We blended in with our coats and other common Midgardian attire. No one suspected a thing when two Asgardian gods just walked in here. Honestly, Loki and I loved the thrill, perhaps he did more than me. Loki was my friend and a damn good actor - which only I knew about. He used magic to disguise himself as a whole other person when we were at the theatre. 

That’s why we were here. We wondered what Midgardian plays were like and now we were between large bookshelves, scanning them in search for something mildly interesting. And I was just happy to spend more time with my favourite god...

“William Shakespeare... A midsummer night’s dream. Do you think it’s good?” I read the title out loud. Loki was looking at me with a sweet smile on his pale face. It was hard not to focus on his beauty instead of the plays. Honestly, it sounded intriguing but it was written by a mere mortal. How great could their imagination get? I wasn’t expecting much so I could get surprised.

Loki opened the page on which the first act was on. “I don’t know. I say we take it,” he suggested with a naughty little smile. Well, it wouldn’t be the first book we took with us as a souvenir from Midgard. Some would call it stealing, we considered it borrowing. 

“I agree,” The words left my mouth quietly but you could hear the mischief in my voice. Something that Loki strengthened in me, definitely. With him, I had more fun than ever before. We found ways to bend the rules without necessarily breaking them. He brought excitement to my life and he told me I brought excitement to his. He was a prince and I was just an actress. 

After an hour or two later, we got outside and asked Heimdall to bring us home. We didn’t bother using the secret loopholes between worlds that Loki had discovered because Heimdall probably knew about this already. Thankfully, for Loki, Heimdall didn’t have the right to tell Odin that his son was sneaking out every other night to the common folks’ theatre. 

                                             We were in Loki’s chambers now. People were busy making appointments with Thor and Odin because they had been discussing that perhaps it would be time for Thor to be king. It wasn’t written on paper yet but there were speculations. I could tell it bothered Loki but he hadn’t talked about it much. I wanted to take his mind elsewhere and so far, I believe I was doing an alright job. We had some snacks and tea here and all the books we ‘borrowed’. We had Romeo and Juliet, Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, A Doll’s House and Betrayal - to name a few. Loki sat on his extravagant emerald green chair that had gold legs and small golden details all over the seat. I was on his bed because it was truly soft and comfortable. There was a pile of books on one of his desks. We were supposed to be practising our scenes for a play next moon. Truth be told, we remembered our lines well enough so we thought it would be alright to have some fun. Besides, practising at the royal palace wasn’t a good idea. No one could know Loki’s secret.

“I must admit, this is actually quite well-written,” Loki broke the silence that had lingered around us for a while. We both had our noses up in the books so it was easy for the silence to stay. His voice caught my attention and I placed my finger on the sentence I was reading so I could look up and not get lost. Once I set my eyes on Loki, I felt happy. He was truly focused on what he was reading so I had a little moment to just admire him. Could anyone get any more elegant? He was everything and a bit more. If only we could make our play embraces and love recitements reality. 

“We should pay him a visit,” I said after a while. We had done such things before and it was fun. Messing with humans was probably not allowed but showing them something that wasn’t supposed to be was worth it. Their expressions were always priceless! 

Loki finally faced me and it nearly caught me off guard. “We might as well bring flowers and light orbs, love,” he explained to me. “This was written in the 16th century. I doubt there is a 400-year-old man going by the name William Shakespeare there any more.”

Right. It wasn’t 1597 on Midgard anymore. I believe they were already at 2000-something. “Oh, I always forget how short their lives can be.”

“It’s humanity’s true tragedy, wouldn’t you say?” Loki played with theatrical words which made me roll my eyes playfully. He always knew what to say.

“Perhaps. But longevity can be a curse too.” 

“Just like in our play,” Loki caught my hints. The play we were in was a tragedy about an Asgardian who was in love with a Midgardian. Loki actually has the part of the Asgardian man who is cursed to live thousands of years and I have the part of the woman who only lives a segment of her lover’s life. Loki had to play a part even at practice. He was disguised as a ginger Asgardian and he called himself Yormar Leifson. 

“Which reminds me of, don’t we have rehearsals tomorrow?” I pondered as the thought surfaced in my mind.

Loki nodded, “At noon. We’re finally getting the costumes fitted.”

“I can’t wait!”

Next day at noon, I found myself at the street corner where I was supposed to meet with Loki. People were passing by from every direction and some stopped to say hello. That was nice, especially when they recognized me from my plays. Most Asgardians were nice, happy people. I didn’t mind chatting but I was a bit tense because Loki wasn’t here.

I just waited and waited...and waited, until we were twenty minutes late. It was probably not a big deal, but Loki never missed rehearsals, let alone arrived this late. It would still take five minutes from here to the theatre. Gosh, I already knew we would be yelled at for being late. Oh, Loki, what was he up to now? 

Screw this, I thought. I knew I had to find Loki, even if it meant we missed rehearsals and costume fitting. Sure, we had the lead roles but they could do just fine without us - for now.

By using my magic, I got to the palace much quicker. I used teleportation which Loki had taught me. I wasn’t that good at it but I got there much quicker than what I would’ve by walking, and in one piece! The guard recognized me and allowed me to go inside. Although I could’ve found Loki’s chambers easily by myself, a guard walked me there for safety reasons, making sure the prince wanted guests and that I wasn’t there as a bothering pest. We arrived behind his door and the guard knocked on it before speaking up, “Prince Loki, you have a guest.”

It was quiet for a while. Then all of a sudden, the door appeared to be underneath a green film of magic and it opened, revealing a dark room. Why didn’t he have any lights in there? It seemed gloomy. I wasn’t sure what it was but my gut told me something was really off. I hoped he was good, that he just forgot but I knew it wasn’t like him.

“Who is it?” Loki called out almost angrily.

“It’s me, Loki!” I made my presence clear, probably annoying the guard but I couldn’t care less.

Silence.

The few moments were enough to make my heart beat harder and my palms to get sweaty. What if he told me to leave? I couldn’t just barge in there with the guard next to me. I would probably be banned from the palace!

“Come in.” 

Thank gods!

The guard nodded and let me off the hook, walking away as I entered the room. Before I could close the door myself, Loki did so with his magic. Once the door was shut and the green glimmer of his magic vanished, it was dark again. Frankly, it took me a moment to get used to the dark, but when I did, I saw Loki standing by his window that was covered by a heavy, emerald green curtain. He didn’t face me. I saw his soft, raven black hair resting on his back and shoulders softly. It had grown a lot lately and it began to curl up at the ends. He was wearing his green cape with his black casual outfit with some pieces of his golden armour. Of course, his presence was majestic but I sensed that something was wrong. He tried to hide his feelings from me by not even looking into my eyes. Was he ashamed?

“Loki, are you alright?” I began with a stupid question because obviously, he wasn’t alright. By now, I felt like I had already pushed his buttons and I was jittery, but I wasn’t going to ignore him if he was hurting. 

“It’s true, Y/N,” Loki told me with a low voice. It only raised even more questions. What in Valhalla was he talking about?

“What’s true?” I pushed him a little bit in ought for answers. Slowly but surely, I walked closer to him. As I did, I saw the side of his face. His cheeks were flushed, almost like he had been either yelling out of anger or even crying. He turned around and looked at me, revealing what I feared. His beautiful eyes, a mixture of green and blue, were glossy and full of broken veins. Something or someone had truly resented him. Seeing him like that hurt because I wanted him to be happy. Loki had gone through enough. I wanted to do everything in my power to wipe away those dried tears.

“Thor...he’s- our father is making him king,” Loki let me know what was upsetting him. The second I heard his brother’s name, I already knew. My heart sunk and I genuinely felt bad for Loki for numerous reasons. I couldn’t imagine how hopeless he felt right now and I understood very well why he hadn’t shown up earlier. Loki had fought ten times harder than Thor to prove his worthiness but Thor was still ahead of him - for reasons unknown!

“Oh, Loki-” I attempted to speak so I could comfort him, but he wasn’t in the mood for that quite yet.

All of a sudden, that sadness morphed into rage. “He doesn’t want to be king!” Loki yelled, probably loud enough for it to carry further than his chambers. It surprised me but I wasn’t startled. I expected him to let out all those bottled up emotions sooner or later and I was happy to be here for him. Once he had yelled, spat and hissed enough, he would need a shoulder to lean on. Sure, seeing him like this made my heart ache. I couldn’t understand why he was left in the shadows. Loki was a great prince, intelligent too. No one saw that. 

“That buffoon only knows how to fight wars and other nonsense things. What does he truly know about ruling? Planning battles? He just sees the enemy and flies towards it, head first like a fool!” Loki continued complaining, his voice staying loud as he trashed his brother’s name. At the end of the day, Loki spoke the truth. No one could claim those statements to be lies, no one. Although Loki didn’t say it, I knew he was thinking about it. He probably thought people saw him as someone even worse. I wish I knew how to convince him and the people of his greatness.

“All my life, Odin had told me that one of us will be king. I don’t understand why he’d choose Thor, a warrior, not a king. Am I really that worthless to him? Does he truly not see that I am at least just as alright as the mighty son of Odin? Or am I actually the prince living in Thor’s shadow?” Loki pondered deeply and stopped yelling. His emotions began to surface more and he hurried to face away from me again. He didn’t want me to see his face when he struggled to keep it straight. 

My heart hurt in my chest. How could I let Loki believe he was less great than Thor? It was so wrong that anyone would believe that but the sad truth was that Asgard did forget about the other Prince quite often. I could never. Words were spinning around my mind but I couldn’t find the right ones in the heat of the moment, so I closed the distance between us and put my hand on Loki’s shoulder gently, attracting his attention. He was breathing heavily and all his muscles were tense. He froze when I touched him but he didn’t push me away. After a while, he sighed and relaxed a little bit, allowing me to wrap my arms around his waist. Loki didn’t mind it when I hugged him and nuzzled my face against his chest so I could hear his untamed heartbeat. Soon enough, I felt his arms safely around me and he leaned against my body a little bit, seeking comfort. Holding him felt good but now I had to make him feel better, one way or another. I wanted to do that.

My hands drew simple patterns on his back, underneath his cape that was now around me too, thanks to him hugging me. It was a nice warm contrast against Loki’s cool body. “People don’t know just how great you truly are. It’s a shame, Loki. I wish I could enlighten them but sadly, the gullible, hot-headed fools tend to gain the attention of those who only look at the surface.”

“I wish our father could see us as equals, if no one else, at least him. It’s all I bargain for,” Loki whispered to me quietly. These words were familiar to me. During our long friendship, I had heard this so many times but now I heard the rawest emotions of it. Loki was heartbroken and no one could see that. I held him a little tighter. I noticed that Loki’s body was trembling slightly. He was trying to hold himself together so desperately but I could literally feel him crumbling in my arms. I didn’t wish to push him but I knew he had to experience and deal with these bags of pain. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve ruined rehearsals and loathed in self-pity, I..I just-”

“Loki, don’t worry about. Hey-” I stopped so I could look at his face. He had a few silent tears on his cheeks which made him the opposite of the picture he put up of himself; he was vulnerable with me. “It’s alright,” I promised him. It’s like those two words were like music to his ears. He bit his lips together and had to sit down on a couch near his fireplace, dragging me with him. As I sat down comfortably, Loki just melted into me. He put his weary head on my lap and allowed me to play with his hair - which I had learned calmed him down. His arm was draped over my lap and his fingertips reached my ankles. Slowly but surely, I felt him relax. He stopped quivering and he breathed slowly, relaxing his muscles with each breath. We were surrounded by a comfortable silence which I assumed he needed right now. 

                                          “What have I done to deserve you, Y/N? Why do you stick with me even when I throw these tantrums? Even when you know how restricting my life can be,” Loki wondered. He had time to think of this and now he sought answers. Before I could answer, he sat up straight and really looked at me, as if he was studying me. I just smiled.

“Loki, you’re perfect just the way you are. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend,” I admitted to him. Yes, he was my best friend but I wanted more, so saying it was always slightly uneasy for me. It was a reminder that we were just that, friends, but we could be so much more. I always assumed that we had been friends for so long that any chances of us ending up together were already up in ashes. He needed me as a friend and if it made him happy, so be it.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. I could tell he wanted to say something but he was holding back. Then he let out a frustrated sigh.

“You believe in me when no one else does. Thank you for that, truly. I don’t know where I would be without you,” Loki admitted and finally cracked a smile that honestly lit up my world.

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

Loki chuckled now, hiding all traces from his meltdown. “More like partners in crime, I think,” he corrected me. Partners in crime, I loved that. It didn’t have the word friend which was a reminder of reality to me. Besides, partners in crime sounded much better.

“That’s more like it,” I chirped and playfully tapped his shoulder. Loki grabbed my wrist gently before I could pull it away and his touch sent shivers down my spine. 

What was he doing?

He noticed what he did and let go, looking at my hand for a while as he seemingly fell into his thoughts again.

“Don’t you think partners sounds, well, rather astonishing?” Loki asked me out of the blue. It’s like someone turned on a switch on him and he got courage from somewhere. I didn’t want my mind to go to different realms but what else could he be hinting?

“What are you saying?”

Loki locked his eyes with mine and I swear to the gods in Valhalla his gaze was warm, inviting, loving. He still had flushed, rosy cheeks from earlier but now he smiled. He was so calm, like the calm after a storm. “Be mine, Y/N. You’re my rock, my best friend, my partner in crime. I know it might be wrong but when I look back to my good and bad days, I see you. I might be pushing it but I honestly think we could do this partnership, don’t you?” 

My heart jumped to my throat and I could feel the heat on my cheeks radiating. 

I studied Loki’s face and I genuinely couldn’t see a sign of regret. He meant every word he said. I don’t know what made him reveal that now but whatever it was, I was happy about it.

That’s when I nearly pinched myself to see if I was awake or asleep. Did Loki just say all that?

“Loki, are you for real?” I had to be sure, although I doubted he’d pull a trick this mean on me.

“Would I lie to you?” That was a very good point. As the god of mischief and lies, Loki did his best to be honest with me at all times. He even told me about his actor disguise when he started it because he went to the same theatre as me. “There’s no one else I can picture myself with through the hardest times and the good ones. I’ve liked you for a while now, I understand if this seems rushed-”

I couldn’t let him loathe in self-doubt anymore. The courage it took for him to say that must’ve been great and he was probably growing nervous. To convince him I was on the same page, I decided to let my actions speak louder than words. Loki saw it coming as I neared him. Gently, I grabbed his perfectly sculpted face and stopped as our noses brushed against one another’s. Loki drew in his breath and I felt how he touched my waist, carefully, as if I was a flower. Then we kissed which was something I felt we both had wanted for years. The moment our lips moulded together like liquid gold and magic, I forgot about the world around us. There was only me, him and the sparkling sensation pulsing throughout our bodies from the passionate, long-awaited kiss.

                                                               “We’re not supposed to be together, my love!” Azeyn,, the character Loki was playing, said right into my face with raw desperation and pain in his voice. We were on stage in front of a full theatre on opening night. Our play was reaching its peak and I could feel how everyone’s attention was on us. Even our co-actors’ gazes lingered on us either from on stage or backstage.

“But we’re meant to be! Can’t you see? They can try to pry us apart as much as they want but they can never separate our hearts!” I replied, mimicking the pain in his voice but I tried to sound hopeful. Our characters, Azeyn and Olivia, were in the middle of a war. The Asgardian soldiers, including Azeyn, were on Midgard to defend humanity from frost giants. Azeyn and Olivia met in battle because he had to save her from danger. Now the battle was frozen: the Midgardians, the Asgardians and the Jotuns were watching as the two were fighting for their love. The Asgardians didn’t want them to be together, the Midgardians were in shock and the Jotuns tried to cheer them on. It was up to our characters to mould their destiny, which could be happy and shortlived, or tragic without each other. Although we were acting, I had tears in my eyes. This play meant a lot to us.

“Time is our enemy. We can forget our people’s opinions but nevertheless, in a few decades, which is all eternity for you but only a moment for me, we will be separated!” Azeyn explained which made the play even more tragic.

I walked closer to him and grabbed his wrists, making him drop his sword. Our eyes locked. It reminded me of our kiss we shared a while ago, only Loki was in his disguise as a cute ginger warrior. 

“Would you rather live your entire life without me or be happy during the time we have together? Each second we spend debating our future, we lose of the time we could enjoy, the time we should use for loving!” 

Azeyn sighed and gave me a painful yet longing gaze.

This was it.

The moment that would make the play a tragedy

with a happy ending

“I know it’s against others’ wishes but I must put my own first. I’d choose a second with you over a decade without you. I love you, Olivia,” He revealed dramatically and proceeded to cup my face. I had fake blood on my cheek that transferred onto his palm and it spread as he touched me, which was intended to make this kiss dramatic, raw yet hopeful. We were bloody, tired and left alone but we still had each other.

Then we kissed. Little did the audience know the passion was real. Loki’s lips felt like heaven on mine and I knew it looked too good to be true. I heard cheering all around us. People were happy with the end result. 

Our lips stayed together for a bit too long. As we parted, Loki looked at me. I knew it was time for us to turn around and bow and curtsy to the audience but for some reason, it felt impossible to look away from him. It’s like we had actually just experienced the things our characters did. Now we were just looking at each other, as if we had fallen into a trance, in front of thousands of Asgardians, even Loki’s family that were invited as guests. 

“Oh, to hell with it,” Loki whispered so quietly that I only heard him. 

“What?” I pardoned, confused by his behaviour. That’s when he did something I never could’ve foreseen. Loki lifted his magic, transforming into his true self. The ginger hair turned back to raven black, his skin got paler, his true features popped out again. He was completely, fully himself, in front of everyone. Loki just revealed his big secret and I was in shock. But damn, I was proud of him. He was himself for once and it was a big ‘screw you’ to the rules that had led him into a disguise in the first place. Now Asgard knew that their prince was a brilliant actor. If I wasn’t so shocked, I would’ve probably noticed the silence and few gasps from the people in the first row.

“I love you, Y/N,” Loki confessed to me and returned to my lips. My heart was racing in my chest and I could almost feel the adrenaline and dopamine in my system. It was almost overwhelming in all the good ways! Loki’s bold attitude was contagious and I didn’t hesitate as I kissed him back just as fiercely. Our true kiss made the audience erupt into a new fit of cheers. I could only picture Odin’s face now. If Loki’s lips wouldn’t have been so addictive, I would’ve turned to look, but I preferred to smooch him in front of the people to show that we were a thing.

Once we parted and people were applauding both the play and Loki’s big reveal, I smiled at him. “I love you too, Loki.”

“Let all of Asgard know that.”

Author’s Note: I obviously write fluff-ish stuff rarely but I tried! This was heavily inspired by Shakespeare and norse mythology. In this fic, I tried to bring forward a more vulnerable Loki, before Thor 1 when he was still kind of hopeful and a bit more innocent. 

If you liked it, I would love to hear your feedback! Thank you <3

#Loki #Loki fanfiction #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki X Y/N #Loki imagine #Loki Odinson Imagine #Loki Laufeyson Imagine #Loki Laufeyson x Reader